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coyotes-rules-of-change · 5 months ago

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Part 3: Christopher

The long awaited continuation of my first series—I’m assuming… If you missed the first parts, please feel free to enjoy Part 1: Kellen and Part 2: Adam before you continue on with Christopher. In terms of content warnings, Kellen is still quite rough and aggressive, but it seems as though the new and improved Adam has helped the raging jock tone it down a bit.

Kellen wasn't sure what had happened with Adam. He knew two realities: one where Adam was an insufferable nerd who was Kellen's submissive ticket out of academic probation. But now Adam was an insatiable twink who got off on Kellen's abusive nature, and now Adam has become an almost addictive part of Kellen's life. Kellen had always been unwaveringly straight, but now he continued to use Adam's ass as a routine receptacle for his pent-up aggression. Instead of Kellen bullying the nerdy Adam into completing his schoolwork, Adam seemed to feed on Kellen's demeanor, controlling every rough and raging moment of their daily fuck sessions. It clearly drove Adam's prude of a roommate crazy, leaving the poor Ben rapidly departing his several accidental intrusions with an unmistakable look of shame.

But Adam's sexual hold over Kellen left his primary motivation unmet. Kellen needed another way to boost his grade. Lucky for him, nerds were everywhere; he just had to select one. Kellen scanned the dining hall. He considered a business major sitting in a booth. The kid, Kenneth, made a habit of dressing professionally and was always down for a deal, but Kellen needed to be sure his geeky clothes could guarantee good grades. It dawned on him that he could use Adam's roommate, Ben. It would be gloriously sadistic, and Ben was actively failing to hide the fact that he'd noticed Kellen across the hall and was nervously attempting to blend in. That did seem like a fun idea to Kellen, but a new victim crossed his path.

The D&D club had just finished its lunch meeting, and one of the hapless members walked right in front of the jock. D&D, comic books; the perfect nerd just walked right in front of him and out the dining hall doors, unaware of the follower he'd managed to pick up.

Kellen paced his stalking to ensure he caught his new grunt in the dormitory stairwell. "Hey, nerd..."

Christopher barely had any chance to react before being shoved against the wall. Comic books spilled across the ground, and the pudgy fanboy stared up at the menacing jock with an imposing figure matching those of the superheroes on the covers of the comics now plastered on the floor. But instead of heroic deeds, these muscles worked to intimidate and scare.

"Do you enjoy math, nerd?" Kellen's stare bore into the poor bookworm.

"Well... uh, no, not re—" Christopher barely managed to stutter out his response before Kellen barrelled on.

"No, you don't get it, do you. You enjoy math, dweeb."

Again, Kellen doesn't wait around for Christopher's stuttered response. "Wait, but I don't think—"

"This is my math homework." Kellen holds up a few papers. "This is due tomorrow. You can meet me tomorrow morning, nine o'clock, in the locker room at the school gym. It had better be done."

Kellen releases Christopher and turns to go, but against his better judgment, Christopher talks back to his departing bully.

"But wait! I already have my own homework! And I have a class at 8:30! I can't meet you at—"

Again, Christopher is interrupted, finding himself slammed up against the banister.

"You see these muscles, right?" Kellen didn't wait for a response. "You don't have to read your little comic books to know that I can fuck you up. You'll be there. Tomorrow. At nine."

Kellen turns to go, and Christopher slumps to the ground. This time he's wise enough to stay silent as the asshole jock strides out the stairwell door.

——————

The whole encounter in the staircase baffled Christopher as much as it terrified him. He wasn't sure why he'd been selected for this daunting task but was pretty sure the stupid athlete saw the comic books and thought he was bookish and nerdy. He really wasn't; quite frankly, he was good at math, but it wasn't anything he considered fun. Why do jocks like him think a love of comic books translated into unlimited intellect and a life of devotion to school work? Life is not the Big Bang Theory—in fact, Christopher had a few failing grades of his own, but the jock selected him. What could he do about it?

Christopher was worried about being able to complete the assignment until he actually looked it over and realized he'd covered this stuff in high school. Unfortunately, tomorrow's "assignment" turned out to be a backlog of nearly a week of work. Frankly, this guy was dumb if he made it into college without being able to pass high school-level assignments. It also wasn't until Christopher was finished and he went to write the name in at the top of the assignments that he realized he didn't even know the guy's name—yup, this guy is pretty fucking stupid.

As Christopher drifted off to sleep—later than expected due to the added work—it dawned on him this might not be the last time he'd have to do this. He wished he didn't have to worry about the dumb jock's work. It was that moron's mess to get out of, not his.

——————

The following day, Christopher decided to head to the meeting point early. He suspected the jock wouldn't react kindly if he were late. Ten minutes early, Christopher and his Spiderman graphic tee walked in the gym doors at the school rec center. Only then did he realize how out of place he'd be. It was clear from his short stature and paunchy frame that he'd never walked through those doors in two years as a student here. It took a good half a minute before he realized he'd stopped the moment he'd walked through the door. Regaining his motor function, he awkwardly walks up to the unattended counter. After waiting a few eternal moments, a huge black guy enters through a back door.

"Can I help you?" the man asks dryly.

Yet again, Christopher can only stutter. Only this time, it's because he's starstruck and intimidated, staring at a man with the broad frame of a superhero. In front of him was Kyle, the front desk worker, but in his mind, Christopher was staring up at a man who looked more like M'Baku from the MCU.

Growing frustrated, Kyle tries to get something out of the mute kid in front of him. "Can I help you?"

"I... uh... well, I—uh..." Finally, Christopher managed to muster a thought. "I need to go in..."

Kyle looked inconvenienced. "Are you a student?"

"Uh... yeah."

"Just swipe your I.D., kid."

Kyle returned to the back room, leaving Christopher in his awkward haze. It was for the best. Had the interaction lasted any longer, Christopher might have found himself attempting the Wakandan salute to fill the tension. And that would not have been beneficial... or appropriate.

Christopher walked to the row of turnstiles, slowly pushing through after swiping his card. Then he looked up. Christopher found himself surrounded by physiques ripped from the covers of his comics. This was getting more challenging. Frozen just beyond the turnstile, he realizes he might like the comic books for more than just their storylines. Presented with the real-life muscular forms of his favorite heroes in every corner of the school gym, he realized he was getting a little hard. Another scan of the room, and he jolts, realizing his nerves since entering the building had burned through a lot of his early start. He needed to be in the locker room in just one more minute... Fortunately, a steady bustle through another door allowed him to figure out where to go. Unfortunately, he had to walk across the long room packed with sweaty athletes. Christopher locked his gaze on the door and sped through, using every ounce of effort to ignore everything around him until he pushed into the locker room.

Like the gym behind him, the locker room also bore a smattering of athletic physiques... but he should have remembered what the locker room was for. Every muscle was on display: pecs, abs, biceps, thighs, calves, more. He was lucky that—at least for the moment—none of the jocks in the locker room were actively changing their underwear. The panorama before him left him genuinely paralyzed. Right on cue, the bully from the stairwell came around a corner into the view of his latest victim.

Kellen sported nothing more than a towel and a sly grin. The physique he had on display was just like Captain America, but Christopher knew he was nothing like the upstanding model citizen from the comics. Nonetheless, Christopher was flushed. The muscular form in front of him made him harder than he'd ever been despite the sheer terror coursing through him.

Kellen just leaned in and grabbed the papers Christopher held in his hand. He looked it over. "This looks right, not that I'd know. I'd better get good grades or else..." Kellen flexed a bicep. "I'll have to teach you a lesson."

Christopher just gulped.

"Here's my phone." Kellen hands over his phone with an empty contact pulled up. "Put in your number. If I text you, you respond. If I tell you to meet me, you show up—on time. So far, you're doing great."

Christopher still stands frozen and mute but manages to take the phone and enter his number.

"Here's your next round of work. I have my class at three so we'll need to meet before then. You have a lot to do in the next few hours. Good thing you skipped class, right?"

"I— I— I—..." Christopher knows he won't be able to pull off such a tight turnaround, but his brain is overloaded. He can only stutter.

Kellen turns to go, but then turns back and gets out his phone. "Oh wait, I almost forgot." He opens up his camera app and snaps a selfie. One where the camera is placed low, around his waistline, aiming up the grooves of his abs and capturing his cocky smirk just beyond his hard pecs. "Let me send this to you. I'm gonna need a contact photo, right?" He hits send and walks away. Christopher feels the text alert buzz in his pocket. He regains his composure and blazes out of the rec center at top speed.

——————

Kellen figured the nerd that interested in comic books would flush at the sight of all those jocks in the locker room. The little weakling couldn't even speak! Frankly, it couldn't have gone better. At noon, he decided he'd send his summons to the little ant.

Meet me at 2. Dining hall

He was met with a few seconds of the three dots (...) before the nerd replied.

We should just meet at the gym again

In literally any other instance, he'd punish this kind of insubordination. But if this little dweeb wants to head back to that locker room, Kellen was more than happy to make that work.

Sure, bro, see you there

——————

Kellen arrived twenty minutes early. He disrobed and posted up in the shower, where he could see over the top of the curtain once the nerd showed up. He thought he'd rattle the little fatty with a full view of his naked body since his shirtless torso already turned the little guy into a temporary statue. The anticipation burned through the remaining minutes until two o'clock came... and then went.

2:05. Kellen is getting frustrated. But then again, he looked forward to the beat-down he'd get to deliver his insubordinate slogger.

2:10, and Kellen was about to end his time in the shower stall, reaching for the knob to shut off the water, but just then—

"Yo, Kellen! You here, bro?"

Probably just one of his dumbass teammates. "Over here, bro."

Kellen turned off the water so he could grab a towel before the other voice could get to the shower stalls. He's in the middle of drying off when—in an instant, out of nowhere, a bulky form appears behind him. It's all so out of the blue, but Kellen processes the sudden contact from behind in quick fragments... A compression shirt covering hard muscle pressed against his back; his waist gripped by strong calloused hands; A pair of gym shorts restraining a thick cock teasing his ass; an exhale brushing across the skin of his neck as the one standing behind him moves in for a kiss... Desire welling up inside him as he takes in the man behind him—

And in another instant, Kellen pushes away and whips around. He's face to face with... who is that? He'd never seen this jock in his locker room before. Kellen was about to come unhinged at the initiation of the homoerotic violation. "Who the fuck—"

But the new jock cuts in with a far more casual tone, "Whoa, Kellen, bro! I'm sorry I startled you."

Kellen's still blazing on in his rage, "What the hell was that?!"

The jock just grins and moves in towards Kellen, peeling off his Spiderman compression shirt, "I thought we were meeting in the locker room at 2, bro."

And then, acting just an impulse faster than Kellen's straight defensive rage, the new guy has his hand on Kellen's cock. Sparks jolt through his psyche, allowing the homophobic hostility to be overcome by hunger and desire. The feeling swells, and Kellen's world shifts. Christopher, the pudgy comic book nerd he'd met yesterday, was Chris the jock, Chris, his best bro.

Christopher loved the tales of heroism and hope found in the pages published by Marvel and DC of those—often in peak physical shape—using their stature, both physical and otherwise, for good. It was a world where those who looked just like his bullies were the best of humanity... well, humanity and the broader universe.... well, the broader universe and the multiverse... And maybe, as he became all too aware of that morning meeting that unknown asshole jock who shoved him against the wall in a stairwell—maybe, he enjoyed those big muscular men beyond their presence in the plot lines.

The new version of Chris loved superheroes, too, growing up as the MCU took hold and bloomed into a cultural cornerstone. He watched multiple A-list stars debut as new hero after new hero, unveiling muscle they'd gained just for the role. Through high school, the fanatic teen had taken up weight lifting—at first, just to be close to the novice jocks and then realizing some hard work would earn him a coveted form of his own. By the time he'd reached college, he'd set his sights on a career path as a sports physician and trainer, allowing him to interact with muscle daily. And the marvel-worthy body he'd built for himself meant he walked among jocks and their sculpted forms as an equal. They even recognized his heroic obsession by referring to him as "the fifth Chris"—after Evans, Hemsworth, Pratt, and Pine.

However, Chris's obsession with muscle was more than personal and professional. He had several of his bros on the hook for routine sessions for worship, wanking and other forms of general pleasure. Some of them justified it as straight bros being straight bros, and others were more emotionally invested. Chris didn't care either way as long as it was muscle and pleasure. "Muscle and pleasure" were all Chris cared about and his entire reality revolved around those things.

But Kellen's reality was split in two. He was waiting in the shower to intimidate Christopher with his physique and sense of shamelessness for his own enjoyment and, frankly, to indulge his penchant for psychological torture. But now, he remembers heading for the showers, knowing Chris would join him, and they could jack each other off before heading out to the workout floor to lift. Christopher's first visit to the locker room that morning was just another morning for Chris; Kellen's exhibitionism was matched and escalated by Chris until they were making out against the lockers. At the same time, their hands ran across their brawny frames. That photo Kellen sent to Christopher—the first thing he'd sent the flabby wimp—was just one of many suggestive photos frequently exchanged between him and Chris. And that first meeting with Christopher was just one of many times he and Chris had fucked in the stairwell. In this case, Chris had pinned him against the banister while he thrust his thick cock powerfully into Kellen's muscled ass, but they traded off who topped and who bottomed regularly. But of course, that's where they'd end up after Chris coyly walked past him in the dining hall while making sure to give his jock cock a firm squeeze. Kellen knew that was the sign that he should follow Chris to one of their secret spots.

Kellen could still remember the plump comic enthusiast he'd known for just over a day, but his head rolled back as the pleasure of his best bro's grip on his cock overtook him. He could also remember how straight he was; years of locker room shenanigans in high school and college all followed up with the obligatory "no homo" tag. Now those same homoerotic displays from Kellen's high school days were received differently in the college locker room when another freshman jock met the provocative pageant with his own brash acts. The daily game of gay chicken between bros inevitably gave way to overt sexual acts. Kellen was still straight, but he now had two former nerds whose routine fuck sessions he craved. Adam was a fixed booty call who thrived off his aggression, but Chris was now woven into his college memory as a constant presence in nearly every workout. And he extracted and reciprocated every one of Kellen's provocative and vulgar impulses until they worked themselves up into a sexual frenzy.

He knew it was the first time he'd done this, but his impulse followed the lead of nearly two years of memories this new reality had bestowed—he reached into Christopher's gym shorts and pulled the meaty shaft out of its confines. The jocks moved in closer, their pecs and abs coming together, one hand exploring, groping, rubbing, caressing the hard muscle, the other moving up and down the rod of the other bro. Lips meet, lusts rise, and breath grows heavy. Chris' thoughts are overwhelmed by the feeling of his hand running across his bro's wet skin, feeling the firm muscle underneath. The pleasure of his fingers tracing the familiar contours of his bro's body mixed with the bliss of Kellen's firm stroking up and down his cock. He loved how much Kellen loved showing off. He loved Kellen's attention to detail as he honed his physique. And most of all, he loved that Kellen loved his MCU body just as much as he did.

Kellen moans and tightens his grip. Chris moans and tweaks a nipple. Kellen's hand drifts south and gropes Chris' ballsack. Chris playfully bites Kellen's lip. The moaning and groaning swell, and jock seed shoots upwards, landing on two sets of abs.

"Mmmph…" Kellen just moans in his post-nut bliss, leaning back against the wall.

"Yeah, that was good, wasn't it, bro?" Chris changed the subject. "I gotta know. You find a nerd to get your grades up?"

The question jolts him out of the haze. Whatever this… curse was he was dealing with, that inquiry was laden with irony and insult. Resentfully, he responds with a pointed "No."

Chris didn't seem to notice. "I'm gonna go lift." He uses Kellen's towel to wipe off the cum on his chest before he slips his Spiderman compression tee back on, "I wanna shoot a thirst trap later to show off these gains to the comic book nerds on my TikTok."

Kellen was left leaning against the wall, stewing, reminded of his unfulfilled objective. Yet again, he was feeling pent-up, restless, angry, engaged— He texted Adam.

In 5 minutes, your ass is mine

And, of course, Adam replied:

OMG Yaaasss Daddy!!!🍆🍆🍆

#male tf #nerd to jock #gay #himbo transformation

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gilverrwrites · 4 months ago

Note

Hi friend!

Would you be interested in doing a NSFW alphabet for Bruce? Just read your black mask one and damn heheh

Bruce Wayne: NSFW Alphabet

AN: Thank your so much, glad you enjoyed! And yes I would be interested.

As always readers; please take whatever you vibe with and leave what you don’t. It’s all in good fun.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

It really depends on your existing relationship, and its level of intimacy.

A hook-up is getting the bare minimum to keep his image where he wants it to be. He’ll help you get clean, offer you his bathroom, and if he can, he’ll help you redress and get you out asap. If you decide to stay, he’ll be cordial; he’ll do the pillow talk, let you wear his shirt, make sure you’re fed and watered or whatever but he won’t hold you, and he won’t be there when you wake up. He will however leave a note with some half-truth about having to leave for business, and money/gift cards for a coffee and an Uber.

If you’re more than that (dating/married/so on) then it depends on how well you’ve voiced your needs to him, and how much time he has. Let’s be real Bruce is a hypocrite, he wants you to tell him in explicit detail how you need to be cared for, and if you don’t he’s profiling you until he gets it right, but he ain’t saying anything about himself.

So provided he doesn’t have to run off to save the day, or your escapades haven’t coincided with a routine patrol, Bruce is excellent at aftercare.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Him: Bruce is highly critical of himself. He’s not blind, he knows he’s physically fit, widely intelligent, and highly attractive, but there’s also always room for improvement.

But if he had to choose, it would be his brain. He enjoys being able to look at you and knowing in an instant that you want him. Knowing if it’s a right here right now, or a tease me till I’m begging kind of want. Knowing exactly what you need to hear or where you need to be touched. Being able to predict and acclimatise to your desires is such a big thing for him.

