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seospicybin · 4 months

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TOO HOT TO HANDLE.

PART I

Seungmin x reader. (s)

Too Hot To Handle Masterlist

Synopsis: You and Seungmin become contestants in a reality dating show, Too Hot To Handle. (14,6k words)

Author's note: Not much of Seungmin in this part but hope you enjoy it nonetheless :)

YOU: I like my men how I like my drinks, I need to have five of them [laughs] I'm a flirt, even when I'm not flirting, they think I am [bites lips] I hate small talk [groans] I don't want anything serious with anyone. If I wake up in the morning and they're not there, that's great [blows kisses]

The weather is good and you're feeling good, when the staff says it's your time to enter the villa, you're ready to go.

The hair and makeup are on point, and the white bikini you're wearing compliments your features and complexion, all of that wouldn't stand out without confidence so you put your best foot forward and walk in confident strides.

Not forgetting to put on your best smile knowing so many pairs of eyes are looking at you as you step into the scene and walk faster as you get excited to meet all of them.

"Hello, hello," you enthusiastically greet and waving your hands at them.

"You guys are so beautiful!" You compliment, hiding your insecurities with a flustered smile.

Once you get close enough, you make a brief eye contact with everyone and start hugging around, introducing yourself to them.

"Oh my God, the eyes," you exclaim as you notice a pair of mesmerizing light brown eyes on a guy.

You're genuinely attracted to those eyes that you can't stop staring at him.

"You have such beautiful eyes," you blurt out without thinking.

He shyly laughs at your indirect compliment, "Thank you!"

You carefully remove the strand of hair caught between your lips before speaking, "What's your name?"

"Elliott," he answers with a smile.

"Nice to meet you, Elliott," you say, offering your hand for a high-five since you already hugged him.

You join the other table, wanting to get to know everyone and get behind a man with a tall figure and long hair like Jesus.

"Oh, my Lord!" You playfully gasp.

The other two people laughing at your pun and when you join them, you can see that he has facial hair too.

"Come and join my disciples," He says.

"Wow. Am I in the right show?" You jokingly say, taking the champagne flute he hands you.

The Jesus twin brother pours the bubbly wine into your glass and puts the bottle back into the bucket of ice.

"I'm Vale," he tells you his name.

"Vale?" You pronounce his name wrong.

"It's short from Valentino," he explains.

"Oh! Vale!" You gasp, finally pronouncing his name right this time.

"I'm Italian," he informs you while tucking a hair behind his ear.

You take a small sip of your wine and smile, "I didn't know Jesus is Italian," you joke again.

He bursts into laughter and you try not to laugh or you'd spit your drink which is not the kind of first impression you plan to make on anyone.

"Oh, look!" You exclaim as you catch another guest arriving at the villa.

She's taking everyone's attention with her beautiful wavy, brown hair that looks and beautiful, rosy cheeks, walking with such elegance like a goddess emerging from the sea.

When she comes your way, you can see the adorable freckles on her nose and you just can't help but say, "Oh, you're such a babe!"

She smiles at your words and leans in for a hug, "Devon!"

"Devon, the babe, got it," you repeat and introduce yourself back.

You're not the only one who's swooned by her English charms, you can see everyone is just as excited to get to know her.

While Louisa is making a toast at the other table, you see the last male guest coming with his shirt flying open, showcasing his sculpted abs.

You're not the type that's crazy about muscles. However, when you see them on someone and they have them in the perfect places, you get a little loopy in the head.

"Blake," he introduces himself to you.

And Blake... oh, not only does he have those muscles in the perfect places, he has this gorgeous brown skin and the plus point is he has tattoos. He sure is driving the girls into a frenzy, meanwhile the boys, they're not that impressed with it.

"They're so hot," A girl next to you whispers and if your memory serves you right, her name is Adriana.

You lowly squeal in response and mutter through your gritted teeth, "I'm drooling."

Now that everyone is here, Vale takes the unopened bottle of wine and pops it open, spraying it at everyone to inaugurate the show.

YOU: [Rubs hands together] Let's get it started!

There are so many hot options in this villa.

There is Elliott's mesmerizing eyes, Vale's sexy hair, Jeff's tattoos, Tom's big biceps and then there's Blake's body.

God! Blake's body is just so hot, you bet it'll sizzle when you lick it.

"Ooo... sexy!" Adriana gasps as she pushes open the door to the bedroom.

There are ten guests but there are only six beds, well, that's a math problem anyone can easily solve.

"It doesn't make much sound," Tom says after testing the bed by rocking it.

A few laugh at that but you're too busy eyeing the guy you want, throwing flirty glances at Blake as he sits on the end of the bed.

You're very much aware that you're not the only girl having the hots for Blake, you see that Devon has her eyes on him too, well, you're not afraid of a little competition anyway.

After the tour of the villa, the girls are gathering in the dressing room to talk about... well, boys.

"Who do you fancy?" Lili asks, playing with a make-up brush.

"I like Jeff," Adriana is the first one to share her pick out of the sexy bunch.

"Going for the bad boy, huh?" Issa teases, twirling her curls around her index finger.

"What about you, sexy mami?" Adriana asks Devon who happens to sitting next to her.

"Blake," she shortly answers

So your guess is true that Devon is indeed going for Blake and it only means one thing: It's game on.

"He's hot, yeah," Lili approves Devon's pick.

Issa grabs your hand and gently shakes it, sending your bracelets clinking against each other, "How about you?"

Well, you have a man in mind but nothing is permanent yet and there's a lot of time to get to know everyone.

"I don't know," You bend against the vanity table and let Issa play with your hair.

"I don't want to limit myself to just flirting with one guy," you add with a laugh.

The girls are both applauding and chuckling at your honest answer. You realize that you can be competitive when you want to but let's hope it doesn't come to you getting your claws out for a man.

YOU: I don't know what I want yet so I can't rule anyone out right now [giggles]

The shimmering water of the Caribbean Sea is such a delightful sight, you take a long sigh as you take it all in that you'll be living here for the next 30 days.

Everyone else is either chilling by the pool or starting to mingle with each other or both.

You see Devon is closing in on Blake and it doesn't bother you much, you'll have your chance. You remind yourself that it's a marathon, not a sprint.

Someone comes up to you and joins you in the gazebo, it's the guy with the mesmerizing eyes, Elliott.

"Drinks?" He offers, holding up the drinks in his hands at you.

"Yes, please," you answer, scooting to the side to make some space on the sofa for him.

He hands you one of the drinks to you before sitting down, you both take a little sip of the sugary sweet cocktails.

"This is cute," you comment, stirring the drink with the small umbrella.

"Like you," Elliott teases with a flirty smile.

You giggle in reaction to his words, "You think I'm cute?"

Elliott licks his lips after sipping his drink, "Yeah."

Pulling a trick out of the book, you tilt your head to the side and flutter your eyelids a little.

"And I think you're cute too," you sweetly say, then clink your glass with his.

You have another sip of the cocktail and scrunch your nose when you taste the sour of the lime on the rim of the glass. You catch Elliott staring at you and knowing that he just got caught, he may as well ask, "So, do you fancy anyone?"

With your head still tilted, you do a little look away before looking at him right in the eyes, "Oh, wow, that's a tough question," you pretend to think hard.

Elliott is confidently staring right back into your eyes as he asks another question, "Anyone you want?"

You let out a low chuckle and answer, "I think it's too early to say."

"That's a good answer," he mutters.

Elliott is not taking his eyes away from yours even for a second, his stare is so intense that it makes you nervous. An awkward chuckle escapes your mouth, "Your eyes..."

You look down at your drink and put all of your focus on it instead, "They're making me nervous," you continue.

Elliott triumphantly smiles knowing that his eyes are doing a great job, "I'm just trying to shoot my shot here," he coyly says with a sexy smirk.

You nod and tuck your hair behind your ear, "I understand. You want what you want."

"Mm-hm," he immediately agrees with what you said.

"What I want is right here," he continues, clinking his glass against yours.

Elliott is, physically wise, not your type but he's confident, he has that good chat and he knows how to keep the conversation going.

As the saying goes if at first you don't succeed, then go for your second choice and Elliott would make a great second choice.

YOU: Well, if Blake is not going to acknowledge the fact that I'm here then I'm just going to give Elliott a chance.

It's loud in the dressing room as everyone comes up with guesses on what actually would happen tonight at the first party of Party In Paradise.

They prepare costumes for everyone to wear for the first party in the villa. The boys are dressed as pirates while the girls are dressed as mermaids and you choose the one adorned with sapphire blue sequins that resemble mermaid scales.

The beach is decorated with properties according to the theme and the drinks are ready so is the music, they're blasting upbeat songs through big speakers.

Everyone is looking hot, they're dancing and drinking, having the time of their life, it indeed feels like a party in paradise.

The good time comes to a halt as Issa initiates a game but it's actually what the staff briefed her earlier about.

"We're going to play X marks the spot," Issa says.

She then pulls lipstick out of the side of the sofa and uses it to make two crosses on each one of her breasts, "These are my best features so you can lick them, bite them, grab them, or even kiss the person if you want," she explains the game.

It's a simple game, with or without marking the spot, everyone knows where to touch or kiss. Issa then walks to the center and stands in front of everyone.

"So who wants a piece of me?" She cutely says while shaking her shoulders.

As everyone is about to hype Issa, Jeff dashes towards her and buries his head between her mounds, rubbing the red lipstick all over his face then plants a hard kiss on her lips. He then returns to his seat, leaving Issa standing there in bewilderment.

Everyone is either excited for their turn or to finally have the chance to make physical contact with the person they're interested in, including you.

You can't tell which one you're more excited for, taking your turn or making a move on someone.

It seems like it's the latter for Devon as Blake is drawing small crosses on his six-pack abs. He raises his hands and puts them behind him, letting anyone come to him.

"Come and get some," he says with a devilish smirk that takes his attractiveness to the next level.

Devon not only puts her claws on him but also sinks her teeth deep into Blake's neck, letting everyone know that it's her territory.

Well, Devon can piss on Blake too if she wants and you'll let her have him, for now.

Jeff whistles as Adriana marks both of her buttcheeks with the red lipstick while the others are howling like animals in heat.

"Whoa!" Lili grabs at your forearm in reaction to Tom licking her buttcheeks as Adriana slightly bends over.

"Oh, my God!" You gasp as they continue with a slobbering kiss, sending the red lips rubbing on each other's faces.

She then walks back to her seat and plops down next to you, panting while wiping the skin around her mouth with her fingers.

When it's finally your turn, you get so excited that you can't seem to function normally. You can't stop grinning as you walk to the center, carrying the lipsticks Adriana gave to you.

It's time to get some action so you give them no excuses to miss out on you. With the red lipsticks, you draw an X on your inner thigh, your breasts, and the last one, excessively putting the lipsticks all over your lips.

"Let's go, boys!" You say with a hand gesture, daring them to come.

As expected, Elliott is the first one to come out to play. He walks up to you with a sly grin plastered his face and he stops right in front of you, dropping to his knees to kiss your inner thigh.

His soft lips tickle you as he drags them down your thigh and you can't help but giggle. The trail of kisses stops when he reaches your ankle and he finally lets go of your leg.

Elliott gets up and immediately pulls you close, capturing your lips in a deep kiss. The way he eagerly lathers your lips, you can tell how much he wanted it, craved it and it's low-key arousing you.

You gasp for air when he lets go of the kiss and you hurriedly cover your mouth with your hand, nonplussed.

Before you can fully recover from Elliott's kiss, Blake walks up to you and holds you by the waist as he plants his mouth right on the X you drew on your breast.

He licks the red lipstick off your skin and does not waste another second to crash his mouth against your mouth, kissing you so hard.

You open your mouth to catch a breath, but he uses it as an opportunity to put his hot tongue into you, kissing you deeper, tasting you more.

You can hear everyone cheering and hooting as they watch Blake let go of the kiss with a triumphant smile on his face.

"Don't make me compete with you, man!" Elliott jokingly says with his mouth still tainted red from the lipstick.

To say the kiss was good would be an understatement, it was phenomenal, you get a little disoriented as you walk back to your seat.

YOU: I just knew he wouldn't be able to resist me [Coyly shrugs]

It's a good thing that you have some drink left in your cup as you need it to help you calm down from the madness you were in a while ago. You feel hot and bothered, finding yourself fanning your face from Blake's kiss.

The host of the show finally comes and leads the show, walking so carefully with her heels in the sand.

"Hello, party people!" She begins with a bright smile.

Everyone answers with a cheery howl, louder than the sounds of the crashing waves in the background.

"Are you having a good time?"

"Yeah!" Everyone replies in unison.

"Are you ready to have some more good time?" The host asks, fanning her hand close to her ear to hear everyone's answer.

"Yeah!"

"You know what? I think I know exactly what this party needs," the host says with a kittenish smile.

The fun keeps doubling as the night gets late and it gets everyone hyped for what's to come.

"We have invited a guest to the villa!" She announces with a playful whoop at the end of the sentence.

Your first thought is that they'll bring another guest into the villa but it's a party in paradise which means more people, the merrier.

"This one guest is very special and can change anything," The host hinted with a cryptic smile.

That piques everyone's interest and they're starting to randomly shout names of famous people, trying to guess and manifesting it at once.

"Are you ready to welcome our world-famous guest?" The host asks, also giving out another hint which makes a few of them believe it's a celebrity.

"Yes!" Everyone answers, getting impatient to find out who the new guest is.

You don't want to get your hopes up but it would be nice to party with a celebrity, whoever it is, you're ready to have some fun.

"Give our new guest a warm welcome!"

All of the lights are suddenly off and then a spotlight shines on the curtain behind our seats, you've been thinking that it's just part of the decoration but now everyone's eyes are on it, looking at it with so much anticipation.

"No way!" You gasp in a mix of nerves and excitement.

Adriana just can't stop squealing next to you, holding your hand by the wrist.

It's been a minute now and the curtain is still not open, you feel like fainting with this much anticipation inside you. A while later, smoke starts coming out as the curtain finally opens in one quick pull.

Then there's that melodic chime that you heard somewhere before.

YOU: [Groans] Why? [Throws head to the back] Why?

You look around and everyone is just as flabbergasted, as in shock as you are at the reveal of the true intentions of this show. All of you have been tricked into thinking that it's a Party In Paradise when it's actually Too Hot To Handle.

As if the sight of the cone is not enough, Lili turns her head at you and meekly says, "We're in Too Hot To Handle."

Now that she says it out loud, you realize that it's real and you can feel that you're already dreading it.

She rubs her temples and says again, "This is Too Hot To Handle."

Oh, no. This is real. You are in Too Hot To Handle.

"As you can see, this is no longer Party In Paradise," The cone begins talking.

"But it's so convincing, the crew got Party In Paradise shirts and everything," Adriana complain as if that would help her get out of this.

"This is Too Hot To Handle."

"Shit... fuck..." you quietly mutter as you rub your temples in stress.

"You have been specially selected because all of you are having meaningless flings over genuine relationships," Lana continues.

Wish you could deny it but you feel called out instead, if that's the case, then you guess, this is your karma.

"Not wrong at all," Elliott agrees with Lana's statement with a stupid grin.

