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wincore · 4 months

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indelicate | liu yangyang

pairing: yangyang x fem!reader

synopsis: missing the last train out of new shanghai was not on the to-do list. however, your project partner liu yangyang promises fun, dazzling lights, and the warmth of a human connection for this festive weekend. perhaps even in the era of diamond and steel, the human touch means something after all.

genre: oriental cyberpunk, f2l, fluff

warning(s): swearing & several innuendos. also out-of-date jokes sorry guys i wrote this in 2021

words: 11.9k

a/n: this is just a rework of an old fic i posted here with another character! if you find any inconsistencies, it's probably because of that LOL also this is not a wincore revival but i did miss everyone on here !!

i. city plaza

Some idiot, somewhere along in history, decided to renovate a city into something so dazzling that the population shoots up to a hundred and fifty percent of what was before, and the rest of the damage comes along with the people. Promises are made and broken to build this city of extravagance. You have the belief that the more people there are in one place, the more difficult it gets to live there. This dazzling hellscape means colliding into too many people on the streets, too many bright lights outside your dorm room when you’re trying to sleep and the god awful sound of deafening firecrackers at every new year celebration.

Another idiot somehow roped you into his ‘midnight adventure: traditional version’ once he heard you missed the last train ticket out of the city. Liu Yangyang has a terrible way with words—but he has a way.

You were, by some unfortunate gamble of the gods, partners for a project that accounted for sixty percent of the grade. While that affair is over, you still haven't rid yourself of the predicament that is Yangyang. Gorgeous, yes, but too overwhelming. You smack your head against the car window only for him to jump in his seat beside you, hand gently driving over your forehead to check for damage. The neon city lays around you, and festive light projections float across the sky in intricate shapes of the ox and written messages. This is going nowhere. You came to this city sacrificing everything and yet suddenly, everything’s hanging on a string again.

The city lights of New Shanghai are cruel. Everything in this place is cruel.

Which is exactly why you’re in Yangyang’s car, parked by the middle level city plaza on New Year’s Eve. It is, in fact, illegal to hover by the city plaza on New Year’s Eve but Yangyang seems to either not care or simply doesn’t know. You forget the law doesn’t exist for rich kids. Out of all man-made wonders, rules are the most interesting.

“Shall we go?” he asks, voice bubbly as ever. Every morning, he chirps like the alarm birds outside your window. Yes, it has made you want to sleep forever at times.

“It’s just one night. And I’ll be with you, so you don’t have to be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid,” you snap.

“Not afraid of the dark either?”

You pull your jacket closer to you. Here, the cold streets of the techno-jungle make you shiver more often than not. If you dare go out without friends, a city so grand will inevitably drain the life out of you. Your body alone cannot withstand the dazzle. And—you can’t be afraid of the dark after you’ve complained about the lights.

You look at Yangyang and back to the cityscape outside—large conglomerative blocks of buildings, some hosting advertisements with the faces of inhumanly beautiful models and some with the ‘Happy New Year!’ text animation floating about in increasingly complex patterns. You see the revolving top of one of the grandest skyscrapers, a Dior hotel, not the tallest but certainly the most pleasing to look at. It gleams from red to orange like the pulsating heart of a giant metropolitan beast. There are more funky buildings to look at, some not even the shape of austere corporate skyscrapers.

“Do you wanna go there?” Yangyang asks all of a sudden. “I heard the lounge is closed off from eleven. I can call some friends and we can book a room though—”

“No. No way. I’m not going to spend new year’s eve in a Dior suite.”

He grins. “Thank god. It’s so boring there. Only models and businessmen and whatever freak shit they do.”

You sigh. Liu Yangyang is a whole story in itself. He’s rich and popular—a dream of many—but so few are as welcoming as he is. When you’re in that position, you’re bound to have a little metal seep into your heart. Some hidden part of you, however, tells you to loosen up when you’re with him; just let it go and have a good time. There’s no reason why you shouldn't. The economy is on a steep incline, the people are happy and no other city compares to this place. You could learn a thing or two from Yangyang.

He looks at you questioningly, eyes waiting and the curve of his lips still. You notice his platinum blond hair is more styled than usual, you can almost smell the gel on it, and for a moment, you wish you looked as good as he does. A dark leather jacket accentuates his shoulders, the plain T-shirt underneath not of the flashy type. He looks like he’s ready for club-hopping and you, anything but. If you knew earlier that you’d be by the Strip around midnight on New Year’s, you'd have dressed better.

“If you stay any longer in my car, people are going to assume we’re…y’know,” he states, quirking his eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure it’s illegal, though. Like, who thought fu—”

You were wrong. There is absolutely nothing to learn from Liu Yangyang.

“I would get out of this car immediately and fall to my death before I let that happen,” you retort, crossing your arms.

“No, hey. What an inauspicious sentence. Besides, and I’m not bragging but you should know I’m really good at using my assets—”

“Don’t say a word.”

The heat of embarrassment flows into your cheeks at his implication. You look out the window, weighing out the pros and cons. The scenery is so bright that sometimes it hurts to look outside. It’s not midnight yet but the main streets are already getting crowded for the processions; the sound of laughter and conversation ring in the air. It makes you somewhat sad to not be home for this. But as they say, living in a big city can only be done if you sell your soul to it.

You’re directly above the level one city plaza, the people below looking unsettling in the way they’re so small and far away—they don’t even seem human at this distance. You wonder if you look like that to the people above this, to the level three elites who sit on top of the whole city..

You look back to your companion, who’s transfixed on the bakery across the road—either that, or just really, really zoned out. Knowing Yangyang, it could be either. When you tilt your head, waiting, you find that he has pretty features—a shaped nose and round, curious eyes, all in perfect alignment with plump, pink lips. His metallic ring earrings shine when the light hits them right. No wonder you get girls asking how close the two of you are often. Even in a world pushing manufactured love, boys like him make others daydream. You wonder why you’re the one he loves to drag in with him.

Yangyang flinches when he finds you staring at him. You clear your throat, looking away and hoping you can sweep this under the rug.

“Are you- are you by any chance mad at me?” he asks, a nervous smile awkwardly tugging at his lips.

“I- what? No. I’m not mad at you.”

“You look like my mother when I don’t clean my room. Or Ten's cats when I try to kiss them.”

A tiny laugh escapes you before you get back your poised demeanor. “I’m- I’m not mad at you.”

He smiles at you wordlessly and you feel a little conscious. You glance outside when the plaza music starts to get loud and look back at him, debating whether you should just give in.

“So… you’ll let me brighten your life now?” he asks in his regular baritone, grinning wider. “The semester’s over and it’s festival time! I bring good luck, I promise.”

Liu Yangyang is not a happy serendipity. He simply cannot be. However, he does make you laugh more often than you’d admit.

“Whatever. Go ahead. I just don’t want to be hungover on a Friday.”

“You don’t- you don’t have to drink to have a good time.” He laughs. “I would know. I’m sort of a lightweight. I don’t know why I told you that. I’m supposed to be cool.”

You giggle, taking a moment to think.

“Fine then. Show me your magical access key to our beloved Mobius Strip, the mightiest, grandest structure in all of New Shanghai.”

“Well, if you put it that way… I am pretty cool, huh?”

His smile is too harmless for you to roll your eyes. He’s too gentle, you realize all of sudden, to be as awful as all the uni frat boys you’ve had the misfortune of talking to. You watch him as he drives; his arm moves with ease and he tries to make conversation but you can only hum and respond in singular words. The closer you are to the Strip the more nervous you get. It’s like visiting all those dark places that your mother explicitly warned you not to visit as a teenager—but you’re an adult now. No one owns you. No one should be able to own you. The determination builds up slowly over neon lights and hazy street shops.

Nights here are the fun part. Everyone says that. Other than the fact that you can barely make out the colour of the sky under the vivid city lights, there’s something very enticing about the streets, the upper streets that wind around the city.

Yangyang drives the car to a level three street, the behemoth structure of the Strip now so close that all you can see beyond your window are its placid, white walls stretching out to infinity. You can see little gardens and shops, peeking out from between each strip and one of the shopkeepers wave at you the moment you pass. Yangyang says something along the lines of “thanks for the free noodles” to the woman, before gliding higher.

“Grandma makes the best glass noodles here,” he says, excitedly. “I’ll take you sometime. If you like.”

You hum, noting the joy he expresses at the idea of something so simple.

Level three streets are already thousand and a half feet above the ground. You try not to look down; heights aren’t something you’re very fond of even if you love the sky. You note construction work for street levels four and five, shivering at the idea. The winds of change are fucking cold.

Yangyang swerves the car off-road at one point and you clutch his arm by reflex.

“What the fuck? Don’t do that without warning me,” you say, breathing quicker. You do not do well with: sudden movement, jumpscares and boys with pretty smiles.

“Sorry,” he says, looking at you with concern. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You let go of his arm, more embarrassed at yourself than mad at him. Driving the car closer to the Strip, he brakes carefully by the parking lot. The walls are covered in red wallpaper, a few lanterns attached to drones, floating along the path inside. It looks like a rooftop parking lot, though the mysterious dim lighting makes you walk closer to Yangyang.

“I heard this is gonna be a really cool event—they’ve got the latest AI tech hosting and crap but let me tell you the best part.”

He pauses for dramatic effect.

“The food!” He says, spreading his arms and grinning. “The food at private events is the best thing you’ll ever taste.”

You open your mouth but close it again in part horror, part confusion. “You’re… taking me to a private event?”

“Ah, don’t look like that. It’s really fun, promise.”

“I’m not even dressed for it,” you blurt, embarrassed.

Yangyang shakes his head. “Don’t worry about that. It’s for rich kids, you know? If I’m being honest, none of them know how to dress.”

His confident statement gets a giggle out of you and you relax a little. You walk with him, further into the square platform and away from the cars. The sky disappears behind the dark roof and for a moment, you feel like you’ve entered a different dimension. It’s like the architecture models that your professors had on display for the Shanghai History class in your freshman year. Old stuff, that is. Before this place even had the first skyscraper.

You turn to your side and narrow your eyes at Yangyang, suddenly wondering how he finagled his way into bringing you here. Your iron-clad will is not so much iron after all. It’s not even steel, you think, once you catch yourself staring at Yangyang a bit too long.

You step forward to find the entrance to the club; it’s a little lonely to look at in the beginning. Then it clicks that it’s probably the back door. The red pillars encase a black door between them, the overhang of the gateway just a little above Yangyang’s head. You can see the hip-and-gable style roof of the larger building behind, looking like a skyscraper instead of the usual historical buildings you’ve seen on the internet. In glowing red letters, it displays a blinking ‘Club 2’ near the top of the door.

The moment you step on the stairs, a bunch of advertisements pop up on the door, bright bubblegum colours hurting your eyes. Yangyang taps at the little x at the corner of the display till it disappears and finally the door is a regular door. The colour is jet black like any other screening platform.

“I thought the rich were exempted from ads,” you say.

“They’re… more likely to buy things though.”

You make an ‘ah’ sound in contemplation when a whirring makes you jump into him. A little spherical drone flies its way out of an opening in the wall and stops right in front of the two of you.

“Sicheng-ge!” Yangyang says, waving frantically at the camera.

The little drone circles around Yangyang’s head before stopping right in front of his face. It runs a scan before turning sharply and beeping at you.

“My plus one!” Yangyang declares, pulling you by the waist. “Or whatever it’s called.”

Your ears feel warm but you don’t push him off. The camera focuses on your face, likely scanning to identify your age and occupation. When it’s done, a beep resounds and the door slides open to reveal a dimly lit pathway. The main entrance is much brighter, Yangyang promises, but for now it’s just the warm glow of the lanterns, Yangyang’s neon red striped jacket and the mechanical whirring of some sort of device in the darkness.

“What’s that sound?” you whisper and Yangyang stops.

He pauses to think. “Oh, they’re Sicheng-ge’s drones. He’s got like a million of them. I'll introduce you—he’s hosting this club event, by the way.”

He smiles at you reassuringly. If Yangyang’s not bothered by it, you’ll follow his lead. Though, you do take more nimble steps and stay close to him like he’s your lighthouse. (In a way, he is, with all that neon shining on his jacket.)

You’re surprised to find a garden, but then it gets stranger when you see brighter lanterns in the middle area. You see figures and before you can react, Yangyang takes your hand and into the central platform.

ii. orchid club square

Yangyang was right. None of them know how to dress.

The two of you stand in the middle of a crowd, who are in fact dressed either for: a) an impromptu pool party or b) a Sunday morning lecture. You blend in somewhat well given the variety though Yangyang’s painted looks have attracted the attention of quite a few giggling, murmuring onlookers.

You clench your jaw in mild annoyance.

“This is a tour,” Yangyang whispers to you. “I thought… you’d like to know what everything’s about.”

You feel grateful to him for once. Having some sort of knowledge about what you’re getting into makes you feel better about any situation. A set of mechanical clicking fills the air.

A woman—no, an AI bot is the first to greet you. She has pale white metallic skin and her dark strands of hair are in a traditional updo. Her lips are imperial red, shaped in a way that makes her seem as though she’s smiling but also not at the very same time. She holds an extravagant fan by her face at the perfect right angle, the patterns on it painted to imitate an ancient cherry blossom tree.

“Good evening, everyone,” she says, her voice pitched up and enthusiastic. It’s a little funny to imagine metal so lively.

You smell oranges and lavender as soon as she flicks her fan once and precise.

“Welcome to the New Shanghai nightlife!” The bot continues jovially. “The oldest surviving city on planet earth, the birthplace of the human race.”

“You are in virtual space,” she informs. “It might look like a courtyard stretching to infinity but it is only an illusion. However, the club is five hundred and sixty one metres wide and six hundred and twelve metres long. It is large enough to hold twenty-one blue whales in a line. That is, if they still existed of course.”

She giggles algorithmically.

“Where you stand right now,” she says, turning her head in a swift mechanical motion to you and you flinch. “This place is called the orchid club square. As you know, only VIP access lets you in.”

You glance at Yangyang worriedly and he shrugs. There’s no way she could know, right? That was oddly specific. But then she moves her head left to right to address the whole crowd in perfect grace. When her movement starts to get a little too eerie to watch any longer, you fix your eyes on the garden instead. You have no way of telling part real flowers from virtual ones and even so—all of them are beautiful. Maybe reality doesn’t make things any prettier.

However, when you look at Yangyang, the thought gets tossed out. You shake your head, in an attempt to get rid of the image of his face. It’s a little too late to be feeling this way. Either that, or the night is taking its toll on you already. The day was exhausting, considering it was the end of the semester.

The AI guide’s chatter fades into something quieter when you move the club square. It’s a rather empty space, fitting for a rave or just housing large crowds. The decorations are for the new year celebrations, banners of the ox in auspicious colours and a few drones projecting the rest. There’s a garden of evermore orchids lining the area in a perfect square and it’s so precise that it’s pleasing to look at. There’s a door at one edge, similar to the one you encountered before entering the club square.

The music that wafts through the air is so gentle, you almost forget there’s a celebration. The beat makes it livelier and even so, the rhythm of your heartbeat matches it in a soothing sort of way. Turning around, you spot the musical ensemble. It’s another AI, peering over a guqin with trained habit.

She looks the same, except she wears an electronic mask over the lower half of her face. It displays a blue musical note made up of noticeable pixels. She has no fan—instead, her fingers strum the guqin rhythmically, programmed with precision and grace. The sound is accompanied by the woodwind notes of a flute, though you’re not sure where that sound emanates from. There’s also a soft drumbeat which seems to come from the guqin bot herself.

You gasp when a few painted goldfish float through the air, almost real to look at if it weren’t for the glitch effect of holograms. One of them swims closer to you, opening and closing its mouth in rhythm and you giggle at its face.

Yangyang laughs, long finger pointing at the critter in amusement. “That’s adorable.”

He looks like a little kid and you giggle at his expression, with wide, delighted eyes and mouth open in focused mirth. He pokes at the goldfish and it makes a bubbling sound, gears shifting in ticking time before suddenly biting at his index finger. Yangyang lets out a low yelp, retracting his hand before clearing his throat in embarrassment.

“You’re like a cartoon,” you tell him, in between laughs. “No way are you real.”

He grins, in that same way he always looks at you and you look away, feeling hot in the face. It’s too enamored a way to look at someone. But of course, that couldn’t be true—he’s Liu Yangyang and you’re you. Parallel lines do not meet, even if they’re headed in the same direction.

“I think you’re unreal,” he mumbles.

iii. club 2

The doors open to a rather spacious arrangement, with several tables one one side and a sort of dance arena on the other where people are trying to out-dance each other. The intensity makes you move further away from it. It seems a little too festive and you can feel the energy slinking away from you. The music is more upbeat but you suppose the DJ tried to make it sound more eastern; the result is pleasing. He wears a smooth black helmet with a neon red beat visualizer on it, with written SFX appearing from time to time. Two pulsing golden horns glow at the sides of his head. You stare at it for longer than you’d like before composing yourself. You’re very impressionable when it comes to parties.

There are two floors to the club, above the bottom floor itself. The other two floors mostly seem to consist of private booths, however, covered with gossamer silk that glow iridescent. A few floating lanterns sway by the upper floors. The ceiling is open to a midnight blue sky and the stars look much larger than you’ve ever seen them—you suspect it’s an AR mesh over the ceiling. A few light shows project little dancing dragons and coins over the sky and you find them too cute to not stare at.

“Wow,” Yangyang says, right after walking in. “Why is Dejun on the table?”

You look where his eyes are focused on, though it’s difficult through the crowd of people, and find Dejun and Kunhang in some sort of old anime transformation pose atop one of the tables. It’s surprising that they’re not the weirdest pair here.

“Now, bear with me, it’s going to be boring as hell till the countdown and the fireworks,” he explains, waving his hands around. “But it’s a good place to have fun and make friends. You know?”

“Friends?” you ask, a little nervous. You’re not very proficient at making friends and it makes you anxious.

“Yeah! Don’t worry. ” He makes a strange gesture, bordering between posing for a beer ad campaign and looking like a motivational speaker for the army, before furrowing his eyebrows. “You just have to be confident! I’m learning too!”

He lets out a sweet laugh and it makes you laugh in turn, hand covering your mouth so you don’t embarrass yourself too much. You don’t believe the words much, but the glow over his cheeks makes you reconsider.

“You look really nice when you laugh,” he comments, a bright glint in his eyes.

“Whatever,” you reply, punching his shoulder lightly.

Just then, you feel a gentle tap on your shoulder to find Lana from your ethical AI class, smiling at you warmly. She looks a little tired, of people more than the time. Like you, she is also a scholarship student—and not a day has gone when she hasn’t soothed your anxiety about your classes. In stark contrast with Yangyang, you would trust her over him for most tasks. Even if you weren’t partners, you’re okay with the outcome. You glance at Yangyang.

“(name)! Oh my god, I didn’t know you were coming here,” she says. “Did Yangyang kidnap you?”

“I mean, sort of.”

“Hey.” Yangyang looks at you with betrayal.

“And how did you even manage to do that cool ass project with him as your partner?” she continues, squinting at him.

“Honestly, I don’t know either. He can be surprisingly helpful though.”

Yangyang looks from Lana to you in exasperation. “I’m literally right here,” he grumbles.

Lana laughs at his expression, patting his shoulder sympathetically.

“I just can’t believe you let him kidnap you and not me,” she says in mock indignance. “I’m a much better chauffeur, you know?”

“Do you even have a driving license?” Yangyang asks, laughing.

“I got mine before you, rat. Anyway, (name), I’m playing the guzheng. Do you wanna come see?”

“No,” Yangyang interrupts, suddenly grabbing your hand. “I… I mean you guys can go, of course. It's just the countdown’s close, so we have to go to the viewpoint.”

“That’s exactly where—ah. I see.”

"We'll join you another time, Lana," he says quietly, a cute grin on his face like a little boy would make to an older sister for more shares of chocolate.

"No, no. I actually remembered I left my friends in the corner. See you!"

She leaves her epiphany unsaid, offering you a smile and taking her leave abruptly.

“I thought you told me to socialize,” you complain to Yangyang.

“Yes, I’m so proud of you for that.”

“Yangyang, I swear if you treat me like a kid—”

“I’m not, I’m not. Sorry,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “I just need to borrow you for tonight. After all, I promised you, didn’t I?”

You sigh. “Fine then, what’s this viewpoint you’re talking about?”

“Oh, we’ll get there.”

Someone’s watching you. You turn around a full three-sixty but find only the same crowd of college-age kids. No one sticks out much, apart from Dejun, Kunhang and Ten, who are at this point performing some sort of strange ritual unbeknownst to any new year tradition, with a hell load of yelling.

“Oh my god, you’re dancing too?” Yangyang says, grinning ear to ear. “I didn’t know I’d have that much of a positive influence. Wow.”

“I’m- I��m not- never mind.”

Yangyang furrows his eyebrows. “What did I tell you? More confidence! See—”

He takes your hands in his, pulling you further onto the dance floor. You feel a rising panic but swallow it. There’s a beat of silence in which the two of you look at each other. Yangyang proceeds to perform the stupidest sequence of movements you have ever seen, certainly too awkward for his body to accept as natural but it doesn’t seem like he cares. He’s having fun.

You find yourself laughing. Taking timid steps, you try to loosen up although the inevitable embarrassment arrives in flushes of heat across your face. There are stars in Yangyang’s eyes when you join him—not the artificial jewels in observatories but the real kind that you used to see in your hometown.

You take a wobbly step back. It’s starting to get disorienting. If it were the real sky above you, you might even have felt better. Perhaps the purpose is to get dizzy.

“I’m a little thirsty,” Yangyang says, motioning to the table with food and drinks at a corner. “I’ll head over and be back.”

Unsure what to do, you follow him like a lost lamb and though it would be embarrassing at any other time, any other place, now and here are not part of that.

The red and golden lights of the neon patterning the walls don’t seem as harsh anymore and you let your eyes rest on the boyish figure of Yangyang. You haven’t figured him out yet. Something tells you he’s more than a shallow image of the party-loving rich kids of Shanghai. In fact, in quiet, personal moments, he looks more out of place than you do—despite all that bright neon. You open your mouth to ask something when you’re interrupted by a dizzy Yangyang spinning into you.

“Sorry, (name),” he says, rubbing the base of his palm against his forehead. “I genuinely thought I was going to win that game.”

You shake your head, letting him get back to whatever spinning game they were at. He smells like wine and something tells you he’s poor at holding his liquor. The stakes must be high for that game, you figure, because you see Yangyang set aside his beloved shoe on the floor. To be the only scholarship student here suddenly feels scary and awkward.

Yangyang once again tugs at your arm, the touch reassuring as though he understands how you feel. But it isn’t true. There’s no way someone like him can understand someone like you.

“Yangyang,” you call. “Do you come here every year?”

“No, no. I do come for drinks though. I’m only here right now because a friend is hosting this.”

You shrug.

“And you,” he adds and you feel a hot flush rise to your face. “New years are the only time this place is PG-13.”

“I’m not a child,” you snap.

“My mom says childish people say that.”

“Then it's very rich coming from you, Liu Yangyang.”

He laughs heartily, leaning away. A creeping thought grows in your head that you missed out on a lot. But then again, you’ll always miss out on things if you’re not rich enough for them.