As for you: It’s all in your eyes. You may or may not think you’re quite stony-faced, but not to Bruce. He just loves how expressive your eyes are. Yes, when he’s analysing you; looking for those dilated pupils and heavy lids. But also just the delight when he surprises you with sneaky kisses, when the skin around them grows crinkly as he growls something totally scandalous, or how they grow wide and doe-like as he’s stretching you out, or when they twitch and roll when he’s fucking you just right.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He’s not particularly vocal about it unless he’s really lost in the heat of the moment but; breeding kink. He wants his cum buried as deep inside of you as your body will allow. He wants you so full it’s spilling out and leaking down your thighs, soaking into the bedsheets. And then he’s gonna scoop all those stray drops up and push it all right back in.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

At his age, he doesn’t really get the terms that people use in sex nowadays. That information wasn’t easily obtained in his prime but if he had to identify with something he’d claim soft/dom and/or a brat-tamer, and he’d be right.

But sometimes he likes to switch roles.

He’d never admit it, because he’s a goddamn control freak, he considers (his own) submission as weak and at best he’d be a power bottom but damn it’s so comforting and so hot to be at your mercy or just taken care of sometimes.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Ooh ho ho. Brucie has been around many blocks, and back again.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

I have no explanation for this, I just feel it in my bones but he’s so into doggy. Especially when it’s a hook-up and/or a quickie. By extension, the flatiron because it offers that really deep penetration that has him cumming right against your cervix.

Also the eagle and the leg lock/missionary, specifically with a pillow under your hips and one of his hands pushing on your stomach so that he can keep you in place as he punishes your g spot.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Very rarely goofy, at least not until he’s at a level of familiarity and intimacy that would allow him to let those walls down. He’s not without a sense of humour, it helps if you’re goofy first.

Blow a raspberry on him, and he’s pinning you down and giving you 10 back. Give him a ridiculous nickname and he’ll start testing new ones out on you. “Ohh Brucie boo boo, that feels so good.” “You like it when I bend you over and fuck you like this honey bunny?”

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

It’s thick and dark, but well-trimmed. In his younger years, he waxes off his happy trail and chest hair, but from his mid-late 30s, he starts letting it grow.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

This again is widely dependent on your relationship.

If you’re a hook-up it’s just about fun really. It’s sensual, borderline pornographic but ultimately impersonal.

But if you’re more than that, then sex is very intimate for him, and he’s surprisingly passionate.

He struggles with voicing his emotions so this is how he shows you his appreciation for all that you do. It’s how he apologises for being gone so much, for making you worry. Your body is where he takes out his frustrations but also where finds respite and comfort.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Not something he particularly enjoys, but it is a necessity. He’d rather the real thing, but if that’s not accessible when he needs to let off some steam then so be it.

There have been many, long frustrating nights that have ended with him beating it in front of the batcomputer, unable to focus, and wishing it were you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

As previously mentioned, breeding kink. (See c for cum)

Bondage: I’m specifically talking about him being the rope bunny here. Nothing extreme, soft ropes holding his wrists to a chair or a bed frame while you grind on him. Yes he could break out at any minute, but he doesn’t, that’s part of the submission, the fun.

This can be flipped, he’ll tie you up if that’s what you want but he prefers to pin you down with nothing but his own strength and body weight.

Roleplay/primal play: His interest in the whole cat and mouse (or bat and cat) has never been subtle really. He likes being the predator, catching the prey and taking his reward. Ties in closely with the brat taming too if you’re a fighter or mouther.

Extending on prev, I think he’d also like interrogation play: again both ways but primarily he likes to be the interrogator. To hold you down, tease, and question about whatever subject matter, probably what you want to have done with you, until you beg him to make good on all your confessions.

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

He’s boring in this regard; the bed. It’s a comfortable, safe environment where he can let loose.

If you wanted to do it in the cave or the Batmobile he’d comply, but explicitly when off duty with low risk.

But if it was up to him, he’d keep you all locked up in his chambers, squirming in his sheets, eyes rolling back to look at his ceiling. It’s like he’s claiming you, inside and out, full and scented by him and his bedsheets.

Maybe, with the certainty that nobody will be home, he’ll find other places to fuck you; the marble stairs, the hot tub, in front of the fireplace.

But be prepared for the unmitigated guilt and humiliation of traumatising at least one of his kids when they inevitably stop by unannounced.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He often comes home in the early hours of the morning still full of adrenaline and looking for relief.

Outside of that, he’s highly receptive to teasing and shameless levels of flirting. Clothing too; he likes skimpy, short skirts low cut tops but that’s not always necessary. Just knowing you’ve got nothing on under that flowy outfit, or that he bought you those shoes, or that’s his button-up will do it for him.

And then there’s domesticity. When you bring him food during a long and intense research session. Seeing you be really good with Damian, or helping Cass with her ballet hair, or scheduling dinner for the two of you with Babs and Dick.

Just you clicking so perfectly into his life, predicting and meeting his needs without being asked, makes him want to show you just how much he appreciates it.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

If you want to call him daddy that’s fine, he can be your baby daddy, but you are not his baby.

You can be his baby momma though. He wants to fuck a child into you, not fuck a child, even in a fantasy capacity.

If he wanted a child he’d be adopting you, not sleeping with you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

50/50

He rarely gives oral when hooking up, because he’s a fucking beast at it. Wet and sloppy, just going to town, which affords him a lot of women wanting to ride again. But in that same vein, he doesn’t expect these people to give him anything. If they’re gasping for it, he’ll oblige but otherwise, he just avoids the whole oral thing.

But when it’s his love, there’s no stopping him from spending an afternoon worshipping those perfect hot, wet folds. Drinking you up until your fluids are dripping down his neck, until his scalp aches from your grip and you’re seeing stars.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It varies of course but preferentially 70/30 rough/sensual with a lot of crossover.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

As mentioned in J for Jack-off, if he needs to release some tension quickly, and you’re available then he’ll take you. Bend you over the nearest surface, bruising you with his vice grip, no sound but for his grunting and the salacious slap of your skin against his until he’s got everything out of his system and can get back to the job at hand.

But otherwise, he’d rather take his time with you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

If you’re an adrenaline junkie, then sure he’ll take risks for you.

That said, the risks he takes are calculated, and he is good at maths. He won’t bore you with the statistics, just know that he’ll always find a way to give you what you want.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

No average human can keep up with Bruce Wayne’s stamina, let’s be real. But that’s okay, when you’re all spend and cock drunk and too weak to move, he’ll make sure you don’t miss out on anything. He’s strong and fit enough to do all the work for the both of you.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Holy utility belts Batman!

For all his gadgets and tech, I want to say he has sex toys galore but honestly I really don’t think he does.

He probably has the classics: retrains, cock ring, remote control vibe, plug, dildo and/or strap.

And some more out there things: electro collars/low impact tasers, clamps, a swing.

Heaven knows he can afford anything and everything. But beyond that, I don’t think he reaches for them often, nor does he seek out or experiment with new ones. Not unless something sparks it.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Are you kidding? The moment he sees his opportunity he’s laying the teasing on thick. Sneaking touches when nobody is looking, speaking to you in that voice, calling you while you’re busy to tell in explicit detail what he’s been thinking about doing to you since he saw you in those pants this morning.

And when he finally gets you alone, he’s 100x worse.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make)

Noisy but not loud. He has such a low, deep voice. So when he groans and coos in your ear it’s certainly clamorous to you. All the filthy things he says bellows.

But nobody outside the room you’re in will hear him, not unless he wants to be heard anyway.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

With time and experimentation, Bruce knows what turns you on better than you do. Kinks you’ve never thought of. Subtle touches you barely notice, getting just close enough for you to smell his natural musk. He moves his body in precise ways, and uses really specific words that have your mind racing.

He’ll play you like a fiddle and have you thinking it was your idea.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s packing, and we all know I don’t mean guns.

And that's when it’s soft and in the cold. At full glory, I’d say at least 8 inches, above average girth. Cut, with some very prominent veins.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Fair to moderate, adrenaline heightens the senses and emotions and can be an aphrodisiac which is where a lot of his drive comes from.

But removing that from the equation, he’s trained himself not to think about you or anything that turns him on when he needs to focus. So when he gets to relax or when he sees you again, all that pent-up denial comes running back to him.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It really depends on his mindset. More often than not, by the time post-climax hits, after an already long night, he’s out like a light the moment you’ve signalled that you don’t need him any more. Sometimes sooner.

But if something’s on his mind, a series of clues that aren’t adding up, a villain that shouldn’t have gotten away, when he’ll be up all night thinking about it. In this scenario, it’s not uncommon to find his side of the bed empty within an hour or two.

#dc #gilverrwrites #gilverranswers #reader insert #headcanons #hc #nsfwalphabet #bruce wayne/reader #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne #brucie wayne #batman/reader #batman x reader #Batman #wandalfnation #divider by @anitalenia

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deebris · 8 months ago

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Seems like destiny

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader

Synopsis: After spending years in the bone marrow donation system, encouraged by the army, Simon was finally notified that they had found a match. He just didn't expect to find out that he would be donating it to his own son, who he had with his teenage love and never knew.

Warnings: Family problems, panic attacks, teenage pregnancy, swearing, mention of diseases such as leukemia, murder, archaic ideas, anguish.

Word count: 3.5 k

Any questions or errors, please let me know.

Simon always remembers how the army encouraged soldiers to be blood donors. There was a great concern within about it, as it was one of the ways the government found to help hospitals and people who depend on transfusions to survive.

Then campaigns for bone marrow donation began, but it was so rare to find someone compatible that after 6 years on the waiting list, Simon thought he would never find someone who would need him. But that changed two months ago when he received a call from the institute informing him that he should go there immediately.

He underwent more medical exams than he had ever done, and although he was a tough guy, he couldn't deny the pain he felt in the weeks following the procedure. Among so many people dying in beds waiting to find a donor, someone could finally heal because of him. It made Simon feel good about himself, as good as he hadn't felt in a long time. That had been one of the reasons why he joined the army: to help people.

Now he could only hope that whoever he donated to would improve. He found himself during the day thinking about it, wondering if in a few years it would affect him as much as it does now. It's not very fresh in his memory, but Simon is able to superficially remember the day he registered on the bone marrow donor list. He had been in the army for a short time, still a soldier, and "Ghost" didn't even exist yet.

He thought this would be put aside. He didn't understand if he would need to donate more often, not really knowing the process deeply. That's why when he received another call from the same institute, he thought there had been some mistake, or that they would need more, but the reason for the contact surprised him.

The recipient's caregiver wanted to meet him and was willing to break the standard anonymity by revealing their identity. Accepting the offer would mean that he would also need to disclose his personal information, which is why he hesitated so much. But as he constantly replayed the woman's words in his head, he grew restless.

"The caregiver wants to meet you," that's what she said. Could the recipient be a child? Or perhaps an elderly person? Or maybe someone who was already so ill that they could barely decide for themselves. He shouldn't have any information about this person, even something as empty as what that lady had let slip.

"You should accept. Everyone would like to have the opportunity to personally thank the person who saved their life," were the words of his Captain, John "Price." And it had been the push that Simon needed to agree to the idea.

Now, standing in front of the hospital room door, Ghost debated with himself whether he should open it. Just a few meters away was the little boy who had been haunting his mind for the past few days. And how did he know it was a boy? He had been directed to the children's oncology ward when he arrived at the reception minutes ago, as soon as he was cleared by the unit director, who already knew about the situation and the breach of anonymity.

Furthermore, the clipboard with the patient's information on the door also made it clear that it was a boy. The name "Lucas" was printed on the paper, accompanied by a surname that was familiar to him. There weren't many people in the UK with that name, which caught his attention.

All that separated him from the family was that door, dividing the cold hospital corridor from the room he could only hope would be less disheartening and empty. He didn't know if he would find a smile on the other side, or if he would be met with the sad gaze of the child's mother.

This woman had contacted him through a letter. On that day, he hadn't yet notified the institute that he was willing to speak with her, so the letter came anonymously since nothing had been filed. He read what she had to say, revealing some things, such as the fact that she was a single mother and was extremely grateful to God for sending him to save her son. Some paragraphs were difficult to read, where she recounted how she had lost hope before.

The little comfort he found in that text was when she talked about the boy. In those passages, her handwriting was less shaky, and he was sure she was happier when she wrote those parts of the letter. He knew that this had been her attempt to persuade him to come meet her, but without her knowing, he had already decided. Simon kept the piece of paper with him and reread it in his spare moments.

That stirred his emotions. He thought he had managed to harden his heart after everything he had been through, but he was wrong. Deep down in his soul, he was more emotional than he let on to others. He hoped that "Soap" would never find out, or he would be eternally tormented.

"Damn," he muttered softly, snapping back to reality. Simon began to bitterly regret agreeing to this. He should have declined and moved on. He could leave, but he was already here, so he mustered up the courage to knock on the wood.

He considered himself presentable in the civilian clothes he wore, accustomed to the heavy military equipment he carried all day at the base, and also missing the mask covering his face. Simon adjusted the collar of his dress shirt, as a way to occupy his sweaty hands, more nervous about the approaching footsteps he heard than his appearance.

Before the door opened, he had already told himself he would remain silent and wait for the boy's mother to start the conversation. If she asked who he was, he would state his name and explain why was there. But as the woman inside was revealed to him, he fell silent not because he had decided to, but because he was speechless. Suddenly, those seconds he spent admiring the child's surname on the door seemed like a scene from a comedy movie to him. How ironic it is considering he was just thinking about you moments ago and, like magic, you appeared?

It seemed like you took a few extra seconds to recognize him, and he doesn't judge you for that. Although you have changed and are now an adult woman, with a more mature face and body, he had changed much more since he was a teenager. Back when you two were in school, he was shorter and thinner, and he didn't have any of the scars on his face.

But it wasn't just that which changed in him. You stared in complete shock at how different the demeanor of the guy you were in love with was. He was more serious, more intimidating, very different from his brother, Thomas, whom you had seen years ago, just a few days before he was brutally murdered along with his wife and child.

Your legs went weak, and your eyes burned with tears threatening to overflow. You wanted so desperately to say something, but nothing could come out of your mouth. Was this real, after all? You withdrew your hand from the doorknob, not realizing you had been gripping it tightly until now, and sat in the nearest chair to avoid collapsing to the ground.

Your blood pressure had surely dropped, as you were sweating cold and seeing black spots. What were the chances, after so many years and after everything you had been through, of finally finding him just when you weren't even trying anymore?

Your memories since you found out you were pregnant began to flood back. You vividly remember your father's reaction when he found out you were having a baby; what he said when found out that the neighbor's son, Simon, was the father of the child; how you struggled to escape him after he took you away to another state, to cover up the shame of having a "prostitute" as a daughter.

You never managed to tell Simon, and when you returned to that town, the town where you two met, he was no longer there. You didn't have a penny in your pocket and only survived that week because of Tommy's help. He gave you a bed to sleep in, food, and clothes, both for you and his nephew. You remembered the perplexed expression he had when analyzed Lucas's appearance, it was impossible to deny that he was a Riley.

It was because of him that you found out Simon was in the army and that he hadn't come home in months.

You never managed to thank him properly. Just two days after showing up there, Tommy handed you half of the money he had in a bank deposit. He told you that a good part of that money belonged to Simon, and therefore, it belonged to your son too. You rented a hotel room so as not to continue bothering his wife, especially since she now had to cook and clean for five people.

You left for the hotel with the promise to reward him someday and continued making visits while anxiously tried to contact his brother on his phone, but Simon never answered. You didn't have a cell phone and couldn't spend the money Tommy gave you so lightly, deciding to prioritize your son's needs.

Several voicemails were recorded, but there was never a response. You felt angry at Simon. You screamed into your pillow, frustrated for not being answered and repeating to yourself how stupid he was. But the possibility that maybe he was dead haunted you. Tommy had told you how complex his work in the army was, that it was more dangerous than usual.

You always feared what you would find when you saw him again. He could have a wife, a beautiful house, and everything you ever wanted to have with him one day but couldn't. He could have children, children who had the opportunity to grow up with him, unlike Lucas. And then when you found out that no, none of that had happened, a kind of happiness flooded your chest, even though nothing in the world guaranteed that he would want anything with you again. The last time you had anything, you two were barely adults, until one day you left without saying anything. You thought he hated you.

That lasted until one time, when you went to Tommy's house, there was nothing there but blood. You still remember how scared you were when you found the broken door and called the police, who surrounded the scene of the violent crime that had just happened. You waited so long, but so long for Simon to show up. What kind of person doesn't attend their own brother's funeral? That's when you decided to forget him and threw away the phone number you had written down.

Some more time later, when Lucas had just turned 7 years old, your life was turning upside down again. It all started with symptoms of a common virus. He had fevers, weakness, and got tired very easily. Then he started losing weight and getting pale. Many pediatricians said it could be anemia or hepatitis, but more symptoms kept emerging. Joint pains came, as did swellings, and after a year of medical investigation, the diagnosis came: leukemia.

You entered a state of denial. Was there something wrong with his diet? Or his lifestyle? It could be genetic, but there were no cases of cancer in your family. Maybe the Rileys had some?

Since that day, your life has never been the same. With each passing month, your son only got worse. You would give all your savings, live on the streets, or even rob a bank if it meant seeing your baby well again. Fortunately, the government offered treatment for free, but some medicines needed to be acquired more urgently than the hospital could provide, and medicines for such treatment were not cheap at all.

The only thing that could cure your boy was the marrow from a compatible donor. You prayed so much that you could save him, but when the tests were done, it was impossible. If no one in the family could donate, it was almost a death sentence. Your last hope was your father. You hoped to never have to see him again, let alone tell him where you had run away to, but now you were no longer the same foolish young girl who depended on his money.

Despite everything, you knew he loved his grandson, and a single phone call was enough to make him come running. In recent years, he had been worried about the two of you, not knowing where you had gone. He never had the courage to admit he was wrong, and apologizing was never his strong point, but he regrets every day what he did. That day he didn't know how to react. He wanted to kill Simon, the brat who got his only daughter pregnant, just as he was afraid you would become a joke in neighborhood for having such a young son. He only managed to think about leaving to avoid a disaster, never asking what you wanted or how you felt.