"Since your arrival, I have been gathering data on your wild behavior but from now on, you must adhere to my retreat rules."

YOU: Hmm... my coochie is going on lockdown, isn't it? [Sighs]

"No kissing."

But that's exactly your plan which is to kiss everyone.

"No heavy petting."

The more you hear it, the harder for you to process it in your head and whether you can do it or not.

"No sex."

And that's it. You can't do it, it's impossible. You'll be staying with a bunch of attractive people in a villa on an exotic island and told not to make physical contact with them.

"And no self-gratification," Lana announces the last rule.

Which is the hardest one for you to accept. It's your own body and you can do anything to it? It doesn't make sense.

"That's crazy!" Blake reacts with his eyes widening in disbelief.

Despite the complaints, Lana continues with her announcement, "As part of your social development, I have allocated a prize of $200,000."

Hearing that much money on the line, you suddenly have a change of mind that maybe it's possible to keep your hands to yourself for 200 grand.

Among the cheering of excitement at the sum of prize money, Jeff makes a bold remark.

"We surely can spend some of it," Jeff sounds excited to spend it more than to win it.

"No, man. Don't mess it up!" Tom warns him while shaking his head in disbelief.

"Just a couple of grand," Jeff innocently says.

"I'm a college student. I need it," Tom says, putting some sense into him.

Jeff indirectly says that he doesn't mind spending some of the money only supporting the fact that it's not going to be easy and your optimism deflates right away.

Another problem is you don't have that much trust in yourself that you'll be able to keep it yourself.

"Welcome to your long, hard, sexless summer," Lana concludes.

YOU: It's going to be hard but... since when do I follow the rules? [Smirks]

The morning starts rough.

You wake up as soon as the lights are on, dragging yourself out of the duvet, and sit on the bed only to look Devon and Blake on the bed right across from yours.

Lili wakes up not long after you and sitting on the bed, lowly muttering, "I am so horny."

Hearing that almost causes you to choke on your water as you sip it from a water tumbler.

It's like she triggers the cone by mentioning the word 'horny', the cone lights up and chimes.

"Good morning!"

You groan as the truth that you're in a sex retreat hasn't fully sunk in yet.

"You may find this retreat challenging but I am always here to help," Lana offers some comfort on a gloomy, sex-deprived morning.

"And we ask for sex, Lana," Adriana says with a sleepy, depressive smile.

Tom who sleeps with Adriana on the next bed, turns to see Blake and asks, "Are you sure nothing happened last night?"

You act nonchalant but at the same time, stay quiet to hear his answer.

He coyly shrugs and rubs his eyes as he answers, "No."

"I notice the smug," Adriana teases Devon.

She shakes her head in response, "Nothing happens, I swear."

That doesn't quite put you at ease.

There's a big chance that they did break the rules but act like they didn't and if they did break the rules, then you don't want to waste your time pursuing Blake.

However, as you gather all of your hair and tie it into a messy ponytail, you catch Blake looking at you with a faint smile on his face.

YOU: I'm still going for Blake but if he's still not showing any signs that he's interested well... I may have to put my focus on someone else.

Last night was just as rough.

Everyone was still coping with the grand reveal and just couldn't wait to end the day, choosing their beds where they felt like it. Lili offered to share the bed with you since she doesn’t want to partner up with anyone just yet and you didn’t have problems sleeping with anyone.

But the other reason was that Blake had chosen to sleep with Devon.

Of course, you’re not going to be so adamant about your choice of man but what you can’t help is being tenacious, you have to always get what you want, and you don’t want to know what would happen if you don’t get it.

Since you took the first turn for the daily interview, you get to start your day late. You’re going down to the beach to do some exercises with Vale sitting cross-legged on the yoga mat not far away from you, meditating.

That’s the kind of vibe you got when you first met him that despite his perfect figure and built body, he’s a spiritual person, he’s the type who seeks ‘that’ connection. Unlike you, Vale fits right into this show and it wouldn’t be a surprise if he won it too.

“Hey, come and join me,” He says to you as you take a break from working.

You stop sucking your water tumbler and ask, “You want me to meditate with you?”

“Yeah,” he shortly says.

You quickly wipe your sweat with a towel and sit on the yoga mat he laid out for you next to him. You follow the way he sits, crossing your legs together and putting your hands on your knees, then intently listen to his instructions for the rest of the session.

It works wonderfully and helps you take your mind off things. Once you both got back to the villa, he playfully asks if you want to shower together.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” You tell him as you splash some water on your face in the sink.

As you continue washing your face, you catch the reflection in the mirror as he stands behind you with the towel hanging low around his hips you can see his pelvic bones.

“It’s not against the rules,” Vale simply says, half-laughing.

“Yes, but…” You suddenly forget what you’re about to say and turn around only to find him dropping his towel before he walks into the shower stall.

Your hands fly to cover your face but continue to see through the cracks between your fingers, “Okay, now all I can think about is naked Jesus,” you jokingly say.

Vale laughs as he catches what you said even though he’s inside the shower stall, laughing as he runs his hands to wash his golden tan skin. You leave the bathroom before you change your mind and join him in the shower.

YOU: Can’t believe I got to see naked Jesus [Laughs]

In the dressing room, you’re getting your make-up done and going to dry your hair next. You check for your appearance in the full-length mirror, making sure the bikini looks flattering on you when you hear someone coming from the hallway that connects here with the bedroom.

“Hey,” You don’t want to make it obvious that you’re glad to see him but you’re glad to see him.

“Hey,” Blake says back, grinning when he realizes that it’s you.

He stops on his track just checking you out, his eyes traveling up and down your body, “Been looking for you,” he says.

You know better not to fall on such words, “Oh, really?”

“Yeah,” he shortly says with a grin that is both hot and sweet. He then goes to his closet on the opposite wall and takes out a bucket hat, putting it on to show it to you.

“How do we think?” He asks.

You close your closet door and rest your hand against it, “Cute.”

He switches the bucket hat with a cap and puts it on while also making a dramatic pose for you, “How about now?”

It’s hard to look at his face when his abs keep distracting you and you chuckle at how he spreads his arms out, “Try putting it on backward,” you suggest.

Blake follows your suggestion, turning the cap without taking it off, and strikes another pose for you, “Yeah?”

You were right about the hat, he looks hot with his cap on backward, and just like he heard what you’re thinking, Blake spins around on his feet and almost stumbles as he gets back on his feet.

“I know I’m hot but try not to kiss me, okay?” he says.

Well, you can try not to but that doesn’t mean you won’t do it. You shake your head and suck air through your teeth, “Can’t promise you,” you playfully say.

“Come here, give me a hug,” Blake says, holding his hand out at you.

You take it only for him to pull you close and hug you, burying his head in your neck to catch your scent, “How are you doing?”

You giggle as he rubs his nose in your neck and you get to put your hands on him, feeling his warm skin under your touch, “Good. You?”

Instead of answering, Blake draws you closer, molding his body to you to feel your whole body against him, and lowers his hands to your hips. You don’t mind though, he’s so big and you like how he envelops you whole.

You hear his overwhelmed sigh before he plants a kiss on your neck, “Damn! You smell so good,” he mutters.

“Well, I showered,” you respond with a witty answer.

“I should try that,” he responds with an even wittier answer.

Blake closes the door of his closet and heads for the door, “See you around.”

“See you around,” you say back with a flirty smile.

YOU: I know Blake and I haven’t talked much but there’s something there and I can’t wait to explore that.

It feels like it was a while ago that you get ready for the day and now the day has turned to night.

You have to change out of your bikini and into a dress, getting help from Adriana to tie the straps on your back. The girls are busy putting on make-up and looking their best to attract whoever they fancy, including you.

It’s not that hard to know that Blake indeed feels something for you, you sense it in the kiss he gave you during the game yesterday and the way he hugged you this morning, or the way he secretly gives you the eyes even though he’s sitting right next to Devon right now.

People can run their mouths all they want but their bodies can’t lie. You can’t fake a physical attraction.

You join Vale sitting on the lounger next to him with a glass of wine in hand, “Cute shirt!” You compliment his colorful printed shirt.

“Thank you,” Vale responds with a bright smile.

You get comfortable and take a small sip of your wine before asking something you’ve been curious to find out, “My sweet Jesus, do you find anyone you fancy in here?”

Vale scratches his beard as he thinks of an answer, “Honestly… no, not yet.”

Vale is gorgeous and hot, you vibe well with him and he’s earnest which tells you that he’s someone that you can trust. Despite all of those qualities, he’s not quite the type you’re looking for and you believe, it’s vice versa.

“What’s your type?”

“I don’t have such things. I think I never limit myself to a certain type of person. It’s whoever attracts me,” he replies and his words carry some wisdom in them.

To put it simply, he’s not attracted to anyone and therefore, it confirms your assumptions about him.

Vale brushes his long hair to the back, sending a few strands falling over his face, “How about you? Who do you fancy?”

You put your glass of wine down and turn your head around for the person you’re looking for, finding him talking to Tom by the firepit.

“For now, it’s Blake,” you answer.

“How about Elliott?” He asks, tucking his hair behind his ear.

“Elliott is... he is cute and all but I like Blake,” you answer, hinting that Blake is your priority.

Vale cranes his neck to see Blake and then slumps back down on his lounger, “It seems like Devon got him on a leash,” he says.

“Yeah,” you say while chuckling.

You turn your head to see Devon putting her leg over Blake’s lap, “but that’s not going to stop me though,” you add.

Vale cracks a laugh, “I like that,” he says.

“Right? I don’t see any rings on it so...” You decide not to finish your words and have a sip of your drink instead.

Talking about Blake gets you thinking to start making a move, separating him from Devon is going to be the hardest part so you decide to take a moment to refresh yourself before executing your plan.

“I’m going to powder my nose,” you excuse yourself as get up from the lounger.

Vale doesn’t reply but helps you by handing you your glass. As you start walking away though, he shouts, “Hey, you’re beautiful!”

You look over your shoulder and blow a kiss at him, “I know.”

YOU: From what I see is that Vale is looking for someone he can instantly connect with and I hope he finds it.

The heels you’re wearing are starting to irritate you, you switch into a comfortable pair of wedges sandals and then take your make-up pouch with you to the bathroom.

You take a tube of lip gloss and put on a layer over your lips while leaning close to the mirror. You smack your lips together and check if there’s anything you can fix, deciding that a little more blush won’t hurt.

As you’re about to apply it to your cheek, you immediately stop moving as you see someone come into the bathroom.

“Hey, gorgeous!” Devon sweetly says.

From how enthusiastic she sounds, you’re sure the intention isn’t as sweet as her greeting. You put down everything you’re holding and turn around.

“Hey, babe,” you greet back with less enthusiasm than her.

Devon sits on the edge of the bathtub and starts brushing wavy hair with her fingers, “How are you?”

You rest your hands on the surface of the sink and lean against it, “I’m good. You?”

“Good,” she shortly replies.

She plays with her nails and a while later, looks at you, “I love the dress,” she says.

It seems like the compliment is an effort to try to soften you for whatever trick she has up on her sleeve, you put on a smile for her and mutter, “Thank you.”

A moment passes just you and Devon looking at each other and the silence that hangs in the space in between only adds animosity in the room.

“I have something to tell you,” Devon finally reveals her true intentions on why she came here.

You keep your smile on and slightly tilt your head to the side, “Yes.”

Devon bites her lips and fiddles with her bangles around her dainty wrist, “I know you’ve been like... eyeing Blake,” she begins.

“Yes,” you immediately reply, showing her that you don’t mind making it an open competition with her for it.

“I want to be honest with you and I hope you understand that I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings,” she says with a smile, in contrast to her words, she looks rather enjoying it.

“Blake and I,” she pauses to keep you on your toes.

Devon then flips her hair to the back and continues, “We kissed.”

The thing that you fear the most has happened and you don’t want to give Devon the satisfaction, you calmly cross your arms in front of you and nod.

“Okay,” you say with a plain tone.

“Oh, my God! I’m sorry,” Devon says, being dramatic for the two of you.

She comes and gives you a hug which she thinks would cheer you up. You reluctantly accept it even though you know she’s pitying you.

“I just want to tell you that,” she says as she pulls away from the hug.

Devon indirectly tells you that she comes here just to break your spirit and you don’t know how to respond to that. You actually know how to respond to that but you know you’re better than that.

Once Devon left the bathroom, you turn back around to face the mirror again and lowly mutter, “What the actual fuck?”

YOU: How thoughtful of Devon on letting me know about their kiss but girl, what the fuck?

It seems like Lana is not going to announce any rule breaks tonight. She’s more likely to collect the rule breaks for now and will eventually turn up with the receipt.

You don’t know how you feel about it but you enjoy seeing the sheer disappointment on Devon’s face that she didn’t get the chance to brag about her kiss with Blake.

Talking about Blake, you reckon you should move on but how can you forget Blake in one night?

It’s impossible, not when you’ll always see him walking around the villa looking so fine and tempting. As you get on your bed, you catch him looking at you and slyly smiling at you.

You don’t want to fall back into it but the bad girl in you tells you to not shut him down completely so you decide to put on a thin smile in return.

That should be enough to tell him that you’re not pleased.

You look away and see your bed partner with her arms flexed as she’s braiding her dark hair. You notice that her arm muscles are so defined and it should be from hours spent in the gym working on them.

Curious, your hand reaches for her shoulder and lowers it to feel her lats, “Lil, how much do you lift?”

She’s tying the end of her hair with a scrunchie then looks over her shoulder, “About 140 to 156,” she answers.

“Girl!” You gasp in shock.

Looking at her lean figure and your hard guess at her body weight, she must be advanced in weightlifting.

You allow yourself to feel the muscles on her arms, from her trapezius muscle down to her bicep, “Remind me not to work with you,” you jokingly say.

Tom enters the room carrying a water tumbler in his hand, he stops right in the middle of the room and looks at everyone.

“Did anyone break any rules today?” He asks.

It’s useless to ask, no one is going to say anything unless the situation pressures them to talk. For instance, Blake is shaking his head as Tom is seeking his answer.

“Be good you two!” Tom says to both Blake and Devon, making a gesture that his eyes will always be on them.

Well, good luck with that because they already did break the rules and succeeded in lying right to his face.

“Goodnight, everyone,” Adriana says, blowing kisses around the room right before the lights are out.

Tom was wrong to fear that these people would break rules during the day. What Tom should be afraid of is what these people do in the dark.

YOU: What cuddles? I got to feel my bed partner’s muscles in my sleep [laughs]

In the morning, Jesus comes to your bed.

The bed quakes as Vale dives right into the space between you and Lili.

“Morning, beautiful!” Vale says, getting comfortable as he puts his hand over your waist.

“Morning,” you sleepily reply, groping around with your eyes closed to touch him.

“Your skin is so soft,” Lili says.

You turn your head to see Lili rubbing Vale’s back. Wanting to prove Lili’s words, you follow suit and rub your hand down his shoulder.

“It feels like a foreplay now,” Vale mumbles with his head buried in your pillow.

You continue your day with a quick workout and a meditating session with Vale. After that, you decide to skip the shower and put on a swimsuit, taking a few laps in the swimming pool.

Maybe it’s because you have someone to avoid that you keep yourself busy, but when you look at the time, it’s barely noon.