Yangyang flinches suddenly, almost knocking a plate off the table. He moves quickly, turning so that his side leans against the wall and the other arm cages you between him and the wall. His frame covers your view from whatever, or whoever arrived at the entrance that made him react so obnoxiously.

However, his lips hovering just a little over yours makes your breath hitch in your throat. This is the worst possible position you could've gotten into. The smell of mint interrupts your thoughts and you look at him with as annoyed an expression as you can muster over the heat of your face.

"Yangyang, what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

“I am… admiring the wall. Ooh, it’s got velvet over it, did you notice?”

“You’re going to have your head in it too if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”

"Just… sorry. Let’s stay like this for a few moments."

He flashes you an apologetic smile, his face close enough to make yours grow even hotter. A nervous chuckle erupts from his lips.

"Oh my god, get off. People are going to think we’re making out."

"We could do it for real."

"I'm going to scratch your eyes out."

"Sorry, sorry."

“Who are you even hiding from?”

“I’m not hiding… okay, forget that. Bodyguard-watcher-dude. It’s kind of hard to explain.”

“You have a bodyguard?”

“More like a babysitter.”

You try not to laugh, considering the proximity between your faces. “How come you have a babysitter? Actually, wait, I think I know.”

He huffs over your face and you restrain yourself from landing a swift uppercut to his jaw. Now you know the minty smell comes from mouth freshener.

“He’s a prosecutor. It’s weird that he stalks me in his free time. Even- even if… my parents are paying him.”

“They think you’re doing something illegal?”

“No. I don’t think I am.”

You rest your head back against the wall, rolling your eyes. “Really? That’s your answer? God, your brain cells rotted somewhere along the way, didn’t they? It’s all those parties.”

“I’m starting to feel like my mom hired you too.”

He looks back, and noting the absence of his so-called babysitter, he pulls back from you. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath and you let it out in a shallow effort.

“Your babysitter’s gone?”

“Not a babysit—I regret saying that. Look, I really don’t think they appointed him because they think I’m doing something illegal. I have never done anything illegal. Except that one street race but that’s because Lucas told me it was perfectly legal.”

“The what?”

“Anyway, the point is, let’s look forward to good fortune for this year, hm? Leave all the burdens to last year.”

“Fortune doesn’t favour fools.”

“I’m not stupid,” he complains, spreading his arms to express it further. “Mostly.”

You laugh, turning your attention to the food table.

“Ooh, pineapple tarts,” he exclaims, hand reaching out to grab one when you smack it.

“You’ve had, like, fifteen already.”

“Mhm,” he says, with a few more stuffed in his mouth.

There’s a pause.

“It’s me, isn't it?” you ask quietly. “I’m not supposed to be here.”

He gulps, lips parting and closing. “I brought you here. So you don’t worry about it.”

Rich people suck. You believe that strongly. But sometimes, just sometimes, when you have everything you can ever want, you start to want the same for everyone around you. Some people are special. You find Yangyang genuinely fascinating for being someone who makes friends when he’s supposed to be making more connections. You find him fascinating.

It makes sense for someone like him to be the way he is.

iv. fireworks viewpoint

“That’s the old Shanghai Tower,” Yangyang points to a building in the distance. “It used to be the tallest building once but… well, it looks like the little guy now.”

Lunar New Year’s celebrations are a big, big deal in New Shanghai. It means a break from university, work and every other affair to have as many priorities sorted in anticipation of the new year. And the impact is evident from this height, when you can see the city in its golden glory. It looks warm out there for once—although you’re not very sure if it’s because of the warmth that comes from right beside you. The little wooden boats float by on the river a little far off, various images blooming as holograms above them. You giggle at the large animated fishes swimming above the river with blank expressions and painted button eyes.

The golden clock shines bright in the sky, its holographic hands ticking down to midnight. It looks like something out of a fantasy movie, scattering golden pixels everywhere with each minute passing. The size of it alone reminds you of the scale of this city.

This is an empire. It's owned by the kings and queens who built it over the bones left from sacrifices. It's going to be owned by heirs and heiresses. You feel a looming sense of dread come over you. It's so beautiful and it can never belong to itself. It must always belong to someone. It’s the terms and conditions of human creation.

"Hey." Yangyang taps you on the shoulder and you try not to flinch. "What are you thinking?"

You hum. "Stuff."

"This place is pretty cool, huh?"

That, you can agree with. "It is. It's so amazing that I can't believe I'm here sometimes."

Yangyang laughs slowly. "I hope more people can live here. Not in level one. You know. No one should live in desperation."

You hold back a scoff, though you end up frowning. What does a rich kid know of desperation? He might as well be prince, and princes do not know how to beg. It must be something of a saviour complex. You shrink away from him. The new year music is starting to ring a little too loud in your ears.

"That would be difficult," you mutter.

"Not if you lower the cost of living conditions—ah. Sorry." He pauses and you feel a flicker of surprise in you. “It’s not appropriate to discuss. Or so my parents tell me…”

The expression comes from empathy. You’re sure of it. There’s some sort of passion and not the kind of coloured fire that flames up in parties, but a different one. The kind that says, if you can’t bear the heat then you can’t learn how to forge. You scoff. Which prince has possibly known heat?

“I- I get angry too,” you say quietly. “I think it’s something to be angry about.”

He smiles at you, leaning against the balcony railing.

You’re interrupted by a man in the attire of a waiter and it causes the two of you to jump away from each other. It’s not like you were very close in the first place but the proximity of shared words can play tricks on people. The man offers the two of you a screen and Yangyang’s face lights up almost immediately.

“We can order food with this,” he says. “Or book a table. The top strips are all reserved for members of the club. That’s the big daddy restaurants.”

“That’s… pretty cool,” you say, leaning in to glance over the browsing menu. “But don’t say that phrase to me again.”

“I can. And I will.”

“Ugh. Move on.”

“Okay, so we should drop by the convenience store for some ramen. I heard they taste better in the middle of the night,” Yangyang suggests all of a sudden, leaning in further.

It gets difficult sometimes to not be bothered by him, especially when there is a lack of distance. You look at him, pause and then sigh. “Sure. I guess. Are those free too?”

He opens his mouth in sudden realization and grins sheepishly at you. You roll your eyes.

“Do you have money then?”

“Uh.”

“How do you not have money? It’s the New Year!”

“I… uh—”

“Okay, you don’t have to answer that. But I’m not paying for you,” you complain. “You could always ask your parents for some money. What’s the point of being a party kid?”

‘Party kids’—it makes you laugh in amusement—is the colloquial term given to the children of businesspeople who had a direct hand in the economic progress of New Shanghai. You would sell your kidneys to be one and it still wouldn’t be enough.

His smile wavers at your statement but he shakes his head. “If I call my mom, she’ll start scolding me again about how my apartment room needs to be cleaner. Blah, blah, blah. You know.”

“She’s right- wait, you don’t clean your room?”

“Don’t take her side, (name).”

You bite down a smile and he offers you his biggest one.

“Oh, that place looks new,” Yangyang exclaims, a long index finger pointing to the preview of a sushi restaurant. You glare at him, his face nearer to yours than you would prefer but his eyes are fixed like a child ogling halloween candy.

“Let’s go,” he urges, looking directly at you.

You furrow your eyebrows, shaking your head vehemently. “We don’t have money. Or bit-credits.”

He sighs, deflating as though you just snatched the candy right from his hands. “But… I haven’t been there before.”

“So?” You exhale, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You don’t have to try every food place in the city.”

“I need to eat,” he says as though it’s a very reasonable response. “I’m still growing!”

“Not mentally.”

He drops his smile, looking at you blankly. “You don’t have to get so smart with me, let me tell you.”

You snicker at the ‘offended’ expression on his face.

In the next moment, your attention shifts to the sudden crowd of people rushing to the balcony. Yangyang pulls you closer to avoid getting pushed by them, and you look around confused. It all makes sense when they start chanting the numbers, counting down from ten. You can only stare in awe at the clock and the otherworldly glee in the rhythmic chants. It’s like they don’t feel anything but joy at this moment. You let yourself smile.

The clock strikes twelve. The sound of the bell resounds throughout the city and the firecrackers burst into a thousand shades of red and gold across the sky. There’s moving images of animals, floating text and other animations which make the night sky seem like a screen. The sparks of the fireworks look like golden snow, or even happy little pixels.

You point your finger to the sky excitedly but when you turn, Yangyang’s eyes aren’t on the sky but on your hand outstretched towards it. He faces you, rather hesitantly as though caught red-handed.

“You’re- you’re… so pretty,” he says, softly and shrugging as if answering a question.

You wish he wouldn’t look at you like that. It’s the lonely speaking, right? The euphoria of human connection in this time and age—it can make you believe anything. There’s a myriad of colours blooming in the sky behind you, a city dazzling with diamond and ruby lights, people with much more stories to tell than you do. This city, this city, this city. This city will break your heart.

“It’s kind of crappy,” you mutter, to which Yangyang quirks an ear.

“Wh-what is?”

“This city. It’s got bright lights and fun and all those promises of success. But all I see are people desperately trying to survive. All I see are the same faces at the top and—I’m sorry. I’m getting carried away.”

“No, no.” He makes a vague gesture. “I’m listening.”

“We’re at their mercy,” you whisper. “My life is not my own. That’s crappy.”

Yangyang hums in response. “You're right. What’s the point of living a life that’s not your own?”

Looking at him again, you see the entire figure of his being against the fireworks and all the beautiful creations of the human race. His almost silver hair falls perfectly by his forehead, the contact lenses looking like glazed frost over his eyes. Just as vibrant and excessive as the city itself, Yangyang belongs here. This is his kingdom.

No, that’s not quite right perhaps. Yangyang belongs anywhere because he brings warmth. You're suddenly grateful he's with you because no one you know would possibly go out of their way to make you feel comfortable like this. You know Yangyang loves people and crowds. No one would do that for you at the expense of their own enjoyment. You smile at the prospect of solving the blinding mystery that he is.

"We… should leave," Yangyang says, all of a sudden. He eyes a man at the corner of the balcony, dressed in a business suit and looking blank. He sticks out like a sore thumb. You're not sure why he's in that getup.

"Okay," you say, not sure why you're so agreeable tonight.

Maybe it's the night. Sometimes all you can do is drag your feet over the asphalt and hope it'll be sunnier tomorrow.

v. two-four-seven convenience store

College boys are the most god-awful creatures on earth.

“Hey, do you always reach class on time?” Yangyang asks, eyes curious. He keeps asking a question every five minutes or so, trying to keep up conversation. You've already told him he doesn't have to. However, it makes you strangely comfortable to hear the sound of his voice periodically. You won't tell him that.

You nod, returning your gaze to the window, though the advertisements block your view. You can always try skipping the ad every five goddamn seconds.

It's your first time riding the train that travels through the Mobius Strip, and certainly the first time in a luxury cabin. Since it’s free for members of the new year club, you can heave a sigh of relief. You will never in your life, even if it’s genetically elongated, ever be able to afford a luxury cabin.

"Oh, that looks so good," Yangyang says, large hand smacking against the window to get rid of the colourful advertisements.

"It's a convenience store, Yangyang," you say. "It's got everyday ramen."

"No, look. It's a different brand. And they're giving a burger for free with two ramen cups!"

You furrow your eyebrows at him. "Well, I guess it's cheaper too."

"Oh, we can go to one of the upper restaurants too. They're free, remember?"

"I like convenience stores," you mumble. There's something about the lack of even lighting and crowds that made them a comfort spot for you.

“Quick,” he says, pulling you off the seat when the train stops.

“Yangyang!” you warn. He's so easily excitable that you find it hard to believe he's real sometimes.

However, when he turns around with his big puppy-dog eyes, you curse at yourself before you curse at him. Sighing, you follow him down the steps, his hand tenderly holding yours. Sometimes, you wonder if the human touch means anything at all in this diamond and steel era. Yangyang’s palm is warm against yours.

The ramen tastes awfully delicious on stolen time, and you would complain more if it weren’t for Yangyang looking at you with so serene a look. It annoys you and you try to grab his attention by waving your chopsticks in front of him. When it doesn’t work, you resort to swearing. You’ve never seen anyone respond with a smiling hum after being told to “eat shit”.

“Oh, this tastes so good,” he states, cheeks puffed with food. “I think I’m going to cry.”

“I- I think you’re crying because it’s spicy.”

“Oh.”

As usual, Yangyang pokes and prods at you with questions about your daily life, like you’re the most interesting thing in a city full of blinding lights, world-class robots and cyber-enhanced technology. You don’t understand how he doesn’t just grow tired of asking every single detail about you.

Apart from the fact that Liu Yangyang is most certainly an environmental hazard, some part of you cannot believe that he's truly terrible. There's something innocent about him, but all at once, something quiet and mysterious.

“Why are you always so curious, Yangyang?” you ask finally. “Why are you always running off to different places?”

“Because experiences never come twice,” he answers after some thinking. It seems to be a little difficult for him to articulate, deep contemplation over his features when he continues. “This city… all the lights and clubs and arenas, all of it will be gone someday. Like we don’t have telephones or those big computers anymore.”

You rest your chin on your palm, leaning in.

“This moment, right here with you… I’ll never experience it again,” he tells you. “We can have more midnight convenience store ramen sometime later but… each time will be different. I’d rather live now.”

You smile softly. “That’s a funny thought to live by.”

“Yours isn’t any better,” he says, patting your head. “Also, I’m like hot and young and popular and not a cyborg—how can I miss parties?”

You shake your head, laughing. He’s ridiculous. He’s completely ridiculous. In that moment, when you look at him, Yangyang seems to be smiling in a daze, eyes on your face.

“You look nice when you smile,” he says quietly.

"Thanks," you respond. "I should keep it a secret then, huh?"

"Not from me," he says, smiling.

Somehow, the extra minutes you have at the convenience store turn to a few multiplayer games and then, ditching technology, to an arm wrestling match.

"I feel like this game is kind of unfair," you say after losing almost immediately. He's clearly got stronger muscles. Does he work out? Probably against his will, you bet.

“My right arm’s a lot stronger than my left arm,” he says, before looking a little horrified. “That wasn’t a masturbation joke, by the way. I am so sorry.”

You roll your eyes. "Give me your left hand then- wait. You're right-handed?"

"That's not the- uh." He thinks for a moment, trying to gather words. “That’s not the reason.”

“I, uh, I heavily damaged this arm when I was a kid—don’t look like that, there’s a fun part to this. It’s made of titanium! And some other things. The names are too complicated.”

You drive your fingers over the arm, so warm and real and flushed red, anything but metal and code. You find curiosity blooming in you more than ever before.

“You know why I’m not with family,” you say, straightening. “But why aren’t you celebrating with your family?”

He gets quiet, thinking to himself for a few more moments. You almost regret asking when he answers, a hesitant sound leaving him first.

“None of us, uh… none of our parents can spare more than three hours. They’ll come in the afternoon tomorr—today.”

You can’t exactly respond to that very well.

“So all of us go hang out at the New Year’s Club.”

You frown. "But it's not a celebration without family!"

"We have new year lunches. And… it's the future. Traditions die. Very few grieve them for fear of being stuck in the past."

You feel partly horrified and partly dismal. "I… You could come with me next year, if you like."

You're not sure where the offer comes from but Yangyang lights up at the idea.

"I can? Oh, we'll have so much fun!"

"Slow down. There's a year to go."

Yangyang laughs. It's surprising the way he turned out. He must have gotten tired of waiting by the door. And now you know all the things about him that his parents don’t.

You smile at him, warming up to the idea of you and him as friends before scoffing at it again.

Right in the next moment, Yangyang dips suddenly to the ground, crouching below the table. You look around in surprise and fall to your knees with a yelp at the tug on our wrist from Yangyang.

“What the hell?” you hiss. “You’re starting to act really weird.”

“I- Sorry. It’s an emergency,” he says, but there’s no sign of distress in his voice. He simply smiles at you. Perhaps he’s never heard of the emotion as of yet.

“Your babysitter?”

“I say that once and on accident—yes, it’s my babysitter.”

You chuckle. He’s simply too cute at times.

“We have to be discreet now, okay? It’s like—what’s the movie called? Oh, Mission Impossible.”

“I’ve never seen that.”

“What? How can you not? It’s a classic! It’s got so many cool—ah, I’ll show you another time.”

You hum, staring at Yangyang’s facial features tense up and relax again as he scans the vicinity outside the window of the convenience store. It’s full of people, even at this hour so you can’t possibly know who’s looking at you from there.

Yangyang turns back to you. “Have you ever been to blue moon station?”

“The one with the pretty walls? No. No, I’ve never even gone beyond Strip Two.”

Yangyang smiles at you and right then, you feel like you’re about to resent whatever’s going to happen next. It’s in the ebb and flow of tonight’s itinerary, however, and you relax your shoulders just as he does a roll across the floor, looking back at you with a grin for executing it flawlessly.

“You’re so silly,” you mutter.

“I heard that,” he whisper-shouts back.

You’re not as afraid as before, you realize. The lights are absolutely mesmerizing.

vi. blue moon station

It drops a few degrees in temperature once you step foot onto the platform. You can see a bunch of scattered tourists, cameras hanging around their neck and a look of awe over their faces.

Yangyang takes off his jacket, shivering immediately but offering it to you nonetheless. When you refuse, he places it gingerly over your shoulders.

"Is that a…?"

"A tourist bot, yes."

"Oh my god, it's so cute," you say, crouching by the little red robot, a teal-colored smiley face popping up on its monitor.

"A lot of tourists in this station," you note.

"Yeah. It's very… visually pleasing."

That's true. The walls are screens with three dimensional graphics, immersive enough to catch one's eye. A single tree grows through the middle of the station, evergreen and alive with holographic flora and fauna. The sun shines eternally over the tree. It's so beautiful that you had trouble taking your eyes off it at first.

The walls next to you are currently displaying a walk through a fantasy forest, crafted by a visionary artist, no doubt. A blue butterfly flies past you and you stare at it before zoning out.

Sometimes, the lights are too disorienting. You start to feel dizzy, massaging your forehead when Yangyang brushes the tips of his fingers against your shoulder.

“You good?”

Yangyang crouches beside you with watchful eyes.

You nod, turning your attention to the tourist bot. It displays a plethora of information about the architecture of this place which you're sure no tourist will bother to read beyond the first two lines.

“You can make it do cool tricks too,” Yangyang says. “Watch.”

Yangyang pokes at it with his index finger, drawing a pattern over the screen. The bot proceeds to do an old internet dance, waving about its arms and hips. You laugh at it and Yangyang looks at you with the pride of a third grader with first place on their science project.

The colours on the walls change and you see the animation of a man and a fox, furrowing your eyebrows as you try to recall that image. They seem to be broadcasting fables through the holograms. You can’t deny that they’re pretty—glowing with auspicious colours and as animated as the real world itself. As if by compulsion, you hold Yangyang’s hand. It’s nice to feel the human touch real once in a while, especially in the overwhelming loneliness of city nights.

Yangyang looks at you brightly and right then, you feel less inclined to leave him.

“You know, I could teach you better ways to flirt than just grab my hand,” he says, grinning like an idiot.

“What?”

You move your hand. “I’m not flirting.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean that,” he responds quickly. “Can I please have your hand back?”

You shake your head, laughing. He worries you. Some part of you says you shouldn’t be worried. It’s not like you’re close friends. (Friends, maybe. Close, not yet.)

The night has a different opinion.

—

“Found you,” a voice declares, and the two of you jump into each other with a scream.

The man in the suit looks at you with a fatigued look in his eyes, hair somehow still neat though he breathes like his lungs are on fire.

“Care to tell me why you’ve been skipping my calls?” he asks after catching his breath. “It’s not like I wanted to follow you—you just needed to tell me.”

“I… I was busy?” Yangyang flashes a smile. “Kun-ge, I honestly had no idea you called. I don’t even have my phone.”

The man shakes his head. “Fine. Just head over to Jasmine for the night. And you can bring your date too.”

He gestures at you and you want to deny it as quick as you can. You do not, however. It’s almost like you’ve warmed up to the idea of it rather well.

“Okay,” Yangyang answers quietly.

vii. jasmine private lounge

You enter a lounge with the capacity of around a hundred people. Despite that, there are hardly five present. The walls are black with neon jasmines pulsating from blue to red. A grand piano lies still in all its elegance in the middle of the lounge, played by a plain white AI. It feels like an expensive place to be, and more so, it feels like someplace you’re not supposed to step foot into. There's a bar table at one side, opposite to the entrance which glows a hypnotizing purple. A flat lettering on the wall declares the time to be 3 A.M.

You and Yangyang sit a little too close on the artificially warmed couch, waiting for Kun to return. Yangyang reassures you that you haven't done anything wrong but the illicit outing of yours certainly says otherwise. You contemplate tasting the cocktail Yangyang ordered before finally giving in and find it pleasantly warm to taste. You take another sip.

“It’s a little strong,” Yangyang warns. “Don’t have all of—you had all of it.”

You shrug. Your throat certainly feels better now. This lounge is fucking cold.

"You know, Yangyang," you say with the warmth of confidence on your face. "You're a really nice guy."

He smiles incredulously. "Thanks. You're really nice too."

"And you're pretty decent-looking—"

"I know that."

"—and also popular. So why are you always hanging around me?"

"Uh, that's your question?"

You nod. Placing your cheek against your palm, you try not to sink into the couch.

"Because you're really cool!" He answers before clearing his throat. "I mean. I think you're fun to be around. You make me see things clearer."

"And what exactly are you wanting to see clearer?'

"You."

You blink aside your astoundment, straightening. "What?"

Your question is left unanswered because a man enters and sits across the two of you, a loud huff of annoyance leaving his mouth. It's not just his disposition but the architecture of his face that grabs your attention. He looks like an AI robot so perfectly crafted with coloured lips and flawless skin that you end up staring till Yangyang elbows you.

“He’s not an AI,” Yangyang whispers.

You furrow your brows and notice it is, in fact, true that he's not an AI. There are no ridges over the joints or hollowness in the eyes. He wears the same frost-patterned smart lenses as Yangyang does. However, it doesn't change the fact that the man is beautiful to look at.

“I’m never hosting a new year party again,” he mutters, sinking into the couch.

“It actually sounds kind of fun,” Yangyang interjects. “I can’t wait for my turn.”

“I’m sorry. Good luck standing at Longhua temple for three hours till midnight just to make sure nothing goes wrong. Without dinner.”

Yangyang makes a face at that.

"That's Sicheng-ge," he says, turning to you.

"Ah," you say in response, remembering the name vaguely.

"He let us into Club 2," Yangyang says, noticing your lost expression.

"I think Kun's looking for you," Sicheng says, eyes trained at the back.

His hands fidget with the dim blue buttons at the edge of the table, till a small compartment reveals itself under the glass. An old world-style cigarette is slowly pushed up and Sicheng picks it up. He offers the next one to Yangyang, who accepts it hesitantly. No one smokes tobacco anymore when nicotine is so readily available. Alas, human nature is to want things deadly and out of reach.

“So how’s Cat?” Yangyang asks, fumbling with the plasma lighter he picked from a compartment on the side.

Sicheng smiles a little, the smoke from his cigarette snaking around him as he raises a hand to dissipate it.

“She’s doing fine. Running everything as usual.”

“Of course. Boss lady.” Yangyang does an awkward salute.

“Oh, a new hair color too. As pretty as flower fields in the spring of ‘22.”