For the first time, when he saw you so tired and alone, he held his tongue to not say anything that could ruin everything. Instead, he hugged you tightly, and you were so craving someone's company that you curled up in his arms just like when you were a little girl. He was a grumpy and archaic man, someone who made many mistakes, who still makes them, but he still has humanity within him.

Unfortunately, he was not a match either.

You stopped daydreaming, and you didn't realize how bad you were until you saw an adult Simon crouched in front of you, shouting in the hallway for a doctor, but you tried to silence him by grabbing the nails on his rolled-up shirt sleeve, catching his attention. The last thing you want is for the doctors responsible for your son's health to be alarmed, thinking he's worsened. These professionals worked as hard for him as you did. Simon seemed to understand and went to close the door to prevent curious eyes from appearing.

Simon looked at you with sadness, and it crushed your heart. He was afraid you wouldn't be able to breathe properly again; he knew you were desperately begging for air, but couldn't draw it in. He hesitated to touch you, but gave in to the desire and placed both hands on your cheeks. He was incredulous. It was really you, the girl he loved most in his entire life, more than he thought he was capable of loving another woman. Simon had imagined so many times meeting you again, and he had so many doubts.

"Calm down," he repeated in a whisper, locking his eyes onto yours. He knew panic attacks; he had experienced them himself several times. "I know. I know, dear. It's a lot to process."

"You…" your voice tried to come out amidst desperate breaths, while also trying to swallow the lump in your throat. Your hands grabbed both of his wrists, and your thumb smoothed over the skin, feeling his heartbeat. "It's you who…?"

"Yes. Yes, it's me, the donor," he quickly confirmed, even before you could finish the question. "Don't speak. Breathe."

You were managing to calm down and think more rationally. Understanding hit you like a bucket of cold water, and your embrace made the big burly man he had become freeze. The feeling was so strange. Of course, among so many people, the only one who could save your little son would be his own father. The person with whom he shared half of his genes.

"He's yours, Si," your voice sounded like a spell in his ear, the old nickname sending shivers down his spine. Your tone was so gentle that he barely understood the meaning of the phrase. But soon he felt his lips quivering, recounting the events of the past few months and how unbelievable this would sound if he told this story to someone. "I swear he's yours," you repeated as if that made it easier to assimilate.

The content of that letter invaded his mind again and again. He felt horrible.

Simon pulled you closer to him, your bodies almost merging. You were still beautiful, even in your disheveled state, betraying exhaustion. And even after so much time, it was as if nothing had changed between the two of you. He knew there was a small body behind him, sleeping peacefully in the bed, but he didn't dare to look. He could hear the sound of the machines, and then it all came crashing down on his shoulders at once: he had a son with you. By his calculations, the boy should be 9 years old. Wow! He hadn't seen you in over a decade.

"I have so many questions," he confessed with a choked voice, and you don't remember ever seeing him cry before when you were younger.

"I searched for you so much. I called so many times," the last thing you wanted was to make him feel guilty, but hearing that, he felt like he should have kept searching for you too. As soon as you left, he went asking where your father had gone. He worried and tried to find out something, until enlisted in the army, and then all he did from then on was just think about you; never seeking; never trying in any way to find you again because it seemed easier to accept that you had left forever.

You tried to distance yourself, even though you hated it, to look at his face one more time. Simon allowed you to run your fingers over his features until your eyes landed on your son behind him. He knew where your gaze had gone, but he didn't follow it. And of course, you would understand what was happening.

"Look at him," you pleaded with tenderness, but he shook his head while rubbing his eyes, as if they hurt. "You're hurting me doing this, Simon."

The last thing he wanted was for you to think he was rejecting the boy, so he stood up, fighting the weakness in his legs and slowly approaching the bed. The child's face was turned exactly in his direction, as if anticipating he would be there, but his eyes were closed, and his breathing was peaceful. It was only then that Simon realized how he was hyperventilating until he felt your hand gently pushing him closer.

His heart hammered in his chest, overwhelmed by anxiety and fear, as he watched his pale and still son. Each step was a journey through an ocean of uncertainty, each breath an effort to maintain composure in the face of the storm raging within him.

As he leaned over the fragile and inert body of the boy, a wave of emotions engulfed him. His broken heart cried out to stop the affliction that plagued his son, that beloved being he barely knew.

Tears blurred his vision as he stroked Lucas's hand, so small and vulnerable compared to his, so similar to yours. Each touch was a silent promise to stand by him in every moment, even in the darkest and most painful.

He found himself whispering words of comfort, as if each sentence could ignite a spark of life in his son's dormant soul. He pleaded to the heavens, to the stars, to any higher power that could hear, for a miracle, for a chance to see those childish eyes shine for the first time in his life. He was an identical copy of Simon at that age, and it made him wonder if the color of his irises was also the same, the same shade of brown. A sudden curiosity arose: what was his voice like? Would it sound like yours, so gentle and reassuring, or could it somehow sound like his?

There, in that moment, time seemed to freeze, the whole world disappearing. It was as if he were dreaming. There was no way all of this could be true, someone must be playing a prank on him. He wanted to look at your face again, to smell you while he ran his hands through your hair to make sure it was really you, flesh and blood. "He's going to be okay," he poured out the words, even though he knew the danger in promising that, and you dove into them, knowing you didn't have to face everything alone anymore.

#simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #cod modern warfare #call of duty #imagine #x reader #simon ghost riley #mom reader #mother reader #task force 141 #angst #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #cod mw2

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iamthedukeofurl · 11 months ago

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One interesting thing that can happen in long running media is that the general cultural background can shift under the work, recontextualizing it as it is being written. I'm specifically thinking of the Order of the Stick, a Dungeons and Dragons themed webcomic that started in 2003 with the titular party of adventurers going through a dungeon.

From left to right, we have Belkar Bitterleaf the halfling ranger, Vaarsuvius the Elf Wizard, Elan the Human Bard, Haley Starshine the Human Rogue, Durkon Thundershield the Dwarf Cleric, and Roy Greenhilt the Human Fighter. The comic takes place in a fantasy setting that knowingly runs off the rules of Dungeons and Dragons third edition. Characters talk about rolls and bonuses and intentionally take levels in various classes. At the start, the comic was a pretty basic gag comic about the D&D rules, basic fantasy/adventure tropes, ect.

In the 20 years the comic has been running, it has updated about 1300 times, not counting bonus strips exclusively made for the printed version, and several print (or PDF) only side and prequel stories. It has also dramatically grown from it's roots, the art has improved while keeping the same general aesthetic, and the gag-a-day comic has become a sweeping fantasy epic. The characters have grown beyond their initial bits (Belkar is a Murderhobo, Elan is stupid, Haley is greedy, ect), and it's genuinely up there as one of my favorite stories. But anyway, let's talk about Vaarsuvius. If you look at the above art, You'll notice that the characters tend to have three types of body shapes: Rectangles for Roy, Belkar, and Elan, feminine curves for Haley, and Robes for Vaarsuvius. This presentation is a pretty consistent signifier of gender and/or somebody wearing robes. Early on, part of Vaarsuvius's running gag became their ambiguous gender. At the time, it was a fairly common joke in fantasy to talk about how Elven men had androgynous or "Girly" appearances, so V was part of that. Instead of a singular pronoun, characters would generally just abbreviate Vaarsuvius's name as "V", and whenever the narrative would have naturally provided some indication of gender one way or another, V would resolve the situation without providing any such indication. For example, an early gag has the characters seeking out a set of modern style bathrooms in the dungeon. When they find them, V says that their "More Efficient elven biology" means they don't have to go yet, so they wait outside while the boys go into the Men's room and Haley waits in the inevitable long line at the women's. When Vaarsuvius reveals that they are married, they use the term "Spouse" to refer to their partner, when we see their children, the children are clearly adopted (V and their partner both have pale skin, their children have darker skin) and refer to Vaarsuvius as "Parent". Vaarsuvius themselves seems to have trouble identifying other people by gender. Characters outside the central cast might refer to Vaarsuvius as "He" or "She", but doing so was always shedding light on that character's perspective, rather than saying anything about Vaarsuvius. The assumption behind the gag is that Vaarsuvius must be either male or female, and the joke is that the narrative/Vaarsuvius themselves keeps finding ways to avoid "Revealing" their gender. Fan wikis and official books list Vaarsuvius's gender as "Ambigious" and on the forum there used to be a regular, multi-part thread dedicated to debatings Vaarsuvius's gender, even after the author declared that it would "never be revealed".

Anyway, going back to the start, it's 2023, and something shifted at some point, both in the comic and in the general cultural background. The jokes about V's gender kind of fell off, not just because the gag got played out, but because the basic assumption behind it simply doesn't work anymore. Everybody knows that Nonbinary people exist. There's no point in the comic where Vaarsuvius switches from being "Ambigiously Gendered" to Nonbinary, in fact, the entire comic reads just fine if you read Vaarsuvius as male or female and just not caring enough to clarify their gender to anybody and at some point other characters just stop thinking about it. But it's interesting to see how a character trait that was once included in even the most basic character descriptions (Varsuvius: Elven Wizard. Arrogant, Intelligent. Ambigiously gendered) just kind of got washed away by a rising tide of cultural nuance towards gender. Also go read OOTS, it's pretty great.

#order of the stick #oots #webcomics #long running media #posts that have been swimming in my head until I let them out

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asocialangel · 1 month ago

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alphabet boy

NSFW alphabet for my time skip, pro striker Isagi !!

For some reason the more i wrote the more detailed i got haha, hope you like it, i reinterpreted some tropes cause i can, credits to the original owner for the template. You can ask in the comments or ask-box for other characters or other animes if u want !

Nice reading, you simp ;)

afab!reader / fem!reader x isagi. Smut, pretty vanilla tho

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Isagi is not the type to go straight for a shower after finishing. He will lay first, still breathless, hugging you tight. He’ll throw corny sentences around like “yeah, that was good” because he truly loved it and wants to thank you. When you get up to get cleaned up, he'll follow you and wash up too and he’ll tidy up the bed. When everything is settled he makes sure you fall asleep to his sweet words while he cuddles you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite thing about you is your thighs. He adores how soft they are. It took him a while to admit it, but his biggest dream was to fall asleep head resting there. Now, he always gifts you short shorts or tight socks to highlight your beautiful thighs.

About himself, he’s pretty confident in his arms. He knows you love them, how muscular they are, the way his veins kinda pop out when he crosses them. Therefore he puts on thigh shirts and works ‘em out with extra attention so they look perfect.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Isagi loves cumming on you. He was so happy when you told him you were on birth control. Because after getting both checked for STDs, that meant you could do it raw. He loves feeling his cum go inside you, inside your pussy or inside your mouth. He prefers it even more when he gets to paint you white. He loves cumming on your belly, your thighs and your beautiful face. He hates it when you put his perfect cum to waste when you spit instead of swallowing.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Once, you forgot panties at his place. And instead of, idk, smelling them, sending you a teasing picture, or even getting off to them, like a normal boyfriend would, HE TRIED THEM ON. I am not sure what went thru his mind but obviously, he broke some seams and just threw them away and never mentioned them again. That day he concluded he will never be into cross-dressing.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He learnt most of it with you. Before you started seeing each other, he had had a few one night stands -not surprising for a famous football player- but he hadn't really learnt the beauty of the arts. Let's say it was trial and error. With your experience and your feedback, he keeps getting better. Still has a margin for improvement tho ;).

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

It’s rather basic, but he loves to be on top. More precisely, he loves to pin you down while your legs are on his shoulders, you're practically folded in half while he goes at it. He loves seeing you rock back and forth to his movements, and towering you gives him a good view of your beautiful face.

G = Goofy (are they more serious at the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

Depending on his mood, he can be the sun and the moon. It’s 50/50, really. Sometimes he is pretty serious and intense, and sometimes he will crack jokes and laugh and have fun ! He knows how to read the room and goes for the mood you are in. You love getting such different sides of him, cause his concentrated vibe is just as good as when he wants to make you laugh.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Isagi will keep it simple. He trims his hair down there because he prefers it that way and finds it more sanitary. As for the rest of his body, he doesn't have a lot of hair. He prefers to have his armpits shaved. And he doesn't expect anything precise of you, just your own choices and preferences.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He can be really romantic. Again, he’s gonna analyze the mood you want with his meta-eyes 😜 that was so corny i’m sorry. 😻 Back to business. 😹 He knows you love being praised as much as being degraded, so when he feels like it and when you feel like it, he will be really romantic, really sweet and reassuring. Thanks to him, you got to experience the iconic rose petals in the bathtub with candles moment. Even when he’s rough, he always loves to end it on a caring note. So imo, it’s 50/50, again.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He used to do it… a lot… while thinking of you… Look, he didn't have a girlfriend and you were everything he wanted. But now, I mean, you do it for him. Honestly, it’s not the thing that turns him on the most, you just jerking him off. He prefers when you also get pleasure. Instead, he looves to finger you, seeing you at his mercy, begging for more. He prefers it that way, so he's in control ;)

Once, he caught you masturbating. You were so horny and he was training -as always- so you just thought “it’s gonna be quick” and did it. Well he got let off earlier and just caught you in your shared bed, going at it. “Babe ?” you were so startled and screamed, you hadn’t heard him enter. Then you guys just both started laughing really hard, and he quickly came to help you. It’s a fun memory between the two of you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

To me, Isagi is into multiple things, but it remains pretty tame. First of all, he discovered after a certain halloween that he really liked when you were dressed up as a nurse. Even if it was a nurse covered in blood, it just tingled something in him, the tight dress, the garters on your thighs, the cutest little cap you were wearing… Yeah he definitely needed your assistance that day. So now he will sometimes, very rarely cause he is shy about it for some reason, ask you to wear it again or roleplay as a nurse.

Other than that, he lovesss restraining your hands. He loves it because you look at him with the prettiest puppy eyes that ask him to let go. But he keeps control. You can only look at him deeper while your body moves up and down, chest taking agitated breaths.

And obviously, Isagi is BIG into praise. He just needs you to tell him how good he is, how amazing you are feeling thanks to him. It gets him so hard and keeps him going.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

For starters, he loves the bed. Basic but comfortable. When you are finished you can just rest for a few minutes before cleaning up. And he likes that the world of sweet sleep and sultry nights get mixed up in your common bed. It’s metaphorical to him, now you both share everything. Then, he likes the kitchen counter, it feels freakier to him. It rhymes with unplanned sex, because when you end up on the kitchen counter, your legs around his back, it’s often because he grabbed your ass while you were making coffee. Something about your domestic life getting spiced up makes him really appreciate the rare but precious kitchen sex. Finally, he loves shower sex. How he can perfectly see your wet body arching. The way your wet hair gets in your face, the way you only have his hair to grip because everything else is too slippery. He is always down for some backshots in a shower, no matter where you guys are.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Your positive words. No seriously he cannot get enough of your compliments and seeing you feel so good thanks to him. As for what turns him on, it’s simple: you in tight clothes. Something about being able to imagine your flesh under the fabric, seeing your underboob when you’re wearing an awfully cropped top, getting to see your ass in tight jeans… If you feel bold enough to wear his jersey and nothing else, you will have to endure his hands going over every inch of your skin. He loves seeing you in revealing clothes.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Isagi would NOT want to share you. Forget about threesomes and anything close to it. He is very selfish and it would absolutely shatter his ego to see you getting off to someone other than him. Egoist-da isagi yoichi 👹 (sorry again…). Also it turns him off when you do a baby voice, just sayin.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Ooh now he is a sucker (no pun intended) for you giving him blow jobs. You do it so well, very few things come close to how he feels when you look up to him, teary-eyed, and swallow. On his end, he is more than okay with giving you head, it’s just not his favorite. It doesn't especially turn him on, but he is more than happy to make you feel great.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Again, this really depends. If he is in his romantic act, he will go slow and sensual, making sure to caress you all the while. I think he does have a little preference for rough sex. But nothing too rough, like he will never come close to hurting you or handling in a way that isn't delicate. He likes it rude with it but he will hold you like you are made of glass. He loves to rock his hips back and forth quickly, and to finger you super fast.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Isagi is always down for a quickie. No matter where you are or where you have to be, he will make time for you (and for his needs but he always blames it on you being horny and not him being so hard you could see his bulge through his clothes). If you have time, he definitely prefers to take time and not burn any steps, but he also loves the highs of a quickie.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

Most of the new things you guys tried were because you brought them up. He is always down to try, but most of the time it does not procure him anything more special than what you guys were already used to. At the end of the day, he likes it simple.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He has such a high sex-drive oh my days. He could go for it every single day. The thing is, when YOU are in the mood, you want to do it time and time again, but he doesn't have the facilities to handle so many rounds back-to-back. So you guys are not always on the same page. For a single round tho, he has pretty highs stamina, he can cum rather quick but over time he learnt to delay it because he really loves to cum *after* you. I would say he lasts an average amount of time. When you guys don't do it for a hot moment though, he comes embarrassingly fast.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

This man gets jealous of an inanimate object. He does NOT want you using toys when, in his own words, “you have him”. Obviously it’s not a formal prohibition but he gets really pouty when you mention vibrators and stuff. Therefore it goes without saying that he doesn't really want extra toys to come between the two of you when you are having sex. And to be fair, you really don't need them, it’s good enough as is.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

SUCH A TEASER do not play around with him, HE ALWAYS WINS. He loves to tease you about everything ! He will turn you on in public then claim it wasn't on purpose and that he can’t do anything about it as there are people around. He will also make low-key jokes about you to his friends in front of you, but the innuendos are so subtle that only you understand them. It gets you so flustered that he tells his freaking friends about it but if you react you will make it a bigger thing than it is. He also loves to touch you around, supposedly innocently, like his hands on your hips to get you out of the way, pressing your ass on the counter to reach for the coffee from behind you, you name it… He knows your sensitive spots and plays around with them, only to claim it wasn't on purpose.