As you take a break from swimming and use the opportunity to enjoy the view of the sea shimmering under the morning sun, you hear a splash. You notice someone joins you in the pool and he swims right at you.

“Hey, morning,” Elliott softly greets.

You put all of your wet hair to the back and smile, “Morning!”

“How are you?” He asks, wiping the beads of water gathering under his chin.

“Alright, I guess,” You honestly answer.

You turn to the side to face him while keeping one hand resting on the edge of the pool, “You?”

“I’m great,” he replies with enthusiasm that matches his answer.

The sun hits right on his eyes, making them brighter yet fiercer and they’re just as good as weapons now. You can only hope Elliott knows how to use them.

“Uhm...” Elliott seems to have something to say but hesitates to do so, “I know you have your eyes on Blake.”

Welp, it’s that obvious? You nod since there’s no use in denying it.

“Do you... still have your eyes on him or...?”

So Elliott wants to know if you have given up on pursuing Blake and you can safely assume that he hopes to slide right into his spot.

“I already made him aware that I kind of fancy him but I’m not getting anything back so... I don’t know,” You honestly answer, you feel pity for yourself as you say those out loud.

“Mmm-hmm...” Elliott bobs his head as he takes your answer.

The water trickles down his face as he pushes his wet hair to the back, “And who is your second option?”

Your assumption is true, Elliott is looking for a way to get into you and you appreciate that he didn’t come on to you and make it one big chase. He’s so easy and laid-back, and you like that.

“You,” You answer.

A sweet smile rises on his face and expresses his happiness with a cute shout, “Yay!”

It’s not even a phony answer, if there’s anyone else you want to try to make a connection with, it’s him.

“I haven’t got the chance to ask you about our kiss,” he says, taking a step closer to you.

It’s getting dangerous now that he wants to talk about the kiss in this proximity where you can see that his eyes are green in this light.

“What do you think about it?”

“About our kiss?”

He nods as the smile has been replaced with a grin, “Yes.”

You recall the moment when he kissed you during the game, “That was very cute.”

He suddenly lets out a chuckle and scratches his head. Is he flustered or nervous? You have no idea.

“How much do you think a kiss costs?” He suddenly asks.

Oh. You sense trouble right away but you’ve been craving for a little something. A kiss will suffice, you reckon.

Elliott is intensely staring into your eyes as you consider his idea, grinning at the 50% chance that you’d say yes to it.

“Fuck...” You curse as you let out a sigh.

You try to get yourself out of it by averting your focus elsewhere, fixing your bikini, and reminding yourself of Lana and her stupid rules. However, when your eyes meet again, your mind is set right away.

It; ‘s like your bodies are drawn to each other, Elliott and you come at each other at the same time and kiss. Maybe it’s because both of you are relaxed and there’s no one else watching, the kiss feels much nicer than the one you shared before.

Elliott puts the right amount of everything, the lips, the tongue, and even the teeth, you like how he kisses you, hungry yet gentle.

You hear nothing but the smooching sounds of both of your lips lathering each other and your bodies moving in the water.

“Your kiss is just so good,” Elliott says as he takes a step back from you.

And just like that, you break the rules for the first time in the retreat.

YOU: I was bored. I wanted to make Blake jealous and Elliott, I have a soft spot for him so... yeah, I kissed him.

There’s just something about doing the things that you shouldn’t and doing it anyway, the rush, the thrill of it... it makes you feel so alive.

Now that you’ve got a taste of it, you want more.

Just like Jeff said, we have so many cookies in the jar, 200 grand of them to be exact, and eating one or two more cookies should be fine.

The next question is who do you want to have the cookies with?

Elliott is the easy choice, he’s cool, he’s so easy-going, he’s following the vibe but that’s also the problem, he’s easy and you don’t want easy.

If we’re talking about Blake... oh, yes, he’s not easy, not when Devon is keeping him on a short, tight leash and that tells you enough that she’s not confident about him.

You steal a few glances at her as she’s doing her makeup on the other side of the vanity table from you, looking at her and seeing how pretty she is, there’s no reason for her to be that insecure.

Or maybe you’re that threatening to her? Well, that thought amused you so much.

“Pick one for me!” Adriana says, showing you two different colors of lipsticks in her hands to help her choose one.

“Uhm...” you take a closer look at the color.

Adriana has gorgeous full lips so you choose one with a deep berry color that would suit her better, “This!”

You watch as she’s about to apply it on her lips when the cone in the room lights up and chimes, startling everyone in their seats.

“Ah!” Adriana squeals in surprise.

“Hello, girls!” Lana greets.

“Hello, Lana,” You put down everything you’re holding, getting nervous that it’s about time for Lana to announce the rule breaks.

“I have given the chance for Blake to go on a date with one of you,” Lana announces.

Oh? Is it finally your chance to test the water and see if Blake is on board? You look around to see if anyone is also anticipating this but Devon is the only one looking a little fidgety on her seat.

“Blake has chosen...”

The real question is: is Blake ballsy enough to break away from Devon’s leash? It’s time to find out.

“... Devon.”

YOU: Un-fucking-believeable!

Devon is smiling from ear to ear after hearing Blake has chosen her for the date.

You believe Blake is playing it safe by choosing Devon, oh, well, it’s his loss, not yours. You continue with getting ready for the night with the rest of the girls.

You check yourself in the mirror and like what you see, especially the dress that enhances the curves on your body.

“What a waste of an outfit!” You mutter, allowing yourself to feel upset about not getting chosen.

Someone puts her arm around you and says, “Oh! We look so hot!”

You look at both of you and Adriana’s reflections in the mirror and suddenly gain your confidence back. Since when you’re not dressing for other people, you’re dressing for yourself.

Everyone is hanging out in the firepit. You’re sharing the small sofa with Vale and Lili is taking the other end, talking to Adriana and Tom with drinks in hands.

It only takes a couple of days for everyone to get used to each other and you guess it’s because everyone shares the same vibe, everyone simply wants to have fun and they don’t let Lana’s rules stop them from doing it.

Unfortunately, you get called to the interview room and do your duty as a TV show contestant, telling the camera about everything to its tiniest details.

That’s what they need for the TV, something juicy, and the juicier the better.

You promise to keep yourself as genuine as possible and only tell the truth, not fabricating any of it. Not going to lie, you feel tempted at times but you realize that one day, you’ll be out of here and you don’t want to regret something you said or did in the show.

You bump into Elliott on your way out as it’s his turn next and you squeeze his hand as you walk past each other.

“Have fun in there!” You playfully say.

Instead of going back to the firepit, you make a turn to the bedroom, wanting to take a moment for yourself to unwind. You take your shoes off once you get to your bed and take a hearty sip of water.

It’s not life if you always get what you want. Blake enters the room not long after you, his shirt is undone and you guess he must’ve just come back from his date with Devon.

What is it with him with his shirt flies open though? You have a hot body, yes, you get it.

Anyway, you want to ignore him but he smiles the second he spots you.

“Hello,” he softly says.

You put on a small smile and greet back, “Hey.”

You cap your water tumbler and put it on your bedside table, “Back from your date, huh?”

Instead of answering, Blake comes at you and does not stop until his body crashes against yours, taking you with him as he topples on your bed.

You’re giggling as he pins you under and then you gently push him away to sit on your bed. You don’t want to give it to him east, not after he chose someone else over you.

“So, how was the date?” You casually ask while fixing the straps of your dress.

Blake sits next to you, leaning back with his hands propped against the mattress, “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know what I want,” he vaguely says.

Well, that’s what he gets for keeping his options way too open. Then Blake turns his head at you then continues, “But I know who I want.”

You get it that he’s hinting at you from the way he raises his eyebrow and slyly smiles at you. But you play dumb instead, wanting to hear him saying it out loud.

“And it’s Devon?” You say.

He dramatically closes his eyes and lets out a low sigh, “It’s you.”

You pretend to be surprised to hear it, “Oh, it’s me?”

Blake nods and smiles, he rubs his hand down his abs, trying to make you look at it.

“What do you think?”

You’re sure he’s talking about what he just said, not the abs, and honestly, it sounds not that convincing.

“I don’t know what to feel about it. You just came back from a date with someone else,” you point out the only way that gets in the way of trusting his words.

Blake drags his hand on the bed until he finds your hand and holds it, “I know I have something going on but I wish we did talk more, get to know you more.”

You don’t know what he’s going with it but giving him a chance to explain himself.

“But just know... Just know that I feel something for you,” he says.

It should be a triumphant moment, knowing that the guy you like is liking you back but you feel conflicted instead.

Blake inhales air and then stares into your eyes, “I want you to know that,” he concludes with his thumb gently rubbing the back of your hand.

You want to give him one more chance to prove himself, to prove that he’ll act exactly like what he said to you.

You nod and smile, “Alright.”

But for now, you want to take his words as they are, that it’s simply him telling you what he’s feeling.

YOU: There’s something about him that’s calling for you and you kind of want to answer that.

As if Lana is aware that the two of you are alone which means there's a big chance of rule-breaking, the cone in the room chimes, making you jolt on your bed.

"Please gather everyone in the cabana," Lana orders.

You're clutching your chest as you walk to the cabana, knowing that it's the time: Lana is going to announce the rule breaks.

The plan is you'll sit there and not going to say anything, and you're aware of how flawed that plan is.

A moment after everyone assembled in the cabana, the cone chimes and lights up as she sits in the middle of the round, glass table.

"Good evening, everyone," Lana starts.

"Hello, Lana!" A few replies in a not-so-enthusiastic tone.

Before Lana talks further, you glance at Elliott and he catches you looking, the anxiety is also drawn on his face.

"The rules of my retreat have already been broken," Lana drops the truth right away.

"Oh, no!" Lili exclaims with her eyes going side to side.

Tom looks upset already with his clasped hands pushed close to his mouth.

"Wow!" he comments with a plain tone.

He takes a deep breath and finally be the one who confronts everyone, "Is there anybody that wants to come clean?"

YOU: I broke the rules but I'm not telling anyone shit.

You try to avoid looking in Tom's direction but it's hard when he's sitting right across from yours so you look the other away only to catch Elliott looking at you.

Elliott seems not to know how to put on a good poker face, he keeps grinning but the kind that only makes him appear guilty.

Adriana is the first to spot it, "Elliott?"

Elliott lets out a nervous chuckle, "Nah. Not me."

He gives it away as he can't stop grinning and as soon as he glances your way, you subtly give him a head shake, telling him not to say anything. Then you continue to act dumb, playing with your hair like it has nothing to do with you.

"I'm going to come clean," someone says.

All heads are turned to see that it's coming from Jeff and they all seem to see this one coming.

"It was me who initiated it, we had a moment—"

Jeff's explanation gets cut off as Lili interrupts and asks, "Who's we?"

Jeff licks his lips and slowly turns his head toward you, and then you see his eyes flick toward Issa, "Issa and I," he answers.

Issa gets flustered, smiling that everyone now knows who Jeff got it on with. Not that it's a secret but she looks smitten, they're showing a big potential to become an established couple in this retreat.

"This kiss has cost the group $3,000," Lana announces.

It's like taking a shot, hearing how much money lost to a kiss is that bitter aftertaste. But that's not the worst of it yet, you know that the rule breaks don't stop there.

"They were not the only ones to break the rules."

There you go, you mutter in your head and gulp air that people would start digging deeper to find out whoever cost them another $3,000.

"What? No!" Vale says, scanning everyone to spot any guilty faces.

You continue your dumb act, playing with your hair, brushing it with your fingers even though it's looking good. Your luck runs out as Tom notices the error in your behavior.

"You're good? It wasn't you, right?" Tom asks.

It would be nice if he just shot you with a real bullet and you would have died on the spot, that way you don't have to deal with his question anymore.

You put on a calm face, staying quiet and not intending to say anything. You notice Elliott is looking at you and eventually, people connect the dots together.

"Oh, no, you guys kissed!" Adriana says, being the first to figure it out.

The truth is out, all that is left to do is own up to it.

"I did want to tell you guys but I..." you give up on trying to justify your act.

"I'm sorry," you sincerely say.

Elliott looks at everyone and apologizes as well, "We are sorry. We really are," he earnestly says.

"The kiss has cost the group $3,000."

You cringe at the amount of money you spent for a kiss and even though it's not your money, it's still kind of stings.

"Expensive kiss, that one," Vale comments while scratching his facial hair.

"I think that'll be it," Adriana says, or more like hoping that that was just it, no more rule breaks.

Lana hears her and she doesn't intend to stop until everyone committed their crimes.

"That is not all," she says, "There was one more breach of the rules."

Your eyes dart toward Devon and Blake who sit next to each other at the end of the long sofa, it must be the one kiss she bragged to you about.

"Are you kidding me?" Tom reacts with a fed-up tone.

Devon looks at Blake but he seems to want to keep his mouth shut. You're not a lip reader but it's not hard to read what Devon said as she fixes her dress, "Shit."

The tension keeps building as everyone waits for the last confession Lana needs so she can calculate the damage and come up with the bill.

A moment passes and Devon seems to be uncomfortable keeping it to herself any longer, "We should tell them," she says to Blake.

Everyone is exclaiming and yelling at them all at once while Blake is sitting there, taking it all in. Once everyone calms down, he coyly admits everything, "We kissed. I'm sorry."

"These rule breaks have cost the group $6,000," Lana announces.

Tom's mouth hung open, "You kissed twice?"

Blake licks his lips and then nods.

"What the—" Vale doesn't even finish his words, he reclines on his sofa instead and looks up.

You know the one kiss they did and that's thanks to Devon's thoughtfulness, but the other one, you wonder when they did that.

"It was yesterday," Devon says.

"And the other one?" Tom asks.

"On the date earlier," Devon answers.

Wait... so Blake went on that date and kissed Devon, then he came back and told you that you're the one he wants. What the fuck?

YOU: I am so annoyed right now.

And you're not the only one.

Even though she's just a talking robot, you can tell that Lana is not pleased with these rule breaks. You can hear it from the way she informs the current prize money.

"The prize fund now stands at $188,000."

"What's done is done, guys," Blake coyly says, and somehow, that only pisses you more.

"In the first 24 hours, most of you have already broken the rules."

Tom looks at the people sitting on the long sofa, "Do you hear that, guys?"

"You have left me with no choice. From this point forward, all fines will be doubled," Lana delivers shocking news.

Tom's eyes widen like he's seeing his nightmare turn into a reality. He claps his hands together and leans back, "That's just great!"

Everyone is too stunned by the news that no one is saying anything. While you just can't wait to end the day already.

"Goodbye," Lana ends with a grim greeting.

Lana is indeed pissed and she deserved to be. You even pissed at what you did but what pissed you more than losing than losing $12,000 in one night is Blake.

Fucking Blake won't get away with it.

YOU: So Blake is that kind of player... oh, how typical! How boring! [Rolls eyes]

The boys are grouping on the terrace instead of going inside to get ready for bedtime so you follow the girls to the dressing room and it’s just perfect.

Telling Devon about what you know face to face, you doubt that she’ll believe you for it, she’d likely think that you’re trying to ruin things for her. This way, with the girls gathered together, you know they’ll support you and see the true intention behind it.