Sicheng’s lovesick rambling is interrupted by Yangyang hacking his lungs out. You turn to him and he avoids your gaze, reaching for a crystal blue glass of water one of the helper bots offer. So, he’s not even a smoker? Why did he think you would care?

“Anyway, Kun is glaring daggers at me now. You better get out of here.” Sicheng grimaces.

You turn around to see Kun by the bar table, gesturing towards Yangyang to come. You're not sure why but either of those men make you nervous.

"I'll be right back," Yangyang says, scrambling up and leaving you in a long awkward silence with Sicheng.

“So, uh, I’m assuming you’re oblivious to that lovestruck puppy following you around?” Sicheng asks, raising an eyebrow. “Or is this some game you guys are into? I’m not judging you for that.”

Your face heats up and you fidget with your collar. “The- A what? Game? Uh? I- huh?”

Sicheng tries to press down his smile but it’s evident enough for you to see. Did you say something funny? Did Yangyang say something funny about you? Oh, you’re going to kill him.

“For all that he talks, he’s kind of terrible at pulling together his own love life.”

“I- I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

It still unnerves you to look at him. He certainly looks more android than human when he’s not making any particular expression.

“Don’t mind me,” he says, offering you a reassuring smile. “You should find Yangyang before he lands the two of you in trouble.”

You turn to look at Yangyang through the glass and turn back nodding. Sicheng offers you a parting smile and you hesitantly make your way to the bar table.

"This isn't in my job description," Kun tells Yangyang just before you arrive. "I didn't know being a lawyer included babysitting."

The tips of Yangyang's ears heat up when he notices you.

"It's not babysitting," he murmurs. “Also, you’re not my mom.”

"You, Ten, Kunhang, all of you give me such a hard time," he continues but pauses right when he notices you.

"Oh, hello. (Name), isn't it?" He says, smiling politely. He's quite young and handsome for a lawyer. "Yangyang talks about you a lot."

"Oh," you respond. "Really?"

Yangyang glares at the older man. "You don't have to say everything, Kun-ge."

"You interested in law?" Kun asks, offering you a seat between him and Yangyang.

You make a face. The law is a tool for the rich and powerful. But then again, what isn’t? The world is in your hands when you have billions to spare. However, you still can’t imagine being a rich man's guard dog your whole life.

Kun chuckles. "You kids are interested in tech more, aren't you?"

Yangyang interrupts, "You talk like you're fifty years old."

Kun grimaces, resting his face against his hand. Shooting a glare at Yangyang, he finishes the rest of his wine.

You're not exactly interested in tech or engineering or the big kid jobs either. You just want a way to survive this man-made food chain. Rich eats the world till there’s nothing left on the plate. Then again, you'd rather be a pet than get eaten.

"Anyway," Kun turns to Yangyang. "If you see Ten, give me a call."

Yangyang signals with a thumbs up gesture, watching as Kun’s figure slowly makes its way out of the gate. It’s the two of you again and suddenly, you feel a strange sort of feeling overcome you. Leaning your throbbing forehead against Yangyang’s shoulder, you take some soft breaths and skip the part where you question your actions. It’s pleasant, at the very least. He shifts his chair closer, extending his arm around you so that your head rests against his shoulder more comfortably.

“You must be tired,” he mutters.

“You didn’t answer me,” you say. “Answer in a way I understood, at least.”

“Hm?”

“Why do you hang around me?”

“Do you not… want me to?”

“No. I like your company, actually. I can’t believe I said that out loud.”

Yangyang laughs. “You’re… you’re really perfect. As a person. At least to me, you seem that way.”

You scoff. “You’re a long way off there.”

“No. No, you felt like clockwork,” he continues. “When I first met you. I couldn’t believe you were real.”

You do work like a delirious robot on clockwork steroids. But you’re not very proud of it. You don’t think overworking is a good personality trait to have—even if it’s for survival. However, the faraway look in Yangyang’s eyes suggests that’s not what he means.

“I felt like I understood you,” he continues after a short pause.

You find it unbelievable. That’s the one sentence you could never imagine coming from him to you, much less agree with. But right then, as his warmth seeps into you, you want to agree desperately.

Yangyang feels an unexpected trickle of doubt down his throat. No matter how many times he’s practised in front of the mirror, the words don’t come out right when you’re with him. With everything you do, he feels more drawn in. There’s something familiar and something honest. And if he’s honest himself, he just likes you. What sort of a hypocrite should he be categorized as, to tell his friends to ‘just confess’ to their crushes when he’s a complete idiot when it comes to you? It can’t be that little voice from his childhood that tells him to stay in order.

Yangyang understands that there are rules to this world but he doesn’t get what those have got to do with him. He sighs, the sound somewhat grim when it comes from him.

"I've seen it before," he says, "People come from all over the country with hopes and dreams, and they get their hearts broken by capitalism."

You frown.

"I don't want you to go anywhere," he mumbles. "I hope you'll stay… even if- even if you feel like that, you know? If you're feeling lonely, I could—"

"Yangyang." You smile. "I’m quite comfortable here."

When you bury your nose into the crook of his neck, Yangyang thinks this is it. This is how he ends the sorry excuse of flirting he’s been trying with you and says something he regrets. It was never this difficult with the other crushes he’s had. He’s always left opening his mouth and then promptly closing it like a goldfish out of water every single time he wants to bring up dating with you. He’s always honest. So, what’s the big deal this time? This is so horrendously not cool of him.

You straighten. “We should get back home.”

“Can you- Can you not move so far from me, please?” Yangyang murmurs, hands gripping yours.

You smile, to yourself more to him but that’s one he likes the most.

“You’re a really interesting person, Yangyang.”

“I am?” He clears his throat and repeats the question.

“How are you so nice to people?”

“I think people are nice.”

“Why do you like parties?”

“They’re fun.”

“When the party’s over, who do you go to?” you ask, words mushing into each other.

“Home,” he answers, gulping down what seems like more words. “Like always.”

A hush falls between the two of you. You’re asking quite the questions.

“I’m sweaty,” you mutter. “I hate being sweaty.”

“You look wonderful though,” Yangyang mumbles, more to himself than to you. “Not that being sweaty makes you wonderful. You’re just nice.”

There’s another hush, the notes of the piano playing a faraway, romantic tune. He turns away and looks back at you again, but right in that moment, you lean forward to press your lips against his. It’s so sudden that he almost falls over backwards, his feet planted firmly on the ground the only thing preventing that from happening. The next thing he thinks is that your lips are on fire and it’s the most comfortable feeling he’s ever experienced.

The two of you fit into each other like clockwork, Yangyang thinks. It’s the one thing in his life that feels whole. Not that he isn’t whole by himself—he just loves your warmth. For a moment he feels like he’s on cloud nine and the next, his heart plummets when he feels you go limp in his arms.

It breaks his heart a little but he doesn’t—can’t bring himself to say much. He’s not this bad when he’s drunk, is he? Pulling you up by the waist, he texts Kunhang to bring his car down to the lounge.

This is going to be a long night.

viii. home

You wake up to the sun in your eyes and immediately know you're someplace you shouldn't be. This isn't your bed. The sun doesn't reach your bed in the morning. This isn’t the dormitory. You see a cubical alarm clock, a pixelated smiley face on it as it displays 10 A.M.

You get up and immediately shriek. You’re not wearing any clothes. Pulling the blanket up to your chin, you look around the room. It’s huge; the walls are multicolored with a little section opposite the bed reserved for photographs. There’s a lot of junk all over the floor that you don’t pay mind to when you notice Yangyang.

“Yangyang?!”

He rouses blinking slowly, hair going every which way and his eyes still unfocused. He looks like he’s had a difficult night.

“Why are you on the floor?” you ask, shrinking further into the ridiculously soft bed when he gets up. Massaging the back of his neck, he looks like he's looking at a mirage instead of a real live person. Unfortunately, he’s not wearing a shirt and you look away after a prolonged minute of staring. This is getting ridiculous. What are you doing here?

“Yangyang!”

“Huh? Oh!”

He seems to be finally awake. You should pop the question before it eats you alive.

"Did- Did we…?"

Yangyang blinks at you in confusion before a loud "oh" erupts from his mouth.

"No!" He says in between laughter. "No, we didn't. Oh my god, you’re so funny. You took off your clothes saying it's too hot and smacked me with them. I didn’t look, by the way.”

Your jaw drops. You can’t even form words through the pulsing headache.

“Your clothes are on the chair. And I didn’t touch your underwear. Out of respect."

You avoid eye contact in embarrassment.

“And… well, you did kiss me once. Twice.”

You look up alarmed and he raises his arms in defense.

“You- you were drunk so I had to push you off. You cried a little after that. Sorry.”

“Oh god.” You cover your face with your hands, sitting down on the bed. That has to be the most embarrassing thing you could have done.

“You- Don’t worry about that. You’re a good kisser. I was kind of surprised,” he offers in an attempt to make you feel better but you only grow hotter in the face.

“And- And I liked it,” he adds in a panic. “Wait, I don’t mean it in a creepy way.”

“I’m glad it wasn’t anyone else.”

“What?”

“You. It’s okay if it’s you.”

You give him a weak smile, still not over the embarrassment.

Yangyang laughs. “I… I think I should’ve said this before but… can I take you out on a date?”

“What were we doing last night then?”

“Well, that was- ah. You’re teasing me. Motherfucker.”

You giggle into your palm. When he takes a seat on the bed, you make a distressed sound and he jumps up immediately.

“My clothes,” you hiss. “Get out of the room so I can wear them.”

“Right,” he says, pointing an index finger at you.

He turns around right then. "By the way…"

You shriek, pulling the cover up all the way to your nose.

"Sorry," he says, averting his eyes immediately. "If- if that was a date, did you like it? Do you wanna go on another one?"

You can see him practically sweat bullets and you laugh at the innocuous questions. He’s too cute. You can’t believe you made yourself shake off the thought every time it crossed you. However indelicate his touch is, you welcome it nonetheless.

"Yes. Yes, I'll go on a date with you. You annoying, stupid, bratty idiot."

“Okay, that was mean.”

Watching his figure leave through the door, you relax your shoulders. In the end, people will always be people. No matter what shiny new toy you give them to play with, people will always search for happiness, and they will laugh and cry and fall in love with people and places and things over and over again. It's lovely to be human in an era of diamond and steel.

#yangyang x reader #nct x reader #wayv x reader #yangyang scenarios #nct scenarios #wayv scenarios #yangyang fluff #nct fluff #wayv fluff #yangyang fanfic #nct fanfic #yangyang fic #moonwrites #dawg idk what im doing imma be honest here

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sanchoi21 · 5 months

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Quite Nights

Sukuna Ryomen x Reader

Note: You and Sukuna go on a night ride together. It's fluff, no smut. Art not mine, credit goes to the artist.

You hugged your boyfriend tightly as he smoothly drove in full speed through the night city of Shibuya. He smirked to himself when he caught your hands roaming on his abs through his thin black turtleneck. He relished in your warm touch as the cold winter air hit him. The night was indeed beautiful but being with him was what made it even better. Sukuna might not be quite a nice guy to others, but to you, he was more than kind. Always looking out for you, all the time, despite being known for his notorious behavior in your college. It didn't took you long to be his girlfriend when he asked you out, as you already had feeling for the man.

The dazzling city lights shone like thousand of diamonds on the night sky. The skyscrapers stood tall, illuminating it. Small restaurants that were present all across the streets, had a calm and cozy vibe to them. Being out late at night wasn't something your parents allowed, but now that you were at hostel, it wasn't a problem for now. Sukuna was the first person who gave you that sense of safety and freedom. Though all your classmates warned you to stay away from him, there was always something so endearing about him that instead of moving away, you were drawn closer. Today was just one of the many nights when after a tiring week of exams and pressure, you and Sukuna would hangout at night to calm your nerves.

Sukuna isn't someone who likes fancy dates in expensive restaurants or night clubs. He as well as you, were someone who would prefer quite places instead of the banging music that hit your eardrums and noisy people dancing like maniacs around you. When you started dating, you both hit off pretty well since the beginning.

Sukuna soon pulled over near an abandoned park. You both had accidentally discovered this park when you were on your night rides. It was a beautiful park with the river view and greenary. It was abandoned because of the ghost rumors surrounding the place, as there was a graveyard nearby. But not that both of you minded that shit anyway. All you cared about was a nice view and quite place, which passed both of your vibe check, so it had now become your secret hanging spot.

Sukuna helped you climbing the broken fence as you purposefully jumped into his arms like a cat. He chuckled at your childishness, as he knew exactly what were your intentions. He lifted you up as if you weighed nothing and brought you up to the bench that was present near the river side gently putting you down before settling himself beside you.

Sukuna: Here, take this, I know you are cold after the long ride.

He said while handling you his jacket but you refused.

Y/n: Hey, wait don't remove it, or you'll get cold too, let me just hug you instead. We both can fit in it after all.

Sukuna: Haha, aren't you quite clingier than usual today?? Not that I mind, come here.

You closed the gap between you two as Sukuna wrapped his arms around you. It was quite comfy and warm in his arms, now that his body heat was much better than any other random sweater. You clinged onto him tighter as his warm breath hit your cheeks.

Y/n: You know?? You are warmer than any sweater I ever wore? It's kinda amazing actually.

Sukuna: Really?? I am glad to know that, but I bet, it can get even more warm if we did something else.

It took you a hot second to realize what he meant, but when you did, your cheeks flushed as you playfully smacked his arm. Dirty talks were a thing which you both always did, but he somehow always found a way to make you blush.

He ruffled your hair playfully and pulled out two beer cans from his pocket.

Sukuna: Here...

Y/n: Thanks, it's a lot needed after a month of assignments and tests that never end.

Sukuna: Yeah, but enough about that, let's enjoy the view together.

Silence spread as you both stared at the lights that shimmered across the flowing river. The wasn't any other noise, except the crickets and rustling of leaves due to wind and your peaceful breathing. Nothing was more comforting than this, nestled in your boyfriend's arms and sipping on beer as you enjoyed the view without any disturbance of others. It was as if you two were completely disconnected from the world. It was your world where only you both existed. No noise, no people, no problems and no unnecessary banter and annoying laughs. It was quite and peaceful. You both didn't mind sitting quietly next to each other without talking much, because what mattered was company and not conversation, as it could always be done some other time.

You both exchanged some talks and appreciated the tranquil that you felt after a long time. It was relieving. His red eyes shine brightly every time he talks to you, those are even more precious to you than all the diamonds in the world combined. Once your beer cans were empty, you both simply cuddled with each other. Talking, laughing on one another's jokes and kissing in between, just to tease each other, but some kisses were longer than what could be called teasing, as it proved just how much you missed the other.

Conversation wasn't always necessary in your relationship with him, as he always understood you without it. He is the first person you ever felt comfortable and safe with, someone who understands you without any words involved, isn't that a rare thing?? You are rather sure that he is your soul mate. He too always felt the same way, as after being through a rough childhood, you were the only one who understood him when no one did. So even if he doesn't necessarily admit it, he is more clingier than you, even though you have noticed that you chose silence as he is cute when he denies your claim all the time.

As you were slowly drifting off to sleep in his warmth he watched you lovingly as his hand moved to stroke your hair. He gently lifted you, to which you hugged him tighter. Once you both lazily crossed the fence and started your return journey home, you wondered when the next time you can come back here with him. Your peers always questioned you on where you two disappear at some nights, but you both always keep your mouth shut as this spot was your second home by now, a secret hideout where you two can be yourself, without any facades. You were sure to cling onto him and your second home forever as the night passed quickly by the time you reached hostel. Waving your goodbye to him, you hoped that maybe some day, in the near future, when you both will graduate together, you won't have to say goodbye anymore and could stay the night together huddled up in his warm embrace forever.

Some comfort for y'all and me after what's going on in Shibuya arc. 😶‍🌫

#Sukuna x reader #sukuna ryoumen x reader #sukuna x y/n #Jjk sukuna #Jjk #comfort #Fluff #Night rides #Silence

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edenalieth · 1 month

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A SPIDER-HAN STORY...

Words: 742 words, spiderverse!au Song rec: Sunflower by Post Malone & Swae Lee

A.N: hello hello! im back into my spiderverse era lately and who would be better than the han peter himself for a short story ? hope you will enjoy it! more is coming (hopefully...) soon :), maybe my very first full length jisung fic... who knows... — 240401

His limbs felt sore after his last fight. Massaging his left arm, he checked his body, looking for any important damage. Physical and material ones. He had been a bother for Mr.Stark… Endangering him because of his clumsiness. Thankfully, his mentor had more experience, knew how to keep his composure and perfectly controlled his equipment. However, the silent treatment the youngest had received couldn’t be mistaken. Mr.Stark was mad at him.

Jisung sighed loudly, pacing the rooftop of a building, as the scenes of the fight kept looping in his mind. Every single mistakes he had made were becoming clear and he couldn’t help but think that he had been fucking stupid to do such things. He just wanted to impress his role model, prove him that he was worth of his trust and that he could help on a bigger scale. Not just run after simple thieves or rescue Mrs.Yoon’s cat from a bad fall. He sighed again, head between his hands, fingers entangled in his hair. He looked at his mask, already torn here and there. Was he enough to call himself a hero ? A mix of guilt and shame was compressing his chest, the raging buzz of the city under making his head spin, his breathing getting quicker and chaotic. He couldn’t even hear himself think anymore. He clenched and unclenched his fists repeatedly, fighting the urge to punch onto something, anything. He had to calm down. Grabbing his crossbody bag, he threw it over his chest and shoulders and pulled down his mask. He checked that everything was correctly settled before putting his headphone over his covered ears. Deep breath. The downtown kept growling, like a beast, hidden by the high walls of the buildings and skyscrapers which were looking like claws. Again, his legs started to move. His steps were echoing on the asphalt. Faster, he thought to himself, pushing his muscles into their limits, his small strides turning into sprint. Soon, his feet met the edge of the roof, a swift jump over it, his eyes being dazzled by the tremendous city lights. He opened his arms, diving into the void beneath him. His fingers met the button on the side of his headphone, turning on the noise cancelling feature, finally finding peace. He shut his eyes close, enjoying the sensation he once feared which now felt like his only escape from his amazing yet stressful life as Spider-Man. When he began his late night strolls, he wasn’t going too far nor too high, yet unsure of his web shooters and of the distance separating him from the walls and ground. Not long after, it became his routine, his haven.

Air was molding around him, like a blanket. He only opened his eyes when his spidey-sense warned him to do so. Smoothly, he shot a web on the nearest wall and started to swing from building to building. Jumping, letting himself free fall for a bit, clinging on a window, keep going. He even found himself chuckling while doing so. What a thrill… His relaxing time was cut short when he felt something buzzing inside his bag. Right after, he opened it and grabbed his phone, not noticing that several things were falling along the way… The screen softly lit up. A picture of him, his best friend Seungmin and you, appearing on it. He had three miss called. Two of his aunt and one from you. That was kind of rare and his heart skipped a beat. It was useless trying to deny the fact that he had a longtime crush on you. You became friends the second year of high school, creating a fine trio with Seungmin. Since then, you had never stopped to amaze him by your mind and beauty. In a blink of an eye, he perched himself on the fence of some emergency stairs and tapped on your name. Few ringtones.

- You’re finally calling me back ! What took you so long ? Anyway, just wa-

His ears were welcomed by the soft tone of your voice despite your fake annoyed state. He was smiling to himself, holding his phone tenderly, swaying his feet in the air. Maybe one day he would be able to confess to you, to tell you all about this, to make you come along his little strolls. However, for that wish to become true, he had to be worthy of the title named: hero.

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starryriize · 3 months

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so pretty | riwoo

— ✧ • ˳೫˚ part of my valentine event!

೫ pairing: bf! riwoo and fem! reader

೫ genre/word count: fluff, really suggestive (my bad y’all) 703 words!!

೫ summary: a typical late night drive with riwoo turns into something more

೫ author’s note: ngl this was so 🤭 i had a lot of fun writing and editing this <33 also this isn’t proofread bc i was falling asleep trying to edit this :((

Reaching your hand outside, you sigh happily feeling the cool night air rush against your skin. The city was bustling, a passerby chattering as they left the shops, another laughing with friends as they strut down the sidewalk. Oh, how you loved driving through the city as it allowed you to admire the good-natured fun of strangers. It was easy for you to forget just how dazzling Seoul was since you’d simply gotten used to how beautiful it was.

However, your mind was focusing not on the skyscrapers, the traffic, or the organized chaos of the city center. Your eyes were fixed on how Sanghyeok’s hands flexed against the wheel, how the veins tensed as his finger flicked the turn signal on. He takes a glance at you, a slight smirk rising on his face.

God, you hated how fine he looked. You fidget with the Tiffany bracelet he gifted you, mind racing the more you look at his hands. You look forward, opting to try and think about something else. Something besides how good his hands look in your- you shake your head, forcing your eyes to look at the now red light.

“You like what you see?” His voice snaps you back to reality, honey practically dripping from his lips. Your muscles tense, feeling shy at his sudden question. Taking a breath, you face him, replying, “Yes.” His deep-set eyes burn into your figure as the moonlight reflects a captivating glow against the side of his face. A smile grows on his lips as he leans toward you, the smell of his cologne making you dazed. His breath fans against your lips before he presses a soft, yet desire-filled kiss against your plush lips. It was only a moment and only one kiss, yet...you wanted, no, needed more.

He pulled away, the stain of your lipstick clearly on his lips. Not bothering to rub the smear off, he drove through the green light, focusing on the road again. Feeling a blush rise on your cheeks, you collect yourself, adjusting your skirt, shooting a glance at Sanghyeok as you try to compose your pounding heart. He looks too fine to not fantasize about, sitting there in his pressed suit. You cross your legs, unable to distract yourself from the way his fingers tensed on the wheel or how his eyes were so intense a moment earlier.

He takes one hand off the wheel, firmly placing it on the expanse of your thigh. You shiver at the feeling of his hands, the cool metal of his rings a sharp contrast to the warmth of your skin. The car had been blowing warm air in your direction the entire ride, and now you wished the air was off. You could feel everything burning, the passion, and it was making both you and Sanghyeok lose your composures.

Distracted by his hand slowly moving up and down your thigh, you don’t realize that the car has stopped. You tense. Pressing a soft kiss to your lips as he brings his hand off your leg to undo the seat buckle, the slight click barely registering in your mind. Making the mistake of turning, you lock eyes with Sanghyeok.

Smiling softly, he whispers in your ear, “We’re home, sweetie.” Blinking in surprise, you turn away, noticing the familiar neighborhood and the door to your house. Sighing disappointedly, you adjust yourself, putting your hand on the door handle to leave the car. Right then, you feel a hand on your chin, gently turning your head towards your boyfriend. He stares at you, eyes dazed with a hint of desire as his gaze flicks from your face to your lips. He breathes deeply, lips a few inches away from yours as though he was trying to resist kissing you. What seems like an eternity passes, he gives in, capturing your lips in his in a delicate yet desperate kiss. It was a soft, innocent enough kiss until he pulled away, muttering, “Oh honey, the night isn’t over yet!” The corner of his lips turns into a smile, giggling as he opened the car door.

Safe to say, that night Sanghyeok showed you all the various ways that he loved you.