Because he turns you on then leaves you high and dry, you have to BEG him to actually release the pressure he built in. Even in bed, he loves edging you, it makes him giggle to see you struggle and he loves thinking he’s the one to control when you cum and when you don't just yet. So yeah, biggest teaser. And don’t try to tease him back as revenge, he will tease you ten times harder if that's even do-able.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Low key (emphasis on the low-key) a whiner. To be fair, he doesn't really make much noise, but on lucky days you will hear him paint like the little baby girl he is. He doesn't really grunt either, he just breathes loudly in your ear. And he talks a lott. Like he is always saying something, asking you how you feel, teasing you, adoring you. After a bit, you put it together that he really, really likes hearing you moan, his name particularly. So you are kind enough to moan more, more sexily, more in his ear, and more is name.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Isagi told Bachira when he did it for the first time with you, as he should to his bestie. Thing is he disclosed pretty personal stuff about YOU to him. So the day after, bachira greeted him, accompanied by chigiri and other teammates, a cake that read: “congratulations on finding yourself a squirter”... Yeah… He never told you about it and it’s better like this, and since then he learnt to keep storytimes succinct.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Apart from his beautiful toned muscles, nun special. His underwear is so basic, like black and dark blue hues. Since he got rich and famous, he only buys luxury brands but the truth is he is not knowledgeable at all so he keeps it simple. He doesn't know jack shit about girls underwear either, but he is a simp for you in lingerie. So he gives you allowance money for you to go buy cute and sexy and expensive nightwear. He loves cumming on it so you often have to buy some new ones.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Pretty average honestly ! Maybe a little bit more than others, but he is not part of the ‘rabbit’ line of bllk (Aiku i’m looking at you). He can defo hold it in and would rather wait to see you again than to jerk off alone in a hotel room.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Never faster than you ! He loves to see you doze off, clinging to him, peaceful and tired.

#blue lock x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi x y/n #isagi yoichi #isagi x reader #isagi yoichi imagines #blue lock yoichi isagi #yoichi x reader #isagi smut #isagi yoichi smut #bllk smut #blue lock smut

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obvi-the-best-soph · 2 months ago

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we're all bound to break. (chapter 2)

alexia putellas masterlist: here requests: here

based on this request: R tells alexia about her parents but makes alexia promise not to tell the team. alexia agrees of r agrees to speak to the team psychologist/ try and improve her eating and general health. either the team find out through social media or listening to r in an interview getting mad/ upset about a question about her parents. r blames alexia for telling people bc she hasn’t told anyone else. alexia comforts her + happy ending

word count: 2,123k

summary: you tell the team about your mami and papa, alexia helps you through it, an interviewer asks a tough question, and you're paid a visit from someone who is less than friendly.

genre: angst/comfort warnings: disordered eating, mentions of vomiting, death of parents, swearing, grief, struggling alone, eating while recovering from an ed, possibly very bad spanish (sorry! i try lol).

chapter 1: here

a/n: hey! ive had a lot of requests for chapter two of this story, its taken me a while because i didn't really get any requests and i was struggling for ideas, so it has taken a month, but the long awaited second chapter is here! i didn't really follow the request too closely, but I think it turned out alright, hope you do too. requests are always open. <3 :D

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“Superestrella, we need to talk. There’s something wrong, and you’re going to tell me what it is.”

You froze. You assumed there were still tear tracks down your cheeks, your eyes still bloodshot, and clearly, Alexia knew something was wrong. But she didn’t seem to know what.

“I- uh- what? There’s nothing wrong. Just… tired is all.” You try to explain, stuttering out an awful and clearly fake excuse. “You look tired too, maybe you should go to bed and we can talk later?”

“No,” Alexia states firmly, sitting down on your bed next to you. “Chica it smells like sick in here, have you thrown up?” she asks skeptically, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Well not really, I think I just ate something bad earlier, it was only a little bit-” You attempt to lie again, but she cuts you off.

“Stop bullshitting me amor, just tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it,” she says. That’s the thing, Alexia’s a problem solver, a bit like a man, just wanting to fix everything for everyone so we can all be happy with no problems, but she couldn't fix this. Mami is dead. Papi is dead. They are gone. You can’t undo death, no matter how hard you try.

After nearly 20 minutes of back and forth, “There’s something wrong.” “No, there’s not, I’m fine,” Alexia pulls out the big guns, completely oblivious and unaware of how big they are now.

“Superestrella, if you don’t tell me, I’ll have to call your parents and you’ll have to talk to them. Please, just tell me, I only want to help. I hate seeing you so introverted and quiet all the time, I miss your laugh, guapa.”

And with that, the guns are fired, and the dam is broken. You burst into another round of tears, burying yourself into Alexia’s side, head on her chest. Between sobs, you manage to get out the words,

“You can’t help! No one can help! It’s all ruined!”

before falling asleep from the effort of crying and earlier, denial. Now, Alexia is seriously worried.

Alexia lets you sleep on her for a moment before carefully manoeuvring you to lie down and slipping out of your room. Once in the lounge area, she sits down on the edge of the couch, resting her elbows on her knees, face in her hands. Her thinking position, because she was thinking pretty fucking hard right now. What on Earth had happened? What had gone wrong to make her happy, giggly, pestering Superestrella, so- so…. Broken?

Finally, she decides to call Mapi, she knows that Mapi was out late celebrating last night too, and is probably also dealing with a killer hangover, similar to Alexia’s currently, but she deems this important enough to warrant a call.

The phone rings three times before a very croaky-voiced, tired, and generally-recovering-from-being-completely-plastered sounding, María León is heard;

“What Alexia?”

“Mapi, sorry, I know now probably isn’t the best time, but… it’s Y/N, she-”

Before Alexia can even get a word of an explanation in, a now far more awake and alert sounding defender is cutting her off, clearly very worried, “Chica? What about her? Is she- is she okay? What’s wrong?”

That morning, it was organised that at training in a few days, Lucy, Keira, Alexia, Mapi and Ingrid would sit you down after training, and you would talk.

It’s been a couple of days since the Champions League final, most members of the team are still on the winning high, while others are starting to settle a bit, but today is the first training back since the big game. You go about training as normal, struggling your way through it with next to no will to live and an empty stomach, but when you’re in the locker room, Alexia taps you on the shoulder. You two haven't spoken much since the other morning after her night of celebrations.

“Hey, a few of us just want to have a quick meeting with you before we go today, sí?” she says, her tone softer, more gentle, than usual.

You nod awkwardly and finish changing before heading to the meeting room Alexia had told you to meet at, only to find 5 of your teammates sat there, watching you like you’re a Porcelain doll that could shatter at any second, and that was slightly true.

“Um, hola Todas?” (Hello everyone.) you say with slight suspicion, eyeing them one by one as you slowly sit down in a chair at the long glass table. There’s a collective murmur of “Hello”s in various languages before it goes quiet again. Alexia speaks up first;

“Superestrella, we’ve all noticed something is wrong, and we just want to help. Truly, that’s all we want. You are usually all sunshine and rainbows, but recently you have been walking around like you have rocks in your pockets and a storm cloud over your head. Por favor niña, déjanos entrar. (Please girl, let us in.)” she says in a slightly pleading tone, the other women are all looking at you sympathetically.

“I- nothing is wrong. I’m just… uh… tired! I am tired. We have been training a lot recently so I haven’t been feeling the best recently! That’s it. Si. Estoy cansada. (I’m tired.)” you reply quickly, desperate to get out of here and back into bed so you can continue wallowing your sadness and grief, alone.

They all give you soft, yet slightly unimpressed, looks of ‘Come on. We all know that’s not it.’

“Chica-” Mapi starts, but she’s cut off by Lucy’s thick accent,

“Y/N please, let us in. You know we would never judge you or anything like that, we just want to help, as Alexia said. Teammates are here to support you off the pitch just as much as on it.”

“Yeah, what Lucy said. We love you like a little sister, Y/N, and we’re worried about you.” Keira adds.

A collective nod and hum of agreement spread through the room. You sigh. It was getting harder and harder to pretend.

“I- ugh. Okay. Fine. There is something wrong.” You finally relent, the lump already forming in your throat, the familiar glass returning to your eyes. The 5 women around you perk up a bit, glad you’re starting to open up, even if it’s only a little.

“What is Cari? (Cariño- sweetheart.)” Ingrid speaks up for the first time, her accent thick as always.

“It’s… it’s my parents.” They frown. They knew how close you were with your parents, especially your papa, so what could be wrong that has to do with them? You close your eyes and take a deep breath, tears falling silently down your cheeks, you’d gotten good at crying quietly, preparing to voice the words aloud for the first time. To make it all real.

“They- they’re- they- died. Dead. Gone.” you open your eyes to find 5 women staring at you in horror, eyes wide, mouths open, and sympathetic looks from them all. But it was Alexia’s face that made the tears fall, she was the only one who knew how you really felt, who truly understood. It was her arms that you felt around you first, she didn’t say anything, she just held you for a while.

After a few moments, you spoke up again, your voice a little more steady this time.

“It was 2 weeks before the Champions League final. I got the call from the police back in (your hometown), they- they were driving home from our match, there- there was a drunk driver. The driver hit them at nearly full speed, they- they didn’t survive the impact.”

The horror on the women’s faces only grows, Alexia’s grip on you only tightens.

It’s a good few minutes before anyone says anything else, and the one to speak up this time is Lucy.

“Oh god Y/N, that- that’s awful. Why on Earth didn’t you tell us? We would’ve helped you, supported you-” her tone, growing slightly frustrated and upset, is cut off by a firm pat on the thigh by Keira, telling her to cool it a bit, the defender going quiet.

“I- I didn’t tell you because…. Because I didn’t want you to pity me, to treat me differently, and you guys already worry about me enough, so I didn’t want to add to it right before the final. And also… I just- I just couldn’t say it out loud. Not then. It was too soon…”

That conversation or “meeting” as it’s now referred to, went on for a long time, feelings were discussed, tears fell, hands trembled, and eventually, you and Alexia were left to go home, and you felt a whole lot lighter… possibly because it had been 3 days since your last meal, or possibly because you had finally confessed your secret.

When you arrived back at the apartment, Olga was anxiously waiting there for the two of you. During the meeting, the subject of your eating had come up, you had confessed to skipping meals and intentionally not eating, and agreed to try harder to fuel your body the way an athlete should. Clearly, Alexia had shot Olga a text or something before we arrived, as there was a bowl of your favourite sitting, waiting on the table. Eli’s (Alexia’s Mami.) homemade paella and blue Powerade. Gently, Alexia sat you down at the seat in front of it and sat next to you, she put the spoon in your hand and made you eat a few bites, and then she just slipped into conversation with you, a random conversation, about school and friends and the new set pieces, etc. And before you knew it, you had been so distracted that you had eaten the whole bowl without even thinking about it. It felt… good, being full that is. Alexia smiled softly when she saw your small smile and took your plate up to the sink, before sending you off for a bath and a nap with a kiss on the forehead.

A couple of days after the whole ordeal, you were asked to do an interview. Where you would be talking about the Champions League final, what it was like to score both the goals for Barca, one in the last few minutes too, how you celebrated afterwards as you were not allowed in the changing rooms, but worst of all, a question you weren’t expecting, weren’t ready for,

“So Y/N, everyone is very familiar with your papa, your biggest fan, often seen wearing your jersey and waving his flag, but he was not spotted at the final, we were just wondering, is he okay, or just sitting somewhere else?” The interviewer asks with an unknowing and innocent smile.

You have to swallow the lump in your throat before you can respond, you manage to keep the smile on your face, and voice steady (barely).

“Oh, yeah, no. He, um- Unfortunately he wasn’t able to make it.” You say with a curt nod and ever so slightly pursed lips, the interviewer getting the hint not to pry any further on the question.

That night, you were curled up on the couch, laying across is, your head in Alexia’s lap, crying… again. You hadn’t been prepared for that question. It had scared you, Alexia understood, she knew how hard it was to talk about it (from personal experience), especially if you aren’t aware the subject will be brought up. Alexia whispers soothing Spanish words, her nails scratching your scalp calmingly, when there’s a knock at the door.

Alexia frowned and looked at the clock, it was 7pm, not usual visitor time, no one was meant to be coming around, Olga was out of town with friends… who was it? She carefully moves your head from her lap and kisses your forehead before going to answer the door, as she walks over, you prop yourself up on your elbows a bit to see who it is.

The midfielder opened the door to find a woman standing there, she was young-ish, probably younger than Alexia, mid-twenties maybe, but rather… uptight looking. At first, you couldn’t see who it was, the woman and Ale exchanged a few words before Alexia stepped aside, you and the woman now having a clear view of each other…

Your expression changed quickly, features hardening, eyes narrowing, jaw clenching. You practically jumped off the couch in anger, stomping up to the woman, and standing very close to her. With a cold look and tone, you spoke to her;

“What the fuck do you want to take from me now, tía (aunt)?” you spat the last word like it tastes fowl in your mouth…

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a/n: i hope you enjoyed it! if you are wanting a third chapter, please don't just say "chapter 3 pls" or something like that, please give me actual ideas or requests in my inbox. kind critisms is always welcome too. thank you for reading! 😊💖

tag list: @multifandomlesbianic

#alexia putellas #lucy bronze #mapi leon #barcelona femeni #woso x reader #keira walsh #ingrid engen #olga rios #woso #woso communtiy #obvithebestsoph

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lilacmingi · 3 months ago

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TOWARDS THE LIGHT

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works. NO SPAM-LIKING PLEASE

Pairing: Sith!Seonghwa x Jedi!fem reader

Word count: 16,450

Note: So I didn’t think I’d ever write anything longer than Hongjoong’s D&D AU “A Quest For Love” but here we are lol so strap in because this is a big one

The sizzling sound of clashing lightsabers filled the air in the training room, blue and green beams of light swinging around and colliding with one another with a resounding spark.

Seonghwa's saber was swung towards you, which you blocked, pushing back with your own weapon and successfully deflecting his attack. He let out a huff, a small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth at the challenge. He always liked battling with you, though you bested him most of the time, he took it as a chance to improve.

The blue beam of light Seonghwa wielded was spun around in a showy manner as he lunged forward, raising the saber. Your eyes stayed trained on him as he approached with an aggressive attack, holding out your green lightsaber in preparation before swinging it at his and successfully knocking it from his hand.

Seonghwa grunted in mild agitation as he landed on the ground, having lost his footing when he landed. His arm shot out and brought the weapon back to his hand by using the Force. He was always good at that.

Getting to his feet, he wasted no time coming at you again, this time with a determined gleam in his eye. His burst of energy took you by surprise and you found yourself scrambling to do something before his blazing beam of light came swinging at you. With only a few seconds to react, your lightsaber came up to halt his attack, the beams making a sizzling sound when touching.

The weapons were pulled away from one another before clashing once more, and again, and again. Each time, neither of you were able to strike the other.

This was a familiar scene. Being in this gray training room with walls made of metal. You and Seonghwa had spent almost your whole lives training to be Jedi. You were Luke's only apprentices. You were the best of friends—inseparable some might say.

After continuing to block attacks, you saw a moment of opportunity and leapt into the air, attempting to use the Force to assist you in going high enough to jump right over Seonghwa. You just barely missed his head as you moved through the air, landing on the ground with a soft huff. Now standing just behind Seonghwa, you held the tip of your lightsaber to the back of his head, making him freeze.

"I win."

"Not bad." He commented with a chuckle, raising his hands in surrender before turning to face you. "That Force jump was a little rusty though."

"I thought I'd try something new." You shrugged, deactivating your weapon.

"You could still use some practice." He remarked, doing the same with his saber.

"I'm impressed." A voice full of wisdom spoke from one end of the training room.

You and Seonghwa turned your heads towards the utterance, finding Luke standing in the doorway with a fond expression on his face. He had been watching.

"Y/n, that's the first time I've seen you successfully execute a Force jump. You need a little more practice, but I think you'll have it down in no time."

"Thank you, Master Luke." You bowed at his praises, always honored to receive them from such a well-known Jedi.

"Seonghwa, you have this fire in your eyes when engaged in a fight. You've got determination, but your attacks were a little aggressive. When in battle it's good to be strong and vigorous, but you also need to be fluid and focused. Sometimes hostility isn't the best course of action."

Seonghwa nodded, taking in the information he was being given. He wanted to be a good Jedi, as good as Master Luke, and he would do anything to work towards that goal.

"I'll try and tone it down." He nodded, showing that he understood the critiques he was given.

"Good." Luke smoothed out his gray robes, giving the both of you a once over before speaking again. "You two had better go eat. I'm sure you're exhausted from training. You kids have been in here for hours."

With that, he exited the training room.

Glancing over at your battle partner, you could see his round coffee-colored eyes shine with interest at the mention of food—Seonghwa was always a big eater.

"Let's go." You linked arms with him, tugging him out of the room and into the corridor of the ship you often trained in.

Hurrying down the loading ramp of the spacecraft that was parked amongst the lush greenery, you and Seonghwa hastened across the base past other Resistance members, heading directly for the canteen which was really just a large tent set up for people to eat in.

Seonghwa pushed past the beige canvas flaps and entered the area where a handful of people were eating. His eyes locked on the bar situated at the back of the tent where a droid was busying itself by stacking clean bowls. Plopping down on two of the six vacant barstools, you and Seonghwa rested your elbows on the countertop, the droid rolling over to take your orders. A wooden board with a small selection of dishes carved into it hung from a structural beam above the bar. Seonghwa's index finger hovered in the air as he read over the items as if he hadn't done so the last thousand times you two had been in there. While he decided what he wanted, you waved the droid over and ordered a vitajuice and a warm stew, hoping for something filling after a strenuous practice battle.

"Me too." Seonghwa piped up before the droid rolled away, settling on getting the same as you.

"Copycat."

He snorted-slash-scoffed in response to your playful name-calling. "It sounded good when you ordered it. Also, a vitajuice is what I need right now after all that practice." As if to emphasize his words, he stretched out his back and jerked his head a bit, cracking his neck in the process.

"Sure." You responded with an eye roll.

The low murmur of patrons in the mess tent and the distant sound of clanking dishes in the back floated through the air, filling the comfortable silence between you and Seonghwa as you waited for your meals.