You need to pick your time right, you don’t want to interrupt in the middle of them complaining about the rules and the money, especially when you’re responsible for the $3,000 deduction.

“I mean… I’m trying to be respectful to Lana but some men are worth it,” Devin says while undoing her hair bun.

She pauses to correct her statement, “Not all, but some,” she emphasizes.

The other girls are busy wiping their makeup clean and half-heartedly listening to what Devon is saying and only reacting with short answers.

“Blake and I, we might be able to build something genuine,” Devon says.

Hearing that gets your blood boiling and you can’t keep biting your tongue, you let out a sigh and look at Devon, “You know what, Devon?”

Suddenly, everyone stops everything they’re doing and they probably know that there’s this slight hostility between you and Devon, you wouldn’t be surprised if they think you’re going to fight her.

Now that you have everyone’s attention, you start telling everyone what you know is true. You take a shallow breath before talking, “After he came back from that date, he went to the bedroom and I happened to be there. I asked him about the date and he was like “wish we did talk more, get to know each other more”.”

Lili lets her hair fall and gasps, “No!”

You keep going while constantly reminding yourself to keep calm, “And he held my hand telling me I’m the one he wants right after he came back from the date,” you tell Devon right at her face.

There’s no joy in telling her that she got played, you feel bad for her because you know how shitty that feels.

“That’s muggy,” Issa comments.

“I think he’s trying to have his cake and eat it too,” Adriana says, gripping the hairbrush in her hand.

You look at Devon and she’s in utter shock, you hate to ruin her picture-perfect of what she and Blake could be, but you need her to know and what she’s going to do with the truth is up to her.

“And I’m saying this, as woman to woman, I don’t want you to be that girl who falls for his bullshit,” You conclude.

It turns quiet in the room and everyone seems to give Devon the space to process this, they continue what they’re doing and doing it quietly.

After a moment, Lili tells Devon, “Maybe you should explore other options.”

Devon leans on the table and says, “I think I will.”

YOU: Oh, Blake, just know that you fucked it up and you deserve everything that comes to you.

“The fuck?” Vale blurts out.

Vale is that one person you feel like you can come and talk about everything with, out of everyone, you trust him the most. You come to his bed to tell him everything about what’s going down between you, Devon, and Blake.

He quickly lowers his voice since Blake is lying on his bed, “And what did Devon say?”

You shrug, “I don’t know.”

“If she’s smart then she knows better not to…” his words trail off as he puts his hands behind his head as he rests his back against the headboard.

“That’s right,” you agree, kicking your feet in the air as you lay on your stomach.

He plays with his beard as he looks at you, “Then how about your plan?”

You’re so busy being upset about the Blake situation that you don’t think about it until he asks you, you realize you are just as single as he is now.

“Oh, fuck,” you blink your eyes in slight shock.

Vale laughs looking at your reaction, he sees the direness in your eyes, “Is there… uh, anyone else that you like?”

You secretly look around the room to look for your second choice but you witness Devon’s dramatic entrance, she turns her head at Blake and cryptically smiles at him before walking past their shared bed.

Everyone feels the tension in the room as Devon goes to Elliott’s bed and gets on it, witnessing the drama unfolding in real time.

You slowly turn your head back to Vale and say, “Well, there goes my second choice.”

YOU: Why did she have to take Elliott too? Ugh!

This morning, when you come to the bathroom to shower, you find Tom there, counting the condoms inside the little tray next to the sink.

You burst out laughing at the sight, "Having a busy morning I see," you playfully say.

Tom briefly looks at you and puts the condoms back into the tray, "There are eight of them and it's got to stay at eight," he says.

Tom couldn't possibly think that not using condoms doesn't mean that everyone is not rulebreaking. But you have to admit that he's dedicated to his role as the sex officer in the villa.

In the afternoon, you join Adriana sunbathing in the firepit, sharing the sofa.

"I can't believe that I'm about to say this..." you sigh while looking up at the sky with your eyes closed.

Adriana puts her hands on her sides, also looking up with eyes closed, "What?"

"I miss sex so much," you sigh.

Adriana softly sighs then a while later says, "Same."

You gently elbow her side, "At least, you have a man on your bed," you say.

"Yes but he doesn't want to do anything," she grumbles, reminding you that his partner is Lana's top student.

Being single means you have nothing to do with the situation, you want to rule break but have no one to do it with. Meanwhile having a man and not wanting to do anything, is much, much worse.

"Like I need something to happen!" Adriana says with an annoyed sigh.

You suddenly feel bad for Adriana but you also can't help yourself from laughing and she eventually laughs along with you.

When the day gets too hot for a sunbathe, you decide that it's time to cool down. Slowly, you get into the pool and sit on the edge, facing the view of the sea with the blue sky looking like something you see on a postcard.

Someone is swimming and apparently, whoever that is coming your way. You wait until he emerges from the water and sees Blake.

What a way to ruin your good day!

Blake brushes his dark hair to the back and wipes the beads of water around his eyes, he smiles as he fixes his eyes on you, then stands next to you.

"What are you up to?"

You remind yourself that you're a grown woman who can handle someone like him gracefully even though he doesn't deserve it.

"Just admiring the beautiful view," you calmly answer.

He looks at the view and sighs, "Yeah, it's beautiful just like you."

You feel like gagging but resist the urge to, "Thank you," you say with a thin smile.

There are two reasons why Blake is talking to you right now. One is the possibility that Devon confronted him about last night's situation and told him that she heard everything from you. If reason one is true then it's reason number two, he's going for his second option and unfortunately, it's you.

"I think it's about time we have this conversation. I want to see where's your head at," he says.

It's not the words, it's the way he casually talks to you and completely ignores the fact that he played you and Devon.

But remember, gracefully.

"To be honest, I did think you're the hottest person in here when I first glanced at you and I feel this sexual energy whenever you're looking into my eyes," you say.

Blake is grinning as he looks at you, liking what you're saying about him, "I'm open to see where this takes us," he says.

It seems like Devon dumped him and it's reason number two after all.

You shyly smile and say, "I do like you."

You tip your head to the side and continue talking, "But I want to know that I'm forming a connection here and not because I'm available by default."

The glints in his eyes dim as if someone flips the switch off the second he hears what you said.

"I see the other couples and they have this sort of trust in each other. It makes me want to trust the person I'm with," you lay it out as gently as possible.

Because how can you trust him after what he did? Even if you give him the chance, you're not sure that Blake is capable of change.

"For now, I want to be a bit more free, and figure out what I want while also getting to know everyone," you conclude, rejecting him in the nicest way possible.

Blake takes a moment to process your answer and you give him just the space. A while later, he nods and wipes the beads of water on his chin.

"I guess, it is what it is," he coyly says.

You see, this is not the first time you're facing a player like him. In the past, you gave that person a chance thinking that you could change him but it only ended up hurting you and you surely don't want to go through that again.

YOU: I think it's about time I get a little bit more careful in choosing people that I want to be with.

Days have passed and you can see that couples start forming in the villa.

Jeff has been going strong with Issa ever since that first rule break. Tom, despite being Lana's loyal follower, is having something going on with Adriana. Last but not least, Devon is smitten by Elliott, it's proven by two rule breaks they admitted last night.

And you, you'd better off alone than having to be with Blake. He was hot until he showed his true colors.

"I thought I was going to be the first to rule break," Vale says as you apply sunblock on his back.

"I didn't think that I would be the one missing all the actions," he continues with a crisp laugh.

You add more sunblock for his lower back and lather in on his tattooed skin. You're dry-humping his back once you're done applying sunblock.

"You are getting some actions right now," you jokingly say.

You both laugh and that's how you survive these past few days. Vale has been a very reliable friend, he's trustworthy and earnest, you talk about everything with him because he likes having these kinds of deep talk.

"You know what we need?" You ask Vale then sip your water.

Vale ties his long hair into a messy bun, "What?"

"We need new meat in the villa," you say, pushing the sunglasses you wear up the bridge of your nose.

Vale nods in agreement, then his hand reaches for the cone sitting on the small round table next to him.

"Lana, I know you'll be my main girl but we need new meat in the villa," he pleads while seductively stroking her cone-shaped body.

"I think that should be considered as a rule break," you joke.

Ask and you shall receive, Lana says.

She makes everyone come to the cabana in the afternoon and you share the sofa with Issa, waiting for the cone to chime in anticipation.

"Hello, everyone," Lana greets.

"Hi, Lana!"

You feel at ease knowing that she wouldn't call you out for rulebreaking but you're ready for some drama today.

"I have observed some early signs that connections may be starting to form. Therefore, I am sending two people on a romantic date," Lana announces.

She's going to send the couples on a date? And what about you? Is it really Lana when she delivers good news?

"I'm hoping it's us," Issa says to Jeff.

Everyone is already hyped for the date when Lana is not done talking yet.

"So that I can put your current connections to the test, these dates will be with two new arrivals."

Now that's the Lana you know. You look at the couples and their expressions change into panic ones.

"Did she say new arrivals?" Adriana asks with her eyes almost popping out of her sockets.

YOU: Damn! Lana woke up and chose to fuck shit up.

"I have allowed the new dates to choose who they would like to take on a date."

It's kind of unfair that the new guests are only allowed to choose from the coupled-up guests but Lana is brewing some drama in the villa and you're here for it.

"They're coming in hot and heavy, ready to fuck everybody," you comment, provoking the nervous couples.

From the other end of the sofa, Vale is holding in his laughter, he knows what you're doing to the others.

"The first new arrival is... Seungmin."

"I like the name," Lili says.

Everyone tries to guess what he'd look like from just his name but you notice that Tom is looking so nervous, realizing that Adriana could get chosen for the date.

"Seungmin has chosen... Adriana."

It seems like what Tom fears the most has just become reality. Tom and Adriana exchange a look that only they know what they mean.

Lana continues with the announcement of the second guest, "The second new arrival is... Cara."

You can't pass the chance to provoke them more, "Cara sounds like she's ready to get wild," you innocently mutter.

Now it's the girls' turn to get nervous, you see that Devon is looking displeased, maybe it's the previous incident haunting her.

"Cara has chosen... Elliott."

It really is not a good day to be either Tom or Devon, their luck will eventually run out but they didn't know that it'd be today.

"Adriana and Elliott, It's time for you to get ready for your dates," Lana orders.

They leave the cabana to get ready for their dates with the new arrivals and you envy them, you want to go on a date too.

Jealousy aside, you're excited for the new guests, especially this Seungmin guy.

YOU: Girl, I can't wait to see how the night turns out!

It's embarrassing that everyone in the dressing room witnessed you tripping over your heeled shoes and falling on your butt.

Lili is too late to catch you, she offers her hand to help you get up but you lie down on the floor instead, laughing in embarrassment.

"Are you drunk?" Tom jokingly asks.

You shake your head and sigh, "No, I'm just so horny," you joke back.

The boys and the girls are going their separate ways. You follow the flow, walking to the firepit with the other girls and sitting prettily on the sofa, waiting for the ones going on dates to return.

The one who has been losing her sanity the longer her man going on the date is Devon. She's been rambling and grumbling like a fussy child.

"If he did something, I'll know right away," Devon mutters.

You don't know who she's talking to but since you're sitting close to her, you feel obliged to respond to it.

"Yep," you say, validating her.

Devon shouldn't be scared whether anyone knows because Lana will know and she knows everything.

The first one coming back from their date is Adriana and the new guest, Seungmin, linking their arms together as they enter the firepit.

"Oh, here they come," Lili tells everyone of their arrival.

All of the girls' heads are turned to see them.

Your curiosity about this Seungmin guy is finally answered. Tall, with broad shoulders, his dark hair is pushed to the back with a few strands hanging over his forehead and the faint moonlight casts a shadow over his face, defining his masculine features of sharp jaws and high cheekbones.

And when he smiles, you see those facial features turn soft all at once.

YOU: Oh, my God! This guy, Seungmin, is cute [Smiles]

"If Elliott walks in holding their arms like that, I'm going to cry," Devon sadly mutters.

You're about to say something to comfort her but Lili goes ahead, asking Adriana and Seungmin about the date.

"How was it? How was the date?"

Adriana briefly looks at him and answers it for both of them, "It was nice, romantic even."

"Oh?" You blurt out, sensing that Adriana may switch beds tonight.

"Lana gave him a free pass to kiss but we didn't, I told him about Tom," Adriana says.

Adriana and Tom have been with each other since day one, they're a couple with great restraint so you're glad that Adriana is not tempted to explore more options.

Meanwhile, Devon is starting to look a little green after hearing that the new arrivals are given a free pass to kiss during their dates.

Issa spots the other has returned from the date and blurts out, "Oh, no they hold hands."

Devon's head snaps to the back, looking at where the boys are gathered on the terrace.

She turns her head back and her mouth curls downward. You immediately scoot closer to offer your shoulder, rubbing her back as she starts crying.

You turn your head to see Elliott introducing the new girl to the boys and he's looking all bright and smiley.

"Not going to lie, that's kind of sus," you say.

You didn't even mean to put salt on Devon's wound, you just don't expect Elliott to be that kind of guy, you know, the Blake kind.

Everyone eventually gathers in the firepit and Elliott proceeds with his duty to introduce the new girl to everyone.

Cara is Italian and your eyes dart toward Vale, that this girl can be his type. In response to that, Vale is eyeing Seungmin, hinting that you have one for you too.

This eventful night turns out to be a good one.

Adriana and Tom are still sharing the bed and thankfully, so are Devon and Elliott. You're relieved that Elliott turns out to be not the kind of guy.

The new guests have to voluntarily sleep on the available spots, Cara shares the bed with Blake while Seungmin shares the bed with Vale.

You're meant to look at Vale but Seungmin happens to be there and since he catches your eyes, you may as well smile and flirt with your eyes.

You don't know what you feel about him yet but you hope that he's not the Blake kind.

YOU: Not everyone forgetting that new guests also mean new temptations [laughs]

"No one is breaking the rules, right?" Tom says the moment the lights are on.

Everyone is not having it but no one is saying anything as they're sleepy and struggling to open their eyes. You quickly sip water to refresh yourself and not skipping the chance to take a jab a Tom.

"The next rule break is going to be Adriana's self-gratification," you say with a grin.

Adriana lets out a dry chuckle and holds all of her hair to the side, "Might be. Don't leave me alone in a room," she says.

Lana chimes in for the usual morning greeting, welcoming the new guests, and ends it with a satirical message.

"Enjoy your day of celibacy!"

Since the boys are taking over the open gym at the beach, you skip working out and go for a swim with Lili. You take a few laps and have a chat with her.

In the cabana, you see that Devon is talking to the new girl, Cara.

"Should we get in there and intervene?" Lili asks.

"No," you immediately answer.

You blow water out of your nose and wipe it away, "But get ready, just in case."

In the other part of the villa, you spot the new guy, Seungmin heading down to the beach in a plain white t-shirt and black swimming trunks.

"Cute guy. 11 o'clock," you lowly mutter.

Lili clocks him right away, she's lowering her head until her chin dips in the water.

"You think he's cute?"

"Duh!" You react with a dramatic eye roll.

Lili chuckles and stacks her hands on the edge of the pool, "Is he your type though?"