#laur’s thoughts 🧚🏼‍♀️#bnd imagines #boynextdoor imagines #bnd x reader #boynextdoor x reader #boynextdoor smut

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extinctionstories · 11 months

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When biotech companies talk about resurrecting the passenger pigeon, through cloning or other genetic wizardry, it’s hard for me to take them seriously. Partly because I have my doubts regarding technology that hasn’t succeeded in producing even a simple domestic chicken. But mostly because, I wonder where they think the newly-created birds would fit.

Imagine millions of pigeons landing on power lines; toppling poles; taking out cable and plunging cities into darkness. Nesting in the false branches of cell and radio towers. Sending light posts crashing down onto cars in parking lots and streets. Swimming against the stream of interstate traffic. Colliding with skyscrapers, dazzled by their own reflected hordes.

Fluttering silhouettes, black against the blue, would block out days of summer leisure, blanketing festivals and concerts and sports fields with their white sleet. They’d interfere with fireworks and drone displays, and even the take off and landing of airplanes. Think of the trouble just a couple of geese can cause. (The last free-flying pigeon died without ever having had to share the skies with wings of wood or fiberglass or steel.)

Birds swooping down, to drink and to drown, from public reservoirs and lakeside harbors and backyard swimming pools. Decimating the manicured trees of city parks. Frightening pets and children and livestock. Antagonizing home owners associations up and down the east coast.

If we brought them back, this wing-flapping force of nature, what would be their place? This compound organism whose way of life depended upon existing en masse. A gust of wind can’t be held in a bottle.

For tens of thousands of years, passenger pigeons thundered over the land, marking and maintaining it, the rare species whose environmental impact could rival our own. It took scarcely a century to craft a world with which they were fundamentally incompatible. A landscape that can exist only without them.

And then I wonder, how much of that sterilized world came about because of their absence. What other ways might we have found to live, if we’d been forced to share the landscape with the wildness of the feathered gale?

How much better might things be, if the pigeons had never been gone?

#I’m just continually in awe of the idea of the pigeon flocks #I really want to find a book that goes deep into the environmental ramifications of passenger pigeons presence and abscence #passenger pigeon #recently extinct #extinct birds #de extinction #extinction stories

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charliedawn · 2 months

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DEFECTIVE GOOD PART 7

General Hux gazed impassively out the viewport as the gleaming skyscrapers of Coruscant came into view. The planet swarmed with sentient beings of every species, their buzzing activity a hive-like magnification of what lurked within his own breast. Duty called him to this gathering of First Order elites, yet part of him would rather be anywhere but immersed in beings. A quiet presence at his side drew his gaze, finding JR-6025 attentively scanning the horizon as well. She seemed rather quiet and in deep silent contemplation before such a lively setting. He smiled. How strange that this trooper's calm company soothed him more than any other's.

"Your first time setting eyes on the galactic capital, I presume ?" He asked. She nodded, eyes wide with wonder behind her visor. A faint smile softened Hux's stern features. "It can be overwhelming. But, this city is at the very heart of the First Order. A place unlike any other. The center of all trades and a great well of knowledge for those who know how to look and listen."

JR-6025 remained quiet as she listened to his words.

"…Isn’t it the planet where Imperial cadets are trained ?" She asked. She had heard about the academy and the way Imperial cadets were trained…and of their cruel and cut-throat programme of training and indoctrination. She shivered just at the thought and glanced at general Hux. Hux's faint smile hardened at the mention of the Imperial academies scattered across Coruscant.

"Indeed, the Imperial doctrines were forged from fire here," he replied evenly. "No expense was spared in molding raw recruits into efficient extensions of the Empire's will. Survival of the fittest, they called it.."

His pale eyes softened as they met JR-6025's masked gaze. Instilling fear had its place as a control tactic, but when directed inward corroded even the finest steel over time.

"The First Order improves upon that legacy," he continued gently. "Where the Empire broke minds and hearts without care, we aim to temper souls into masterfully controlled weapons of precision and obedience through discipline, such is the way."

Reaching out, his leathered fingers brushed a subtle caress upon her armored wrist in a rare display of comfort. "Fear has its uses, JR-6025. It crafts the minds into perfections of order and obedience."

"…You have been through their training." She looked at him and noticed that even in the way he was sitting—there were the remnants of his education in the way he was positioned. He was straight and seemed tense all the time—ready for anything. She couldn’t even imagine how hard it must have been—for a child no less.

She wanted to apologise—but she knew it wouldn’t change anything. And besides, she couldn’t offer an apology for an ideology they were both fighting to keep and expand. She lowered her head and looked away. As the shuttle breached atmosphere and the bustling metropolis sprawled in all its dazzling chaos beneath.

She quickly stepped outside and looked around. It wasn’t like any planets she had ever visited. As a stormtrooper, JR-6025 had always been sent to rather unwelcoming planets or war-ridden places where the First Order wasn’t all powerful. But here…Here, the First Order was booming. She could see the banners and the civilisation buzzing with life. It was…not what she had expected from a planet ruled by the First Order. It was…alive. She looked back at general Hux—waiting for his instructions. A protocol droid came to get them and guided them to some big lodging with enough rooms to make her dizzy. Once the droid gone, she was once again reminded of general Hux’s presence and didn’t know what she should say or do…General Hux surveyed the grand accommodations with an impassive gaze, at home amid luxury yet still observing with a keen tactical eye. Turning to JR-6025, he noted her awestruck yet uncertain demeanor, familiar with her kind's unease away from familiar regimen.

"At ease, trooper. For the duration we are but diplomats, not dictated by ranks or codes. You may explore the grounds and experience what pleasures this gilded world has to offer," he said, voice modulated gentle yet commanding as ever. Then, a glint stirred in his steel gaze.

"Unless, of course, you'd care for a guide well-versed in Coruscanti intrigues ?" The faintest smirk edged his stern lips. For all his austerity, even he took secret delight in frivolities when duty permitted—and this trooper's company was growing from respite to something more anticipated.

"Come. I'll show you a sight that puts this plush prison to shame." Sweeping from the chamber, Hux waited for her by the door—to walk Coruscant streets alone, or witness its wonders through the eyes of one who knew both its light and shadows intimately.

She followed him dutifully.

Hux guided her through grand plazas and hovering skywalks with an intimate knowledge of the metropolis' layout. "There, that shaft leads to the Galactic Senate building. And beyond those spires lies the Jedi Temple ruins." His usually stern voice held a note almost conversational as he pointed out landmarks.

Coming to a high overlook, he paused. "Now this, troopers like yourself never see—the true heart of Coruscant, beating beneath the surface." Below stretched an endless metallic expanse, speeders whizzing between towering ziggurats and spiralling walkways.

JR-6025 gasped softly. Even Hux's usual aloof demeanour softened, taking in the breathtaking panorama with something like nostalgia. "Magnificent, is it not ? This planet's true majesty lies not in its gaudy glitter, but the ordered industry beneath."

"…Fascinating." She uttered in a whisper—her helmet hiding her expression of awe and admiration as to such marvel.

"…And the First Order controls it all ?"

General Hux's chest swelled with pride at her words. "Indeed. Through strength, discipline and vision, the First Order has brought unity and progress to this once fractured world."

He gazed out over the gleaming metropolis, each meticulously organized level a testament to his own exacting standards. "Chaos and corruption once reigned supreme, as the misguided Republic crumbled into warring fiefdoms. But we have restored order and stability through fair but firm rule."

Turning to JR-6025, his eyes shone with zealous conviction. "It is a vision that shall envelop the whole galaxy in time. World by world, system by system, the First Order will lift every being from lawless squalor toward their full potential." A faint smile curled his stern lips.

"I'm glad you witnessed this, trooper. Too often our true purpose is obscured by perception of brute force alone. But order, progression, enrichment of life—this is what we strive to cultivate across civilized space. And with operatives like yourself aiding our cause, ultimate triumph is assured."

"…And…what happens to those who cannot keep up with such modernity and its civilised ways ?" JR-6025 asked—already fearing the answer.

General Hux looked away and sighed.

"Not all worlds embrace progress willingly, it is true. Some peoples cling stubbornly to backward ways." He turned, leaning on the railing as his gaze grew stern. "Those who defy the Order's will and refuse our repeated offers of integration leave us little choice."

Hux studied his neatly gloved hands. "I will not lie—noncompliance is not tolerated. Planets deemed irredeemably hostile face...sanctions. Their infrastructure may be targeted to quash unrest and force capitulation." His voice hardened as he looked into the distance.

"It is an unpleasant reality, I know. But progress demands sacrifice. A few must suffer so many more may be lifted to new heights. Once integrated, even former dissidents enjoy improved standards of living under the Order's guidance."

Turning to her, his eyes softened. "It is not a path I relish, trooper. But as a strategist, I must consider the needs of the whole galaxy, and shape each world to maximize civilization's advance."

She hummed understandingly and leaned on the railing as well as her eyes took in the breathtaking sight once more.

"…Is it the reason you do it ? The reason you fight for the First Order. For civilization ? For a world where only order remains ?" She then looked at him. "…Or is it perhaps for glory ? A name to be made ? Do you wish for all to know the name of General Armitage Hux ?"

General Hux considered her questions carefully. This trooper had an uncanny ability to cut to the core of what moved him.

"At the start, perhaps ambition played too large a part in my designs," he admitted ponderously. "Rising through the ranks, establishing my House's legacy—such were primary motivators in my youth."

His stare grew distant, recalling origins steeped in shame seeking erasure through military might. But over decades shaping the First Order into an indomitable machine, perspective had evolved.

"In time, though, my vision expanded to encompass the galaxy entire. I came to understand the depths of rot and chaos that festered under the old regimes." Hux's eyes blazed with zealous belief.

"Order, discipline, unity of purpose—these are what shall propel the Order, and all civilization, to heights never dreamed. Through strength, we will forge a legacy not of one man, but of an eternal empire guiding the galaxy to peace and progress as never known."

His gaze found JR-6025's. "That, Trooper, is why I fight. And that vision alone shall see the First Order's legacy reign eternal."

She remained silent for a while before straightening up.

"…I know it is not my place to say, but I do believe in your greatness, sir. And I do admire your dedication to the First Order."

General Hux regarded the trooper with muted surprise. Few were so bold as to openly praise him so, yet her sincerity seemed beyond question. A warmth spread through him at her deep-seated loyalty, rare and precious as a Kyber crystal.

"Your belief in our cause is appreciated, JR-6025," he said quietly. Gazing out once more over the glittering expanse that was his vision given solid form, pride and purpose swelled within.

"It is operatives such as yourself, with unwavering dedication to duty and order, who will see the First Order truly triumph where all others have failed." Turning, he bestowed a small smile, meant as compliment beyond words.

"You have proven yourself an exceptional asset, Trooper. Therefore I am permitting you certain honors beyond your station." Reaching within his greatcoat, Hux produced a small metallic pin and fastened it to her armour himself.

"Wear this proudly—a token of my faith that together, through discipline and unity of purpose, we shall build a legacy to endure the millennia." His eyes gleamed with the weight of gloried futures yet to be forged through will and strength of arms.

She looked down at the pin and blinked twice in surprise before returning her gaze on general Hux.

"Thank you, sir." She felt proud and then lowered her voice as she whispered. "…And allow me to say that I believe in YOU. Always have. Always will."

General Hux stiffened almost imperceptibly at her hushed yet fervent pledge. Few had dared voice such intimate faith. Yet, he sensed no trap nor pretense—only steadfast belief in his vision, and in his leadership to see it realized.

Slowly, his stern features softened. "Your loyalty is a razor's edge, trooper, and all the sharper for it. In you I have indeed found a weapon to surpass even my calculations."

Grasping her pauldron gently, he gazed into her visored gaze with an intensity rarely afforded any being. "Together we have risen far, you and I. But farther still our empire shall reach, built on the cornerstones of faith like yours. Know that your dedication touches something deeper than mere strategy or protocol."

Releasing her, Hux turned once more to survey the glittering jewels below with a general surveying hard-won dominion. But within swelled a heat unfamiliar yet not unwelcome, born of her whispered oath.

"You speak frankly, JR-6025, beyond your station." His voice remained low yet modulated, gaze searching hers intently. Within her visor's reflective surface swam no guile or manipulation—only pure sincerity and deeper currents he dared not name.

"Greatness is a perception. Power, attainment, glory—these are but externals. To have earned even a single being's...faith, in what lies within..." Emotions ever elusive yet complexly woven through his being surfaced briefly, crafting a solemn sincerity upon lips more accustomed to disdain. "You honour me deeply, trooper. I swear to prove myself worthy of such belief, through strength of will and vision to forge a legacy of which we both may be proud."

She chuckled.

"Me ? Oh no, general. Not for me. For you see…If it is my validation you seek. You can have it. All of it. My faith in you never wavered. Never. Not once. You have nothing to prove to me—or to anyone. I know that you wish to prove yourself, but allow me to tell you that you…"

She took a step towards him and tilted her head.

"…you have NOTHING to prove. Your legacy is made. You are the general of the most powerful army in the galaxy…If I was being honest ? I strive to one day be but a little bit the man that you are."

General Hux stood immobilized as her impassioned speech washed over him. Never had any soul expressed such devoted faith in his intrinsic worth. Moments passed as he searched her visored gaze, finding only ardent sincerity meeting his own widened eyes. Then, slowly, warmth bloomed within like the dawning of some unknown sun. His lips curved ever so slightly, touched by unseen gentleness.

"Your loyalty astounds me, JR-6025...as does your perception." Lifting a hand, he softly traced the curve of her mask, longing to glimpse the eyes beneath lending him such unexpected solace.

"There is no praise I could offer to equal what I have heard from you." His palm lingered, transmitting a pulse of gratitude, respect—and something deeper, kindling in a heart that had long forgotten how to hope. At last, Hux smiled. "Come. It is time to get ready for the gathering ahead."

She smiled underneath her helmet.

"As you wish, sir."

She started walking back next to him and looked around at the city around them.

General Hux walked beside JR-6025 in reflective silence as they took in the glittering cityscape. An unseen burden had lifted from his shoulders, leaving room to truly see anew the magnificence wrought through his driven hand. Every gleaming tower and speeding airspeeder bore witness to his will given manifest form. Yet where before he saw only a machine of conquering supremacy, now deeper layers of meaning emerged. Here dwelled untold multitudes, each soul with potential to thrive and better the whole through unity and purpose.

His gaze found JR-6025 at his side, the spark that ignited this shifting perception. Within her words no judgement dwelt, only pure and unadulterated faith. And for her belief alone, worlds newly opened within his hardened heart. Coruscant shone ever brighter as in her companionship, new vision dawned.

General Hux’ protocol droid K-4 came to them when they were walking back to their lodging and informed him:

"Sir. It is. 6. pm. 1 hour and 30 minutes remaining until the. Gathering. You have. To. Get prepared."

General Hux nodded promptly before another droid came to lead JR-6025 to her bedroom where clothes and a mask had been provided for the night. General Hux quickly prepared to get dressed for the gathering. Once he was dressed, he went to JR-6025’s door and knocked.

"JR-6025. It is time to go."

He heard a faint commotion inside.

"Yes, general. I apologise. I am still getting dressed." General Hux nodded.

"Very well. No need to apologise. Take your time." General Hux waited patiently for Jr-6025 to finish up so they could head to the gathering. A few minutes passed and General Hux could still hear noises from her room. General Hux grew slightly impatient as he waited outside her door.

When she finally got out, she was dressed in the beautiful midnight gown with star-like patterns that General Hux had asked a droid to give to her the night before. She had her hair braided and her face was covered with a mask that General Hux had personally chosen for the occasion. She didn’t know if she would look the part as his plus one, but she would certainly try…

General Hux’s eyes widened slightly when he caught a glimpse of JR-6025. She was actually quite beautiful in the dress he had ordered for her. The dress suited her and he couldn’t help but look at her with awe. General Hux stood silent, admiring her and couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She indeed looked the part as his plus one and he was quite happy with her appearance.

She remained silent, patiently awaiting judgment. General Hux was finally able to gather himself and was able to respond.

"I must say that the dress looks better on you than I had anticipated…"

General Hux slowly stepped forward and held his hand out to her, so she could take it and they could walk. She stared at his hand and smiled before hovering her hand over his.

"You know…It is not too late to change your mind." General Hux gave out a small laugh when she said this. For a split second, General Hux had that thought but quickly shook it off. General Hux was determined to have JR-6025 by his side and he was not going to change his mind now. General Hux slowly nudged his hand forward as he wanted JR-6025 to take his hand. He was already imagining the two of them walking into that gathering together. He kept smiling and was patiently waiting for her to finally take his hand.

She sighed in defeat and finally took it.

General Hux was pleased to see her take his hand and remained silent as they began to walk. He didn’t speak but, he was trying to fight the feeling of just wanting to stop walking and keeping her hand locked with his. JR-6025 stopped just as they were about to walk into the room. She held her breath. She hadn’t been nervous until that very moment. General Hux noticed that JR-6025 had gone completely silent and had stopped walking. He looked over to her and realized that she was starting to get nervous. He could sense her worry. He looked over at JR-6025 and spoke in a softer tone, so that she perhaps wouldn’t realize that she was going into this gathering with a First Order general.

"You’re doing fine. There’s nothing to be nervous about. You just need to stay by my side."

General Hux was now trying to comfort her. He smiled and spoke in a soft but reassuring tone. But, JR-6025 was starting to realise just how out of depth she was about to be…

"…What if I fail ? What if I embarrass you ?"

General Hux smiled and chuckled.

"You won’t fail. You won’t embarrass me either, JR-6025. You have got nothing to worry about. Just stay calm and I promise that you won’t disappoint me. All I need you to do is stand by my side and be yourself. It is quite simple."

"Will you guide me ?" She asked and instinctively squeezed his hand. General Hux smiled and gave a soft nod.

"Yes. I will guide you. All you have to do is stick by my side. Keep yourself calm and let me handle the rest. We’re going to be fine."

She nodded.

"What if people ask questions ?"

General Hux smiled and looked over at her as they walked.

"They won’t ask any questions. Just keep quiet and let me do all the talking. All you have to do is look pretty and stay by my side. That’s it."

She looked at him.

"What if something comes up and I cannot handle it ?"

General Hux looked over at her and spoke.

"That is not going to happen. Besides, I will be by your side to support you. All you need to do is simply stay calm and remain by my side. Keep your thoughts to yourself and don’t speak any more than you have to. You won’t disappoint me."

General Hux gave her a slight smile and gave her hand the slightest squeeze. He looked forward to getting through this gathering with her. General Hux felt something he had never really felt before. He didn’t know whether to love it or hate it. Part of him felt uncomfortable with this attachment he was feeling towards her but another part of him felt comfort from it. General Hux felt a little bit conflicted currently but he was trying to block out the negative thoughts.

She sighed and nodded before they started walking again and a thought passed through her head as they walked. A thought that made her shake her head in disbelief.

"…You could have had a princess." She uttered in a whisper and shook her head in disbelief. She deplored her own fate…General Hux was slightly surprised by her words when she whispered that he could have had a princess. The general then smiled and chuckled a little bit at her comment.

"Well…I didn’t want a princess. I wanted you."

JR-6025's breath caught behind her mask at the general's unexpected words. But before she could respond, the grand entryway loomed, filled with First Order elite in opulent finery. She gripped Hux's hand tighter for strength, sensing his own pulse quicken beneath pristine gloves. Then, his tone came firm and clear:

"Hold your head high. You are here as my equal, and any who question that will answer to me. Now, let us make our entrance—and start them wondering, shall we ?"

At her nod, they swept within together, the epitome of military poise and discipline. Yet beneath the surface, unfamiliar passions stirred, threatening long-held strictures. Would this forbidden dance end in the shattering of lives, or something more ? Announced, they began mingling amid lavish festivities. JR-6025 kept finely tuned to each subtle cue from Hux, charming dignitaries with poised discussion of policy. Her wit and intelligence impressed all—all save one, a visiting Lord who eyed her mask with disdain.

"A trooper, General ? I expected a worthier guest for our great general…." The man smirked.

General Hux's steely gaze cut to the haughty lord, smiling politely yet with an edge like a vibroblade. "Only results and loyalty impress me, Lord Javis. I find both attributes in my companion in quantities vastly exceeding your own."

Taking JR-6025's gauntleted hand securely in his, Hux lifted it to graze a subtle kiss upon her knuckles, never breaking the petulant lordling's stare. "While you quibble over trivialities, my associate excels at objectives that truly matter. So I suggest directing your contempt towards more productive ends."

As Javis sputtered—so did JR-6025. She hadn’t expected such a gesture from general Hux who then proceeded to ignore her eyes wide open in surprise. He turned smoothly to introduce JR-6025 to another esteemed officer. "Colonel Versio, allow me to present Trooper JR-6025—recently promoted to my personal attaché. Her strategic mind and courage in the field have proven time and again why she deserves the recognition."

Gleaming proudly beneath her mask, JR-6025 addressed Versio respectfully yet without reserve as to the extent of her admiration towards Colonel Versio’s recent wins on the battlefield. All the while, at her side Hux watched with an appreciative smile, pleased his plus one shone where superficial courtiers like Javis forever stumbled. Her radiance tonight far outshone any gem in the glittering hall—it was a light he found himself craving, like the true North star in this realm of false lights and misguiding beacons.

After that, JR-6025 seemed to play her part as the good company of general Hux. Her conversation was correct and quite interesting, but she then let general Hux do most of the talking as she decided to obey him and just stand by his side as he spoke. She looked around and saw people talking and dancing and eating…There were so many people, so many members and allies of the First Order…General Hux continued to walk with JR-6025 as they saw the many guests gathered within the room. General Hux noticed that JR-6025 was still holding onto his arm and he proceeded to gently pull her closer to him as as they kept walking from guest to guest. General Hux made sure to introduce her to many of the guests. JR-6025 smiled at them, but didn’t talk out of turn or without being absolutely sure that her words wouldn’t be considered offensive.

The evening proceeded smoothly, with JR-6025 charming all in attendance with her subtle wit and insightful discussion. Ever at Hux's side, she observed each interaction keenly, learning the intricate dance of power politics.

"You handle yourself admirably, as expected," Hux whispered to her with a small smile. She smiled back and didn’t say anything…not until she overheard people talking nearby and her blood froze in her veins.

"General Hux…How dare he show his face after such disgrace ?"

"The Starkiller base’s destruction. Such tragedy."

"Doesn’t he have any shame ?"

"To think he lost the Starkiller base..."

"No wonder. He is but a bastard. The rejected son of Commandant Brendol Hux and some kitchen woman…"

General Hux stayed silent as he attempted to avoid listening to them. He was tired and didn’t need to say anything. He knew many would be spitting on his name tonight…JR-6025 suddenly stopped walking however and all muttering and dark whispering stopped to look at her. She then detached herself from the General’s arm and looked around fearlessly at all who had dared insult the General. A bunch of snakes with venomous poison dripping from their gapping jaws…

"How DARE you ?! General Hux was at the origin of the Starkiller base ! He single-handedly annihilated the New Republic by destroying Hosnian Prime ! He is the closest general to have ever completely wiped out the Rebellion ! He promoted the development of new technology that allowed the First Order fleet to track targets through hyperspace ! So, if you dare question his competence as a First Order member ? Then, I invite you all to question your own judgment and investment to the new order !" She declared loudly and all the faces turned towards her in shock and she scrutinised each of them with a glare.