The bar droid rolled out from the kitchen area with two glasses clutched in each of its pincers, placing them in front of you and Seonghwa. After thanking the droid, it got back to work behind the counter stacking dishes, picking up right where it left off.

Taking the straw between your index finger and thumb, you took a sip of the refreshing juice, sighing in satisfaction as the cool liquid coated your mouth.

"Ahh. That hits the spot." You hummed.

"Sure does." Seonghwa agreed, sipping so hard on the straw that his cheeks sucked in.

You cackled in response to the ridiculous sight next to you.

"Easy there, bud. It's not going anywhere." You managed to speak through laughter, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

He pulled away with a drawn-out exhale, the drink having obviously refreshed him.

"I could've chugged the whole thing if I really wanted to."

"I don't doubt it."

Seonghwa's large eyes grew in size when a droid from the kitchen rounded the corner with two bowls of piping hot stew a few minutes later, his hungry gaze following the dishes until they were set down before you. Spoons were given to each of you and you wasted no time getting a sizable spoonful of the stew, Seonghwa following suit. Hums made in unison reverberated in both your throats when you took your first bites, the meal warming you from the inside.

"Is it just me or does food taste better after you've been practicing?" You asked.

"It definitely tastes better." Seonghwa nodded in agreement.

After a filling and satisfactory meal, you took a stroll around camp while your food settled. People bustled about, carrying equipment and crates across the way, some taking them into a nearby cave which doubled as a makeshift hangar for one of the many spaceships.

There was a nice breeze jostling the baby hairs that framed your face and fluttering the leaves of nearby trees. The gray fabric of your pants brushed against the tall grass that covered every inch of the area and beyond. Ajan Kloss, the jungle moon where the Resistance base resided, was where you and Seonghwa had been living your whole lives. You were both moved here as kids, probably no older than ten, by your resistance member parents and when your shared force-sensitivity was discovered by Luke, he started training you. It's all either of you had ever known. There were only fleeting glimpses of your old home planet.

A year later, you found yourself sitting on the Millennium Falcon with Seonghwa, seated on the curved bench of the holographic game table in the lounge area watching him play a round of dejarik with Chewbacca. The ship, piloted by Luke and his closest companion, Han Solo, was headed straight to the planet of Ilum to find kyber crystals for yours and Seonghwa's very own lightsabers. It was tradition for younglings to build their lightsaber before moving up to padawan status, but Luke was different. He had his own ways of training that contrasted from how it used to be before the Great Jedi Purge took place and wiped out almost all the Jedi. Thus why you and Seonghwa were just now getting lightsabers. To say you were excited was an understatement.

Chewbacca raised his furry arms up in victory, having beat Seonghwa in yet another round of dejarik.

"Man." Sighed your friend as he leaned back against the bench with a small smirk tugging up at the corner of his mouth.

"Don't feel bad." You gave him a supportive pat on the shoulder. "Chewie has been playing this game for years. He's a dejarik pro. It's nearly impossible to beat him."

"One day." Seonghwa pointed at the undefeated Wookie who waved off his promise dismissively.

"Hey, kids." Han's approaching voice, followed by the man himself, grabbed your attention. "We're on autopilot right now, but we should be to Ilum soon." He then turned to Chewie. "I hope you're going easy on him." He nodded towards Seonghwa.

The Wookie shook his head before throwing his head back to laugh heartily. Han gave a small chuckle and a head shake of his own before leaning to rest against the nearest wall.

"So, lightsabers." He began.

"Yeah." You nodded with a grin. "I'm really excited. This is a special day."

"Very special." Seonghwa agreed. "It's the most significant day for us as padawans."

"Oh, yes." Han nodded. "I know all about it." He paused to look at the both of you. "Y'know, Luke is really proud of you both. I'm sure he's told you that in some way or another, but I figured I'd say something anyway."

You and Seonghwa shared a gentle look with one another, touched by Han's words.

"Alright, well," He cleared his throat and pushed off the wall he was leaned against, heading out of the room. "gotta get back to the cockpit. Chewie, try to let Seonghwa win a round, will ya?"

A year after you and Seonghwa crafted your lightsabers, Master Luke passed away. It was sudden and almost decisive, like Luke knew it was his time to go and so he went to be one with the Force. Things changed after that.

Your training came to a temporary halt and you were left without a Jedi Master. For a week you didn't leave your sleeping quarters. Meals were brought to you via Leia. Chewie even stopped by once. He was good company and his hugs were always healing in a way. You heard Seonghwa was about the same, staying cooped up in his room just like you.

After that first week, you tried to return to normal and Seonghwa started spending time in the training room swinging his lightsaber and screaming until his lungs burned. You only knew that because you saw him once when passing by. That was the only time you saw him, as he stayed locked in his room majority of the time, isolating himself.

A week and four days after Luke's passing, Seonghwa disappeared. You two were both so wrapped up in mourning that you kept to yourselves. Once your mind had cleared enough, you wanted to check on your friend and see how he was holding up. When the door to his sleeping quarters slid open, you were alarmed to find it completely bare. His bed was made and every piece of furniture was cleared off.

The color drained from your face and every part of your body went cold, your heart plummeting to your feet.

"No." You murmured, spinning around and rushing down the corridors of the ship, stopping at the training room only to find it empty.

Stumbling through the halls, you called out Seonghwa's name, the desperation and panic becoming more apparent in your tone.

"Y/n. What's wrong?"

Whirling around on your heel, you spotted Leia standing at the entrance hall of the spaceship.

"Seonghwa's gone." The words left your lips shakily, fading out weakly at the end. "His room is bare. Cleaned out."

Leia hurried over to take you in her arms just as your knees buckled. With Luke's passing still fresh, Seonghwa disappearing suddenly was like rubbing salt in a wound that hadn't even begun to heal.

"It's alright." Leia cooed, placing a gentle hand on the back of your head. "He could've needed some time alone... away from here."

"Why would he just leave without saying anything?"

"It's possible he's dealing with lots of emotions right now. Maybe he was overwhelmed."

The next words you uttered were muffled due to your face being buried in Leia's shoulder. "Do you think he'll come back?"

"He will. Just give him time."

You sat inside your sleeping quarters of a ship parked at the Resistance base, staring fondly at the lightsaber in your hands. Your fingertips glided reverently over the silvery metal of the hilt, admiring the intricate designs that were etched into them—a personal touch. Though you'd possessed the saber for three years, you still admired it.

"Y/n?"

At the sound of your name being called, you lifted your gaze to find General Leia standing in the doorway of your room.

"Come in."

She entered, a solemn expression etched on her aged yet elegant face as she moved to take a seat beside you on the bed.

"You look concerned." Shifting to face Leia, your brows pulled together. "What's wrong?"

"They're after us again."

"They? The First Order?"

She nodded. "They already destroyed our last base and now they're trying to find this one."

"What do we do? Do we move?"

Leia shook her head. "No. We're not giving up. Besides, they haven't found us yet."

"Then, why'd you come to me?"

She pressed her lips together and stood up, smoothing out her attire. "Let's walk."

You stood up immediately and followed her down the corridor of the ship and off the loading ramp.

Although you tried to be patient, you were itching to know why Leia had come to you with this urgent information. However, instead of forcing her to speak, you waited for her to do it on her own accord.

Your gaze moved to the ships parked about the area as you approached, your fingers fiddling anxiously with the hem of your gray tunic. Whatever it was she needed to say, it wasn't good.

"We need you, Y/n." She finally spoke. "You were trained by my brother and then by me for the last three years."

You blinked incredulously, wondering where she was going with this.

"We don't know what the First Order knows about our location or if they even know it at all. So I need you to sneak onto their ship and plant a listening device."

"You need me to do... what?"

"If we could listen in on what they're talking about, we could collect intel, find out what they know, and use it to our advantage."

"Leia I..." You trailed off, reeling from this being dropped on you so suddenly. "I'm sorry. I have to decline. I-I'm not ready."

"You are. You've been ready."

"There has to be someone else."

She came to a stop, turning to face you fully, her expression serious. "There isn't. You're our only hope."

You shook your head. "What if—"

"No." She stopped you. "No what if's. Y/n, if I didn't think you were capable, I wouldn't be sending you on this mission."

You hardly even ventured off Ajan Kloss. How were you expected to carry out this mission?

"I just..." Your mind was a swirling supercell storm of emotions.

There were so many things to consider, like your lack of expertise in other areas besides battle and having no experience in real missions.

"I can't fly a spaceship, let alone sneak into enemy territory with one. How would I even manage to get by their sensors? They'd pick me up in their airspace right away."

"I can do it." Poe piped up as he happened to be passing by. "I've got a First Order ship in the cave over there." He jerked a thumb somewhere behind him towards a cluster of rocks.

"How did you even get one of those?"

He shrugged in response. "Connections."

Just then, Finn passed by, giving you both a friendly smile and a small wave, oblivious to your conversation. You nodded knowingly in immediate understanding.

"Ah. I see."

"So, will you do it?" Leia asked you, bringing the focus back to the issue at hand.

Taking in a deep breath, you let the possible outcomes flicker in your mind like a slideshow. This could all go terribly wrong—or perhaps it could go incredibly well. Leia believed in you and being the only Jedi on the base, you felt obligated to help, not that you could ever say no anyway.

"Yes."

Walking down the familiar corridors of the ship you called home, you tried to process the fact that you'd be going on your first mission very soon. It was a heavy weight to bear and an even bigger responsibility. Lost in thought, you passed by a room that carried bitter emotions, your footsteps coming to a stop beside it without really thinking. Pressing a button, the door slid open and your eyes landed on the space that was untouched for three years.

Seonghwa's room.

Passing the threshold, you stepped inside and glanced around, your fingers caressing the comforter.

"I sure wish you were here right now." You sighed, speaking aloud to the memories of Seonghwa that remained stagnant in the space. "Could really use your help on this one."

A lump formed in your throat and you swallowed it down, blinking back tears that started to prick your eyes. At first you were sad and confused about Seonghwa leaving all of a sudden—you still were. Then you got angry, feeling like he walked out on you. Now you were just numb.

"This should've been our mission, not mine."

Dropping down to sit on the edge of his bed, you let out another heavy sigh. Your fingers traced absentmindedly over the sleek nightstand, trailing across the handle of a drawer. Without thinking, you tugged on it, something jostling inside as you did so.

With furrowed brows, you peered into the drawer, your eyes slowly widening when you spotted Seonghwa's lightsaber lying inside. With a shaky hand, you reached in and took hold of the hilt, retrieving it from where it sat for three long years.

He left his lightsaber.

This only raised more questions. Did he just give up? Decide he didn't want to be a Jedi anymore since Luke passed?

An image of Seonghwa living on some run-down planet, isolated and alone, flashed in your mind and you hated it.

Shaking away those thoughts, you stood up, your friend's lightsaber in hand, and left. Seonghwa's abandoned weapon was placed on a shelf in your room for safe keeping in case he returned one day.

The following evening, you gathered in the meeting hall with other Resistance members where a plan was made for how you'd infiltrate the First Order's ship and where to plant listening devices. A layout of the enemy ship was projected into the air showing all the different areas.

"A meeting room would be ideal. As would the main control room of the ship. That is where talks between the generals and captains take place." C-3PO spoke in his posh robotic voice while R2-D2 beeped in response. "You could collect lots of intel there."

You nodded, taking it all in, determined to do your absolute best on this mission.

Staring down the entry point on the First Order ship, you clenched your hands at your sides, anxiety plaguing every inch of your body.

"You got this." Poe's voice came from the cockpit of the ship. "I'll be waiting here for you when you're done. You can communicate through your earpiece and I'll be keeping an eye on you through the tracking device inside of it."

"What if I mess up?"

"You won't. I'll tell you where to go."

"What if I get captured?"

"Then we're coming for you."

With that reassurance, you gave a nod and hopped off the spacecraft and into the hangar, sticking close to the wall. You came equipped with three listening devices to plant and your lightsaber which was strapped to your waist in its holster. Your vigilant eyes stayed trained on the stormtroopers marching about the hangar as you slinked along, sneaking behind large First Order spacecrafts parked about the area and using them for coverage until you got to the doors that led to the inside of the ship.

Letting out a shaky exhale, you waited for an opportunity to slip inside when no one was looking. Your hands trembled as you felt the slightest bit of relief that one hurdle had been conquered. Now it was time for the real mission—planting listening devices and not getting caught.

"Poe? I'm in." You whispered.

"Good. You're doing well." He responded through your earpiece. "Go straight and then take a left."

Taking in a deep breath, you proceeded down the empty and darkened corridor of the ship, peering around the corner before taking a turn. There was no time to waste, so you kept moving while waiting for more instructions.

"There you go. Keep going. The meeting room is on your right. Put a listening device under the table in there if the coast is clear."

"Is this it?" You asked once you arrived at a large set of dark gray doors.

"Yes."

Pressing your ear against the cool metal, you listened for voices on the other side, receiving silence in response. Your trembling finger pressed the button to open the doors, a breath of relief leaving your dry lips when you were greeted with the sight of an empty room. Digging out a listening device, you stuck it under the edge of the table, poking your head out to check the halls before swiftly moving out.

"I got it."

"Alright. Proceed down the hall."

Your feet moved quickly, your boots making little noise in the process.

With Poe's direction, you were able to successfully place the second device without issue.

As you fled the area, the sound of stormtroopers talking made you freeze up. Being on a First Order ship, the structure of it was unique with protruding pillars that made for the perfect hiding spot. That, paired with the dim lighting was ideal for your situation, making it easy for you to slip through the shadowy areas. As the voices got closer, you darted to hide yourself behind one of the blocky pillars that jutted out from the wall, pressing yourself against the chilly metal and hoping you wouldn't get caught. The beating of your racing heart thudding in your ears almost completely masked the footfalls of the stormtroopers, your hand hovering over your lightsaber as you watched the two pass by. Your eyes stayed locked on them, following the white-armored figures who didn't notice your presence.

The hand that lingered over your weapon dropped back to your side once the threat was gone and you were on your way.

One more listening device to place.

The intense anxiety you felt before the mission began was not nearly as bad as it was. Having been roaming the corridors of the spaceship for the last ten minutes or so, you managed to get used to the task you were carrying out. That being said, there was still the anxiety of everything going wrong, however, you tried to keep your hopes up.

"Y/n? You still there?"

"Yeah." You let out an exhale. "Stormtroopers passed by. I was hiding."

"Good call. Your last destination is the control room. That'll be difficult because it'll be full of ship staff I'm sure."

Poe could hear your sigh through the earpiece.

"Hey, you got this." He encouraged.

"I know."

"You don't sound very confident."

"I'm not." You murmured, peering around a corner before rounding it. "But I'm gonna pretend to be."

"There you go. Fake it 'til you make it."

A mix between a scoff and a chuckle left you.

"Control room is up the way. Keep an eye out though, there might be some unsavory individuals in there."

That made your heart jump with dread. Unsavory individuals?

"Like who?"

"Ones in higher ranks, like generals."

"I see."

You proceeded down the corridor, pressing yourself behind another metal pillar to hide from more approaching stormtroopers. As soon as they passed, you got back to the mission.

"The doorway should be directly ahead of you." Poe informed.

"I see it."

A few feet in front of you was an open doorway, multiple uniformed people sitting in front of large control panels. Holding your breath, you drew closer to the doorway, daring to peer inside. Standing at the forefront of the room in front of a massive window and more controls was a man in a black uniform, probably a general, discussing something with another crew member.

"Just stick the tracker in a corner or something. Don't stay too long." Poe's voice spoke into your ear.

With the last listening device in hand, you scanned your surroundings and took a step into the control room, spotting one of those structural pillars. The little device was placed into the junction between the wall and the column, unable to be spotted unless someone was really looking for it.

Back on the ship, Poe watched the red dot on his little handheld tracker screen as it moved along the halls of the First Order ship.

"You got it?" He asked.

"Yeah."

"Nice work." He grinned. "I knew you could do it. Now get back here and let's split."

"Copy that."

His eyes stayed locked on the red dot traversing the map as he gave you directions. Every few feet, you'd stop, assumably to hide from passerby in the ship, before resuming.

"Almost there." He said.

You were approaching the hangar, only one turn down the hall and you'd be home free.

The dot stopped moving.

A gasp sounded from your end and Poe's heart sank.

"Y/n?"

"Well, well, well. What's this?" A male voice spoke, sounding close to you.

More panicked noises came through, getting quieter before Poe heard a distant "No!" from you before the feed got staticky, a crunch, and then silence.

"Y/n?" The panic in the pilot's voice rose. "Are you there? Do you copy?"

Nothing.

Poe looked out the windshield of the First Order ship he used to sneak in, peering down at the stormtroopers lingering about. Some of them had their hands held to the side of their helmets before turning to look directly at the spacecraft Poe was occupying.

"Blast!" He hissed through his teeth.

Not only had he lost contact with you, but it seems whoever caught you had notified everyone on board. He had no choice but to hightail it out of there, lest he get captured as well.

"Sorry, Y/n." He murmured, sitting upright in his seat and starting up the ship. "New plan."

The stormtroopers below started shooting at the spacecraft as it lifted off the floor, the hangar door beginning to close. Poe pushed the handles on the control panel forward and the ship plowed down the troopers close by.

"C'mon. C'mon." He spoke through clenched teeth, directing the spacecraft towards the exit, picking up speed.

The gap was slowly closing and it seemed Poe wasn't gonna make it. He winced as the top of the ship scraped against the closing hangar door, not doubt denting and scratching the exterior, as it slipped out into the open space.

A sigh of relief left the pilot as he made his escape, silently vowing to come back with a whole team of Resistance fighters to bring you home just as he promised.

You'd been listening to instructions from Poe, coming to a stop to peer around the corner when he told you to take a turn. That's when someone grabbed you from behind, making you gasp. You couldn't see who it was as you struggled in their grip.

"Y/n?" Poe asked.