Seungmin is indeed cute but truthfully, he's not the type that you usually go for, someone with a bit of an edge to them. You feel some sort of attraction toward him but it's not enough to pull you in.

"On papers? No," you honestly answer.

"Have you talked to him?"

"Not yet," you reply.

You look at Lili and wonder why she asks you all of that when she should be calculating her chance with him.

"Are you going to talk to him?" You ask her back.

Lili purses her mouth as she thinks of an answer, "Maybe. I will," she answers.

There's not much thing happens during the day and somehow, you feel excited for the night.

You put on a black dress, a red lipstick, and before you go out of the door, you take a look at yourself in the mirror, you look ravishing.

It's kind of sad though that you did all that only to sit by the firepit all alone and it's messing a little with your good mood.

It would be perfect for anyone to come and save your day but what do you—

"Hi, how are you?"

You look up and see Seungmin, he looks taller as he's standing over you, "Hi, I'm good."

"May I sit?" He politely asks.

"Please," you scoot a little to the side to make space for him even though the sofa could fit five people.

Seungmin sits next to you, spreading his legs open a little, and rests his hand on his knee. You notice that he has quite big pairs of hands and evident veins on the back of them.

"I came here wanting to talk to you, get to know you," he casually says as if he didn't just tell you right away what his true intentions are.

But you dig that, you like his confidence and the way he's looking at you right now like you're the only girl existing on earth.

"Tell me something about yourself," he says.

"I didn't know I was interviewing for a job," you joke with a laugh.

He laughs and it's the quiet kind, but you see that he's enjoying your joke.

"I'm a videographer," you tell him a piece about yourself.

"Is it the same as a filmmaker?" He curiously asks.

"Not really. Videographers film their own material, we work with cameras, shoot them ourselves, and edit them. It's uh... a lot to explain," you stop yourself before it gets too boring.

"It's not just beauty on the outside, huh?" He coyly says as if he didn't just compliment you and make you flustered.

"Of course not," you cheekily say with a grin.

"Yeah, I noticed," he agrees.

Your cheeks are heating and your body somehow turns to face him, answering his body language all the while his eyes are not straying away from yours, not even for a second.

"How about you?" You ask, trying to keep the conversation going.

"I'm an athlete. A baseball player," he answers.

"Oh, wow!" You didn't mean to make it sound that surprised.

Oh, it's even more embarrassing than the time you fell in the dressing room. You keep yourself together and quickly say something to explain your reaction.

"That explains the uh... broad shoulders," you say.

Your eyes unknowingly flick down at his hand again and your mouth gets ahead of your brain, "And the veiny hands."

Seungmin softly chuckles, he holds his hands out at you and lets you look at them as you please.

"You like them?"

You shyly laugh and skip on answering, barely functioning as his eyes are gazing into yours again.

YOU: He has this beautiful smile. He has these beautiful eyes, I am being swept away by his charm [Smiles]

Seungmin doesn't have eyes like Elliott's, they're brown yet they have the power to slowly pull you under.

You were so wrong to think that there's not enough attraction to pull you in because Seungmin is not only pulling you in, he asks you to come drown in his warm brown eyes.

Other than that, his eyes have the power to make you say your thoughts out loud.

"You have such beautiful eyes," you say, unconsciously leaning closer to look into his eyes.

"Oh, they're dilating," you gasp, seeing the black in the middle of the brown becomes larger.

Seungmin softly smiles hearing your innocent, almost too naive talks.

"You know your pupils dilate when you see someone you're attracted to," he says.

"Really?"

He nods with the scintillating smile still on his face.

"Does that mean you're attracted to me?" You ask with a mix of shy and seductive smiles.

"Yes, I am, I'm attracted," he confidently confirms.

You finally find the kind of guy Seungmin belongs in. Seungmin is the kind of guy that should come with a warning sign, he looks cute and harmless but a layer is under that, he's a lethal man who knows what he wants and gets it.

"I want to get to know you," he says.

"Me too," you say back.

"I want to get to know you more because I see that you have more beautiful things inside you," he adds.

Not going to lie, that's the sweetest thing you ever heard a guy say to you in a long time. You don't want to overanalyze it, you want to simply accept them as they are. Also, you can see that Seungmin meant every word he said.

"Would you let me?" He asks, tilting his head to the side as he maintains eye contact with you.

"Yes. I'd love that," you tell him.

The smile on Seungmin's face grows wider and it looks incredibly cute on him like he couldn't get cuter than this. His hand reaches for yours and holds it by the fingers.

"How do you feel about sharing a bed?"

No offense to Lili but you've been craving having a man on your bed so you nod at him.

The stare gets intense as he gets closer, leaving a few inches of space between your faces.

"Then how do you feel about sharing a kiss?"

The more you look into his eyes, the more compliant you are to his wishes. It's not like you don't want to kiss him, only that you wish you could do more than kisses.

But a kiss... it should be enough for now.

"I'd love that too," you answer.

Seungmin puts his hand under your chin, gently grabbing at it to bring you closer to him and slowly, he plants his lips on you.

No, it's not because you haven't kissed in the last few days, it's him, Seungmin got you completely charmed that you find yourself returning his kiss with the same eagerness.

"Oh, my God!" You gasp in awe once you break the kiss.

Seungmin is only smiling in response, he knows that you feel it too. The matching energy, the surge of excitement, the sexual tension, the electrifying chemistry, you both feel them all.

"I got your lipsticks all over me, aren't I?" He asks.

"Yes," you hurriedly help him wipe it off clean from around his mouth and nose.

And just like that, you broke another rule only this time you're not doing it out of boredom or avenging someone.

You broke the rules with Seungmin because he feels right.

YOU: Oh, we were just so in the moment that we forgot about the rules. Was it worth it though? Yes. Six thousand times yes.

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catsteeth · 4 days

Text

Sugar & Violence

Podrick Payne x reader

+:✿ Chapter 2 ✿:+ : Beautiful Girl

previous chapter

Summary: You’re a Mormont being held hostage by House Lannister. You are acting now as the Handmaiden for Margery Tyrell, whom you’ve grown quite close with. But it seems that a squire has caught your attention as you have caught his.

CW: afab reader, SMUT, MDNI, Fingering, P in V sex, mention of alcohol consumption, mention of harassment, mention of NSFW themes.

Word Count: 5125

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

As you’d just finished getting Margery ready for the day she sat you down and began to ready you as well. It wasn’t custom for a Lady to dress and pretty her Hand Maiden but Margery had taken the responsibility voluntarily and happily.

“Podrick was seen where?” You asked wide eyes, holding in a laugh.

“Little Finger’s brothel,” Margery replied with a smirk as she brushed your hair.

You shook your head with a smile “I will not believe such rumors.”

“I hear the whores did not receive a payment.” Her fingers twisting the front sections of your hair and braiding them together at the back of your head.

“You’re suggesting he didn’t pay them?” You asked with disbelief. He didn’t seem like the type of man to pay for a whore, much less the type of man to steal their time and effort.

“I am suggesting they did not want a payment. I hear that he was so skilled, they wouldn’t accept his payment.” She said as she finished your hair and she sat in front of you, beginning to do your makeup.

“Now that I can’t believe it.” You said holding back laughter,

“You never know for sure with men like him. Quiet, and sweet, they can be sensitive to a woman's needs.” She said putting

“I’ve been pinned against enough trees on Bear Island by enough men to know, no tongue, fingers, cock, or even nose is good enough to turn down gold.”

“Perhaps you’re right. But perhaps you’re wrong, there is only one way to find out.”

“Oh please, he can hardly hold his gaze to mine.”

“Some would say that means he likes you, besides the poor boy gave you a flower. One of the sweetest, and pathetic things I have ever seen.” She jested.

“He doesn’t want me, not like that.” You always found it hard to believe that any man would be interested in you beyond bedding.

she rolled her eyes as she finished applying a rouge to your lips. She fixed your hair slightly and half a small compact mirror to your face.

“if i were a man i would ravish you.” she smiled as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

Margery had done your makeup and hair countless times. Every morning after you’d done hers, but each time always made sure to tell you how beautiful you were. even if you didn’t believe it.

“a man would ravish a horse if desperate enough.” you pushed the compact away, you got up and began to select the gowns you’d both wear to the celebratory feast tonight.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

That evening was a celebration of the victory of Tywin Lannister. Nothing for you to feel celebratory for, but it gave you an opportunity to dance and drink.

Most of the night you and Margrey had danced with one another, made quite jokes about the other men there. But once the celebration began to wind down Margrey had found an excuse to speak to Joffrey, part of her plan to seduce him. So naturally you made yourself scarce. Finding a corner of the room to stand in while you drank.

It would have been perfect to end your night in peace if a tall man didn’t approach you.

He could have been some noble man or a knight, kings guard, even city watch, you didn’t know and more importantly did not care.

“My, who might you be, my Lady.” He asked, his voice was low and attempting to sound seductive.

“(Y/N) Mormont.” You said as you drank from your cup, your eyes wandered the room, paying little attention to the attractive man in front of you. As your eyes searched the large room, they landed on a pair of eyes already looking at you, Podrick’s. He looked at you with the eyes of a sad dog.

It caught you so off guard you didn’t hear whatever the man had just said, only the mumbling of words. You tore your eyes from his and looked at the man, “What?” burrowed furrowed in frustration.

“I said, then you are not much of a Lady.” He said with a twisted grin

“Is that so?” You said emotionlessly, unwilling to show any kind of offense that might have been taken. Fearing it would give him too much power. Besides, you did not care about the opinions of southerners.

“Hand Maidens are not Ladies of any land, are they not?”

“Perhaps.” You said your eyes returned to scanning the room, trying to find Podrick again, but having no luck.

“I could make you feel like one for tonight.” He held out his hand to you,

You held your cup to your lips as you spoke, “I’ve no wish to dance with you, Ser”.

“I cannot dance with a handmaiden,” The man smirked, his hand snaking around your waist. “I can enjoy one though.” He whispered in your ear.

You smirked back, and then you leaned in, making him think you were about to kiss him when you kicked him in the shin. “Oh!” You fained shock as he grunted in pain “My apologies Ser, I have always been quite clumsy.” Your concerned and shock demeanor dropped as you began to walk away. He began to spit some curse your way when you stomped on his foot. “If you’ll excuse me, my Lord.”

As you walked forward a few steps before the man grabbed ahold of your wrist.

“You northern who-” He was interrupted by Podrick’s voice.

“My Lady, the Queen wishes to have a word with you.” He spoke louder than usual. His eyes were wide and looked almost angry.

You ripped your hand away from the man's grasp and walked with Podrick out of the room.

“What does she want?” You asked, rubbing your wrist.

“Nothing, I made that up.” He said avoiding your gaze as you both walked down the hall.

“You made that up?” You looked at him with wide eyes, he nodded still avoiding your gaze. “Well, thank you.” You said softly.

He’d walked you all the way to your chambers with no other words were exchanged between the two of you, other than the occasional glance at one another. You had reached your chambers door, you looked over at him as you began to open the door.

He was ready to nod and walk away when you said, “Podrick,” To which his eyes went directly to yours. You didn’t say another word, just walked into your chambers leaving the door open.

He hesitated for a moment, but walked in after you.

He stood there, showing just how intimidated he was.

As you kicked your shoes off, and removed the necklace Margery allowed you to barrow for the night, you looked over your shoulder to him “Close the door.” You said softly, and so he did.

As you turned to him and began to walk towards him, his eyes subconsciously went from your eyes to your cleavage. Now more exposed now that you’d removed your necklace. He couldn’t help it really. Your corset and gown were truly putting them on display, and the candle light from your room made your skin glow beautifully. You smirked when you noticed, making him swallow hard and return his gaze to your eyes. He was going to apologize but you reached for his hand making him choke back any words he had.

You held his hand, looking at his now healed cut, now formed scar across the palm of his hand.

You trailed the scar with your finger tip.

“You’re seducing me-” He finally found some courage to spit out some words.

“You feel seduced?” You still held his hand, still admiring your work on his hand.

“Yes- I mean, it is intentional isn’t it?” He stammered, somehow a little out of breath.

“Do you want it to be?” You looked at him with a grin and mischievous grin.

“I don’t want to offend you-” He said softly, looking away.

“So you don’t?” You let go of his hand,

“No- no,” His eyes went wide as he stammered, “I want you to, want to seduce me.” He winced at his own words, not knowing how to phrase it.

“Why would that offend me?” You smiled softly, holding back a giggle.

“I am just a squire, my Lady.” He shook his head looking down

“And here in King's Landing, I am just a handmaiden they send to patch up knights and Lords.” You said softly

“You are Lady Mormont.” He said, it made you smile. No one had given such respect to your name in so long.

“You’re sweet.” You brushed his short hair around his ear with your fingertips “Have you ever seduced a woman?” You asked sweetly, you knew the rumors of the whore house, but didn’t know if you could believe it.

“No, no, not really.” He said like we were being honest… maybe he was.

“Show me how you would.” You said looking up at him with sleepy eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“How do you think I was seducing you?”

“You, made me… feel-” he stammered.

“Mhmm, so try to make me feel…”

He stepped closer to you, meekly, his head lowered. He reached out and lightly ran his hand over your hair. Taking a strand of it and looking at it, admiring the color of it, and its texture. He looked into your eyes, his head still lowered.

“You are beautiful.” His hand then went from your hair, to trailing his hand gently down your arm and grabbing your hand softly. He played with your fingers, again, gently.

“I believe you are the most beautiful woman I have ever known.” He didn’t stammer, his voice was earnest, and gentle.

“This is wooing, not seducing.” You smiled and corrected him as if he were acting, genuinely thinking he were making it up.

“I’m not trying to do either, my Lady.” Your smile dropped, “I just wish to be near you.”

“You shouldn’t.” You said pulling your hand away. “How we first met, tell me that.”

“Lord Slynt ordered you to pour him wine-”

“And I spit in it.”

“He deserved it.”

“I lied to him, and your lord.”

“Not to me.”

Your hardened gaze softened “No, no not to you” You lowered your head avoiding his eyes. afraid you’d melt in his sweetness. found yourself feeling that warm feeling in your chest again. You reached for his fingers with your own. interlocking your index finger with his.

“You are- different.” He stammered a bit “Special.” He corrected, thinking it sounded more flattering.

“You really are sweet. I don’t believe I've met a man so sweet as you.” He smiled, and in turn you smiled back, “You are shy, more so normally than you are now.”

He let out a small chuckle “I still feel shy.” He said as he looked down smiling

“Are you too shy for me to kiss you?”

Instead of responding to you he cupped your face in his hands. So gently it was as if you were made of the finest porcelain in the realm. He leaned in and kissed your lips. Soft and again, gentle. but also passionate and almost lustful. You were surprised how well he kissed. No, he didn’t kiss well, his kiss was intoxicating somehow. Maybe it was the wine on his lips or just skill. you couldn’t help but let out the smallest whimper into his mouth. It made him pull away and go wide eyed.

“You’re quite good at that.” You said wide eyes, catching your breath a bit.

“I apologize-“ He said, still holding your head in his hands.

“For what?”