General Hux listened to JR-6025 and bit back a smile as no one dared to object. He knew he ought to stop letting her make a fool of herself—but he was too stunned and happy to care. He was enjoying thoroughly the way the other members all fell silent in front of the girl—the only one who he had ever heard stood up for him. Supreme Leader Snoke had always favoured Kylo and he had never felt good enough…but she had changed his perspective just by speaking her truth.

General Hux couldn’t help but be stunned by her declaration. His eyes were wide and he couldn’t stop smiling at how proud he felt towards her. General Hux watched as everyone fell silent and was actually shocked at this small stormtrooper standing up for him and making them all look foolish. General Hux was completely taken aback by this but at the same time he was incredibly proud of Jr-6025 for standing up for him like this. General Hux could clearly feel this attachment to her growing.

JR-6025 turned to face Hux once more, chin held high in defiance of all whispered slights. For a long moment their eyes held, an unspoken understanding passing between them amid the throng of onlookers frozen in shocked silence.

At last, Hux spoke, voice ringing cold and clear. "You have all witnessed trooper JR-6025's...fervent defense of my character and achievements. I expect any further disparaging remarks to be weighed...carefully, lest one find themselves sharing her candor."

A hush fell as his meaning chilled the sweltering air. Satisfied, Hux nodded dismissal, offering JR-6025 his arm once more. As they turned to circulate, he continued in lower tones:

"I thought I had made myself clear on your role that was to remain discreet and let me do the talking ?"

"I apologise, sir." She seemed genuinely ashamed as she lowered her head and General Hux chuckled.

"Hmm…No need." He replied before pulling her closer to whisper in her ear. "I’d take hearing you singing my praises over hearing one more platitude from any of them any day. I would however hate to see your own light dimmed by their venomous words…"

She met his gaze steadily. "There are greater risks than idle gossip, sir. And no star shines alone…Together, our light may eclipse all others."

A half-smile quirked his severe lips, approval and something more kindling unseen in pale eyes. "Ever the idealist, I see. We shall see if optimism serves where cynicism and strategy have...limitations. For now, circulate—but remain vigilant. Where vultures gather, carrion may not be far..."

Hux then swept onwards to mingle, leaving JR-6025 to contemplate deeper mysteries than any festive frivolity held.

She then proceeded to look around and let her ears catch onto any piece of information regarding the missing scavenger girl. If she was to hear of any clues concerning her whereabouts, they she could maybe use it to gain general Hux’s trust further without having to condemn Rey or Finn ? She hoped so anyway…JR-6025 circulated discreetly through the lavish festivities, discreetly gathering whispers and fragments amid gilded revelries. More and more, her sharp mind perceived subtleties in each dance of information, discerning truths obscures by artifice and agenda.

A scrap here, an inference there—slowly, clues accumulated. Through it all, her keen eyes followed General Hux across the glittering scene, observing with newfound understanding how he wielded calculation and charisma to subtle yet inexorable effect. Power, she learned, held many faces—and where best concealed, its grasp proved deepest.

At last, mingling brought reward. A passing dignitary, lubricated by libations, let slip cryptic word of Resistance missions targeting the Atzerri system. Piecing scraps within her processor's vault, hope kindled—if confirmed, this may aid the Finalizer's hunt while bolstering her standing with General Hux.

Sequestering her newfound knowledge, JR-6025 emerged renewed into the festive swells, circulating with poise and patience. Calculating eyes sought out General Hux, discreetly catching his notice amid social maneuvers. A subtle inclination of her mask conveyed her readiness, and promise, to impart discovery that may shift the tides of their looming conflict. For now, intimations would suffice—for the dance had only begun.

She was about to go to him when she saw him being surrounded by women. One in particular took General Hux’s hand and they started dancing together. JR-6025 was stunned by how flawless and graceful he seemed.

She didn’t even know that general Hux could dance…

JR-6025 observed the scene impassively from behind her mask, betraying no reaction. Over a lifetime's programming, she had learned much about controlling outward expressions that might endanger duty or mission objectives.

Yet within, unfamiliar stirrings arose as she watched the General glide effortlessly across the gleaming floor, every movement a precision calculation in itself. No movement was without purpose, just as each word he spoke held layers of meaning for perceptive ears. Nearing the dance floor's edge as the song swelled, she awaited her moment. When at last the pair spun gracefully past, she inclined her head slightly to catch the General's eyes.

A subtle gesture, yet one carrying her usual message—an opportunity had emerged, if he was ready to seize it. Duty before pleasure, as always. His own head bent almost imperceptibly in response—the barest signal her information was received, and invitation understood.

Soon. For now, the games of politics and pleasure continued apace. But whenever the music ended, JR-6025 would be waiting to share what secrets she had gleaned this evening. There, duty would resume its rightful place once more. She spotted him while dancing with the other woman and inclined her head discreetly to catch his eyes. He seemed to have noticed and given a subtle response. She smiled beneath her mask and waited respectfully for him to be done.

Soon enough, the song ended and everyone politely clapped. General Hux bowed to the woman who curtsied back and headed towards her companions. General Hux then briskly walked towards JR-6025’s direction looking determined.

She stood up straight as he approached.

"Sir. I believe I have obtained valuable intelligence during the evening."

General Hux walked directly towards JR-6025 with purpose, leaving his dance partner behind. Reaching her position discreetly along the perimeter, his eyes gleamed with keen interest behind customary stoicism.

"You have proven yourself a quick study in more than just battle, it seems," he murmured, the barest note of approval in his aloof tone. "Proceed."

JR-6025 proceeded to relay to him in hushed yet concise tones all that her diligent ears had heard—fragments overheard, locations matched to past intel, possibilities extrapolated. Her delivery remained dutifully calm and factual, yet an undercurrent of excitement threaded her words. This was why she had come, after all—to prove value beyond dance floors or decorum. To advance their cause through vigilance and ingenuity.

Her report delivered efficiently. Now she awaited her next task, ready to mobilize on his command.

He finally nodded.

"Alright, trooper. Well done. Continue your search and find as much information you can on the whereabouts of the scavenger girl and FN-2187. I shall gather intelligence of my own in the mean time."

JR-6025 snapped a crisp salute. "Yes sir, right away."

Her circumspect scanning of the festivities had already begun identifying useful contacts for further interrogation. A senior port authority with knowledge of lesser-charted routes, perhaps, or a mining consortium leader prone to loose lips after drinks.

Turning to depart on her new directive, some instinct made her pause and glance back. So many people dancing together. So many with graceful movements and delicate limbs perfectly matched or in sync with each other…Her eyes then landed on General Hux—watching over the crowd with sharp and attentive eyes.

Would he indulge her the fancy of a dance ? She wondered before shaking her head.

Ridiculous, of course. Sentiment had no place in their climbing ascension. Still, as when storm clouds shift unseen on the horizon, something intangible stirred within her. Shaking off such frivolities, JR-6025 melted back into the glittering horde. Her mission was clear: gather all intelligence that may shift the tide of war. Onward she glided through the crowds and rooms alike, an invisible ghost gathering secrets in service of a so-called far greater purpose. For the dawn of Order Absolute…until she had the unfortunate fate of brushing past a man whose hand quickly reached out for her arm.

JR-6025 stiffened as the man's meaty fingers closed around her slender wrist in an unyielding grip. "Unhand me at once," she demanded coldly, meeting his bulbous eyes with a venomous glare beneath her mask.

"Feisty, aren't you ?" he chuckled, bowing closer to leer amid cloying puffs of spice-laden breath. "Come now, a dance won't hurt, pretty."

JR-6025's blood ran cold as the man's grip tightened painfully. But before retaliation could come, a booming voice cut through the fray.

"Unhand her. Now."

The intruder flinched visibly at the ominous modified tones. Slowly, he turned to face the towering masked figure that was Kylo Ren, flanked by shadowy knights.

"L-Lord Ren, I meant no disrespect," the fool stammered, releasing JR-6025's wrist as if burnt. "A dance, nothing more, I swear—"

Ren's mechanical rasp cut him short. "Your sworn word is worthless, worm. Consider yourself fortunate I do not end you where you stand." A twitch of fingers, and the man gasped, clawing at his throat as invisible bonds constricted.

"Leave. And pray we do not cross paths again." As the blue-faced offender fled, Ren turned to JR-6025, looming over her diminished form. Behind his mask, keen eyes scanned for injury past rigid composure.

"You were wise to decline such degraded company, trooper," he growled. "But in future, do not hesitate to end scum yourself, if left no other option. Now go—I am sure your esteemed general awaits your return."

Before he could go, JR-6025 suddenly had the foolish and absurd urge to ask:

"Sir…I hate to ask but, do you know how to dance ?"

Ren froze mid-step at her unexpected question, coils of cape swirling about his armored form. Slowly, he turned to face her, unseen brows knitting beneath angular mask.

"You question my knowledge, trooper ?" The vocoder imbued even casual speech with menace, yet she sensed no active threat in his posture. Merely...curiosity.

Steeling herself, JR-6025 met his masked gaze evenly. "Dancing requires skill beyond combat, sir. As one familiar with passion's many forms, I surmised you might possess such...nuanced understanding."

For a long moment he regarded her in silence, weighing indignation and grudging respect in turn. At last, his wide shoulders dropped subtly from their battle-ready line.

"You presume much, yet not without reason, it seems." Gloved hands lifted in placating gesture. "I was trained in diplomacy's subtler arts as well, in a past I no longer claim. The steps remain, though the heart which moved them is...altered, let us say."

He extended a hand, mechanical voice softening marginally. "I take it you wished a lesson, then, trooper ? To deal more capably with such...importunities as you faced, should they arise again ?"

JR-6025 eyed the proffered hand, considering. Then, steeling herself once more, she placed her slender fingers within his leather-clad grasp.

"I am yours to instruct, Master Ren."

And so, in a secluded alcove far from prying eyes, their strange duet began.

Ren wrapped an armored hand gently around her waist, guiding her palm to rest upon his other gloved one, holding it aloft. "Relax. I will lead—follow my steps, and let the rhythm guide you."

At first JR-6025 was stiff, limbs feeling mechanical as her polished boot pressed back against his in the opening movement. But as the dance began in slow circles, his sure grip and the music's sway helped loosen her paralysis.

"Good. Breathe, and feel how I shift my weight to turn. Anticipate, do not react." His vocoder rumbled low encouragement as she began to glide with more practiced grace. Soon their measured paces flowed as one, JR-6025 losing herself in the dance. Her silver mask tilted up to meet his obscured one, sensing an intimacy beneath plates of transparisteel and durasteel which words could not adequately name.

"You learn quickly, for one untutored in the ways of society." Ren's growl belied an approving note. "Let passion inform your form, yet do not be ruled by it. Control stems from within; power means little without mastery of the self."

His lessons in dance held deeper metaphysical lessons, JR-6025 comprehended. As the music swelled towards climax, so too did a recognition pass between them—of kindred spirits seeking answers beyond what others deemed acceptable. The last notes faded, and they slowed in each other's arms, breathing hard. As the music faded, JR-6025 became acutely aware of how closely she was still held in Ren's grasp. Stepping back, she bowed her head respectfully.

"You are a master indeed, Lord Ren. I am... grateful, for this knowledge you have shared."

His vocoder buzzed cryptically. "Think nothing of it, trooper. Your...inquisitiveness, intrigues me." One leathered finger tilted her chin up to meet his obscured gaze once more. "There is darkness in you, barely tapped. With proper... cultivation, who knows what wonders might bloom."

She shuddered beneath his caress, sensing invitation—and peril—in his enigmatic words. This was not the comfort of familiar duty, but a plunge into unfathomable deeps.

"I live to serve the First Order," was all she said finally, as noncommittally as possible.

Ren straightened to his full, menacing height once more. "For now. But forces stir beyond mere politics and warfare, trooper. Keep your senses attuned. The night holds many mysteries...as do I."

"What mysteries do you conceal I wonder ?" She couldn’t help but smile cheekily and Ren's hulking form loomed over the diminutive trooper, aura darkening at her audacity. Yet within his vocoder, a hint of sardonic amusement thrummed.

"Mysteries enough to chill lesser souls to the core, trooper. Dark powers dwell within this galaxy's shadow places from which even I am not immune." His fingers twitched, as if longing to call those powers forth and demonstrate their potency. But restraint held reign, for now.

"As for what mysteries I conceal…" Heavy boots carried him into a slow prowl around her stationary form, obscuring mask gazing down intently. "Let us just say the darkness I command holds insight into energies long banned by the so-called Light. Powers that could transform one such as yourself from pawn to player upon the grand chessboard…"

Gloved hands emerged from beneath swathing robes to hover a hairsbreadth from her slight shoulders. Her every muscle tensed yet held fast, awaiting his next move with wary curiosity.

"Reveal to me, trooper—do you hunger for true strength, beyond what your master deign allow ? To wield abilities none other can claim, and walk free of restraint ?"

His vocoder now whispered sibilant promise dire and sweet.

"Me ? And what sort of darkness do you see in me, Lord Rem ?

Ren's helmet tilted, analyzing her challenge. His leathered grip tightened minutely upon her arm.

"Do not pretend ignorance, JR-6025. I see the rage that simmers beneath your rigid self-control...the hunger for more than this pale imitation of life they have crafted for you. You ache to break free of petty rules and find your true potential."

His vocoder lowered to a rumbling whisper. "I can teach you to embrace that darkness, not fear it. With me, you would command far more than mere trooper legions. Worlds would bend to our power. Does that not stir your blood, little soldier ?"

His free hand drifted to her masked cheek in a mockery of caress. "Let go your restraints, your manufactured purpose, and feel what it is to be truly free. Power. Passion. Purpose of your own devising, without limit. I can make you a god among these insects. All that I ask..."

His mask drew close, until she could feel its chill against her own. "Is that you pledge yourself to me. Body and soul, to do with as I will. Say you will be mine, JR-6025. And I will teach you things none in this galaxy comprehend."

Behind her mask, JR-6025's breath came short and fast.

"It is…a very tempting offer. But, I am afraid my loyalty is to the First Order. And General Hux." She smiled apologetically. "Besides, do not waste your time with a stormtrooper, Lord Kylo Ren. There is truly nothing special about me. I have absolutely no connection to the Force or the mysteries of the Universe."

Ren's masked helmet drew back sharply, as if struck. For a long moment he said nothing, armor creaking as gloved fists clenched and unclenched in palpable frustration.

Then his vocoder crackled coldly. "Do not presume to judge your worth, trooper. The Force flows through all living things—its currents merely lay dormant in the uninitiated. I sense your potential far exceeds such meager titles or duties."

One leathered finger jabbed accusingly against her mask. "You fear to seize your destiny, clinging instead to the meaningless scraps he deems your purpose. But you and I both know the true hunger that gnaws within—for revelation, supremacy, purpose beyond anything these political puppets could understand…"

His hand fell upon her shoulder in a crushing grip, mask drawing close once more. "Deny your nature at your peril, JR-6025. I offer the galaxy itself—surely a fleeting infatuation or hollow sense of duty cannot compare ? Come. Let me ignite the fires within you, and you will see how paltry such loyalties seem beside true power."

The magnetism of his words was almost impossible to resist, darkness a tantalizing siren call. At the same time, her duty held irresistible obligation...Conflict raged within, as Kylo Ren's grip seemed to physically manifest invisible bonds now straining. What path would she choose, when duty and destiny collided so ? In that agonizing moment of suspended choice, Ren knew he had found a kindred spirit indeed. One who understood viscerally the war between light and shadow within. Now was the time to press his advantage, bend her will to the service of a power greater than any mere ideology...

Suddenly, she felt a presence beside her and looked back to see none other than General Hux. He gave Kylo Ren a tight-lipped smile before putting a hand on JR-6025’s shoulder.

"May I have my plus one back, Ren ?"

Ren's cold gaze turned to regard the newcomer, rage smoldering behind circuits at the interruption. But Hux met his shrouded gaze fearlessly, hand squeezed almost imperceptibly upon JR-6025's shoulder in a gesture of both claim and comfort. For a long moment the Dark warrior and General faced off in tense standoff, wills locked in battle as potent as any physical clash. Ren sensed his prize slipping away, the void within crying out for completion of his gift to awaken her true power.

But Hux had seized upon the most effective tool to counter the knight's sorcery—simple, immutable duty. His presence anchored JR-6025's conflicted spirit once more in obligations Ren could not so easily sever with mere words alone.

At last Ren's vocoder crackled contemptuously. "For now, General. But this is not over. The spark has been lit, and I shall fan its flames until they consume all else. She belongs to powers you cannot begin to grasp."

With that veiled portent he swept away. Leaving Hux and JR-6025 locked in a silence far heavier than before Ren's intercession, duty and destiny's war made viscerally manifest in their very souls. JR-6025 shuddered as Kylo Ren's ominous words echoed in her mind. His vision of infinite power had almost tempted her to renounce all else. But now, anchored once more in duty by the General's steadying grip, clarity slowly returned.

Her place was here, serving the Order to which she had pledged her life. More than that—Hux had shown her kindness, respect, seen her potential when others saw only a number. To abandon that, for the shadowy allure of the dark side, went against her core. Yet Ren's words retained an insidious ring; his insights into her true nature unnerved in their accuracy.

Hux offered JR-6025 his arm calmly, ever the paragon of rigid self-control. But when she took it, fingers wrapped his armored wrist instead, as if to reassure herself of anchor amid the tempest loosed this fateful night.

JR-6025 smiled behind her mask as she took Hux's leather-clad hand in her own. "Would you do me the honor of dancing with me, general Hux ?"

His answering smirk held a familiar note of cunning amid cool detachment, a spark stirring in icy eyes as he drew her close. "Very well, trooper. But, I must warn you. I have little patience for fumbled footsteps upon such important occasions as these."

She met his challenging gaze steadily. "You'll find I am a quick study, sir, and hope not to disappoint." As the music began in drifting swells, JR-6025 allowed herself to follow Hux's graceful lead with growing confidence.

Each turn and step flowed smoothly as they glided across the gleaming floor, the perfect picture of coordination and command. But beneath the dutiful rhythm, JR-6025 sensed lingering turbulence from Ren's provocative encounter.

Leaning closer to Hux's angular jaw, she murmured where only he could hear, "My place remains at your side, General, as it has always been. Your guidance alone do I heed."

His pale eyes flickered down to meet her obscured gaze, a flicker of something—approval ? possessiveness ?—kindling in their icy depths. "See that it remains so, trooper. Your...talents, would be wasted following that wayward fool into darkness."

As the dance carried them on, JR-6025 sensed an unspoken belonging reinforced in Hux's firm yet respectful grip. Whatever mysteries the night held, for now duty and a will stronger than shadow's siren call would be her anchors in the light. As the music swelled towards its crescendo, JR-6025 became keenly aware of how closely she and Hux now moved in their waltz, bodies melding with practiced synchronicity.

His sure grip radiated palpable strength, daring her to match his poise and precision through the dance's most intricate maneuvers. Sweat sheened their brows, yet never for an instant did composure or control falter. At last the final notes rang out across the gleaming hall in a vibrating echo, leaving them breathless yet standing proud as the sole occupants of a bubble apart from polite applause. Chest to chest they paused, regarding one another in that surreal interlude suspended from reality's constraints.

"You acquitted yourself admirably, as I knew you would. Let no mongrel words divide what is mine, is that understood…trooper ?" His soft rasp held veiled threat that sent a shiver down her spine, even as a flush of fierce belonging replaced conflict within her heart.

JR-6025 nodded, lips curving behind her mask in a subtle smile. "Crystal clear, general. I belong at your side—now and always."

The General's sculpted lips curled at her affirmation, a glint of primitive satisfaction lighting icy eyes. "As well you should remember, my resourceful trooper."

His arms withdrew reluctantly as their private moment ended, duty calling them back into the glittering throng. But some subtle shift had occurred, resonance of a deeper bond beyond mere ranks and titles stirring in their united souls. Ren's seductive shadow-call now seemed distant, obscuring memories of who and what she was: a tool of Order, forged in rigid discipline yet nurturing sparks of more within. Loyalty and finding belonging mattered most. With Hux's discerning eye to hone her talents, who knew the heights attainable ? For now honing skills and learning all she could from him fulfilled deepest drives for meaning and mastery.

Thus resolved, JR-6025 proceeded the rest of the evening as Hux's shadow; observing, listening, learning from each subtly waged interaction the finer points of dominating through guile and demonstrating one's mettle. Subtly too she noted who among the Order's elite seemed most valued—or viewed with disdain and distrust. Information was power, after all, in this nest of aspiring avians and lurking serpents.

"I will continue my mission—if you’d allow me ?" She asked general Hux who smiled and nodded.

"Go."

She nodded before going near the buffet and General Hux stayed behind, his eyes lingering on her. He smiled and then, a voice made itself heard next to him.

"So…It seems you also brought a stormtrooper as your plus one, General Hux ?" He heard a familiar voice say behind him and didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. The voice continued.

"Captain Phasma." He acknowledged.

"General Hux." She acknowledged back and smiled. "Rather impressive. She succeeded in making all of those who hate you hate you a little less…"

General Hux quickly turned towards Phasma with a subtle grin on his face. He was enjoying the fact that his plus one had managed to impress everyone in the room as well. General Hux was hoping that she would be able to keep up the same energy throughout the party. General Hux was feeling more and more attached to JR-6025 at what he perceived as being a successful appearance.

General Hux gave Phasma a subtle smile in response and spoke.

"Indeed she has. She has managed to impress all of us, not just me. It seems like I made the right choice when I decided to bring her with me tonight."

Captain Phasma nodded and smiled back.

"…I know this stormtrooper. She fought with me on Takodana rather valiantly. And yet, I heard that you had made sure she doesn’t get a promotion. Too bad. She seemed to have all the qualities required to become a great sergeant…unless you have ulterior motives—of course." Captain Phasma glanced at him knowingly.

General Hux’s smile faded when Phasma brought up the notion that he had ulterior motives towards JR-6025. She seemed to be perceptive enough to figure out there was something else going on and she even pointed out that he was keeping any potential promotion away from JR-6025. General Hux was still feeling a little bit proud because of her recognised bravery, but this comment by Phasma had caught his attention and he wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to let her find anything out.

General Hux remained silent for a few moments and was thinking of the best way to respond without giving too much away. General Hux had to deny what she was saying because she was beginning to get a little too close to the truth. General Hux didn’t like the idea that his plans may be discovered or that he was being so transparent. General Hux was beginning to realize that Phasma was quite observant and he had to come up with a response that would not make it seem like he had something to hide.

General Hux gave out a fake laugh as he spoke.

"You have quite an imagination, Captain Phasma. How ridiculous for you to assume just because she was so brave and intelligent on the field that I must have some ulterior motive in not promoting her. I am simply making sure that she remains focused on her duties within the First Order. She is just a simple stormtrooper and I know it would be too much to throw promotion too early. It’s always too easy to be seduced by power and I would not want that to happen to her."

"Right." Captain Phasma had a small amused smile playing on her lips. "So thoughtful of you, general."

General Hux tried to let out a little chuckle. He knew that Phasma could see through this charade, but he was too proud to admit anything. He was feeling a little irritated because it felt like she saw right through him. General Hux was starting to wonder if he may be too transparent and too vulnerable with Phasma here. General Hux was trying to keep his cool when he spoke back to her.