"Well, well, well. What's this?" A male voice spoke, a gloved hand moving into your peripherals as your earpiece was pulled out and dropped to the floor.

"No!" You exclaimed.

You could barely hear Poe's panicked voice from the device as it fell, clattering to the metal flooring, your captor swiftly crushing it under his chunky black boot.

You writhed in his hold, somehow managing to slip out, stumbling forward and reaching for your lightsaber which you withdrew from its holster and activated it, the green beam humming as it extended from the hilt.

Your enemy, who donned an all-black outfit and a hood that concealed his face, activated his own saber, a blazing red beam lengthening at his side.

With hardly any time to react, you held your lightsaber up, blocking an aggressive attack from the Sith in front of you. Any anxiety you felt was numbed by your survival instincts and the desire to make it back home—if that was even an option anymore. For all you knew, Poe could've abandoned the mission for the sake of safety.

Clenching your teeth, you pushed back against the red beam with all the power you could muster, getting the Sith away just long enough to scramble backwards down the corridor. It didn't take long before he was back on you again, swinging left and right while you blocked and dodged his attempted attacks. Your back hit a door and your free hand felt for a button, pressing it. A hissing sound came from the hatch as the doors slid open and you staggered backwards inside. The area had electrical panels on the wall and was more spacious than the ship's corridor, giving you more room to fight and move around.

The Sith strode into the room with you and swiped at your side, which you barely evaded. In turn, you let out a grunt and swung your weapon at his chest, which he leaned back and avoided with ease.

Straightening his posture, he brandished his lightsaber in preparation, his boots thumping heavily against the floors as he approached. A shout left the hooded man as he swung at you, the saber making a resounding voosh as the blade was forced through the air.

Your eyes widened as his saber collided with yours harshly, the force behind the action making you stumble back slightly, your arms trembling as you tried to push back against it.

You weren't prepared for this.

All that training and you weren't prepared.

With a jerk of his lightsaber, The Sith knocked your weapon right out of your hand, causing it to deactivate and skid across the room.

The cloaked figure held his weapon above his head, spinning while thrusting the blade in your direction, the force of the showy action causing his hood to fly off just as you fell to the ground trying to back away.

"Ugh!" A grunt was forced out of your body as you collided with the floor, your eyes staring down the humming red beam pointed directly at your throat.

Your chest moved up and down rapidly with each shallow breath, looking up at your attacker with wide, horrified eyes as you realized his hood had flown off. Every limb in your body went cold, the blood draining from your face in an instant.

"Seonghwa?"

His hair was longer, reaching just above his shoulders, some of the long strands stuck to his forehead from the intense fight. His eyes, which you remembered being round and full of warmth, were now sharp and cold as ice. Your best friend had fallen victim to the Dark Side.

His eyes widened for just a millisecond at the sound of his name before narrowing, his gaze hardened and full of contempt as if just seeing you brought back unwanted memories.

"What did they do to you?" Your voice came out in a faint whisper of shock and horror.

"They didn't do anything to me."

His tone was harsh and calloused, no sign of the once upbeat and soft-spoken Seonghwa you knew three years ago.

The severity of the situation hit you and you began scrambling back away from the deadly red beam of light in your face, your arm reaching out to bring your own saber back to you. It slowly started rolling towards you only for Seonghwa to stretch an open hand out towards it, intercepting it and throwing the weapon across the room by an invisible force.

"You may have been a better fighter, but you always were a horrible user of the Force." He spat.

The doors to the room hissed and two stormtroopers walked in.

"Take her away." Seonghwa ordered sternly watching you with an unchanging and stoic expression as you were roughly tugged to your feet and dragged out of the room. "Detention cell 1117." He specified.

There were so many things you wanted to say, yet nothing came from your lips. All you could do was stare at Seonghwa with an expression full of confusion and hurt as you were hauled out of the room.

The cell you were placed in was nothing like you expected; it was clean and equipped with a small, but cushioned cot. The stormtroopers shoved you into the room, slamming the door shut, giving you one glance through the gated window before marching away.

You dropped down onto the cot, your trembling knees no longer able to support you, letting you collapse.

Seonghwa.

He didn't run away, he became a Sith. All these years worrying and wondering where he was, if he was okay, asking yourself why he left... and he was here.

How did this happen?

It was the question that kept spinning in your mind, echoing repeatedly.

How did this happen?

There was no way Seonghwa, your best friend, the man you secretly liked, had turned to the Dark Side. It didn't make sense. He never showed any desire to cross over, not that you could recall, anyway.

The dull ache in your heart grew in intensity the longer you thought about what your best friend had turned into.

The heavy thump of approaching footsteps made you lift your head, your eyes locking with those of the man you once knew. The door to your cell swung open and he stepped inside, his presence alone shifting the air in the room.

No words were exchanged at first. All you could do was stare at him, taking in the angry lines etched on his otherwise flawless face. His intense eyes stared you down, the scowl on his face not budging. This new version of Seonghwa was jarring to say the least, but he was still someone you used to know.

"So this is where you ran off to." You murmured.

He didn't speak, staring you down in silence. His lack of response was both perplexing and agitating. Did he have nothing to say?

You scoffed, shaking your head as a spark of anger ignited. "I can't believe you." Your expression was full of emotion, rage fueled by sadness and betrayal. It felt like you'd been punched directly in the heart.

Seeing Seonghwa again wasn't the joyous reunion you imagined it would be—it was much worse. Instead of embracing him in a tearful hug, you had been blocking his aggressive attacks and trying to make it out of the battle unscathed.

As Seonghwa stood just inside the cell, the emotions you felt rapidly turned into fiery anger that unfortunately reared it's ugly head.

"You got weak." You spoke through gritted teeth, your fists clenching.

In a fit of sudden rage, you stood up from the cot and charged at Seonghwa with a shout.

Your breath hitched when you felt a pressure around your throat, your wide eyes staring at the man you called your best friend with a gloved hand outstretched and fingers partially curled. A strained noise left your dry mouth as you clawed at your throat futilely, desperate to get rid of the invisible force that constricted your windpipe.

"You're the weak one." Seonghwa spoke, his voice low and threatening as his extended arm lifted higher, his gaze boring holes into you.

"Pl-please." You choked out, your legs kicking as your feet left the floor, black spots dotting your vision.

His hand squeezed more, curling in just another inch or so and applying more crushing pressure to your windpipe.

"Hwa." You whimpered, your voice nothing but a hoarse and whispered plea.

"Don't call me that." He hissed through clenched teeth. "That name died when Luke did. It's Mars now."

That's the last thing you heard before the black creeping in your peripherals took over.

"Do you ever feel like you have a weight to carry?" You asked Seonghwa, gazing up at the star-dotted galaxy above, seated in a cross-legged position on top of the Millennium Falcon. "Like a burden?"

"A burden?" Seonghwa echoed. "You mean like with glorious purpose?"

You sat there for a moment before shaking your head. "No. That's not it. That's someone else." You paused, reconsidering. "Though maybe it is glorious purpose in a way." You murmured mostly to yourself. "Being Luke's only two apprentices is a huge honor, especially since there aren't many Jedi being trained anymore, but do you ever feel you're expected to be this outstanding prodigy? Like you have all these expectations to live up to?"

Seonghwa hummed thoughtfully. "No. I see it more as a goal to reach."

"But do you think it's attainable? Don't you ever worry you won't be good enough?"

"Of course I worry. Everyone does, but I don't think Luke would've chosen us if he didn't think we were capable." Seonghwa turned to you, his hand sliding over to take hold of yours and give it a squeeze. His touch was warm and brought comfort to you almost immediately, chasing away your worries. "Let's switch to a brighter subject, like lightsabers."

You raised your brows, shooting Seonghwa an unimpressed look at his pun.

"That was completely unintentional."

"Whatever you say." You teased.

"Back on the subject, when do you think Luke will let us build our lightsabers?"

"When he thinks we've earned it, I guess."

"I hope it's soon."

You nodded in agreement, turning back to the stars above, your gaze drifting to look at the distant planets surrounding Ajan Kloss.

"You know, one day we're going to be real Jedi." Seonghwa's voice broke you from your daze.

"I know. Despite the lingering worries, I'm looking forward to the day when our training is complete."

"Can you imagine? The two of us going on missions together, tag-teaming the First Order, taking down the Sith." He held his hands out in front of him, holding an imaginary lightsaber as he mimicked its noises, swinging it left and right.

His little performance made you giggle, his laid back and silly personality always bringing a smile to your face.

"Then maybe I'd do one of these." He held his hand out towards the ground below, a small rock lifting from the grass as it was flung off into the night by an invisible force.

You chuckled amusedly. "Always trying to show off those abilities, huh?"

"No." He grinned softly. "But if you and I are ever in battle and someone gets too close to you, I won't hesitate to Force choke them."

His comment jarred you a bit and you shook your head. "We don't do that."

"I know... but I'd do anything to protect you."

A small noise left the back of your throat when your eyes cracked open, your mind fuzzy as you slowly came to. Your eyelids fluttered, blurred by tears which you blinked away, eyes adjusting to the dim holding cell you'd been tossed into earlier. Bringing a hand up, you wiped the small amount of wetness away from your eyes and propped yourself up on your elbow, wincing when you felt a soreness in your neck. Your hand moved down to your throat, gingerly touching the tender skin, hissing softly at the sensation that followed.

You swallowed back tears that threatened to well up, realizing just how much Seonghwa had changed. He physically hurt you.

Not once did it occur to you that Seonghwa had crossed over to the Dark Side. There wasn't an ounce of evil in him, so it was never a possibility. You just assumed he had given up being a Jedi and went off to another planet to live a life away from the Resistance. Luke's passing hurt both of you and you wouldn't have blamed Seonghwa if he refused to be taught by anyone else.

But that's not what happened.

The Dark Side got to him... or someone.

Seonghwa's eyes watched his superior intently as he paced about the control room, his cape billowing dramatically behind him.

"Why was she here?" The maroon-haired Sith hissed angrily. "How did a Jedi sneak in here?"

"The troopers told me she arrived with someone else on a First Order ship." Seonghwa responded, his hands resting behind his back.

"They have one of our ships?" He spoke through gritted teeth, jaw tightening.

"It appears so."

"Go talk to her. Ask her what she was doing here. Do whatever it takes to get the information if she refuses to talk."

"We have people for that." Seonghwa mentioned, feeling his gut twist uncomfortably at the thought of facing you again.

"I want you to interrogate her. Do you have a problem with that, Mars?"

"No."

"Then do as I say. Interrogate her."

"Yes, Hongjoong."

You sat upright when the door to your cell groaned open, your eyes landing on Seonghwa. Your body moved on its own, scooting back on the cot to put more distance between you both. Perhaps you subconsciously feared him a little now after what he did to you.

He noticed the way you cowered a bit, but his expression remained the same, unchanging and giving away no indications of how it made him feel.

"Why are you here?" He inquired firmly, his voice carrying authority.

His question was met with complete silence. This agitated him, his jaw ticking with annoyance. "Answer me."

"I won't." The words were uttered quietly.

"Why are you here?" He asked again.

You shook your head. "I won't tell you."

Seonghwa lifted his hand and you flinched, waiting for the pressure on your throat. Instead, he lowered his arm, dropping it at his side.

"I know the Resistance sent you." He almost spat the name out in distaste. "Why?"

"You know I'm not gonna tell you."

He let out a small growl, his top lip twitching.

"You're in no position to withhold information from me."

That sparked a bit of annoyance, your almost cowardly behavior changing as you sat up straighter on the cot. "Oh yeah? What about how you withheld information from me?"

Seonghwa's brow twitched at your harsh and sharply-spoken words.

"You didn't think to tell me you were considering running away?"

"Why would I have told you?" His eyes narrowed. "It wasn't your business."

"Because I'm your friend... or at least I was. If something was bothering you, you should've told me."

"Friend?" He scoffed. "You were teacher's pet."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Don't play dumb. You were Luke's favorite. He always praised your fighting style and nitpicked mine, said I was too showy and aggressive. Well, I found a place that accepted my fighting style—accepted me."

"Luke accepted you, Seonghwa."

"Don't call me that."

"It's your name."

"Not anymore."

There was a long and heavy silence that followed and it almost felt like, in that time, you were mourning the loss of a friend.

"She what?" General Leia stared wide eyed at Poe who'd just relayed to her that you had been captured.

"They got her."

Leia sighed, lowering her head.

"She planted all the devices though." He added. "So we can listen in and see what they're up to."

She nodded. "We need to start getting a rescue team together for Y/n as soon as possible. Until we're able to bring her back, we see what information we can get from the devices she planted. Pull up the audio." She gestured towards Han Solo, who stood beside her.

He messed with the control panel in front of him, pressing buttons until voices came through.

"What do you mean she won't talk?" An angry male voice questioned.

"She won't tell me why she's here." A second male voice spoke, this one deeper than the first. "She refused."

Leia's brows twitched as she and Han shared a look, both of them finding the voice familiar.

"I told you do whatever it takes to get her to talk." The first male continued, sounding more vexed than a few moments prior.

"I—"

"Does this Jedi girl mean something to you, Mars? Are you going soft?"

"No." The response was firm and clipped.

Han reached up to rub at his scruff contemplatively, his mouth downturned in a deep frown. "I know that voice."

Leia turned to him in silent question. She also recognized the voice but couldn't quite place it.

Han sighed, dropping his hand. "It's Seonghwa."

Three days passed, or what you assumed was days. It was hard to tell. Seonghwa continuously came back to question you, sometimes multiple times a day. You refused every time, not daring to give away any information. He often became irate at your refusal and stubbornness, but he never harmed you again.

Seonghwa stood on the opposite side of your small cell, arms crossed and thick brows tugged together, that same scowl on his face.

"You were sent here by the Resistance. Why?"

"You're the one giving them information on our base, aren't you?" You responded to his question with one of your own.

Being locked away, you had time to think. And now that you knew Seonghwa was a Sith and the First Order was working on finding the Resistance base, it only made sense that your old pal was helping and possibly feeding them information.

"No." He denied firmly, his reaction almost coming across as offended that you'd assume such a thing.

"What do you mean no?"

"I haven't told them anything." He hissed through gritted teeth.

That made you pause, whatever response you had prepared died in your throat the second that sentence left his mouth.

"Why?" Was the only word uttered.

"I'm asking the questions here. Why were you sent here? Did Leia send you?"

Your expression hardened, but Seonghwa saw right through it.

He scoffed. "I knew it."

A sharp puff of air expelled from your nostrils as you mentally cursed yourself for not denying it right away. Though there's no telling if he would've believed you or not, especially if he claimed to already know.

"Why did she send you? Why were you lurking the halls?"

"I won't tell you. I'm loyal to the Resistance and I won't do anything to put them in danger."

"Of course you won't." Scoffed Seonghwa again, your answer not surprising. "How loyal of you." His words were laced with venom and mockery as he spat them out.

It made an uncomfortable knot form in your stomach, wondering what lies they fed your friend to make him so full of loathing.

Every interrogation ended with Seonghwa storming out of your cell in a fit of rage, reporting back to Hongjoong with no new information and receiving a harsh verbal assault in return. It was a repetitive pattern and one the former Jedi was growing tired of.

"It's been a week." Hongjoong hissed out, pacing the control room. "And you still have no information for me."

"She refuses to speak."

"Perhaps she needs someone more forceful."

"No!" Seonghwa took a step towards Hongjoong to block him as he attempted to exit the room. He then cleared his throat before repeating in a more stern and confident manner, "No. I have it under control."

"If you had it under control you would've tortured her until she spilled. Then I wouldn't be waiting for intel. I'll interrogate her."

Seonghwa side stepped again. "I said I have it under control." He doubled down on his words.

Hongjoong's expression hardened, his intense gaze searching Seonghwa's face for what felt like an eternity before speaking.

"Three days. If you haven't given me any useful information by then, I'm stepping in."

"Yes, Hongjoong."

The following day, Seonghwa was back in your cell, staring at you with the same stony expression. "When will you give up?"

"Never."

"Tch." He scoffed at your never-ending defiance.

"Why do you keep grilling me?"

"Because you're the prisoner here and my superior wants to know why you were sneaking around the ship like a little womp rat."

Your features twitched in mild agitation at his slightly stinging words. "How do you feel knowing your buddies are trying to track down the location of our home?"

Seonghwa scowled and crossed his arms. "It's not our home."

"It is. You still have a place there, Seonghwa."

"Quit calling me that." He hissed out through gritted teeth.

The room grew quiet and you were left to sit in complete silence for a few moments until you spoke up again with another query.

"You know where the Resistance base is. Why haven't you told them?" You asked, knowing that if he relayed that information to his superiors, the First Order would've already attacked Ajan Kloss by now.

Seonghwa stiffened almost imperceptibly and you wouldn't have noticed if you weren't focused on his body language.

"That's not my business."

"Oh but it is. It's your former home, as you claim, so wether you're willing to accept it or not, you have ties to it. If you despise the Jedi so much why haven't you exposed us?" You questioned pointedly. "Why haven't you given away our whereabouts and watched our planet get destroyed?"

It was clear he was growing indignant, his sharp brows tugging closer together, forming eleven lines between them—a sign he was provoked by your words.

"I'll be back to question you again tomorrow. You'd better be ready to give me what I want or it won't end well for you, Y/n." There was an undertone of foreboding in his words as he turned on the heel of his boot and exited the cell, his black cape billowing behind him.

He paused just outside the room, his dark eyes turning to stare at you through the gated window for a moment before he walked away.

Seonghwa paced around his room, tugging frustratingly at his hair while having an internal battle with himself. Why? Why hadn't he told Hongjoong or anyone on the ship about the Resistance base when he'd been actively watching them follow leads and attempting to track down the group? He knows the location. Not only that, but he's had multiple opportunities to divulge that he knows who you are, yet he's kept his mouth shut. He could've easily said something, so why hadn't he?

His ambivalence on the matter was making his head ache. On one hand, he had grown to loathe the Resistance with every fiber of his being and would do anything to destroy them, but on the other... no.

Seonghwa shook his head, gripping at his hair out of agitation while dropping down to sit on the edge of his bed.