“I should have asked you first,”

“Too late for that now,” you said, slinging your arms around his neck and pulling him into another kiss. Your lips fell into a perfect rhythm as his hands moved to your ribs, careful not to touch your breasts. his thumbs moved against your ribs slowly and gently.

You’d never felt this way with a man before. Normally it was sweaty, sloppy, and you ended it burnt out and covered in spit. This was like a dance, like you and he had kissed in every life.

You felt terrified. An emotion you rarely ever felt.

What if he was like every other man. They whisper sweet things in your ears, promises, and compliments. Then once they lifted your skirts and humped into you a few times they’d leave. You felt hurt the first time, maybe the second time too. But after that it was expected. So you never let yourself become invested in a man again. You used them as they used you.

But this was different, this wasn’t only lust, there was something more. But was this feeling only yours, or did you share it? You needed to test him, only you didn’t know quite how.

“Stop” You whispered in his mouth as you kissed, it made him stop immediately, and he stepped away from you, breathless.

“I- I’m sorry” He said about to go for the door before you stopped him grabbing his arm.

“No,”

“But you said-”

“I can’t bed you like this.” You said running your hands on the tight fabric of your gown.

“Bed me?” He asked as if he had choked, it made you smile.

“Will you wait here for me?” You asked, petting his cheek, and he nodded slightly confused.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

You had gone into the bathing room that was attached between your room and Margery’s. You bathed quickly, washed your hair, washed your face of its makeup, and slipped into your night dress. The only thing you wore to cover your nakedness.

As you opened the door you saw Podrick lighting the fireplace in your room. He stood as he heard you open the door and looked in your direction as he said, “I thought you might be cold-” He was cut off by the sight of you. His eyes were enamored by the sight of you.

You hadn’t shown him this side of you. Totally free of glamor and shine. “Thank you,” You said as you walked towards him.

As you stood in front of him he still couldn’t let out any words. “Do you… not like it?”

He shook his head quickly, “This is the most I have ever seen of you.” he placed a hand on your cheek. “You are truly the most beautiful woman I have ever known.”

You searched his eyes for a hint of deceit and found none. You took the hand he placed on your cheek and sat down on the fur carpet that laid in front of the fireplace, pulling him down with you. You looked at the scar on his hand again, this time placing a kiss on the scar.

“Thank you for what you did tonight.” He looked slightly confused, “The lie you told.” You explained.

“I didn’t want to interrupt, but then I saw how he grabbed you.” He looked down, now beginning to simmer, “No one should grab you like that.” He said in a lower tone. “If I’d a sword, I wouldn’t have to tell a lie.” He became angered thinking of it.

You moved closer to him, beginning to undo the clasps on the front of his top. He looked intimidated again suddenly, “A sword hm?” He nodded, “What would you have told him?”

“To unhand you, or I’d remove his hand.” He said, with a darker tone of voice, it made you smile as you pulled his red leather top off, leaving him in his tunic.

“One day you’re going to be the only honorable knight in all of Westeros.” You saw heat rush to his cheeks when you said those words. “A big strong shining warrior.” You said crawling closer to him.

“You’re seducing me again.” He said staring at your lips, his eyes drifted downwards again to your cleavage again now further exposed by the thin fabric and the angle you were in from crawling to him.

“Do you want me to stop?” You asked in a whisper,

He shook his head “No,” He said, grasping your face in his hands kissing you so deeply you let out a small moan into his lips, only making him kiss you deeper.

His hands roamed your sides, as yours gripped the back of his neck and roamed his chest down to his stomach.

When your hand reached his stomach you felt his muscles twitch and he let out a small groan. The sound of his groan made you clench your thighs together.

Mixed with the sounds of your breathless whimpers he felt himself stiffening, “Can I touch you?” He whispered in your ear, you nodded and he whispered back “Thank you,” As his hands cupped your breasts. He let out a moan into your mouth as he groped you, feeling the plumpness of your breasts. You couldn’t take it anymore and began to lift your night dress. You stopped yourself however, not wanting to push him,

“Is this okay?” You asked, and he nodded frantically. To which you smiled and lifted the rest of it off. His hands gripped your breasts tighter, and his mouth moved from yours to your neck and shoulder.

“You’re beautiful.” He whispered against your hot skin, repeating it over and over again.

One of your hands petted his hair, while the other went over his stomach to his now tenting trousers. You heard him moan into your neck and his hands gripped you tighter, making you moan in return.

“You sound beautiful too,” He whispered

“Take this off” You said much less elegantly as you pulled at the fabric of his shirt. As he did you laid down on the fur carpet under you. Looking up at him as he removed his tunic. You smiled up at him, “You’re quite pretty too.”

He shook his head in awe of you, “Not like you… You could be a painting,” He said, dropping to his knees. He leaned down and kissed your lips. Both your lips at this point were slightly swollen, but that didn’t stop either of you from continuing. Kissing with a new kind of passion.

You felt, for a moment, this might be much more. And if it was, you didn’t want to hide from him at all. You pulled away from his lips as you blurted out,

“I’ve been with men before you.” breathlessly, “I feel I should be honest with you.” You felt even more naked revealing that, you felt heat spread across your face.

“That’s alright.” He nodded, trying to reassure you. “And I- I have- I’ve been with women before you.”

Your eyes went wide, you thought back to the rumors you’d heard. “You have?” You shook your head to yourself trying to shake those thoughts out of your head. “That’s alright.” You said looking back at him, you smiled softly “It is, it’s alright.” You felt a hint of excitement, pulling him back into your body and to your lips.

You two kissed for a moment until his mouth ran down to your neck, covering your body in as many kisses as he could, making you giggle. Giggle until you feel his thumb run down the slit of your folds. Which made you gasp slightly and then smile at him, and he smiled back.

He leaned down and began to kiss and suck on your breasts.

You felt yourself becoming a wet and sticky mess and his thumb continued to roll up and down the slit of your folds, masterfully avoiding your clit, teasing you.

Finally his index and middle finger parted you, while his thumb gently teased your clit.

“Mmmmmm” you let out as you closed your eyes.

“Do you like that?” he asked softly into your breasts, all you could do was nod as he applied more pressure.

his teeth grazed your nipple with expertise. As though he knew just the right amount to use, how much you liked.

He continued to kiss, suck on, and sometimes lightly bite your breasts. You felt yourself clenching around nothing as he moaned soft praises into your skin. while he kept circling your clit.

It was beginning to be too much and not enough. “More,” you whined, “Your fingers.” you said.

He nodded, “Show me, show me what you like.”

you reached your hand below, rubbing your clit only a little, then you pushed a finger in. He watched as your eyes closed from the pleasure

He inserted his finger alongside yours, feeling how you moved your own finger inside you.

The extra digit in you stretched you so nicely, you let out a small sigh as you smiled at him and he smiled back at you.

You inserted a second finger, and he followed suit. The stretch burned slightly, it had been a while since you had been with a man, and now already you’d four fingers inside you. Albeit two were smaller than the other two but still. You whined a little as you winced slightly. It made him lean down and kiss your lips.

“You’re wonderful” he said as he kissed your jaw and your neck, pumping his fingers in you with your own guiding him. You then removed your fingers, content to let him take control.

His fingers knew when to curl and when to relax, when to push against the soft spot in you, and knew just the right speed. No man had ever known how to draw out such pleasure from simply his fingers with you.

“Podrick-“ you gasped at certain curl of his fingers,

“My lady?” he said into your lips,

“Call me my name,” you said into his,

“(Y/N)…(Y/N)..(Y/N)…(Y/N)..” he repeated softly as he kissed your cheek, then your other cheek, then your forehead, then your eyelids, nose, and finally your lips.

You took his face into your hands, as gently as he took yours in his. You kissed him sweetly, as you pulled away you whispered “I want to make you feel good,”

He smiled and let out a small chuckle “I feel very good,”

You shook your head and rubbed your palm onto his tenting trousers, making him close his eyes tightly, “I want you to feel even better.”

Your touching continued until he was grunting and bucking into your hand, “I- I have to take these off.” He said with a bit of shame as he fumbled with the strings of his trousers. You gladly helped him with a smile on your flushed face.

As he was freed from his pants, you took him in your hand, looking at his cock. It was bigger than you had expected, and by far the prettiest one you’d seen. Most were crooked, too thin, or too wide but his was perfect.

“Pretty thing you’ve got there,” You said with a smile as you pulled him into another kiss.

As you did you pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him, slinging your leg over his body.

He looked flustered with your boldness but pleased. “Thank you,” he responded.

“You’re welcome,” You said as you lined his cock, slick with precum against your entrance. His hands gripped your hips as you lowered yourself, pushing him inside of you.

You let out the prettiest of moans from your lips as did he.

His eyes rolled to the back of his head as you grinded him into you, in and out. The way his cock twitched inside of you hit the soft spot in you so deliciously each time, making you moan even louder.

You looked down at him, you ran your hand against his cheek as he looked back at you with a soft smile while moans left his lips.

The look in his eyes as he watched you squirm and whimper was a look you were not accustomed to.

All of the sudden, he pulled you down and rolled you onto your back. You were face to face, his arms wrapped around your body and yours around his. Your legs around his waist as he bucked into you, again and again. The way he did it, was as if he had done it a thousand times before.

He moved his hands to hold your face, and his other to hold your hand.

His thumb rubbed against your cheek, sweetly. Just before it left your cheek and trailed down your body to your cunt. Rubbing your clit in circles.

He could feel you clenching around him, his speed picked up and his mouth returned to your nipples. But his hand never left yours.

“I’m cuming, Podrick, I- mmhmm” You whined, only making him speed up even more.

You felt your legs shake, your toes curl, and the pressure in your stomach snap and the warmth in your core spread around his cock. You let out the prettiest of moans as you came. You gripped his hand tightly. And he peppered your chest and your neck in kisses. “I want you to cum,” You whispered as he continued to fuck into you.

“So warm… so wet.” He whimpered against your neck, “Gods, I need you.”

His thrusts in you became more and more erratic, you anticipated his cum filling you, you anticipated the heat that would fill you. You wanted it, badly. You smiled as you saw his face contort knowing it was coming, but he pulled out and came on the ground next to you.

You whined a little, “I wanted it,” You said in a whisper.

“You?-” He looked confused “You wanted it?”

You nodded, pouting a little.

“Why?” He asked, not being able to understand it, “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to- to sully your body.” He said, sweet sentiment.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈꒱꒱

After he cleaned it up, you had gotten in bed.

He dressed himself back in his tunic and walked over to you where you pulled him into your bed.

He held you against his body, and you held him back. He just stared into your eyes, as he pet your cheek. He admired the way you looked against the light of the fire. His eyes trailed down your body and he saw the bruises he left from his kisses on your breasts. His thumb grazed over them as he said “I’m sorry, I-’

“You did nothing wrong,” You said as you gripped his face and pulled him down to kiss his lips. “Do you think your Lord misses you?” You asked jokingly.

“I think he is too drunk to notice.” He said smiling at you, “What about your Lady?”

“I think she was too involved in Joffrey to notice.” You said with a giggle.

“Sleep with me tonight?” You asked softly,

He nodded and he wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled his face into your neck.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

When you woke up, you were alone.

You felt a little betrayed but you knew he had duties.

Later that day you were ordered to check on Lord Tyrion’s injuries as the Maester was too busy to see to it himself.

When you knocked on the door to Tyrion's chambers Bronn answered the door, he eyed you up and down, making you roll your eyes.

“My Lord,” You said walking into Tyrion’s chambers, brushing past Bronn and avoiding his gaze.

“Ah, the bear girl.” Tyrion said,

“(Y/N) Mormont, my Lord.” Podrick attempted to correct him, which made Bronn huff and roll his eyes. But you smiled at him, and he smiled back.

“Yes, Podrick, I know her name. My family is holding her captive after all.”

You smirked at his admission, ‘How’re you feeling?” You asked as you sat a leather bag of medicines and supplies on a table.

“Oh quite pleasurable.” Tyrion said sarcastically,

You turned towards him, dropping your concerned demeanor “I need to know if it stings or itches, if it’s infected, it could spread to your eyes, you’ll go blind, it could spread to your sinuses which could make you go deaf, and if it spreads to your brain you’ll die."

“You’re a gentle flower aren’t you?”

“Always have been. The Flower of Bear Island they called me.” You said sarcastically with crossed arms, making Tyrion huff a chuckle, “Yes and now they call me bear girl and whore, so if you could be so kind and cooperate I can see to it that you don’t die.”

Podrick held back a smile at your strength.

“Alright, no burning, itching, or stinging. Satisfied?” Tyrion said as you sat beside him.

“Somewhat…” You said while examining the cut.

Podricks eyes were entranced by the way your eyes darted around the Lord's scar, how you examined it with such expertise. How your eyebrows narrowed and your lips pouted slightly when you focused intensely on something. How when you wrapped a new bandage around the Lord's face you bit on your bottom lip. As he stared at your lips he thought of your first kiss, how warm and soft your lips were, he thought of your sweet taste. He wanted to grab your face and do it all over again. He was so deep into his fantasy he hadn’t even noticed Tyrion had called his name twice.

Bronn smacked Podricks head, making him snap out of it as Tyrion repeated himself again.

“Pod, see Lady Mormont to her chambers.”

“Yes, my Lord.” Podrick nodded

“Oh I'm sure the lad would love that.” Bronn said as you and Podrick left the room.

Once the door to Tyrion's chamber was closed you turned to Podrick with narrowed eyes.

“You told them?” You asked with venom.

“No, no, no I wouldn’t.” He stammered, not wanting you to believe he would do such a thing to you, “I wouldn’t. I believe I am just not very good at concealing my… interest in you.” He said softly so no one would hear.

It made you smile.

“I am sorry I couldn’t stay, My Lady. This morning, I couldn’t stay, Lord Tyrion would have sent someone for me.” He said softly again.

“I told you, you can call me by my name.” You said not willing to say it was alright but not willing to say it wasn’t. “Did you forget it, Podrick?” You teased him

“No, no (Y/N)” He said your name with a smile.

“Good, I thought your interest in me had finally subsided.”

“I don’t think it could.”

It made you smile again, 'seven hells' you thought, falling for such things.

You looked around and saw no one in the hall, you pulled him into another kiss.

NOTE:sowwy this took so long, i wuv you!

TAG LIST: @ryn-away @boojaynaqueen @holierthancunt @symonedoesart

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poemsfor-her · 7 months

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GLOW UP QUIDE 𖹭⠀࣭⠀ֹ⠀͡꒱

I. THE INNER ME

— When you think of the word "glow up" , your mind automatically thinks of changing your appearence, right? For me the beauty is in our soul. If you think nasty and degrading thoughts of yourself that can be damaging in so many ways.

let's get some things clear here:

First of all, beauty standards always change, as trends come and go, and you will never be enough "pretty" for someone; because beauty is subjective and you might be the dream person for someone and for someone not. which is ok! there are so many beautiful flowers. i personally perfer tulips and peonies, but someone might prefer roses or sunflowers. that doesn't make a flower less beautiful because every flower is beautiful in it's own way.

— do you know yourself? we spend so much time trying to know others, but do we even know ourselves? go on pinterest and find some questions to ask yourself. here are some:

1. what qualities do i like about myself?

2. what qualities of others do i admire?