General Hux continued with his charade as he replied back.

"Exactly. My focus is making sure that she remains level headed and focused on her duties."

"Oh yes. I am quite sure your intentions are in perfect alignment with the ones of the First Order. But, are you sure that the reason you are refusing JR-6025 a promotion isn’t because of…more personal reasons ?" Captain Phasma kept a knowing smile on her face as she looked at him once more.

General Hux couldn’t help but chuckle at her statement. She was getting way too close to the truth.

"How ridiculous of you to assume there is anything personal between JR-6025 and I. I simply am choosing to not promote her at this time because I believe she is still too inexperienced. You would want your soldiers to be level-headed and aware no ?"

"Of course, sir." She grinned as she brought a glass of champagne to her lips. "How ridiculous indeed…"

General Hux remained calm to not betray any emotion on his face. He was still trying to play it off as if he was being nothing but truthful. Captain Phasma was really beginning to make him feel nervous. General Hux tried not to let her affect him. But she was getting way too close to the truth. General Hux had to think of a good counter for what she was saying to keep the charade going. General Hux spoke back.

"Perhaps you feel you know better than I who should deserve a promotion in the First Order ?"

That seemed to make Phasma reconsider her direct approach.

"I would never assume to be any better than you are at your job, sir. I have the utmost respect for you. But…" Her smile faltered for a second "…does JR-6025 know ?"

General Hux’s anxiety seemed to increase as the conversation was going on. She was coming dangerously close to discovering his true intentions regarding JR-6025. General Hux tried to keep his calm and spoke in a low tone.

"What do you mean ? Know what ?"

Phasma suddenly lost her smile as she looked down at Hux—reminding him suddenly of their height difference.

"Does JR-6025 know that she is no longer First Order property—but yours exclusively ?"

General Hux suddenly froze. His breathing was fastened from the shock of her question and his heart was beating fast from this situation. General Hux looked deeply into Phasma’s eyes. Phasma was quite perceptive which is what made her so deadly. General Hux had to watch what he said at this point.

"Do not bring up any absurd conclusions like that. JR-6025 is not my personal property. That would be absurd."

"Is that so ?" She narrowed her eyes at him. "Forgive me. I must have been misinformed then."

General Hux tried to play it off with a subtle grin as he responded.

"We all make mistakes. I assure you that this is indeed one of those times where you are just misinterpreting the situation. JR-6025 is by no means my personal property. She is just a simple stormtrooper that I have chosen to bring with me tonight. There is nothing to read into this situation beyond that."

"Of course…" Captain Phasma chuckled. "Then if anyone would take her away from you, it wouldn’t bother you one bit, would it ?"

General Hux’s heart started to beat even faster in his chest as she asked that question. He was very afraid that she had actually read between the lines. General Hux had to be very careful with how he responded. General Hux would not let anyone take Jr-6025 away from him. But he was also trying not to be too obvious about it.

"Why don’t we stop assuming things, Captain Phasma. There is nothing personal between myself and Jr-6025—" General Hux could not even finish that sentence.

"Come on, general. Your eyes haven’t left her since the moment you both walked in. You barely give me a glance every morning, and I may be the closest to an ally you have within the First Order." She smirked.

General Hux was not expecting that she would make this observation. Was General Hux really becoming too attached ? Why was this bothering him so much ? He felt completely off and he was starting to lose his cool.

"How ridiculous. I cannot look away for a moment without you making assumptions."

Captain Phasma chuckled.

"I am merely stating facts. Your eyes haven’t left her. Not for one second. Well, until I arrived anyway." Again General Hux felt all of his anxiety build as he realized how transparent he was becoming. He was aware of the fact that he had been staring at Jr-6025 all night long, not wanting to miss a single second of her. He also felt a wave of anger and annoyance build as she kept pointing out things that he did not want her to point out. General Hux decided he needed to turn this around somehow. General Hux was silent for a bit, deciding what to say next. It was clear that Phasma was getting under his skin and he wanted to try and turn this whole thing around. General Hux wanted to gain the upper hand again. He looked straight at her and tried to speak in a very composed way.

"My eyes haven’t left her because I was simply observing her behavior here. I need to make sure that she behaves herself and doesn’t do anything embarrassing here tonight. That is all."

"Ah. Of course." Phasma hummed—unconvinced. She then gave the room a quick glance and realised that…you were nowhere on sight. "Then, I am sorry to inform you that your plan has failed and your little stormtrooper is nowhere in sight."

General Hux felt a sudden urge to panic. He was now aware of the fact that JR-6025 had disappeared and he had no idea where. He was unsure of how long she had been gone and General Hux looked around quickly to try and find her but all he saw was Phasma with a smug smile on her face. General Hux felt that she had set him up and he quickly spoke to her.

"Where is she ? Where is JR-6025 ?"

Captain Phasma shrugged.

"She left towards the gardens. A few minutes ago."

General Hux felt his pulse spike at Phasma's words. After their charged dance, he hadn't meant to lose sight of JR-6025, yet here he was—played for a fool in front of his own subordinate. Quelling a scowl, Hux squared his shoulders coolly. "Thank you, Captain. I should attend to my..." He caught himself just in time, aware of Phasma's mocking stare. "...to ensuring proper protocol is maintained. Enjoy the festivities."

He exited briskly, abandoning Phasma's insolent smirk for the solace of the crystalline gardens. Their scintillating blooms soon led him to a shadowed alcove, and a figure swathed in moonlit silver.

JR-6025 stood pensively among fragrant clusters, seemingly lost to thought. At the crunch of his boots on gravel, her helmeted head turned swiftly. "General ! I did not mean to abscond, I only wished a breath of air after—"

Hux raised a gloved hand, forestalling excuses. "Think nothing of it, trooper. I merely wished to..." He trailed off, momentarily at a loss beneath her visored gaze. Stepping closer, he resumed softly, "To ensure you found this place...as relaxing a respite as I." His fingers traced the petals of a glittering hyperflora, eyes following their delicate contours. "Phasma's taunts know no bounds, it seems. But here, we need not face such insolence."

She chuckled.

"Captain Phasma is an excellent captain. She has saved me and my comrades many times…"

A wry smile curled Hux's thin lips at JR-6025's response. "That she is, though it seems her skill at command extends also to...needling vulnerabilities, where she senses them."

His pale eyes gleamed with cool purpose once more as gloved thumbs massaged her plated palms affectionately. "Make no mistake, I respect Phasma's prowess immensely. But here, now, there is a...higher authority whose favor I seek."

JR-6025 tilted her masked face inquisitively towards the General as he caressed her plating in a clandestine gesture most unlike protocol. Yet his intentions sparked no alarm within her, only intrigue towards nuances beyond codes she'd been crafted to comprehend until now.

"Phasma sees much, as befits a commanding officer," she ventured softly. "But perhaps some things evade even her keen sight." Lithe fingers wound gently through his in reciprocation, testing boundaries both craved yet feared in equal measure.

"Your vision, sir, encompasses far more than mere strategy. Each lesson you share expands the possibilities of what I might achieve." Eyes flared with earnest longing to justify his faith where others saw but a disposable toy soldier. "My purpose remains to serve—yet also to evolve under your discerning tutelage into something…"

She trailed off, sensing dangerous currents in words left unsaid. Around them blooms swayed languid as perfumed sighs upon the whispering breeze, dappling moonlight across their clandestine congress. Out there conspiracy brewed, but in this bowered cocoon another power held fuller sway.

His hands prowled the intimate mysteries of her form with sensual care. "Let go rigidity's chill grasp, feel the imperative fire your potential hints at—and become the revelation I foresee." Lips grazed the chill of her mask where a flush of understanding might bloom. "Dare to evolve, JR-6025. Become mine. "

JR-6025's breath came short, mind racing at the implications behind General Hux's provocative offer. To renounce protocol's rigid grasp and embrace a higher, more intimate purpose under his singular tutelage—the prospect both terrified and exhilarated in its audacity.

Meeting his piercing stare steadily, she attempted rationale. "Sir, while your faith in my abilities humbles, a trooper's function remains utilitarian. We are but tools to further Order's mission as deemed fitting."

Yet his roaming hands tracing her waist with gentle feather-light touches awakened sensations beyond what she knew, stirring turbulence in her formerly disciplined heart. When had duty's lines blurred so, between this man's charismatic orbit ? Hux smiled, a reptilian gleam of ambition in icy eyes. "Do not think to instruct me on what is fit, my resourceful trooper. I alone determine Order's designs, as I do yours." Gloved fingers lingered beneath her chin commandingly.

"Deny if you must. But, I see potential begging to be found…" His intensity ignited answers to questions she'd not known to ask. In the gardens—away from prying eyes—she felt…more.

Softly, borrowing his courage, she replied. "Then guide me, General, to walk new paths of understanding. I would…evolve, under your hand."

In Hux, Order. In Order, destiny. And in destiny…Two sapphires burning bright…The eyes of general Hux filled with ambition and unfulfilled purpose. General Hux regarded his loyal protege, unspoken understanding flaring between them. Few dared match his will and vision with such acuity, let alone offer soul's depths to shape as clay.

"Well spoken, soldier," Hux murmured approval. "Your dedication to Order's ascension heartens."

For a lingering moment they remained, breaths mingling intimately behind twin barriers. Both wearing masks. Yet duty remained. With evident reluctance, Hux withdrew. "Come, JR-6025. I believe we have much to do…"

JR-6025 slipped from the blossom-berved bower's lush confines to fall in step beside General Hux as they began the return to gleaming corridors where duty waited.

Yet for moments lingering, some hidden tendril of sentiment curled warm in her core recalling how his eyes had glimmered upon her, seeing promise of greater things to be. Though duty called them each to solemn purpose, in that private grove another truth had flowered, bright as the glitterflora.

"General." She kept her tone level, professional despite fleeting fancies. "My purpose remains to the Order. Its perpetuation and betterment are the sole objects worthy aim. If through your direction I may evolve to more fully realizing such goals, no reservation shall I harbor."

A respectful distance separated them as befit rankings, yet she risked a glance aside.

"Your vision gives shape to our collective destiny, General. Where it leads I shall follow, without hesitation or doubt." Gloved hands folded at the small of her back, she straightened proudly. "My skills are at your full disposal. Command me as best furthers our righteous cause."

General Hux hummed before asking JR-6025:

"Indeed, trooper. Now, tell me…What intelligence did you manage to gather ?"

JR-6025 nodded shortly.

"Very well, sir. I believe the enemy is hiding in the Atzerri system. I have done my research and we recently received a message from one of our spies there who claimed to have some potential leads, General. Names and last known locations of suspected Resistance collaborators to interrogate."

A satisfied smile crept onto Hux's pale features.

"Excellent. We shall meet with our operative and have them give us the full intelligence package. It's time I took a more...personal role in the search."

He looked to JR-6025 expectedly. "And you, Trooper, will accompany me on this mission. I have a feeling your unique skills will prove most useful as we extract whatever secrets may lead us to our enemies."

She nodded.

"Yes, sir. I’ll do my best to help you and the First Order."

A traces of a smirk played at Hux's pale lips. "Well spoken, as always. Your loyalty will not go unrewarded, trooper. Now, prepare yourself—we leave for the Atzerri system tonight. Just after the end of the gathering."

JR-6025 nodded and took her leave, hoping her methods would continue guiding them both toward restoring peace through understanding, not just vengeance. Time would tell what secrets awaited them in the stars ahead.

But part of her wondered what secrets this far-flung system might yet unveil. And what path her partnership with the enigmatic General Hux would forge. His methods were severe, yet she sensed in him a deeper wisdom that could guide them to lasting victory without needless bloodshed.

Her thoughts wandered to the cryptic words of Kylo Ren, warning of Hux's supposed deceit. She couldn't make sense of his intent—was it a power play to undermine command, or did lingering gratitude for her saving his life prompt genuine concern ?

Either way, she trusted her own intuition above the anarchic ramblings of an unstable force user. Hux had proved himself a strategist who valued duty and discipline above all. Together, their coordinated skills could piece together the map to Skywalker and crush the Rebellion at last. Her thoughts returned to FN-2187 and she sighed.

She hoped that he would be far away from Atzerri.

Zipping her bag closed in her room and leaving the fancy outfit on the bed, JR-6025 rose with purpose and headed for the shuttle bays. A new chapter in the war was unfolding. JR-6025 strode with fluid grace toward the gleaming hangar bay where General Hux's shuttle awaited. Though purpose sang keen through her enhanced veins, hidden currents eddied in recesses of her refined mind.

Ren's ominous words still lingered, shade amid the harsh glow of duty. She trusted Hux's vision, his strategic acumen and dedication to the Order's righteous cause. In him she sensed a guiding intellect that could steer them to victory through coordinated effort, not wanton brutality.

Yet doubt nagged at reasons behind Kylo's warning—was it truly spawned from instability alone ? Ren claimed to see deeper verities than most, though obscured by passion's tempestuous tides. And Hux himself remained an enigma, calculating eyes betraying depths beyond what met the gaze. As she marched past sleek TIE fighters toward the shuttle's lowered ramp, JR-6025 paused. Gaze drawn upward through viewports to endless night skies strewn with distant worlds, reflections stirred.

Out there amid the stars' chorus of mysteries lay answers to the war rending the galaxy. Sought both as prizes of conquest and balms for the conflicted soul. She would see this mission through with Hux, have faith in his objectives aligning with the greater peace she envisioned.

On the edges of perception, tantalizing futures flickered—lives rewoven across parsecs under compassion's weaving hand, bloody strife redeemed to purpose higher. All hung in the balance of each moment's choices. With steadied breath, she turned to face her fate, whatever secrets the shuttle's hold might birthetch aboard.

#fandoms #imagine #fanfic #star wars #general hux x reader #kylo ren x reader #ben solo #armitage hux

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asamiontop · 2 years

Text

A few of the images in question…

Bothered - Part 2

Part 1 here (with the inspiration cover art from @papurrcat)

Kara stops at the newsstand outside the Lena Luthor Foundation to buy a fresh copy of the magazine. The one she carried from her apartment is a little too wind blown and a lot too crinkled from her wringing grip. Lena deserves to have nice, non-wrinkly things.

Kara turns and her eyes track up the skyscraper that houses Lena’s new headquarters. She might be uncharacteristically nervous to see her friend today, but she’s still proud to be walking through these doors to meet her. The new office, the new mission, the not-so-new name… they’re all evidence of Lena’s perseverance, her singular focus to do good in the world.

Hence why Kara had fought to be assigned the article and interview in the first place. She had taken to the task with relish, eager to show the world the many incredible facets of one Lena Luthor. She hadn’t expected the photographer for her piece to take such a… different approach. To unveil an edgier, more carnal side of Lena even Kara hadn’t known.

Kara swallows and tries not to shred the brand new copy of Lena’s cover article into tatters between her nervous fingers. She deposits it delicately (if not a little twitchily) into her bag and forces herself through the revolving doors and up to Lena’s office.

“Kara, hi!” Lena greets her with breathless wonder as Kara eases the door open. She sounds just as pleasantly surprised as if Kara hadn’t announced her visit via text message minutes before. The dazzling smile Lena tosses her way curls around Kara’s spine and squeezes, effortlessly dissipating the tension that had gathered on the elevator ride up. Kara grins back wide.

“Hey Lena,” she responds, a little hushed. The young Luthor shuts her laptop and moves to stand. “Oh no, please don’t get up on my account!”

“Don’t be silly,” Lena waves her off and sweeps elegantly out of her chair. She may not be a corporate billionaire any longer, but she still carries herself like the most expensive person in the room. It never fails to leave Kara in a bit of a daze. Especially when all of that enchanting energy is directed at folding Kara into a tingling full-bodied hug. “I was about to take a break anyhow. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Besides me missing you?” Kara sighs over Lena’s shoulder. She’s taken to allowing herself an extra few seconds in their embraces lately. Now that they’re on sure footing again, she won’t miss any opportunity to let her best friend know how valued she is.

“We had movie night just yesterday,” Lena argues weakly. Kara hears the way her breath whooshes out of her though and she smiles. Lena may never admit it, but Kara is keenly aware of how the former CEO melts a little at the very idea of being appreciated. And Kara is a total glutton for giving Lena that satisfaction.

“That was a whole sixteen hours ago!” They release one another slowly and Kara tips her head to the side. “Today is a new day. I need my Lena fix.”

Lena’s diffident huff pushes Kara’s smile out to her ears. She loses track of time watching an imperceptible blush dust across the shorter woman’s cheekbones.

“So,” Lena begins after indulging Kara’s staring far longer than she would anyone else, “is feeding your addiction the only reason you came to see me? Or do I have something else to thank for the impromptu visit?”

“Oh!” It’s not exactly Kara’s fault that Lena’s scronchy smile and barely there perfume distracted her from the task at hand. She’s Kryptonian, not made of stone. “Actually yes!”

She fumbles in her messenger bag and retrieves the magazine, holding the cover against her chest to prolong the reveal. “Catco’s new issue came out today. The one with the article I interviewed you for.”

“Oh!” Green eyes brighten even as Lena shakes her head. “Goodness, I got so caught up with paperwork… I’d actually forgotten.” She smiles apologetically at Kara but her gaze dips excitedly to the bound papers gathered in the super’s arms.

Kara wastes no time and extends them in offering. “You’re the feature, you know. Cover and everything.”

Lena blushes lightly once more and Kara revels in the sight as she plucks the glossy papers carefully out of the extended grip and walks over to the couch. Kara follows and holds her breath as Lena turns the magazine over.

“Oh wow,” Lena whispers, a hint of a smile in her words. Kara recognizes the quick stutt-stutter of her heart as she catches sight of the cover. “I…” she laughs and shakes her head. “I honestly didn’t think they would use some of these shots. Let alone on the front page…”

Kara watches intently. Her cheeks are beginning to heat at the sight of real-life Lena spreading her pretty fingers over the tantalizing picture of herself. She swallows down her fidgeting as Lena tilts her head curiously and flips the issue open.

Minutes go by in silence. Kara follows the movement of Lena’s eyes, shifting colors as they dash across the page. Eventually her eyebrows raise, a soft expression of gratitude trapped between her dark lashes and parted lips. “Wow, Kara. This is…”

“I mean every word,” Kara smiles. “I wanted to give the world a glimpse of all the different parts of the Lena that I know. In case you missed it, you’re pretty great.” Lena ducks her head bashfully and Kara scoots a few inches closer on the couch, eager to coax a few more diffident smiles. She leans in so she can glance at the open pages over Lena’s shoulder. “I didn’t get to see the layout before it got published, but I really think the photos—”

“Wait, you didn’t even get a chance to agree to these?” Lena turns to her with alarm. “I’m so sorry!”

“What? No, it’s—”

“Oh god. I know how awful it is to have your creative agency taken away from you… I shouldn’t have let myself get so caught up at the photoshoot.” Lena rushes to absorb all blame faster than Kara can fly. Kara moves her mouth to argue but Lena shakes her head, redirects her now stricken attention to the images on the page. “How inconsiderate of me. I’d been thinking about how we discussed fashion in the interview and considered that it might be fun to put that twist in the photos. Andrea was so encouraging… She had dozens of ideas and we had such fun with the entire team, I… I got carried away and didn’t even think about how it might work with your writing. I’m so sorry, Kara.”

Kara waits a few beats. When the silence has lasted long enough to assure her Lena has finished, she reaches out and places her hand gently above Lena’s knee. The young Luthor turns to her. “It was not a big deal at all. The only reason I didn’t get to see the spread before it went to copy was because of a Supergirl emergency. Not because Andrea didn’t let me see it.”

That seems to reassure Lena somewhat. She takes a short breath and a fraction of the concern dissipates from her eyes. Kara smiles encouragingly and tilts closer, pointedly directing her gaze to the magazine for Lena’s to follow.

“Besides,” she ignores the way her own throat tightens at the combination of Lena’s physical proximity and the ideas that surge whenever she catches a glimpse of her in those poses. “I think you look amazing.”

Kara hears the reverent awe in her whisper and it occurs to her that she might sound a bit too… earnest. “I mean, uh, the entire layout looks amazing,” she corrects awkwardly.

Unfortunately, Kara’s candidness is incredibly persistent. It wants to go nowhere but out. “And you look so beautiful, Lena. Powerful, elegant, and um…” Kara hesitates long enough to lower her voice around the word that has traveled to the tip of her tongue quite without her permission. “Sexy,” she croaks quietly.

Lena’s breathing does a rapid stop-start. “Oh.” Her voice sounds paper thin and Kara grinds her teeth, hoping against hope she didn’t make Lena too uncomfortable with her compliments.

“Um. Thank you,” Lena mutters. She hedges for a second, then redirects expertly. “Are you sure it’s alright, though? I hate that I enabled Andrea to encroach on your freedom to tell the story your way. I can give her a call and—”

“I’m sure,” Kara entreats, slipping effortlessly into ‘comfort Lena’ mode and tightening the fingers wrapped around the other woman’s knee. “The whole spread fits really well with the theme I envisioned for the piece: ‘the different facets of Lena Luthor.’ Besides, I think the photographs manage to show a side of you that’s not captured in the text.”

Then, distracted by the alluring gaze of Lena in print and the warmth of Lena in the flesh, Kara adds forlornly, “A side of you I’ve never gotten to see before.”

Lena furrows her brow and the inaudible sound of her skin knitting into wrinkles alerts Kara back to reality. “A side you’ve never… but you know me better than anyone, Kara. What ‘side’ do you mean?” Lena queries, hesitation coloring her voice.

The side that screams ‘take me,’ Kara’s brain supplies unhelpfully. She manages to keep that lethal answer appropriately locked away but struggles to find one she can give that doesn’t sound absurdly similar.

“You know…” her communication skills are rapidly evacuating her mind, “the side of you that’s more, uh…” Kara squirms, straightens glasses that aren’t there, works her mouth silently around nothing, and swallows three or four times before pursing her lips and releasing the only somewhat neutral word she can think of: “seductive.”

“Seductive.” Lena repeats it like a question.

“Yeah,” Kara heaves.

Another crinkle appears between Lena’s manicured eyebrows. “Well,” she begins, sounding like she intends to explain herself, “I mean. That’s not—you and I, we…” Lena pauses again, clearly at a loss for words. It pains Kara to see how miserably awkward she’s made this.

She removes her hand because the skin of Lena’s thigh suddenly feels like fire on her palm.

“I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, Lena,” Kara moves to intercept the trajectory of the conversation and wrangle it onto more even ground. “As a matter of fact, that’s the other reason I came over. It’s… what I wanted to talk to you about. I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide parts of yourself from me.”

Now Lena looks plainly confused. “Hide…?”

Kara nods emphatically. This is the discussion she’d been angling for. “You can be any version of yourself with me, Lena. Silly, sad, tired…” (Kara can’t help the way her eyes stick like glue to the image of the Luthor sporting a gorgeous ring, her tight ponytail clutched in her own fist.) “Even the sensual side. I love every part of you.”

“That’s… um,” Lena begins unsteadily, still blatantly perplexed, “incredibly sweet of you to say. But I… I’ve never intended to hide from you, Kara. I’m genuinely sorry if it appears that way.”

Lena seems well and truly thrown, but bless her heart she’s doing her best to engage with the Kryptonian’s disparate points. She pauses thoughtfully. “I guess I’d say that any type of… ‘seductive’ behavior just seems a little… inappropriate to impose on you?”