"Don't be weak." He gritted out.

There is no "on the other hand". He despised the Resistance. He didn't care about anyone there.

A ghostly giggle echoed in his mind, your giggle, one he remembered from the past. Along with it came a flash of you sitting across from him with a bright smile on your face, then a fleeting image of Master Luke.

Seonghwa gave an angry shout, standing up and withdrawing his lightsaber, activating the red beam that hummed when extended fully. His shoulders heaved up and down with each labored breath while his eyes scanned the empty bedroom.

His weapon lowered. No one was there. What was he trying to fight? His past?

The lightsaber was deactivated and Seonghwa slowly sat back down on his bed, the mattress sinking under his weight. His grip on the hilt of his saber tightened as his mind wandered back to you. He had to get information out of you or Hongjoong would step in and he didn't want that.

As soon as the revelation passed his conscious mind, Seonghwa froze. Why did he care wether or not Hongjoong interrogated you? He shook his head as if to push away any notions that he still cared for you. He didn't—did he?

"Why did you have to show up, huh?" Seonghwa asked pointedly the next day while trying to interrogate you once again. It was the first question he asked when he entered your prison cell.

"I'm sorry?"

"You've just made everything more complicated!" He spat, letting his emotions run rampant.

Perplexed, baffled, caught off guard—any one of those words or phrases could've described how you felt in that moment. What did he mean?

"I was doing just fine without you." He added, the harshness in his tone unwavering.

You recoiled at his words, murmuring, "I don't understand."

"Of course you wouldn't."

"What are you talking about?"

"This is your fault!" He pointed an accusatory finger at you.

Your wide eyes locked on the tip of his index finger that was directed at you.

"What's my fault? Seonghwa, I—"

He let out a raging shout that reverberated on the metal walls. "There you go again! Just stop!" He dropped his head, gripping handfuls of inky hair, letting out strained sounds through his teeth. His inner turmoil was showing through his aggressive responses and bouts of fury.

"Talk to me." Your gentle words reached Seonghwa's ears, striking him directly in the chest.

Instead of being snippy with your words, you toned it down, especially after witnessing his display of stress. It didn't matter if he was a Sith. That fact didn't erase any of the memories you shared together and you still thought of him as a friend—or at the very least, a friend that could be redeemed.

The kindness in your voice touched Seonghwa, but at the same time it was making things worse for him, leaving him torn between two opposing emotions.

"I left that life behind." He said, his head still buried in his hands. "Seeing you just... stirred things up."

Ever so slowly, you got up off the cot and took a few tentative steps towards him. He didn't realize you were approaching, too caught up in his own emotions. It was only when he felt your hand gently touch his shoulder that he flinched, raising his head.

"Why'd you leave? What happened?" You asked.

"I was upset." He sighed. "I tried to get my anger out by blowing off steam in the training room but that wasn't enough. So I stole a junky ship and took it out to a nearby planet just to get away from everything for a bit." His eyes showed just how much he was struggling as he spoke.

"Go on." You urged him. "I know you might not think so, but you're still my friend."

His eyes met yours, a flicker of warmth growing in his chest and giving him that little push to continue. "I was walking through a little town trying to clear my head when Hongjoong approached me."

"Who's Hongjoong?"

"My superior." He ran a hand through his long messy hair. "He knew right away that I was a Jedi. He took me into a nearby tavern and bought me a drink. We talked. I told him about Master Luke and how it was frustrating sometimes because I felt as if I wasn't enough. He was so... sympathetic. He made me feel important and told me he would be a better teacher than Luke and that I had untapped potential—that I had purpose Luke didn't see."

"He got to you while you were vulnerable." You stated, shaking your head. "He got into your head, Seonghwa."

"No." His brows creased, eyes narrowing as he responded in a stern manner, jerking away from your hand on his shoulder. "He didn't. When he took me in I was able to fight the way I wanted. I got stronger when Hongjoong trained me."

You shook your head. "He manipulated you."

"He didn't." Seonghwa denied firmly. "Because of him, I realized my purpose."

Your expression fell into one of pity and sorrow as you shook your head, realizing just how badly this Hongjoong guy had warped your old friend's way of thinking.

"I shouldn't expect you to understand." Seonghwa remarked bitterly. "You're a narrow-minded Jedi."

His words hurt, punching you directly in the chest. You really thought you were getting somewhere with him.

"This was a mistake." He grumbled, turning to leave. He let himself get too vulnerable.

"Seong—" The cell door slammed shut, making you wince. "...hwa."

Heaving a sigh, you slumped back against the wall in defeat. You almost caught a glimpse of the old Seonghwa. He was opening up, but he still believed Hongjoong was the good guy in this situation. The hold he had on Seonghwa was too strong and you needed to break it.

The Sith's footsteps were heavy, each thump from his boots echoing down the corridor while a violent storm of thoughts swirled around his head. You were so sweet and genuine, it almost reminded him of how things used to be. And that gentle touch of your hand on his shoulder sparked something.

You're getting weak. He could practically hear Hongjoong. Are you really going to let her get to you with all that mushy stuff?

"No."

Seems that way.

Seonghwa's jaw tightened as if this were all happening in real life.

"I said no."

You're still in love with her, Mars.

"I'm not."

He passed by a couple stormtroopers standing guard on that particular cell block, their heads following the Sith as he passed, muttering to himself.

"What are you looking at?" He snarled at the staring pair, his hand raising as a threat to use his Force abilities on them.

"Nothing." They shook their heads frantically.

"Thought so." He spat, continuing down the corridor.

That night was a sleepless one for Seonghwa. He tossed and turned for what was probably hours, unable to even doze off. Tossing back his black sheets, he swung his legs off the bed, letting out a forceful sigh. You really messed with his head... and his heart. He could still feel the way you laid your hand so gingerly upon his shoulder.

He got to his feet and shuffled over to a wooden chest at the foot of his bed, opening the lid and reaching inside, producing your lightsaber from it. After he had you taken away, he picked up the saber and had been keeping it in his bedroom, unable to hand it over to the seized weapons department for some reason. He gazed down almost wistfully at the silver hilt adorned with unique engravings. His thumb absentmindedly traced over the patterns engrained into the metal while his mind wandered back to a memory that had long been locked away.

"Place the energy core near the kyber crystal." Luke instructed, watching you and Seonghwa.

The components of your lightsabers were scattered along the work table as each of you focused on building your respective weapons, listening to each step you were given.

"Next is the focusing ring. Make sure it's calibrated just right or—"

"Or the kyber crysal will crack." You and Seonghwa finished in unison, chuckling in amusement at the situation.

"Yes, or your sabers could explode when you activate them." Luke added.

The pieces were put into place and you moved on to the next step, adding each component until the assembly was complete. Next came the cosmetic aspects of the process, the step that would give your lightsabers their unique appearances.

The both of you were taught how to customize your weapons with Luke by your side to assist when needed. This ritual of sorts meant a lot to you and Seonghwa, as it was a rite of passage, a symbol that you had grown as Jedi.

"I hope my lightsaber is blue." Seonghwa murmured once the assembly was complete, always having favored that color.

"There's only one way to find out." You placed your thumb on the power button of your saber and counted down before activating your respective weapons.

Just as Seonghwa had hoped, a blue beam extended from his hilt and his eyes went wide with excitement. He then turned to look at your humming blade that glowed a unique purple.

"Not many people have that color." He gaped.

Your round eyes stared at the stunning beam in awe, unable to believe that the weapon you wielded was yours.

Seonghwa felt the same, gaping at his own lightsaber, feeling it's weight and ogling at the shiny chrome silver metal of the hilt.

"I'm glad I got to do this with you." You turned and smiled fondly at Seonghwa, your eyes glimmering with unadulterated joy.

He returned that warm grin. "Me too."

A single tear dropped onto the handle of your lightsaber, stirring Seonghwa from his nostalgic daze. He blinked away some of the moisture in his eyes before wiping them, not realizing he had started crying.

He still cared for you.

He still loved you.

Today. Seonghwa had to get answers today or Hongjoong would step in and take matters into his own hands. He decided last night when he couldn't sleep that he didn't want that to happen and he would do whatever it took to get the necessary information out of you.

"How many days has it been?" You asked when you heard the door groan open, your back facing it.

"Ten." Seonghwa responded, standing just inside the room as he'd been doing since day one. "I'm asking again, why were you on the ship? Why were you sent here?"

You rolled over, your expression weary. "So we're back to this?"

Seonghwa didn't answer, his expression showing hardly any emotion. He was there with a task to complete.

"Tell me." He wasn't demanding or hateful, but there was a tinge of urgency in his tone.

You sat up, pushing back your hair with a sigh. "Can we just drop this for a second?"

He appeared unsure, but let out a reluctant exhale and moved across the small space to sit beside you on the bed. It was the first time he'd done so since you were locked away.

"I missed you, y'know." You didn't care if he believed you or not. You had to let him know.

His gaze lifted to meet yours, his eyes becoming round just like your memories recalled.

"It hurt me when you disappeared. I had just lost Master Luke and then I lost you not long after. It crushed me." Your voice was thick with emotion as you spoke. "I always wondered where you were. I worried about you. I lost sleep over you. I never once thought you'd turn to the Dark Side."

"Neither did I, but I fit well here."

"No you don't. That Hongjoong guy got to you while you were vulnerable and took advantage of your weak state. He got in your head and made you feel special. He doesn't care about you like he says he does."

"And how would you know?"

"Because he's a Sith and they're known for being conniving and manipulative."

Seonghwa became quiet, not fully believing your words about Hongjoong being disingenuous, but feeling as if he shouldn't carelessly disregard them either. Despite that, a sense of urgency to defend his superior rose up within him. "Hongjoong was there for me and picked me up when I was at my lowest."

"I could have done that. I would have done that if you hadn't left."

Seonghwa's jaw tightened as an uncomfortable ache became present in his chest. Perhaps guilt?

"I loved you, Seonghwa."

Those next words were a punch directly to the gut, the breath feeling like it was knocked out of him. You loved him? For how long?

He swallowed thickly, his breathing shaky. "Why did Leia send you here? To collect information? To spy?" Again, his tone wasn't demanding, but it was stern.

It hurt not having him respond to your admission, but instead of letting it get to you, you pushed aside your feelings and looked him in the eye. "I won't betray the Resistance. You can keep me here as long as you see fit, but I won't say a word."

It was obvious you didn't realize the magnitude of the situation, but Seonghwa remained somewhat calm, hoping a more gentle approach would coax it out of you.

"You don't trust me anymore?"

"No." Your response was swift. "I don't. You're the enemy now."

"But you said you still saw me as a friend."

"There's exceptions to that statement."

He was getting nowhere with you yet again. However, you did open up about how you felt when he ran away so perhaps there was hope.

"Fine." He stood up and left without another word, hoping to get more time to interrogate.

Hongjoong was discussing something with one of the navigators on the ship when Seonghwa approached. "Ah, Mars." He strode towards his apprentice. "I hope you have good news for me."

"I'm getting through to her."

The redhead's expression fell into one of disappointment and annoyance. "So you haven't got any information out of her?"

"I'm trying to. I've taken a different approach and she's coming around."

"But you still haven't got any information out of her." He stated factually.

"No, not yet. I just need one more d—"

Hongjoong's jaw tightened and he held his hand up, Seonghwa's breath hitching as he was forced aside, the invisible pressure around his throat increasing.

"Three days, I said."

"I... know." Seonghwa choked out.

"I gave you three days and you still have absolutely nothing. You're useless, Mars." He spat out.

Seonghwa gasped for air, his booted feet slipping along the flooring while he was being held slightly off the ground.

Hongjoong released his invisible grip on Seonghwa who fell to his knees, leaned over his hands which were planted on the floor as he took in ragged breaths.

Looking around, he saw some of the control room staff turned in their seats staring at him as he lie crumpled and weak on the floor. Meanwhile, Hongjoong was talking to a stormtrooper as if he hadn't Force strangled his apprentice. In that moment, as he was struggling to bring air back into his lungs he realized you were right. Hongjoong didn't care about him.

You're useless, Mars. The words echoed in his mind on repeat.

"Take me to her cell." Hongjoong's voice reached Seonghwa's ears, causing him to lift his head. "If you want things to get done you have to do them yourself." He complained to the trooper, taking a glance back at Seonghwa with a demeaning expression.

"Wait!" He coughed.

The maroon-haired Sith paused and turned to look down at Seonghwa who was just managing to get to his feet.

"You said three days. The day isn't over yet." He spoke hoarsely, but kept a steady tone so as not to give away how his lungs burned.

"Alright. I want results by the end of the day."

The door to your cell opened up and to your surprise, it was Seonghwa again. He sometimes showed up multiple times a day to interrogate you, but never this quickly. It had only been about ten minutes since he left.

He was rubbing at his throat with a gloved hand, his eyes looking frantic.

Something was wrong.

"Seonghwa?"

"Look, I need you to give me a reason as to why you were sent." There was that sense of urgency in his tone again, more obvious than earlier. And he didn't even snap at you for calling him by his real name.

"What happened?"

"Things won't be good for you if you don't cooperate." He ignored your question and you noticed how scratchy his voice sounded.

It wasn't hard to put two and two together.

"He hurt you."

Seonghwa stiffened and you knew your assumption was correct.

"You have to tell me, Y/n." His gaze turned serious and the desperation in his tone rose. "If you don't..." He hesitated to continue, but did so anyway. "Hongjoong is going to interrogate you instead and he won't be gentle or kind."

You'd known Seonghwa since you were kids and could tell when he was worried, but this wasn't worry—this was fear. All this time you'd refused to speak and all it took for you to crack was for Seonghwa to be in distress.

"I was planting listening devices." You caved, spilling almost immediately.

"Where?"

"In the West corridor near the hangar, in a meeting room, and in the control room where the ship is piloted."

His eyes met yours, turmoil and concern swirling around his brown irises. "I'm sorry it had to be like this."

And that was the last thing he said before turning away and leaving.

"I have news." Seonghwa announced, entering the control room.

Hongjoong turned towards him, an expectant look on his face.

"She cracked."

"It's about time."

"The Resistance base is on Takodana."

"Takodana?" Hongjoong repeated, raising a brow. "She told you that?"

"Yes."

"It's not the information I asked for."

"But it's helpful to us. It's what we've been working towards for weeks." Seonghwa mentioned.

"That's true." Hongjoong gazed out at the vast galaxy.

"Who cares why she was on the ship? We have their location."

Hongjoong nodded, murmuring, "Takodana, huh? Why didn't I think of that? It's a forest planet; the perfect place to go off the grid."

"Exactly."

Hongjoong snapped his fingers, beckoning the First Order's battle coordinator over. "I want you to send a fleet to Takadona right away." He ordered.

"Yes, sir." The man nodded before marching off.

Hongjoong passed Seonghwa, stopping long enough to say, "Maybe you can be useful after all."

His watchful eyes followed the redhead until he left the room before he made any moves of his own, exiting the control area and heading directly for the meeting room.

There was only one room on the ship used for meetings and Seonghwa knew exactly where it was.

Slipping into the empty meeting room, he surveyed the area, checking in crevices and corners before peeking underneath the large circular table in the middle of the area. Sure enough, there was a small device no bigger than the tip of his finger under the edge of the table. Stepping away, he began pacing around, mulling over the gravity of what he was about to do. Taking in a deep breath, Seonghwa prepared himself for what he was about to say, knowing it would change everything.

"I don't know who's listening to this but I need your help. It's me..." He hesitated. "Seonghwa. I don't have time to explain everything but I've just told my superior the Resistance base is on Takodana. They're sending a fleet of troopers that way immediately. Reinforcements here will be low. I need you guys to come and get Y/n out of here." He paused before adding. "Get us out of here. I'm ready to come home."

With a call for help sent out and no time to waste, he could only hope someone was listening as he left the room and put his plan into motion.

He didn't greet you or say a single word when he stepped back into your cell, grabbing your hands and holding them behind your back.

"Come here."

You yelped as you were jerked to your feet.

"Seonghwa? What's going on?" You panicked, wiggling in his hold.

"Be quiet." He hissed, shoving you out the door and down the cell block corridor, stormtroopers watching as he passed.

One of them blocked the way. "What are you doing with her?"

"We've obtained the information we need. She's of no use to us anymore." He responded coldly to the trooper's inquiry.

Every part of your body ran cold upon hearing that and you started writhing even more.

"No! No! Please don't do this!" You cried out.

"I said be quiet!" Seonghwa jerked you harshly before pushing you down the halls once more.

Your breathing was erratic, your hands cold and clammy. Were you really going to die by the hands of your old friend?

Not a single word was spoken while you were guided through the maze that was the First Order ship, awaiting your demise. You were brought to a room and shoved inside, Seonghwa releasing your wrists and caging you against the wall before you could even process it.

"You don't know what you're doing." You spoke shakily. "Please don't kill me. I—"

Seonghwa's lips pressed firmly against yours, effectively cutting off your sentence. A small noise left the back of your throat, your hands pressing against his chest as you fought to keep your eyes from fluttering shut.

He pulled away shortly with a heavy exhale and half-lidded eyes that gazed at you with longing.

"I love you too, Y/n."

Your heart leapt into your throat as he verbally returned your feelings.

"You're... you're not gonna kill me?"

"What? No." He shook his head. "That was just so I didn't raise any suspicions. We're getting out of here."

"We are?" You uttered so quietly you barely heard yourself.

"Yes. This isn't the life for me, Y/n. I miss the Resistance. I miss you. Maybe I was a weak Sith—or maybe my love for you was stronger than the hold of the Dark Side."

"Seonghwa." Taking the sides of his face, you pulled him to your lips, kissing him deeply, this time letting your eyelids slide shut while relishing in the warmth of his mouth.

When you pulled away, he had to blink himself out of the little daze he was in.

"Wow."

"We'd better get out of here alive." You said.

"We will. Just play along."

You nodded. "Got it."