3. what am i scared of?

4. what would i like my mornings to look like?

5. who inspires me?

if someone asks me any of these questions i would answer them all in a second, because i know myself.

— SHADOW WORK. Grab a pen and a journal, go on pinterest and search "shadow work prompts". I Personally, don't know much about this subject, but i know it's talked about by many people i look up to. It helped them heal from trauma.

some videos i suggest you watch that helped me so much in changing my mindset:

why you'll never be pretty enough - zoe unlimited.

you don't need to glow up, our obssesion with glow up culture needs to STOP.

tiktok is DESTROYING YOUR IDENTITY.

what type of pretty you are.

— I suggest watching every commentary video of zoeunlimited. Her videos changed my views on various topics.

II. THERE IS NOTHING TO CHANGE

— you are perfect just the way you are. embrace yourself. there is only one you in this world. many women look the same to me these days and it's a tiring and sad thing. Everyone is following the standard that is going to probably change in a month. As Hwasa said "I am my own beauty standard" and thank you Hwasa for that!

Embrace your features, look for makeup that suits your face shape and eyes. I know that eyeliner doesn't work with my eyes so i don't apply it. I also know that a lot of bronzer doesn't suit me.

Wear whatever you like and don't be afraid to express yourself.

When it comes to exercising, ALWAYS DO IT FOR YOURSELF. Think of it as: "My body deserves to be healthy"

strech when you wake up, do yoga, workout or go for a walk/run. whatever you like!

eat healthy but don't pressure yourself too much. have it balanced. you can eat a healthy meal but that doesn't mean you can't eat a cake. BALANCE IS EVERYTHING.

my favorite fitness youtubers:

lily sabri

yoga with bird

mady morrison

emi wong

III. KNOWLEDGE IS POWER

— if you follow my posts you know how much i respect and talk about education and it's importance. As my favorite saying goes "BEAUTY IS DANGEROUS, BUT INTELLIGENCE IS LETHAL." I stand by this!!!! READ BOOKS, FOCUS ON YOUR STUDYING, WRITE, PAINT, LEARN A NEW LANGUAGE AND DRAW.

here are some book suggestions:

i who have never known men

the great gatsby

the prophet

my body

the art of war

search some famous musicians or artists and get to know their work. i seriously find this so attractive.

watch documentaries.

watch news, read articles and just generally know what is happening in the world.

get to know your country's history.

watch some iconic movies.

beauty fades, but knowledge always stays.

that's it! if you have some questions send me an ask ♡

with love, t

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lucy90712 · 28 days

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Only here to party- Pedri

Deciding to study abroad was a hard decision to make but I knew it was best for me to move off the island and broaden my horizons by moving to England. As much as studying abroad was a good idea studying biology has turned out to be a bad decision I barely have any free time I never get to go out and I can never come home as I am always so busy. However now that the year has come to an end and it's summer break I can finally go home for a couple months and boy am I ready to have the best summer ever.

I am going to make this summer the best few months of my life I want to spend nearly every day with my friends and go out as much as possible. The entire summer is going to be about going out and having fun not a single mention of university and definitely no boys. I tried dating a guy at university but he cheated on me with multiple people one being one of my friends so unless I don't want to get involved with any boys. Heartbreak is not on my to do list and I've told my friends to not let me get attached and they will definitely stick to that as they can be harsh with me when they need to be.

After getting back yesterday tonight is our first girls night out and I couldn't be more excited. I've spent pretty much all day getting ready I woke up late as I was tried from my flight but after that I showered, washed my hair, shaved pretty much everything. It's been a long while since I got dressed up at all but I still have all of my dresses and nice makeup which are definitely going to get a lot of use these next few months. I was really feeling myself so I picked my absolute favourite dress I own it's a bit short and quite form fitting but I want to look and feel good so I don't really care what anyone else thinks about me. I'm not one for wearing much makeup but I decided to put on a bit more than I usually would as I was feeling adventurous.

It took me a good while but once I was ready I got my shoes on and made my way to the club which is only just down the road from my place so I decided to walk. The rest of the girls live a bit further out so we agreed to meet at the club as they were all coming together. Just as I got to the club a taxi pulled up with all of my friends in, we hadn't seen each other since I left last summer so there was a lot of hugs and a lot of catching up we need to do.

"You look gorgeous girl that post break up glow is making you look magical" one of my friends said

"All the guys in the club are going to be looking at you" another added

"Thank you guys you all look amazing too but remember I don't want to be involved with any new guy so if you see me getting too close with someone stop me" I said

"You got it girl no men we won't let you get hurt again" my best friend said

We headed into the club and I was dragged straight to the bar to get a drink or maybe two whatever it takes to get me slightly tipsy. I'm not here to get drunk out of my mind I just want to have some fun and enjoy my life as I haven't done that in nearly a year. It was clear very quickly that there was a lot of guys in the club were staring at me but I didn't take any notice some of them were cute but not cute enough for me to change the one rule I set for myself this summer. My friends however are not following the same rules as me so they all quickly ran off to find a guy that took their fancy. That left me alone but it didn't bother me I can handle myself as I'm used to doing that when I'm back in England. I decided to dance for a bit and found my best friend on the dance floor so we danced together for a bit but at some point she went to the bathroom and never came back but I saw her talking to some guy that was definitely her type so I left her be.

Seeing as the group had broken apart I took myself back to the bar to just sit and watch over them all just to make sure nothing bad happened. As I was watching the dance floor I made eye contact with a guy who sent me a smile. He was very attractive exactly my type with his brown eyes and hair and his slight beard that somehow made his features stand out even more. I quickly realised I was staring at him and stopped myself because I could feel myself being drawn to him but I don't want to find someone to get attached to. He clearly noticed my staring as the next thing I knew he was taking a seat next to me at the bar and flashing that smile that drew my attention in the first place.

"Hey I'm Pedro can I buy you a drink?" He asked

"Sure I'm y/n by the way" I said

He ordered another of what I had drunk before and a drink of his own and we were also given free food.

"You must be well known here to get free things" I joked

"Wait you don't recognise me" he said

"No am I supposed to" I said

"No it's just most people here seem to know who I am" he said

"Well now I need to know I feel left out" I laughed

"I'm a footballer for Barcelona and for Spain I go by a nickname though the name Pedri might be more familiar to you" he said

"I have heard that name but I'm not into football sorry to bruise your ego" I said

"I like it people who don't care who I am are much more fun to be around" he smiled

We continued talking he asked about my life and once I told him I was studying in England there was a lot he wanted to know. I asked him a few questions about his life as it's not everyday you meet a footballer especially in Tenerife but he wanted to focus the conversation on me. It was quite clear that there was a connection between us and really to stick to my rules I should stop talking to him but I can't help myself. It would feel wrong to leave this here and not give Pedri a chance especially as both of us don't live in Tenerife so it's not like we could run into each other once I think I'm ready to date again. Sometimes our plans don't line up with what the universe has set out for us and I don't want to ruin something that could go somewhere even if we only end up as friends Pedri is a cool person to be friends with.

One by one my friends came to find me and say they were leaving with whoever they had met leaving me with Pedri. So much for them stopping me from getting attached to someone but honestly I kind of appreciate it I definitely would've fought them if they tried to take me away from Pedri. Once we reached the early hours of the morning both of us wanted to go home Pedri offered to walk me home and I wasn't going to say no to spending more time with him so we walked down the road together. As we got to the door I was starting to wish I lived further from the club so I could spend more time with Pedri.

"I know both of us won't be here for long so can I have your number I'd love to see you again before we both leave" he asked