Lena attempts to assuage Kara’s concerns with kindness but even then it comes out like a question. Kara barrels forward to try to help her understand.

“That’s what I’m trying to say—I don’t want you to feel like that’s inappropriate with me! You’re not imposing!” Lena’s brow wrinkles again and Kara tries to clarify. “I like being there for you, no matter how you’re feeling. I love acting ridiculous with you when you’re feeling silly. When you’re upset, I’m always ready to cry with you or listen or hug you until you can’t breathe. And when you’re tired I have been known to provide the best snuggles in National City.”

Lena's fond smile snags all of Kara’s focus for a second, which is why she doesn’t fully comprehend the implications of saying, “So when you’re feeling more… sexual or whatever,” the word absolutely sticks to Kara’s throat so she rasps it as best she can, “I want to be able to help with that, too. You don’t need to keep it from me. Inappropriate or not, I’m here for you Lena. For everything you need.”

Lena’s eyes widen. “You—you want to… help with…”

“Yes!” Kara nods. “You wouldn’t be imposing. I’d hate for you to have to seek that… that, uh,” she stumbles over the word pleasure and flounders dumbly for a few seconds before landing on an eloquent, “stuff… from anyone else. Not when you have me.”

Lena is openly gaping at Kara now. She stares for several silent moments before shaking her head and clearing her throat. “Let me get this straight. Y-you want me to… be open, with you specifically, whenever I’m in a sex—seductive mood?”

Kara nods again, silently encouraging. Lena proceeds with caution. “And you are offering to… what, exactly?”

“Whatever you need, Lena,” Kara answers immediately. The words are neutral but her neurons light up with images of Lena’s ponytail wrapped around her fist and the prominent tendons of Lena’s neck flexing under her tongue.

“Oookay…” Lena drags out the word. “And… you’d hate for me to seek that sort of attention from anyone else?”

“You got it!” Kara smiles brilliantly. Lena always understood her better than anyone. She watches expectantly as her friend turns this information over in her head.

“Kara…” Lena’s sigh sounds more melancholy than anything. “I don’t mean this poorly but… don’t you think that sort of attention might be a bit too… intimate?”

Kara’s throat goes dry. She hadn’t really thought anything could ever be ‘too intimate’ between the two of them. It’s them. It’s Lena. Kara hasn’t yet encountered a boundary she isn’t willing to blast to smithereens for this woman. Kara tells her so.

“Oh.” Lena goes silent. Her eyes fall to her lap where the cover of magazine stares damningly into Kara’s soul.

The quiet drags on as Lena ponders and Kara watches nervously, keeping her fidgeting to a minimum so she doesn’t break anything. She’s not sure what she’s expecting, but after a few agonizing moments it seems Lena decides on something.

When she turns back to Kara, her eyes burn hotter than the smolder that’s frozen on the page.

“Are you asking me to seduce you, Supergirl?”

It sounds like she could be joking, if either of them wanted an out. But Lena’s voice is sinfully sultry even in jest and it seeps through Kara’s pretenses like water through a sieve. She gulps and, Rao help her, caves without a second thought. She nods vigorously, captivated by the promise ahead.

Lena’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly. Even without the tell, Kara can hear the way her heart picks up its pace. The rhythm is far too inviting to ignore. Kara thinks about how it might taste different at the base of Lena’s throat or at the inside of her wrist or the juncture of her inner thigh. Evidently the drumbeat can accomplish a fair share of seducing all on its own.

Emboldened, Lena slides closer over the leather, injecting a fluidity into her movements that wasn’t there a split second ago. It makes the muscles in Kara’s fingers twitch with the desire to feel. Lena’s voice drops to a low rumble that vibrates through the couch and she leans a few tantalizing degrees closer to Kara.

“Are you also suggesting that you don’t want me to engage in any such flirtations with anyone else?”

“No,” Kara chokes out. She can’t escape the tempting notion that Lena is hers alone. “No one else,” she clarifies. “Just me.”

The shaky admission lights a furnace somewhere within her body. She can’t locate it exactly but it sends heat thundering to her cheeks, her neck, the space between her legs.

Lena leans closer and suddenly all Kara knows is the smell of her perfume. How she’d managed to survive its spell before is beyond understanding, but now it’s all Kara can do to string two breaths together without wanting to drown in the scent.

“Then tell me, darling,” Lena purrs, stretching like a cat across the seat until her mouth hovers by Kara’s ear and her hair tumbles onto the sleeve of Kara’s sweater. “What can I expect to receive if I agree, hm?”

Kara makes a bit of a strangled sound as Lena tips up and brushes her lips over the shell of her ear. She loses the battle of self-control to a full body shiver when Lena whispers a suggestion, hot breath washing over Kara’s skin. “A kiss, perhaps?”

“Yes,” is the obvious answer, even though Kara’s voice cracks open on the idea of it alone. Lena’s hum of satisfaction sends another ripple through them both. Since when are their chests touching? Kara’s is heaving wildly and if it weren’t for the booming beat of Lena’s heart, she would think her best friend was perfectly at ease in this otherwise devastating situation.

It’s wicked, the way Lena’s tongue darts out and paints a short but blazing trail over Kara’s ear. “Or could I have more? Would you give me more if I asked?”

Kara just groans her agreement, brain effectively ruined. She discovers belatedly that her hands have found the curve of Lena’s waist. They fit perfectly, kneading into the softness of her sides, keeping their bodies close.

“Any—” Kara surprises herself with the hoarseness of her own voice. She clears her throat but it does nothing at all to help. So she squeezes Lena carefully between her palms, delights in the way her friend’s sharp inhale presses outward against her fingertips.

“You can have anything you want,” Kara promises.

Lena’s heartbeat stutters again. That’s the only warning Kara receives before Lena is sitting back, putting a very unwelcome few inches of distance between them. Kara’s hands remain anchored on her waist.

“And what do you want, Kara?”

The question is a pointed deviation from the last few titillating seconds. Lena’s eyes are serious all of a sudden, earnest, boring into hers. Kara trips on the change of pace. She hasn’t allowed herself time to consider the question this way. The only thing she knows for certain is that she doesn’t want to let Lena go. “Me?” Lena nods.

Kara’s fingers flex and she looks away, nervous in the spotlight that’s been turned on her. “I… I, um—” The crinkle appears. It’s not as if she doesn’t want at all—Kara can infer that much. If she thinks back, she recognizes that when it comes to Lena, she’s wanted for as long as she can remember. But the ‘what’ is a doozy.

It’s lived as an amorphous ‘more’ since the beginning—more lunches, more coffee breaks, more movie nights, more sleepovers, more closeness. The list was never ending, but closeness to Lena lived permanently at the top. It wasn’t until Kara saw those photos—images that seemed to capture Lena’s desire, a desire of a very specific kind, and reflect it right back—that the vague idea of what Kara yearned for began to take shape.

This new ground they’re standing on is upending her entire understanding of what she’s always craved with Lena. It transforms from an intangible ‘more’ to an explosive ‘everything,’ and Kara can barely wrap her head around how this may fundamentally change their relationship, let alone how to ask for it. So she stammers helplessly, caught red-handed longing for something she couldn’t name until it turned around to look her in the eye.

Lena is wondrous. Kara has known this forever and is reminded of the fact when her best friend senses her hesitation and, instead of assuming rejection and fleeing, gathers Kara’s incongruence up in gentle hands and reshapes it into a question she has a prayer of answering.

Softly, patiently, Lena smiles. “Let’s start small,” she offers quietly. Kara blinks, breathing uneven, and rubs her thumbs across the top of Lena’s ribcage as acquiescence. Lena holds her gaze steadily and reaches up with one hand, setting it gently on Kara’s shoulder. She slides it carefully inward until her fingertips meet the overheated side of Kara’s neck.

The direct contact sucks all of the Kryptonian’s focus like a black hole. Her entire world narrows to Lena’s thumb as it sweeps lightly over the sensitive front of her throat, dips into the hollow of her collarbone and then tracks back up to rest beseechingly beneath her chin. Lena’s eyes drop heavily to Kara’s mouth and she feels them like glittering emerald brands.

“Do you want this?” Lena finally asks, finding Kara’s eyes through her lashes. She’s incredibly gracious for breaking this tumultuous realization into bite-sized pieces for Kara, but Kara isn’t blind to the unspoken question floating in her eyes. Lena is achingly vulnerable in her hands, exposing a guarded and tender part of herself to Kara, asking, wondering if she is wanted.

The notion of Lena feeling anything but treasured and appreciated borders on offensive. Kara can hem and haw all she wants but she will die before she lets Lena doubt for a second how much she is desired in every way imaginable.

“Yes,” Kara answers. The released truth leaves her light as a feather, but it charges the air as Lena exhales her apprehension in tiny, nervous breath. Kara crowds closer. Any distance feels excessive all of a sudden. “I want you very much,” she amends, ducking her head so she can press her lips to the pad of Lena’s thumb.

Lena suppresses a watery chuckle. The wetness in her eyes catches the sun and turns them a soft, mossy amber. Their foreheads gravitate together, magnetized by sheer relief. Lena’s eyes flutter shut and Kara is busy being enthralled by the way her lashes brush the tops of her cheeks when she asks, hesitant once more, “Do you want this— us… more than once?”

Another idea to consider. This answer takes no time at all. “Yes.” Kara presses forward, brushes Lena’s nose with the tip of hers. “As many times as you’ll let me.

“One step at a time,” Lena smiles, radiant even as she pokes gentle fun. “Why don’t we see how this first one goes, shall we?”

Kara thinks the force of her yes could swallow them both whole.

In the end, it’s not the dark seductress Kara encountered in print that pulls Kara’s lips to hers. It’s the Lena she knows, the Lena she loves, soft and candid and hers, that guides Kara down into the last first kiss of her life.

(“I should have known you’d be really good at this,” Kara mumbles later as they ease apart and back together again.

“At what?” Lena inquires from her tantalizing perch astride the Kryptonian’s lap. “Kissing?”

“Seducing me,” Kara corrects breathily and presses her mouth to Lena’s bright laugh. “The kissing part, too.” Her hands are still tucked tightly around the small of Lena’s waist and she’s beginning to wonder if it’s worth ever letting go. “You're good at everything, Lena. I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Their kiss lingers for a several lazy seconds before Lena pulls back, slowly releasing Kara’s lower lip from between her teeth. She pins Kara with a devastating stare and licks her lips. “Would you like to find out what else I’m good at?”

Kara’s never flown anyone faster than she does that day.)

(Later, later, during her Best Sister speech at Kara and Lena’s wedding, Alex teases them relentlessly for flirting in published print before ever figuring anything out in person.)

#supercorp #idk this feels like a crack fic to me #ficlet #continuation #i have no excuse

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foolish-sparrow · 11 months

Text

Wrath of the Sun God

A/N: So @kingmaker-a mentioned a ttrpg that he has created, this is loosely based on the character I have for that.

Warnings: Mentions of death, violence, fire, manipulation, swearing

Word Count: 1.6k

Demigod/superhero!Reader x Civilian!Sana

You were no hero, not in the way one typically thinks.

You don’t patrol the streets to look for danger before it strikes, nor do you go out of your way to protect the city and its residents.

But she makes you want to burn all of the evil the world has to offer until there's nothing left but ashes.

You were no hero, not in the way one typically thinks.

You don’t patrol the streets to look for danger before it strikes, nor do you go out of your way to protect the city and its residents.

You remember bringing it up once, a roundabout way of consoling a stranger – a friend of a… colleague… who was asking for a promise.

“What makes a hero, in your opinion?” You had asked, waiting patiently as she took a moment to form her answer before giving it to you.

Her words weren’t new nor were they substantial. And even though this was the very first conversation with her, you could have very easily predicted each syllable that left her lips.

“Because I don’t consider myself one,” you told her, firm and unshakable, “the only time I will aid those in need is if I happen to be at the right place at the right time.”

A selfish way to think, but something you do stand by. Because, in your mind, the more time and effort you use to make sure everyone is safe, the less attention you can afford to the very few you truly hold dear.

After all, after the loss of your mother, only at the tender age of nine – you had made a vow. You would protect those you cherish, no matter the costs.

For a long time that list only consisted of your father, the man who attempted to fill in the void left when your mother passed.

He did it all; he taught you the wonders of history and showed you that even when the world bears its unforgiving fangs, there is still hope, there will always be hope.

He watched with that unconditional love and pride in his eyes as you continued to grow and prosper. Always there beside you every step of the way.

So long as air continued to fill your lungs, no harm will come his way, you will make sure of it.

That wasn’t to say he was the only one; your social life may be reserved, squandered down to the single digits that your list may have, but their names were there.

Rose had been your first friend back when you were young, and to this day you’re uncertain as to why she had such tenacity when attempting to befriend you. She was a raging tornado heading your way, and yet you let her pull you in each and every time.

And then there was—

You finally shake your head just before the image of them can fully form, your finger having already instinctively began rubbing at the bare skin where a dazzling band of white gold once occupied.

It was sometimes easy to forget that you had ended a prosperous relationship of 10 years, the void in your chest only seeming to garner your attention when your palm meets the cold empty space of your bed.

“Hey… uh, you alright?”

Your eyes flicker to your designated partner for the night, Moonshot, before they return to the bustling city below.

In typical superhero fashion the pair of you were situated high above upon one of the many skyscrapers. A point where the stars look enticingly radiant.

A sigh filters through your nose as your eyes instinctively close with the slight spike of irritation.

While there wasn’t anything inherently wrong with Moonshot, they provided just enough friction to get on your nerves. Whether it be through their seemingly never-ending knowledge of all things superhero related or the fact they still try (and fail,) to use their ego to one-up you.

This is why you prefer teaming up with Kai, but as you quickly learned when growing up; life isn’t always fair.

“Keep your focus,” you say instead of answering, relaxing the tensed muscle of your shoulders when they don’t push.

You hated it when people pushed.

Despite the shortcomings though, there’s no denying that Moonshot is one of the best fitted for night watch.

Because while they often like to subdue their importance within the team, being bestowed with the gift of Artemis certainly brings its perks. Ones that run parallel to your own.

After all, the sun’s burning glory runs deep in your veins, synapses raging like wildfire.

Sometimes, when you dream, there are moments where you feel like Apollo himself is talking to you, sharing his prophetic knowledge, or lulling your worries away with a few plucked strings of his golden lyre.

Having his Gift has translated into your powers being on the more… manipulative side.

You can twirl a human as if they were nothing more than a wooden puppet, or force them to reveal their deepest secrets and desires.

You don’t use them willingly, and to the very few, not at all.

Even though I would very much like to use them on a certain… street rat.

A hum returns your attention back to your companion. It would seem they have a particular tune stuck in their mind.

They catch your gaze, mistaking your usual stoic expression as one of annoyance.

(To be fair to them, it usually is.)

“Sorry,” they blurt out, resembling a toy soldier with the way they stand to attention under your watch.

… Perhaps you can let your guard down, just this once.

“What song is that?” You wonder, the edges of your lips barely twitching upwards with how fast their head snaps back to you.

Their widened eyes blink insistently for a moment, clearly having you lower your shield has caught them off guard.

“Uh… just something I heard on the radio? I don’t know the name.”

Your mouth opens to continue the conversation, but Seer’s voice in your earpiece halts your tongue from forming the words.

“Got a bunch of a-holes looking hella dodge- oh wait they’re robbing a store. Helios? Moonshot? Your sexy asses got this one?”

With a roll of your eyes you breathe out an, “affirmative,” before placing your mask of indifference firmly back on.

Moonshot’s expression deflates as they watch you do this, but now wasn’t the time. “Let’s go?”

They nod, “after you.”

- - - - - - - - - - ☆ - - - - - - - - - -

Thanks to Seer’s guidance you find the perpetrators fairly quickly.

After they ran from the store they rushed to some random back alley to gush over what they thought to be a job well done.

You both begin walking into the only exit, and before you even have the chance to best figure out how to handle this Moonshot has already nocked their bow. “Alright, uh, dirtbags, hands up where I can see them.”

Your fingers twitch with the need to make contact with your face, but you hold steady so as to not make things any more unbearable.

The 3 men turn to you as soon as Moonshot begins speaking, and you can only just make out the whites of their eyes through the masks.

You notice one move their hand towards their waist, and your instincts kick in immediately.

For a moment there’s a dull glow that flashes through the alley, but then the calm of the night is betrayed by the loud wailing of someone in pain.

The man that had been attempting to reach for his weapon is now using both hands to claw at his eyes, the agonized screeching of “I can’t see! I can’t fucking see!” Bouncing off the bricked walls and into the night air.

The other two watch in horror as he thrashes about, desperate and confused, before they drop their bags and attempt to make a run for it.

Another sigh filters passed your nose, and you finally allow the hand that had been twitching before to reach up in order to massage your throbbing temple.

“Take care of him will you?” You say to Moonshot without even looking at them, “I’ll deal with the foolish runaways.”

- - - - - - - - - - ☆ - - - - - - - - - -

Apart from that little stint, the rest of the night goes passed without a hitch.

You uncharacteristically pat Moonshot on the shoulder before you leave, forcing out the barely-there whispers of “good job,” before you’re gone from their sight.

The sun is rising with you as you walk, and you bask in its warmth.

This was your domain.

You can feel your muscles relax after a particular turning, eyes finally landing on a place that had become a welcomed escape for the past few weeks.

Using the spare key gifted to you, you open the front door, breathing in the familiar scent that still renders you weak even now.

The small-ish abode is still dim as it’s still early morning, and so you take off your shoes before maneuvering your way to the only bedroom.

The single occupant still fast asleep has obviously not stirred upon your arrival, and you finally allow yourself the luxury of releasing a tender smile at the sight.

Removing the disguise you had made with your own hands, you slip into some clothes you had left from nights passed, still trying to keep the noise to a minimum until you slowly lift up the blankets just enough to slip underneath.

You do jolt slightly when the hand you had wrapped around Sana’s front becomes the victim of such a tender caress. Her fingers gently grasp your hand until she can lift it high enough to place a kiss upon your skin.

She turns in your hold, eyes barely open but a smile on her face all the same.

You lean in, placing your lips against each eyelid before they glide down, passed her nose, and onto her own waiting ones.

One of her hands come up to rest on your cheek, thumb grazing your skin before she pulls away.

No words are spoken, you were no good with them, after all, but when she once again closes her eyes before bringing you in closer, you feel that heat in your chest. The one that comes alive with the need to protect.

To those that wish you harm, you think as you surrender into her embrace, may they fear the wrath of the Sun God.

#twice scenarios #twice imagines #sana scenarios #sana imagines

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reds-skull · 5 months

Text

Not Alive, Nor Dead

[PREV PART] [AO3]

This is an extremely short chapter because I had to finish it in a cliffhanger. Don't worry, I won't let you suffer too long, writing the next one right after posting this :D

The early morning sky shines through the helo windows, brightening by the minute.

Ghost, Soap and Gaz have gotten to their transport after a small debrief confirming all the details of the mission. Their main objective is to find a connection from the anonymous PMC to the international human trafficking rings. Secondary objective is to rescue the two revenants El Sin Nombre gave them at the party.

Ghost mentally goes over the layout of the abandoned mall. Gaz will be combing through the top floor, the roof of the building eroded with time, letting the Sergeant fly in easily. Soap and Ghost will search the ground floor, starting at opposite ends.

He got authorization to use Limbo from Shepherd, as always, but while the mall is huge, it would be extremely risky to use it with the two Sergeants in the building.

If Johnny wasn’t a Limbo magnet, perhaps he would’ve considered it. But with his little problem, along with potential kidnapped targets, Ghost will once again have to rely on his non-supernatural abilities. That is, unless a very unlikely opportunity presents itself, and he can be sure all friendlies are secure.

The Sergeants have been discussing their powers for the past who knows how long.

“I think the worst time I used them was on a skyscraper, got knocked unconscious and came to while falling off, thought I would die again”, Gaz snickers. Ghost remembers the mission - Garrick was shaking and unresponsive when he dropped to the ground. He’s heard the story only about 50 times now.

Soap smiles, albeit forced, and turns to the window to contemplate.

“What about you, mate? What’s the worst you’ve had to heal from?” Gaz inquiries gently.

The Scot starts playing with the flames burning from his fingers, “losing legs always sucks, but the shittiest I had to deal with was a bullet to the head.”

Ghost stiffens, Garrick’s brows furrow, “fuck, how does that feel like?”

“Depends on where you get shot.” Johnny shrugs, raising a hand to his nape, “here it would paralyze me, till the wound heals at least.” the hand lifts to the back of his head, “hind brain could make me blind”.

He brushes through his hair, following the warhawk, “middle is a lot of things, memory, speech, can make me act like I’m… a child basically.”

Soap stops at his forehead, tapping it once, “and frontal lobe… that’s where yer personality is. How ye control yer movement and speech.”

The cabin is quiet for several long minutes, the howling wind and his fast beating heart a soundtrack for Ghost’s spiraling thoughts.

“How many times you got shot in your head…?” Gaz asks, the concern and horror palpable in his voice.

Johnny’s eyes are lost far in memories when he answers. “Once. Straight on.” He laughs, something broken about it, “it felt like I would never be myself again.”

No one said a word for the rest of the flight.

Gaz hops off first, not waiting for the helo to land before jumping down towards a large hole in the mall’s ceiling.

Soap goes next, getting off near the south exit of the building. He turns back to give Ghost a dazzling smile, thawing some of the ice built up in his veins, before squaring his shoulders and entering.

Ghost is taken to the north entrance, the chopper barely touching the ground before lifting off back to Los Vaqueros base. He takes stock of the mall, the wide windows haphazardly covered by tarp. There are no guards outside, and the doors are open.

He would consider himself lucky if he wasn’t suspicious of things appearing so deceptively easy. He checks his silenced pistol one last time before making entry.

The shopping mall is unnaturally empty, almost like Ghost walked in and everyone disappeared, stores still full of inventory.

He clears them one by one, half listening to the Sergeants do the same.

“Place gives me the creeps, are they feckin’ hidin’ from us?” Johnny mutters.

Ghost is reminded by what the Vaqueros said, that the PMC might have a revenant in their ranks helping them disappear. The store he’s standing in could be full of soldiers hidden by strange powers, and he would be none the wiser until they strike him down.

His eyes itch to close. If only he could use his powers safely… no matter how hidden any person is, no one escapes Limbo.

No one except the Scot currently complaining in his ear.

Ghost stops dead in his tracks and drops to a crouch when he hears footsteps. Not a second later a man walks by the store he’s in. The soldier is in a shaded part of the mall, the lights long gone, and Ghost can’t make out the details of his uniform, but he sees the rifle in his hands damn well.

“Got a hostile walking by, taking him down.” Ghost mutters into his radio before stalking closer to the soldier. He needs him dead, can’t risk going forward with a threat at his six.

He notices a mask on his face, an eerily similar look to the PMC he and Garrick observed in Sweden.

Ghost lines the shot at the man’s head, and the silenced bullet slices through the air, going right into his target.

He waits for the body to drop, and time seems to slow to a halt.

The soldier’s head, a hole clearly shining through it, turns agonizingly slowly towards him. Ghost feels his eyes widen, his focus pinpointed on the soldier’s features. What he saw was no mask. On a blank face, smooth, dripping darkness, a maw stares at his direction.