He took your wrists and held them behind your back again to keep up the facade and led you out of the room, back into the ship's corridor. He didn't know how quickly a rescue team could get out there, but if no one had arrived by the time he made it to the hangar, Seonghwa would hijack a ship and get you both out himself.

Your eyes scanned the halls, attempting to look pitiful and helpless when passing stormtroopers or staff. On the inside, however, you were elated that Seonghwa returned your feelings and decided to return to Ajan Kloss with you. Though there was the lingering anxiety of needing to get out safely first. You were still in enemy territory—you both were.

The two of you rounded a corner, nearly running into a man with maroon hair that you didn't recognize, you and Seonghwa taking a few steps back. There was an intimidating aura about the stranger that made you nervous just by looking at him. His eyes narrowed and he turned to your partner.

"This is the Jedi that snuck onto the ship. Why is she out of her cell, Mars? I didn't approve of this."

"We've got the information we need. I'm disposing of her."

You assumed this was the Hongjoong guy you'd been told about and was quick to lower your gaze to the floor, trying to appear non-threatening.

"And why would you dispose of her?"

As they exchanged words, Seonghwa could tell he wouldn't be able to pull this one off. Hongjoong was asking too many questions and wondering why Seonghwa was making decisions on his own without consulting him first.

You too were feeling as if things were about to go south and began worrying about how to defend yourself. It was at that moment you felt something cool being pressed into your palm that was behind your back. Your fingers curled around the object and realized it was a lightsaber—your lightsaber.

"What's really going on here?" Hongjoong inquired. "You've been odd since this little Jedi showed up." He regarded you with a curt jerk of his head, not bothering to look your way.

"I already told you, I'm disposing of her."

"See..." Hongjoong's hand imperceptibly inched towards his lightsaber at his hip. "I just don't think I believe you."

Your eyes widened and you were quick to reveal your lightsaber, activating the purple beam that hummed to life just as Hongjoong withdrew his own weapon. Seonghwa was holding out his lightsaber as well, ready to fight by your side.

"Ah." Sardonic amusement flickered across Hongjoong's features at the sight of his apprentice. "I see. You've switched sides."

Seonghwa's expression hardened and he pointed the end of his red lightsaber at the man. "I'm not afraid to fight you."

"Well you should be." Hongjoong spoke roughly before stepping forward and taking a swipe at both of you.

Leaping back, you two dodged his attack, retaliating with some of your own, both of you swinging your weapons at the Sith who was able to block every single one. You attempted to take a jab at him, but his red beam came up underneath your purple one and pushed it away, making you stumble at the physical force behind the action. He twisted his upper body and held his saber up to block an attack from Seonghwa that followed after yours.

It was clear this man was well-trained and even though he was outnumbered, he was managing to fight both you and Seonghwa without much of a struggle. Taking a step back to put some space between you and the enemy, you continued fighting back.

As soon as he saw an opening, Seonghwa took hold of your wrist. "Come on." He hissed urgently and tugged you down the ship's dim corridors in the opposite direction, fleeing the area.

"You're running away like a coward, Mars!" Hongjoong shouted after him.

"Where are we going?" You asked, pushing past a stormtrooper that stood in the way.

"Get them!" Hongjoong roared in the distance.

"Somewhere away from him." Seonghwa responded, keeping a tight hold on your wrist while guiding you through the steel and metal maze.

While your first priority was to survive, questions started piling up. Questions like: Would you survive? Would you even make it off the ship? Would you ever get back home?

"Here." You were snapped out of your daze by Seonghwa's voice as you were pulled into an open space, a grated walkway stretching across an endless canyon.

Unable to see the bottom of the foggy abyss below, your heart rate spiked.

"Hey, it's alright. Just stay close." Seonghwa gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, hurrying across the bridge. "We can still make it to the hangar from here."

"There you are."

You both froze at the sound of Hongjoong's voice, spinning around to face him as he approached with an intense and almost psychotic look in his sharp eyes.

"Stay back." Seonghwa was quick to push you behind him and rush forward to engage in battle with his ex mentor. You leaned against the railing of the grated walkway, looking on with wide eyes.

Seonghwa let out a grunt when Hongjoong's saber clashed with his, pushing against it. With clenched teeth and trembling hands, he shoved back and managed to get Hongjoong off of him. The Sith let out a low sound of disproval and swung once more, relentlessly attacking Seonghwa and giving him no time to fight back. All he could do was block and guard himself from the onslaught. You couldn't stand watching the battle persist without you. There was no telling how long Seonghwa could maintain his defenses until he was worn out. With no one to watch his back or help take the pressure off, you feared he wouldn't make it out of the fight unscathed.

"What happened? You used to beat me all the time during our practice battles." Hongjoong talked down to Seonghwa in a derisive tone.

The ex Sith let out a low noise from the back of his throat while taking a swing at the redhead who merely leaned back to avoid the humming beam of light.

"You're weakened already." He remarked snidely. "Do you really want to go back to being a spineless Jedi?"

Instead of responding, Seonghwa narrowed his eyes and took another swing at Hongjoong only for him to dodge again.

"You belong here."

"I don't!" He snapped. "I never did."

"I took you in."

"You took advantage of me!"

"And you became a powerful Sith because of it. So you should be thanking me."

"Thanking you?" Scoffed Seonghwa. "For what? Turning me into an evil monster?"

Hongjoong let out a huff of amusement. "For showing you your true potential, Mars. So tell me, are you with me or against me?"

"My name is Seonghwa." He grit out through his teeth.

"Very well. Chitchat is over." Hongjoong used his foot to kick Seonghwa back, his body colliding with the steel flooring of the bridge. A grunt was forced out of him, his deactivated lightsaber now lying by Hongjoong's foot.

"You don't need this anymore." He said, kicking the weapon off the side of the walkway and into the abyss below.

"No. Stop!" You shouted, rushing towards the two, unable to stand by any longer. You didn't care if Seonghwa told you to stay back, he needed your help.

Hongjoong held up his free hand, a powerful force pushing you back so vigorously you were sent through the air. You yelped, landing roughly on the grates as your lightsaber skidded across the platform. The breath was knocked out of you during impact, your throat and lungs attempting to work correctly again while you gasped for air.

"This is what happens when you betray me, Mars." Hongjoong spoke in an eery singsong voice.

Your eyes widened as he moved to stand over Seonghwa, lightsaber positioned and ready to strike. A sudden burst of energy and determination hit you as well as a wave of burning hatred towards the maroon-haired Sith, fueling your need to protect Seonghwa.

Your hand shot out towards your deactivated weapon, wheezing and coughing as you focused your energy. The saber shot from its position at the edge of the bridge and straight into your palm. Gripping the hilt of the lightsaber, you got to your feet and rushed over.

"This is the end for you." Hongjoong reared back and went to swing his glowing blade down on Seonghwa. As he did so, your purple beam was thrust forward, blocking his before it could even get close to doing any damage.

"What?" Hongjoong hissed out, his eyes drifting up to meet yours that burned with rage.

"I don't think so." You spoke lowly, pushing upwards and using your lightsaber to shove his away.

Seonghwa stared up at you in both shock and awe, using the opportunity to scramble back out of the crossfire as you went after Hongjoong with vigor.

"Do. Not. Come. Near. Him." You spat out between attacks, punctuating your words with each clash of your blades.

"Oh. Well, this is certainly interesting." Hongjoong chuckled over the sounds of battle.

Your lightsabers made that familiar electric sound as they collided, swinging in every direction possible. Any time you saw an opening, you went for it, even if Hongjoong blocked. There was no pattern to your attacks, just endless swipes and vicious swings.

"You took him away from me!" You raged, slinging your lightsaber at him while he struggled to fight back. "Three years!"

He stumbled while trying to back away, blocking your relentless hits.

A flicker of panic flashed across Hongjoong's face as you continued to shout at him and deliver swing after swing. Up until that point, he had defended himself and didn't show an ounce of fear. Clearly, he wasn't expecting you to go into a blind rage, but seeing him preparing to end Seonghwa's life kicked you into gear.

Your saber came at him from the side, which he deflected, but you didn't care, redirecting and taking a different approach. He hissed when you managed to swipe at his arm, tearing the fabric of his sleeve and slicing his skin underneath.

"Look at you trying to defend your boyfriend. Such mindless violence. You would've made a good Sith." Hongjoong grunted out while trying to provoke you despite the fact that you clearly had the upper hand.

"Shut up." You grit out, slinging the purple beam you wielded at his leg, causing him to yelp in pain, pressing his free hand to his calf where the fresh cut was.

"I'm impressed." He panted heavily, looking up at you. "You're putting up quite the fight."

He tightened his hold on his lightsaber as your eyes narrowed. The humming beam in his grip came barreling towards you, making you jump back. He gave you no time to retaliate, coming at you again. At the last second, you held your hand out, fingers outstretched as his weapon came to a stop in midair just a few inches from you. The heat radiating from the blazing light brushed your palm, but it wasn't enough to deter you. Hongjoong's cocky expression fell, his eyes darting between you and your hand which was keeping his lightsaber in place. He pushed down, trying to complete his action, his brows pulling together at the effort and exertion. Your hardened gaze stayed locked on the Sith as you moved your open hand forward, forcing the beam further away until you pushed it aside. He stumbled back, releasing a low guttural sound from the back of his throat.

"Not bad... for a Jedi."

Your jaw tightened at his backhanded comment. "You talk too much."

Blinded by anger, your free hand shot out, using the Force to launch him backwards across the bridge and all the way into the halls of the ship where he landed harshly against a wall. He winced upon impact, sliding down and crumpling on the floor in a heap.

The adrenaline coursing through you slowly started to wear off, your shoulders heaving up and down with each breath.

"I thought Jedi didn't Force choke?" Seonghwa asked amusedly from behind you while getting to his feet, referring back to something you said to him years ago.

"That was a Force push. There's a difference." You remarked with a small grin, deactivating your lightsaber and sliding it into its holster.

"That was... kinda hot."

You turned to him as he came to stand by your side, a hint of a smirk playing at your lips. "Was it?"

"It was." He confirmed, taking your hand. "Now let's get out of here."

The both of you hurried across the grated walkway and past Hongjoong's unconscious form, heading back the way you came, your footsteps thumping against the metal floors.

"Hongjoong ordered a fleet of ships to Takodana." Seonghwa mentioned while you moved down the halls. "There won't be as many reinforcements here, so we should be able to make it to the hangar without too much trouble."

"Takodana?" You echoed confusedly.

"I told him that's where the Resistance base was."

A fluttery feeling blossomed in your chest. He lied to his mentor to protect the Resistance members.

"Thank you."

He gave you a small smile, squeezing your hand. "You're welcome."

After turning a corner, you were met with a cluster of stormtroopers that jumped into action and began blasting at both of you the moment you were spotted.

Seonghwa grabbed you, tugging you around the corner and out of the line of fire.

"Well, this is a problem." You breathed out heavily. "We're outnumbered and you don't have a weapon."

"Yeah. Though we might be able to make it if we make a run for it and do our best to dodge. Their aim is horrible anyway."

"Not if we're close enough to shoot." You pointed out.

While you and Seonghwa were strategizing, the thud of something heavy falling to the floor came from where the stormtroopers were, followed by another thud and another. Preceding each thump was the sound of a blaster of some sort, but it was different than that of a trooper. The rap of footsteps heading your way made you both tense up and prepare to defend yourselves until a familiar face rounded the corner.

"Someone call a rescue team?" Han Solo asked with a grin.

"Han." You let out a mix between a laugh and a sigh of relief. "How did you know we needed help?"

"Seonghwa told us using one of the listening devices you planted."

"You heard me?" He asked, relieved that his call for help didn't fall on deaf ears.

"We were listening the whole time. We had a team of Resistance members monitoring the audio at all times." Han responded. "Now let's get you two outta here."

He beckoned you both forward, bringing you around the corner to find stormtroopers scattered about on the floor, each of them sporting one or more holes in their chests, their armor marred by burn marks.

"You took them all out by yourself?" You asked, stepping over one of the bodies.

"I've had lots of practice, kid." Han responded, moving on down the corridor.

The three of you jogged through the halls, proceeding quickly while sweeping the area. Your escape wasn't an easy one as more stormtroopers came up from the opposite direction, blocking the way.

"Stop right there!" One of them shouted, holding his blaster.

Han Solo pointed his own gun at the group of armor-clad troopers while you activated your lightsaber again. When they saw you were going to put up a fight, an onslaught of red plasma blasts blurred past. You moved in, ducking and dodging shots while taking a swing at the nearest stormtrooper's legs. He shouted in pain and fell to the ground, giving Han an opportunity to take him down while he was vulnerable.

Seonghwa, weaponless, used his Force abilities to push away the troopers that got too close, shoving them into one another. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough to stop them.

"Hey, kid!" Han Solo called out to Seonghwa. "Thought you might need this so I brought it just in case." His glossy chrome lightsaber was tossed over. "Found it in Y/n's room."

Seonghwa's eyes widened, looking at you with surprise. You were about to ask Han why he was even in your room to start with, but Seonghwa spoke before you could.

"You kept my lightsaber in your room?"

Your cheeks were set aflame at his question before you shot one back at him without thinking. "Where were you keeping mine, huh?"

Now it was Seonghwa's turn to become flustered, his ears turning red.

Oh.

"Now's not the time for all this." Han spoke gruffly, using his blaster to hit a stormtrooper.

"Sorry." You and Seonghwa spoke in unison, his blue lightsaber activating.

A smile that couldn't be suppressed no matter how hard you tried spread across your face, a wave of nostalgia and joy filling you at the sight of him. It was just like old times.

Seonghwa lunged forward with a shout, you following behind with renewed vigor as you both went at the stormtroopers, knocking their blasters out of their hands and swinging your sabers, slicing through their armor easily. Any troopers you or Seonghwa didn't get were swiftly shot down by Han.

"I think that's all of them." You huffed out.

"Well then let's get out of here before more show up." Han Solo nodded with his head, urging you and Seonghwa forward.

Much to your relief, the three of you made it to the hangar where thankfully no stormtroopers were lingering about. Your feet moved faster, following behind Han to the opening of the hangar, looking around for his ship.

"Where's—"

His loud whistling cut you off as he waved his arm in the air, signaling something out in space. Seconds later, the Millennium Falcon came flying around the back of the First Order vessel.

"Step back." Han ordered as the Falcon eased into the hangar, the loading ramp extending from the bottom. "Come on, come on." He ushered you and Seonghwa up into the ship where you both followed him to the cockpit where Chewie was manning the controls.

Chewbacca stood up so Han could take his place, a joyous noise leaving him when he saw Seonghwa standing there beside you. He was immediately pulled into a big hug by the Wookie who was elated at the long-awaited reunion.

"I missed you too." Seonghwa chuckled, patting Chewbacca's back.

You too were pulled into a tight embrace, laughter bubbling up out of you.

"It's good to see you, big guy." You told Chewie, pulling away.

"Alright everyone, buckle up and hold tight. We're getting the heck outta here." Han Solo said.

Seonghwa's return to Ajan Kloss was a momentous occasion; he was welcomed back with open arms and firm handshakes, but not from Leia. From Leia, he received a suffocatingly tight hug.

"We're happy to have you back." She murmured tearfully, smiling up at Seonghwa. "And thank you for your distress call. Han insisted on being the one to bring you two back."

"Really?" You asked.

"Yes. We were getting a rescue plan together but it wasn't ready to be executed. As soon as we heard the call for help, Han started prepping to leave right away."

"Y/n, you're alive!"

You turned to see Poe walking over with Finn following behind.

"No thanks to you." You teased, giving him a hug.

"Hey now, I came right back here and told everyone you'd been captured." He defended lightheartedly, his eyes drifting to your friend standing beside you. "Ah. You must be Seonghwa! This girl right here talks about you nonstop. I wish I knew where Seonghwa was. I hope Seonghwa comes back. You would've liked Seonghwa. I hope we find—"

"Okay." Finn came up, chuckling awkwardly and grabbing Poe by the shoulders, slowly pulling him away. "That's enough out of you."

To celebrate your rescue and Seonghwa's return, the droids and cooks prepared a massive meal for the camp. The both of you stuck around the tent for a while to chat with Resistance members before deciding to go off somewhere for a little privacy. And that place was atop the Millennium Falcon.

"I missed the food here." You sighed fondly, rubbing your stomach. "The meals I was given on the First Order ship weren't great... no offense."

"None taken." Chuckled Seonghwa. "It was subpar at best. Even when I was a Sith I missed the food here."

You laughed softly, gazing up at the stars like you'd done years ago, seated with your legs crossed. When you turned back, Seonghwa was looking at you and had leaned in closer.

"This is nice." He murmured softly.

"What is?"

"Being up here with you."

Fighting back a smile, you responded. "And why's that?"

"Because I can finally give you a proper kiss."

He leaned in and placed his lips gently on yours, tentatively at first. Your eyelids fluttered shut and you allowed yourself to get lost in the moment now that you were both home and safe. His hand slid around to cup the nape of your neck, guiding you to lie back while his lips slowly danced over yours, making you melt. Once you laid down, he leaned over you and depended the kiss by tilting his head and picking up the pace. A mix between a soft sigh and a hum left you, your hands moving up to run through his long locks.

"I love your hair like this." You murmured against his lips.

"Yeah? You like it longer?"

"I do." You brushed your digits through it, making his eyelids flutter, a low noise leaving him before he dove back in for a passionate kiss that took your breath away. His hand that wasn't cradling the nape of your neck slid down your side to feel your curves through the fabric of your gray tunic.

Your fingers gripped at his inky hair, making him groan against your mouth, sending a flurry of butterflies to your stomach. His pillowy lips captured your bottom one, surrounding it in warmth before he encompassed your mouth wholly with his and making your head spin in the process.

When he pulled away, you were both panting shallowly, looking at each other with half-lidded eyes that were glazed over with adoration and longing for one another. It was a picture perfect moment; you and the man you loved lying under the stars together, reunited at last.

"I love you." Seonghwa murmured reverently, caressing your cheek tenderly with his thumb as you both gazed at one another lovingly.

You smiled softly at him before responding, "I know."

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