“Ghost, how copy?” Johnny whispers in his ear after he has gone dark for too long.

He watches the soldier search for whoever put the bullet in his head, moving, not dropping dead.

He lifts a hand to press the button on the comms, unable to take his eyes off the… thing currently hunting for him, “they’re not human”.

“Ghost, repeat your last-”

The creature snaps its gaze to something on the floor, and bends down to pick it up.

“The soldiers, the PMC, they’re not bloody human.”

The object shines as the thing rises, light catching on it, and Ghost recognizes his own bullet.

Soap answers confusingly, “I’m seeing three right here, they look human.”

The soldier’s head snaps forward, away from Ghost’s position. South.

Gaz’s voice comes through, “What the - they all saw something on my end. Soap, did you get spotted??”

“No! They just-”

Far off gunshots cut Johnny off, the monster in front of him now running at inhuman speed south.

“Soap! They’re going for you, RUN!” Ghost shouts at his Sergeant, finally revealing himself and shooting at the running soldier. He empties a whole clip before it drops dead, sizzling and melting to the floor.

Garrick calls in, “they’re not fucking dying! Soap, what’s your status?!”

Static and shots fill the line for a second, before Soap responds, “-too many– can’t– Limbo—”, the radio cutting off as he runs.

Johnny wants him to use Limbo?!

“Sergeant, get as far as you can from the mall!”, Ghost barks, starting to run the other way, “Garrick, search for the revenants, path should be clear of hostiles, clear the floor and get out!”

Gaz sounds frantic when he objects, “sir, I can get Soap out of there, just need to reach him-”

“Negative, someone needs to look for the targets-”

“-but sir-!”

Ghost growls, holding on his radio so hard he can hear the plastic cracking, “that’s an order, Sergeant. Is that clear?”

Gaz is quiet for a moment, “...yes sir”.

Ghost resumes his mad dash north, his rib cage vibrating from his heart. He wants nothing more than to save Johnny, but he needs to finish the mission.

Explosions echo through the abandoned building, each a booster for his feet. His Sergeant isn’t weak, he tells himself, he tries to wholeheartedly believe, but the fear flowing within him refuses to accept that.

“Ghost!”, Garrick snarls, “found the revenants, extracting them now!”

Johnny tries communicating again, his voice desperate and out of breath, “-do it–far—NOW!”

Ghost slides to a stop, closing his eyes with a scream.

Limbo rushes to replace the empty walls of the mall, and Ghost feels his muscle tense, almost snapping with the struggle to reign the realm in. He feels the soldiers get swallowed by it, his victims dragging them off to rip and tear and melt them into nothing.

He counts from 5.

The victims eat away all that comes through, the soldiers disintegrating into smoke.

4…

Shrieks bellow from the residents of the void.

3…

His hands start shaking, the light around him flickering, letting in the eternal sharp cold of Limbo.

2…

His victims stop, a quiet falls on them. They look towards the distance, an excitement washes over the not-dead.

1…

Ghost shuts his eyes, gathering back Limbo just as it rushes to consume Soap. He is knocked back by the sheer force of it, Limbo fighting to stay open.

He lays there, shaking, feeling sweat track down his body. His muscles convulse violently, and he lifts an unsteady arm to his comms.

“Soap… how copy…?”

The silence that fills the air cuts through him more than the freezing lands he has reign over.

“Garrick?”

“Ghost, revenants secure, I’m good.” the Sergeant lets out uneasily, “I don’t- haven’t seen Soap, sir.”

He gets up, legs uncooperative, “call for exfil, I’ll look for the Sergeant.”

He hears a shaky breath from Gaz, “Ghost, there might not be a body to find after-”

“He is not. In. Limbo.” Ghost snarls, veins so cold his blood feels frozen.

Johnny isn’t there. He can’t be. He CAN’T.

Ghost almost falls back to the ground, stabilizing himself on a wall.

His breath is heavy and loud, panting like a fucking rabid dog, teeth bared under the skull mask.

He walks forward, in search of a flickering flame, a silly warhawk.

A warm smile to liquefy his blood once more.

Sorry not sorry haha

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sleepingsun501 · 1 year

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Chapter 1: Eyes Do Not Lie

Characters: Commander Fox, OC Keeda Ionza, OC clone troopers

Summary: Commander Fox rescues a young woman, Keeda Ionza, from a disastrous date.

Rating: Explicit 18+, no smut

Warnings: SA threat (just the threat, nothing further), graphic depictions of violence, one use of r-word.

Word Count: 3.2k

Ao3 link

A/N: CHAPTER 1 UPDATED: 03/30/2023. Hello and welcome to the updated version of Sweet True Lies. It has been reworked into 3rd person and will follow my OCs and canon characters POV's from here on out. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy it!! This chapter contains graphic depictions of violence and an SA threat (just the threat, nothing further), so if you're not ok with those, don't read. A huge thank you to @rexxdjarin and @wild-karrde for being my amazing beta readers!!

Next Chapter

Eyes Do Not Lie

Keeda sipped at her wine, slouching back into the luxuriously plush chair of the over-the-top restaurant overlooking Coruscant’s skyline. She already disliked coming to these kinds of establishments for her mother’s charity functions, so coming to one for a date was not exactly her idea of a fun evening. Sighing purely out of boredom, she crossed her legs and gazed out the glass wall beside her table.

Having grown up with an abundance of wealth from her late father, a bitter taste was left in her mouth when it came to the upper classes of the Core Worlds. The posh lifestyle and the overinflated sense of self-importance most of her socialite friends—if Keeda could really call them friends—possessed was off-putting, to say the least. She had never been one to buy the most expensive clothes and trinkets or follow the latest trends that made their way through the materialistic society, and she glumly wished that one of them were here to take her place.

Tonight, she would have rather been down in the night markets, eating steaming food straight from vendor stalls and watching various street performers—things she remembered doing with her father before he died. He taught her the true value of wealth from a young age, how to maintain it, and how to use her fortunate position in life to help others.

After her father was gone, she had spent the majority of her free time volunteering and working for the charity organization her brilliant surgeon mother had founded in his memory. She even earned her university degree in finance to prepare herself to take over the charity someday.

Keeda had met people of all different species from all different places across the galaxy through her work, and her workload had only doubled since the Clone Wars had started. So, on a rare night off, she had somewhat hoped to be swept off her tired feet for a change.

She gazed out the window at the darkening sky, the towering skyscrapers, and the speeder traffic as she mused in her memories, barely listening to her date anymore. It’s so beautiful here at night. she thought, swirling the pale, bubbling liquid in her glass. The glittering skyline itself never failed to dazzle her—something her date was currently failing at.

“And I also have—well, my father has—a summer home on… And one time I… Did I mention that I…” her date rambled.

Maker, he just doesn’t shut up about himself. she grumbled inwardly, taking another sip of the expensive, sparkling white wine. Keeda was certain the sweet, crisp flavor of the fruity alcohol and the promise of a buzz were the only things that would get her through the evening as the young man seated across from her babbled on and on.

It seemed that he never recounted a story or even spoke a sentence unless it was about himself, and it was always after he had taken a bite of his over-priced gundark steak. She had barely gotten a word in edgewise between his stories, he never once asked her anything about herself, and anything she said may as well have been fuel for his ramblings.

She continued sipping at her wine—her own steak barely touched thanks to his obnoxious, open-mouthed chewing—as she analyzed him, wondering what her mother’s friend could have possibly seen in this tall, lanky, self-involved governor’s son. He was not unattractive, with dark hair and sharp features, but his attitude had canceled that out straight away. If she were being honest with herself, she was so disinterested that she could not even remember his name.

Her mother’s friend had meant well when she had set up the date for her, but even her mother had done a double-take at her when she had agreed to go. Keeda was not normally one to go on a blind date, and this experience was only reinforcing that she never would again. Finally tired of his incessant chatter, she downed her wine and signaled a passing waiter droid so she could pay the tab and be done with him.

“Eager to get going?” he asked, smirking at her around a mouthful of food.

“Something like that,” Keeda muttered blandly, inserting her credit chip into the droid. Her skin crawled while she waited for the payment to process. He had looked at his dinner the same way he was eyeing her now, like a piece of meat.

The droid beeped a few times to signal that the payment had gone through, so she quickly grabbed her wool-lined coat and practically sped to the exit.

“Well, I’m not gonna say no to a lady who likes to treat,” her date laughed. He tossed his napkin over his leftover food as he rose, bumping the table less than gracefully, and quickly followed after her.

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, Keeda stepped into the turbolift that took her swiftly to the practically deserted streets below. Although Coruscant did not technically have seasons, it had been uncharacteristically chilly for the past few days in her district, keeping the normal foot traffic away. She cringed a little from the feeling of her date’s eyes still on her, and it made her stomach churn.

“Listen, I’m really not feeling all that well, tonight,” she said over her shoulder, trying to gauge just how close he was. The air in the small lift was becoming rather thick, making her feel boxed in. “I think I just need to go home.”

He ignored the implied sentiment completely, his hands coming up to grip her upper arms as the turbolift came to a stop. “Bet I could make you feel better, babe,” he said, his voice low and slippery.

A potent anger began to swell in her chest and pulsed up her neck. Just get out of here. she thought. Utterly disgusted by his behavior, Keeda shrugged out of his grasp before he could come any closer. “Please, don’t touch me.”

“Hey, come on now!” he protested bluntly as she nearly launched herself out the opening doors.

The chilled air felt like a blessing after the short lift ride, and she hastily started toward a cab stand further down the lamplit street to call for a ride.

“What? You don’t want to have some fun?” the man called after her.

So, he’s going to be like this. Lovely. Keeda groaned internally, thoroughly pissed off now. She scowled darkly as she turned to face him. “Seriously? I just said I don’t feel very well and you’re coming on to me? What is the matter with you? For an official’s son, your manners are severely lacking.”

His eyes narrowed and he immediately lost all of the poorly practiced suavely mannerisms. She had struck a nerve, and he took a purposeful, dangerously slow step toward her. “All right then, babe, maybe I won’t show you a good time. Maybe I should just take you somewhere nice and quiet and show you how I’d use that smart little mouth of yours.”

Every bit of instinct she possessed was screaming at the threat he now posed, but she stood her ground. Her lifelong martial arts training kicked in, and she subtly widened her stance. Even with the alcohol in her system, she knew she was more than a match. Still, she wished the street had not been so deserted.

“Don’t even try it. I could knock you cold,” she said boldly, attempting to put him off trying anything. The adrenaline was spiking through her now as he came ever closer, sharpening her focus and her anger, but just as she was anticipating, he lunged at her.

“You little bitch!” he snarled, infuriated by her threat. He wildly grabbed at whatever part of her he could reach, and she deftly ducked away.

“Hey!” a deep, modulated voice shouted in the distance.

But she was too focused on planting the heel of her palm into her assailant’s nose and her opposite fist into his throat to hear the voice. He immediately coughed and sputtered, but managed to take hold of her arm and pull her off-balance as he doubled over. While she struggled against his grip with a loud snarl, she heard several sets of heavy boots racing toward them.

“Hey, enough! Leave her be!” the modulated voice shouted again. Keeda had heard that voice hundreds of times.

Clone troopers.

Suddenly, the assailant was knocked away from her and flat on his back by two massive blurs of red and white armor. The three of them landed together in a heap of limbs, leaving Keeda to stumble back into someone else’s arms. The adrenaline and fury racing through her system made her lash out, swinging herself around to shove whoever it was away. Her hands met more armor—redder than that of the other clones.

“Get off me!” she shouted, pushing the clone away. As the initial shock wore off, she realized these were not ordinary clones. They were Coruscant Guard officers. Well, at least the one who had caught her was. He wore kamas and a helmet vizor along with carrying two DC-17 pistols—items she knew only officers were allowed.

“Easy, miss. I—” he began, but she was already stalking away toward the cab stand again. “Miss, wait! Are you hurt?” he called after her.

Readjusting her form-fitting coat, Keeda turned sharply to face him. “I’m fine. Just leave me alone,” she spat. She had to admit her tone was not warranted, but she could not bring herself to care. All she wanted was to go home and forget this whole horrible night had happened.

The officer held his gloved hands out placatingly, “Please, I’m only—”

“I know!” she interrupted, huffing and trying to collect herself. “Look, you saw what he did to me, and if you need a statement I’ll send one to CSF tomorrow.”

“Boss?” one of the guardsmen called. The assailant was struggling in their steel-like grips even with his hands now in binders, adamantly demanding to be released.

“Hold him there, Rydar. Be there in a minute,” the commander called back, his modulated voice deep and rich. He raised his hands to his helmet after a moment, pulling it off to reveal his face.

Even though Keeda was so aggravated, she stopped to take in his features, a little surprised at how different he looked from the average trooper. She had seen this face dozens of times, and his beautiful bronze skin was complimented by his red and white armor, but his other features set him apart, and she thought he was rather ruggedly handsome.

His hair, a little longer than regulation on top and greying at his temples, looked like it would have normally been neatly styled if he had not just taken his helmet off. The long, lightly greying curls on top of his head fell haphazardly onto his forehead along with a few others breaking loose around the evenly-faded sides.

There was also a scar on the left side of his bottom lip, as though it had once been badly split and not healed properly, and a light layer of dark, grey-laced stubble dusted his cheeks and jaw. He was massive—tall, broad, and burly, and Keeda suddenly felt very small. That was when she noticed he had managed to take a couple of cautious steps toward her, and she immediately backed away.

“Please… I-I just want to leave,” she choked out, a lump rising in her throat. She could feel her eyes widen in fear and prickle with tears as she looked back at her assailant. He was being held on his knees by the two other clones and glaring hatefully at her now. The chill that ran down her spine had nothing to do with the cold air, and she promptly looked back to the commander, who was watching her carefully. Those sharp brown eyes did not seem to miss a thing.

Holding her frightened gaze, he nodded. “Okay, that’s fine. At least let me call a ride for you,” he said soothingly, searching her face and stopping his advance. He changed course over to the cab stand, pressing several buttons on the keypad and a few more on his vambrace. In less than a minute, a long, sleek blue speeder arrived.

That’s not a normal cab. Keeda thought to herself. That’s a senatorial transport vehicle.

A sharply dressed Mirialan driver hastily stepped out of the speeder, tipped his cap, and opened the door for her, ignoring the rest of the scene entirely.

“Take her anywhere she wants to go,” the commander said, the crisp authority in his tone telling the driver everything he needed to know.

“Yes, sir,” the Mirialan replied, nodding to the commander and waiting for her.

Her jaw dropped open unceremoniously, her head swiveling between the red-armor-clad commander and the posh speeder. She felt frozen in place, stunned by the gesture, and she was suddenly unsure of whether or not to take the ride as the knot in her stomach clenched.

The commander gave Keeda a soft smile and a nod. His expression may have been calm, but his dark eyes were shining with urgency. “Go. This is on the Republic.”

Swallowing thickly and tearing her gaze away from his, she muttered a small, “Thank you,” and slid into the back seat of the speeder. She looked back at the clone commander one last time as the door slid shut. He was still gently smiling at her, and his posture had relaxed marginally now that she was in the vehicle.

“Where to, miss?” the driver asked, setting the speeder in motion.

She told the driver her mother’s address, not wanting to go back to her own apartment to be all alone. She was still looking out the back window as the speeder rose into the sky—the commander grew smaller by the second, his armor the only distinguishable part of him as the distance between them increased.

The sinking feeling in her stomach and the numbness in her limbs only became more prevalent as her adrenaline rush subsided, and she suddenly felt guilty about how she had snapped at him. She hugged herself and gnawed at her lip when she realized just how horribly she had treated him. After all, he and his men had come to her aid, and he had been very cognizant and understanding of her feelings. Although Keeda doubted she would ever see him again, she hoped he did not think badly of her.

Commander Fox watched the speeder fly off, keeping that poker face on until she was well out of sight. Behind him, he could hear his men holding her assailant down, just as he had ordered.

His blood boiled with rage at the dark-haired man trapped in Rydar and Jonor’s grips. He had rounded the corner just in time to see this shabuir lunge for the young woman, and every cell in his body had propelled him forward to help her.

He could not blame her for how she had reacted to him catching her after his boys had knocked the assailant to the ground. She had done an admirable job of defending herself in the situation, and he was impressed with how fierce she had been, but now that she was safe, he could get to work.

A dark scowl crept across Fox’s features as he turned and strode back to his men, slipping his bucket back on and cracking his knuckles. He was so very glad the street was deserted because this pompous asshole was going to learn a lesson.

Without a word, he motioned for Jonor and Rydar to follow him down a nearby alley. The assailant kicked and thrashed and growled, but his slight frame barely phased the two clones.

Stopping a few yards from the back wall of the alley, Fox pointed to the ground in front of him. His boys came around him, tossed the assailant to the filthy duracrete in a heap, and took their places flanking their commander.

“Don’t you know who I am?!” the man shouted indignantly, pushing himself to his knees.

Fox did not hesitate. He lunged forward, and in two swift strides, he locked his massive hand around the assailant’s neck, lifting him straight off the ground and slamming him into the wall. He did, in fact, recognize him as the son of a prominent Coruscanti governor.

The tall, dark-haired man instinctively clawed at Fox’s vambrace, trying desperately to loosen the hand cutting off his air supply, but the Marshal Commander of the Coruscant Guard was taller, stronger, and far angrier.

“You’re the son of Governor Baylo Gargeli,” Fox said evenly, despite the situation. “You must think you’re something special, don’t you? You think you can just take whatever you want. You threatened to rape her, I could see it in her eyes.”

The man tried to choke out some defensive response, but the terror in his eyes gave away the truth.

“I sincerely hope you reevaluate your morals after tonight,” Fox said, the rage slipping into his tone. He quickly released the man from his binders and dropped him to his feet, stepping back a pace.

As soon as the assailant had caught his breath, he snarled in a rage and threw an unskilled punch at the commander. He was promptly backhanded to the ground by Fox, who had been fully prepared for the possibility of retaliation. As the assailant scrambled to his feet again, Fox’s fist found the underside of his jaw, nearly lifting him off the ground once again only to land in the grime.

Fox knew he could have knocked the man out if he had wanted to, but he knew his own strength, and he wanted this hut’uun to feel it.

The marshal commander stepped back again and looked at the two vode beside him. Jonor and Rydar were little more than shinies, still a little skinny and trigger-happy, but he could see them on their toes. He tipped his bucket toward the assailant, who was now groaning in agony, giving the boys the green light.

“If he’s stupid enough to swing again, you get ten seconds. Leave him conscious and let him walk home,” Fox said over his shoulder, giving them veiled instructions not to break any bones. This guy is out of his mind. he thought to himself, hearing the moment the assailant decided to try his failing luck against Jonor and Rydar.

The sounds of grunts, groans, and punches grew quieter as he walked back to the entrance of the alley, counting down in his head. When he got to ten, he whistled, and the boys came jogging to his side to continue their patrol. “Not a word.”

“Yes, sir,” they said in unison, picking up their discarded blasters and falling in step.

As they continued their patrol, Fox could not help but think of the young woman. She had been so fierce, beautiful, and strong, and he did his best to push the fear of what could have happened to her out of his mind. Instead, he thought of how she had shoved him back when he had caught her, and he had been a bit surprised that she was capable of such force. Her eyes had shone with both fear and determination in the darkness, ready to fight him off, too. He quietly hoped she had made it to wherever she needed to go, and that she would recover quickly from her ordeal.

Next Chapter

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mycupofrum · 19 days

Text

Just one kiss

Fandom: Star Wars

Pairing: Obi-Wan/Anakin

Rating: Mature

Word count: 5k

Summary: Anakin and Obi-Wan are chasing a bounty hunter who tried to assassinate Senator Amidala in Coruscant. During the chase, they end up in a nightclub. Anakin has been unable to get Obi-Wan out of his mind and finally decides to do something about it.

Link: AO3

A/N: My first ever Obikin fic finally here in English. :D Takes place at the beginning of Episode II; AU as the story differs from canon events. I hope you like this!

Speeders rushed through the air in all directions, and the dazzling lights obscured the dreary grey skyscrapers rising high in Coruscant's restless night. Anakin and Obi-Wan had been looking for a bounty hunter who had recently attempted to assassinate Senator Amidala, and they ended up in a local nightclub.

The culprit was cunning and appeared to have disappeared into thin air. Anakin suspected she was a changeling, so he and Obi-Wan decided to stay and keep a watchful eye on the nightclub crowd.

"We must be extra careful." Obi-Wan's tone was serious as he spoke to Anakin.

"I'm always careful, Master," Anakin replied.

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, and Anakin merely shrugged and smirked.

"Well, for the most part anyway."

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes but made no further comment on the topic.

Anakin had just gotten a lecture from him about how irresponsible it was for him to drop his lightsaber when he abruptly hopped off the speeder and into the assassin's speeder, leaving Obi-Wan to control the vehicle.

At the end of his speech, Obi-Wan stated that Anakin would probably end up being the death of him one day. Anakin had walked behind his Master into the nightclub, trying not to stare too directly at his wonderfully toned back, and had tried to master his own thoughts again. As a result, he said something incredibly stupid to him.

"Of course I wouldn't intentionally risk your life. You're the closest thing I have to a father."

Anakin felt a burning rush of embarrassment when he remembered it again. What in the name of Sith had caused him to say that? His feelings for Obi-Wan were very different from those of a son for his father.

"Stay here and watch the crowd," Obi-Wan said before turning to go.

"Where are you going, Master?" Anakin demanded, confused.

"For a drink." Obi-Wan walked away, but Anakin's deceptive eyes followed him for a few seconds too long. Obi-Wan could be both infuriatingly annoying and attractive at the same time.

Anakin pulled himself together and turned around, keeping an eye on the crowd. There was no sign of the assassin, but there were humans and other creatures everywhere, most likely making shady deals at the tables, getting drunk or high, or simply hanging out and looking suspicious in the corners of the nightclub.

"Great", Anakin muttered to himself. It was like trying to find a nut in a pile of scrap metal.

He let his gaze wander among the guests of the nightclub.

A quick motion caught his attention, revealing someone retreating into the crowd, her presence sparking an abnormal impulse of fear in the Force. Anakin's senses were heightened, and he ran after the dark-clad figure. Undoubtedly Obi-Wan had felt the same sensation as he ran alongside Anakin just seconds later. They arrived at the back of the nightclub, which was packed with loud, raucous customers. Behind them, there was only one automatic door that had just closed and most likely locked.

"Did you see who went there?"

"I barely caught a glimpse, Master. But I felt the same fear in the Force as before. I believe it was the assassin we were looking for."

"I agree."Obi-Wan paid close attention to their surroundings. "All right. We need to get inside."

Obi-Wan followed Anakin to the door, and thanks to a discreet tug of the Force, the guests of the nightclub gave them space. Obi-Wan touched the door once, but it didn't move. They couldn't find a sensor or a code lock anywhere to unlock it.

Obi-Wan's face was focused and serene as he stared at the closed door, held out his palm in front of him and swiped it sideways. The door opened.

"I could have done that too, Master," Anakin huffed.

His true frustration came from Obi-Wan's use of the Force for something so trivial but necessary, which always made Anakin tense.

"Undoubtedly," Obi-Wan said, mildly amused. "Next time we get in the lift, you can press the button."

Anakin grimaced. He wished Obi-Wan saw him as more than just a boy; he was already a man.