"Of course give me your phone and I'll put my number in" I said

I did just that and once I had put my number in we said goodbye and Pedri promised he'd text me in the morning.

~~~~~~~~~~

This summer has flown by I have been back home for 2 months but I leave again in a few days and I'm really sad about it. My summer has gone completely differently to how I imagined it would too I was expecting to spend time mostly with my friends out at the beach most days and then going out drinking on the weekends but I have done that like 3 times. I have seen my friends and spent time on the beach but I've spent more of my time with Pedri. When I told my friends about Pedri they weren't shocked that I broke my rule in fact they told me that they saw me with him and were going to drag me away but once they saw how happy I was they let me be. If it wasn't for them I probably wouldn't have spent as much time as I have with Pedri they were the ones to tell me to just go for it and see where things go as I won't get another chance like this and that turned out to be good advice.

Pedri and I have spent so much time together we've seen each other nearly every day and we text each other constantly. In the last month we have been on a few dates all of which have been amazing. Whenever we spend time with our friends they are always telling us to get a room as we are pretty much attached at the hip, Pedri has developed a habit of having his hand on my waist pretty much at all times which I'm not complaining about as I love it. Over the last two months I've really fallen for Pedri and I'd like to think he feels the same way the trouble is we both have to leave at some point and I don't know if things will be the same when we can't see each other all the time.

Today is the last day Pedri and I can see each other has we both leave in a few days so we need some time to pack. He invited me to his for the day as he has a pool so we can swim together and just sit outside in the sun all day. Pedri wanted me to come over early so I had to drag myself out of bed and to his place but it was worth it as he had breakfast ready for both of us and he greeted me with a kiss which always makes my morning better.

After having some breakfast we both got into swimwear and got into the pool. More often than not we don't really do any swimming we just float around in the water and today was no different. I leant against the side in the shallowest part of the pool as that's where I can touch the bottom and Pedri stood in front of me with his arms around my waist. His hair was wet but somehow he still looked incredible possibly better than he looks on any normal day which is saying something. We were just staring at each other sharing the odd kiss but I could tell Pedri was thinking about something he had the look in his eye that I've learnt means he's deep in thought considering something.

"What are you thinking about?" I asked

"Oh nothing just daydreaming" he said

"I know that's a lie you have that thinking expression of yours tell me what's on your mind" I said

"What's going to happen to us when we both leave?" He asked

This is the question I have been thinking about myself and dreading having to answer. I don't want to end things with Pedri but is long distance going to work. I'm always so busy and I know he is too so will we even get to see each other and if we don't will we just fall out of love. There is so many questions and most of which we won't know the answer to unless we give things a try.

"I don't know I really like you and I've enjoyed these last two months more than the rest of the last year but we would have to be long distance" I said

"I know it won't be easy but if you are willing to I'd love to try long distance I don't just want to let what we have go this feels special more than just a holiday romance" he said

"If you're willing to give it a go then so am I but we need to communicate well and be ready not to see each other that often" I said

"I will do anything to make this work we can FaceTime every night and any breaks we have we can visit each other we can make this work" he said

"Then let's do it" I said

"First though I have something I want to ask" he said

"What's that" I questioned

"Will you be my girlfriend?" He asked

"I would love to" I replied leaning in to kiss him

#pedri imagines #pedri x reader #pedri imagine #pedri #football imagine

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astrodoll2 · 2 years

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🍄 ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS PART TWO 🍄

I am so sorry for aquarius moons especially ones with mars opposite saturn and the daddy issues you guys tend to have

Scorpio risings must feel really lucky I feel like that’s a rising sign a lot of people wish they had, the intense eyes and magnetic aura

Cancer risings though since people see them as babies they tend to be the child that gets away with everything sorry if you’re an older sibling with a younger cancer rising sister/brother you probably have to do everything for them or get placed more responsibilities than them

Pisces risings 🤝🏻 having the most beautiful lips and smiles

I see so many Sagittarius risings with ginger hair, Aries go for a darker red , and Leo’s are usually more bronze or blonde if not jet black but only if they have blue eyes

Moon dominant 🤝🏻losing your energy quickly, not wanting to be seen and constantly disappearing from social media

Sun in the 12th house I just know you’re constantly battling between wanting to put yourself out there and be seen vs retracting and wanting the ground to swallow you

Pisces are just as much if not more people pleasers than libras but mostly If they have 7th house placements

1st house ruler in the 8th house makes others see you as a challenge because you’re very hard to read

Prominent Lilith women are other female “friends” constantly leaving you out of plans because they think you’re going to receive more attention than them? And do they always say “you’re doing too much or wearing too much makeup” as a form of putting you down because they secretly feel inferior than you

Venusians 🤝🏻 candle addiction

Don’t date men with Venus in the 4th house unless you want to act as a mother the entire relationship

The only way for me to be physically very attracted to someone is if we have 8th house synastry lmk if you have that problem too

Pisces moons or virgo risings 🤝🏻 savior complex stop trying to fix them babes they’re not gonna change

Geminis 🤝🏻 constantly getting copied

Sagittarius mars men🚩

5th house planets in a man’s chart🚩

Aries moon or Aries mars men🚩

Libra in a man’s chart 🏴‍☠️

#astrology notes #astrology #astro observations #random observations #synastry #astro notes #tarotdaily #tarotcommunity #tarot reading #divination

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ereardon · 1 year

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Friends Don't || Chapter 5

Summary: Bob Floyd has been your best friend for almost a decade, ever since he quietly agreed to tutor you in college. The two of you have spent years chasing each other around the globe – Bob as a WSO, you as a travel blogger. You’ve always been the anywhere-but-here girl, and he’s been your rock. But when a surprise diagnosis threatens to crumble your picture-perfect life, you’re on the first flight back to San Diego, desperate to put down roots for the first time. Will Bob finally have it in him to admit that you could be the love of his life? What will he say when he finds out the secret you’ve been skillfully hiding from him? Or worse, what if he doesn’t find out until it’s too late?

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x OC [Reid]

Tropes: Friends to lovers

Warnings: Cursing, angst, alcohol, fighting

WC: 3.3K

Series masterlist here; previous chapter here; next chapter here

“Rooster,” he said, his voice icy.

“Bob.”

The two men stared at each other in silence for a moment, frozen in the doorway.

Bob stepped out onto the brick, closing the front door softly behind him. Bradley took a few steps backward and crossed his arms over his chest. “Listen, Bob—” Bradley started, but Bob held up a hand, cutting him off.

“She’s not as strong as you think she is,” Bob said and Bradley frowned. “She seems beautiful and carefree and cool and she is all of those things. But she’s also scared.”

“Scared of what?”

Bob shook his head. “What’s your end goal here, Bradshaw?”

“I like her,” Bradley said. “What’s wrong with that?”

Bob took one step closer. For the first time, Bradley noted that the WSO could be intimidating when he wanted to be. He was always the nice one. The shy one. But here, Bradley was intimidated by Bob. It wasn’t his stature so much as it was the look in his eyes.

Menacing.

“If you hurt her,” Bob whispered darkly, “I will never fucking forgive you.”

And then he turned, walking into the house and slamming the door behind him.

***

You slipped out of your dress that was sticky with sweat and kicked off your heels, heading for the bathroom in the hallway in a robe. You could hear Bob and Bradley outside, their figures hidden behind the wooden door, and you frowned.

In the bathroom, you scrubbed off your makeup, letting the hot water run through your hair, across your face. You stepped out and looked into the mirror.

Sometimes you wondered if someone like Bradley would find you attractive underneath it all. Without the hair or the makeup or the provocative clothing.

The only person who had ever liked you, beneath it all, was Bob.

The steam spilled out when you opened the door into the hallway and you shivered, scurrying back to your room. You were so caught up in trying to get back to the warmth of the room, desperate for a pair of soft pajamas, that you didn’t even notice Bob sitting on the chair in the corner until he cleared his throat.

“Shit!” you cried, gripping the robe you were wearing tighter around your chest where it had been gaping. “What the fuck are you doing in my room?”

“Sunny,” he whispered, standing up.

“Turn around,” you demanded and Bob did as he was told. You shrugged off your robe, sliding on a pair of silky shorts and a matching camisole. “OK,” you said and Bob turned back around. “I repeat, what are you doing here?”

“Honey,” Bob said softly and you shook your head.

“Don’t honey me, Bob Floyd,” you said and he winced. You never called him that. It was always Bobby, honey, sweetheart, babe. Never Bob. And never Bob Floyd.

“I know you’re mad at me. And you have every right to be.” Bob stepped closer. You couldn’t help it. You let him place his large, familiar hands on your bare arms. His warm eyes latched onto yours. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I was an ass. I am an ass. Everything I said, I was a jerk. I hated myself for it the second I said it.” He rubbed his fingers up and down your arm softly. “Please, honey, let me make it up to you.”

You grimaced. “What did you say to Bradley?”

“What?”

You tilted your head to the side. “I saw the two of you, outside. What did you say to him?”

Bob let out a sigh. “I made him promise he wouldn’t hurt you.”

“How can you say that?” you whispered. “When you’re the one that hurt me?”

“Sunny.” Bob felt his voice crack. Seeing you sad, upset, angry with him made him want to crumple into a powder and slip away in a strong breeze. His fingers slid over the bare skin of your arms. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

You raised your eyes to his. “Don’t lie to me, Bobby. I think you meant it. I think you’ve wanted to say what you said for a long time. You just never had the guts before.”

“That’s not true.”

“Don’t lie to me to keep my feelings from being hurt,” you whispered. “I’m a big girl, Bobby. I can take the criticism. You think I’m going to walk all over your life and make a big mess. You think I’m going to back out on what I said. You think I’m going to leave.”

Bob raised one hand, gently brushing away the tear that was threatening to spill down your cheek out from under your right eye. “Yes,” he whispered, his voice husky and low. “I’m scared you’re going to leave. I’m scared you’re going to get bored of me and pack up and all that’ll be left is a note on the kitchen table. Because that’s how it’s always been, honey. I don’t know why, but you’re always running.”

You felt another tear slide down your cheek, this time on the left side. “What if this whole time I’ve been running towards you and I just didn’t know it?”

Bob pulled you into a hug, until your face was pressed against his chest, his strong, familiar arms wrapped around your back, fingers gripping your sides, one hand floating up toward your neck, holding you against him.

Like he was afraid you were going to flee at any moment.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured against your temple. “If it’s me you’re running to, I’m always going to be here, waiting for you.”

***

Bob and Denver drove up from base for a long weekend a few months after your first visit to Lemoore. You had finally settled into your apartment in Nob Hill, a walk-up on the fourth floor off of Pine Street. The walk alone made your calves burn every time you left the apartment, but there was something to be said about the view from the top of the hill off California Street.

It was a small one bedroom, but there was enough room for a sleeper sofa and there was laundry on your floor and that was more than you could ask for in a place like SF at the time.

What you hadn’t been sure about were the sleeping arrangements.

“There’s the bedroom,�� you said, pointing to the door at the far end of the apartment that was shut to help keep the AC window unit running in the living room pumping air through the common spaces. “The couch folds out into a queen, but it’s actually really nice.” You paused. “I, um, I wasn’t sure where you two wanted to sleep.”

Bob looked over at Denver. She raised her eyebrows.

You tried to fill the silence. “I’m happy to take the couch if y’all want to take the bedroom. Or Bobby and I can take the room, we’ve done it before.” You grimaced. “Not it. Never it. We’ve slept in the same bed before. Platonically. That’s all.” Why were you a bumbling mess?

Denver chuckled. Bob’s ears flushed pink at the tips. “I’ll take the pull out,” she said. “It’s your place, I’m not going to kick you out of your room. Robert can sleep wherever he’s most comfortable.”

Bob looked between the two of you, cutting the tension with his eyes. “Let’s grab lunch.”

Bob never admitted that he and Denver were a couple. Nothing was confirmed. It was more of a hunch on your side. But you watched the two of them together. There was an ease, a confidence you had never seen with Bob before. He had bungled opportunities with women more times than you could count. You had watched, painfully, as Bob tried to shoot his shot at bars and was turned down. He got uncomfortable and shy and painfully quiet.

But not with Denver.

They laughed. They spoke to each other quietly. They were able to predict each other’s thoughts in a way. You watched carefully as Denver got up and asked the man behind the counter for another packet of hot sauce before Bob could even register that he would want one. You saw how he created space for her on a busy sidewalk.

They fit.

And a part of you was jealous. Because for the first time, it wasn’t Bob looking out for you. He had someone else.

Is this what he felt like all those times he watched you leave parties with other guys?

It was Bob and Denver, and then you. The two of them walking ahead of you through the Ferry Building. You took a photo of the two of them in front of the Painted Ladies, you watched them argue over what chocolate to get from the Ghirardelli factory and how they laughed at the sea lions in Fisherman's Wharf.

He belonged to her.

Later that night, after an enormous meal in Chinatown that cost less than a nice steak in Tokyo, you tried to excuse yourself. “I’m going to hang out on the roof for a bit,” you said, grabbing a bottle of wine from the fridge. “Give you guys a break from me.” You said it with a smile, even though it pained you. It was the first time you could think of where you thought Bob might actually want a break from you.

“You sure?” Bob asked softly, sitting on the edge of the couch, pulling off his sneakers.

You nodded. “I’ll just be upstairs if you need me.” And then, before they could say anything else, you were rushing out into the stairwell, climbing the extra two flights of stairs before barreling out through the emergency door onto the low-slung roof.

You breathed in the crisp evening air. That was the thing about San Francisco. Even in the summer months, there was a chill that overtook early mornings and late nights.

Halfway through the bottle of white wine, you heard the door to the roof edge open. Denver’s flaming red hair emerged first, followed by her tiny body.

“Reid?” she called out. You looked over your shoulder.

“Over here.”

Denver crossed the small roof, coming to stand next to you against one low wall.

You held out the wine bottle. She took it and placed it on her lips, taking a deep sip.

She turned to you, your gaze glued out across the roofs of nearby buildings. “Floyd talks about you so much that we all thought you were made up until you came for that visit,” she said.

You smiled, but it was tight. Small.

“He kept saying oh, Reid this. Reid that. And everything he said about you felt like a female character written by men. That you were beautiful and that you didn’t care what anybody thought of you and that you were the kind of girl who could win over a room of strangers in a matter of minutes. That you were the life of the party.” She paused, taking another sip of wine. “That you were the only person he had ever really, truly loved outside of his family.”

You turned to her, squinting. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I know you think you’re losing him.”

“What makes you say that?”

She turned her dazzling green eyes on you. “It’s written all over your face.”

Later that night, long after Denver had left the rooftop, you made your way back to the apartment, easing open the door gently. It was dark, the blinds drawn. You opened the door to the bedroom softly without glancing into the living room.

To your surprise, Bob was fast asleep on the far side of the bed.

Silently, you changed out of your clothes into a pair of pajamas, sliding down into the bed next to him. He felt the bed rustle with your weight as you got comfortable.

“Sunny?” he murmured softly.

You rolled onto your right side, looking at him. He had his eyes still closed. “Yeah,” you whispered. “It’s me.”

You reached down and threaded your fingers into his where his hand laid at his side.

“Why aren’t you out there with Denver?” you asked.

Bob opened his eyes and turned to you. “What?”

“I just, I expected you to want to sleep with your girlfriend.” Your voice was low, almost shaky. You didn’t know why it was as painful to spit out as it was.

Bob rolled over so the two of you were face-to-face on the small bed. He released your hand so your fingers weren’t pinched beneath his weight. “Denver is my pilot,” he whispered. “She’s my partner. My friend. That’s all.”

“It doesn’t seem like that’s all there is between the two of you,” you replied.

Bob frowned. “Why are you asking, Sunny?” he murmured.

“Nevermind,” you whispered, rolling over, facing away from Bob.

Instinctively, he scooted closer, molding his body to yours, his hand resting carefully on your hip. You couldn’t help but think of how different, how much more bold, this Bob was compared to the first time you had crawled into his bed, all those years before. “Sunny,” he whispered. There was something in his tone. A probing. A question that he was afraid to ask.

You pressed your eyes shut tightly. “Goodnight, Bobby.”

He sighed. “Goodnight, honey.”

***

You went out with Bradley a second time. Even though you knew it made Bob angry. Even though you knew you were backtracking on the promise you had made to him. That you wouldn’t treat his life with the absolute disregard that you treated your own life with.

Being with Bradley helped you forget the way Bob looked at you as you walked out the door in another questionably short dress.

It made you forget the fact that there was a small pile of unread emails in your inbox from your doctor back in Brooklyn.

Bradley was beautiful. He was exactly the kind of guy you always went for. Handsome, charming, the life of the party. He took you to dinner and drinks, and when he asked where you wanted to go next, you wanted to delay the date ending.

“The beach,” you said.

Bradley smiled, pulling the Bronco out onto the main road, heading for where the sun was gently kissing the horizon.

The two of you grabbed old beach towels from the back of his truck and walked along the shore until you found a spot that was flat and deserted, and you laid out the towels, sitting down side by side.

Bradley looked over at you after a moment. “You talk to Bob?”

“Yeah.” You reached out, digging your fingers in the grainy sand. It was cool. The temperatures had dropped, and you shivered. Bradley immediately shrugged off his hideous Hawaiian shirt, draping it over your shoulders. You smiled at him. “Thanks.” It was warm and smelled like him. Spicy, like pink peppercorns.

“I’ve known Floyd for a few years now,” Bradley said. “Went on the most dangerous mission of my life with him six months ago. I almost died.” He paused. “And somehow, I never saw him as angry or as heated as the way he looked at me the other night when I was dropping you off.”

The waves were crashing against the shore. Harsh. Unrelenting. A reminder that nature would have its way, no matter how humans decided to try to intervene. “You know Bobby. He gets protective.”

“This was something else,” Bradley shook his head.

You turned to him and frowned.

“You told me that first night we met that you were his. For all intents and purposes. Is that still true?”

“I’m his,” you said softly. “But I don’t belong to him. I’m his girl, but it's not the same thing. He’s the one thing I have in this life that’s worth anything,” you replied. “Bobby has been my person for almost ten years. He held me together when I was just cracks patched with tape and glue. Everything I have, everything I am, it’s because I know at the end of the day if I need him, he’s going to be there.”

Bradley’s coffee-colored eyes found yours. “What are you looking for, Reid?”

You tore your eyes from the shore. “What do you mean?”

“I like you,” he said and the honesty dripped through his words with ease. Bradley was truthful. He was genuine. He was good.

That scared you.

“But I don’t want to get involved if you’re not sure what you want. Because the way you talk about each other? You and Floyd? You’re part of each other in an inextricable way. You’re the thing he holds most dear. And vice versa. So I don’t want to insert myself where I’m not welcome.”

Bradley leaned closer, pressing one large thumb to your cheek, sliding it down toward your plump lip. His eyes roamed across your face.

“But if you want more, if you think there’s something more here than just a few dates that fizzle out, then I’m in.” He pressed down, thumb sliding between your lips and automatically you found yourself sucking on the digit, your eyes locked on his. “I am fucking in, Reid.”

***

The lights were on when you got home. You unlocked the door using the key on your keychain and slipped off your shoes in the foyer, sand still sticking to your toes lightly.

“Sunny?”

“It’s me,” you called back, dropping your bag down by your shoes, making your way down the hall to the living room.

Bob turned and looked back at you over his shoulder from where he sat on the couch.

He took in your messy hair and the way your dress was bunched up slightly around your hips. Bradley’s Hawaiian shirt that you had slipped both arms into.

Bob frowned. “Where were you?”

“With Bradley.”

You watched his jaw tense. He grabbed the remote, muting the show on the TV before standing up and walking around the edge of the couch and the coffee table. Bob looked at you closely. He registered the way your pink lipstick was smudged and the sand that still clung to your bare calves. “Sunny,” he whispered.

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Go ahead, Bobby. Ask me. I know you want to.”

He sucked in a breath. “Did you sleep with him?”

“Why do you care?”

Bob let out a grunt and slammed his fist onto the countertop to his right. You jolted in place. His blue eyes landed on yours. “Did you fucking sleep with him?”

“No,” you said and you watched relief flood Bob’s delicate features. And then, “Not yet.”

His eyes turned dark. “What do you mean, not yet?”

You shrugged. “He’s a good guy. I’m seeing him again on Friday.”

“I know he’s a good guy, he’s a great fucking guy, that's why he's one of my best friends,” Bob seethed. “Why are you doing this, Reid?”

You tossed your hands in the air. “Why do you care, Bobby? It’s my life! Why do you care who I do or don’t fuck?”

“Just because you fuck him doesn’t mean you belong to him,” Bob said, his voice climbing.

You stepped closer, shoving one finger into his chest, practically shaking in anger. “Well I’ve never fucked you, but you seem to think I belong to you.”

Bob’s eyes blazed as he stared down at you.

“Stop acting like I’m yours,” you said, more quietly this time, your anger subsiding. Instead, it was replaced by exhaustion. Defeat. Acceptance. “Someone like Bradley is willing to go out on a limb for me. You’re never going to be like that, are you?” Your eyes searched his for an answer. “You’re never going to want me the way he does.”

“Maybe not,” Bob whispered, his words traveling along the fault lines of your heart, splintering them one inch at a time. “Maybe you shouldn’t have come here, Sunny.”

You nodded, tears threatening to spill beyond your lash line. “Maybe you’re right.”

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thesapphireprincess · 2 years

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My Next Boyfriend.

Hey Dolls,

I was doing some thinking and I realized that I really want to go traveling next year but I don’t want to pay for it myself. So I had a thought and I am manifesting my first wealthy boyfriend. Honestly it’s simple, I want my next boyfriend to have a career where he has to travel to other cities and countries around the world and live there for multiple months at a time. He has a job that has to do with international business or something. He’d obviously have to be living here in order for us to meet and since I live in a big city the chances of us meeting are very likely. He’ll see me I’ll be his dream girl and he’ll introduce himself and ask me to lunch or dinner. We’ll connect, he’ll fall madly in love with me ask me on more dates and we’ll date for a couple months and then he’ll ask me to travel the world with him. He has been living in the dfw for work but now it’s time for the next city and it will be in a different country. I’ll look back at when I first thought to manifest this and do a little happy dance. He’ll pay my rent until my lease is up and give me a certain amount of money so that I can have a security if things don’t work out.

I totally believe this will happen and I will meet him this year because I’m not dating or accepting any man who doesn’t have a career like this. It’s that simple. Living in a big city gives you loads of opportunities. I’m gorgeous, Tons of men have careers like this and I won’t accept anyone who doesn’t have a career like this. Simple right? It’s basic probability. I’m not looking for my husband but I am looking for a long term boyfriend and to date a few extraordinary men until then and have some fun, I’m only 23.

The work that I have to do to make this a reality

When it comes to making your dreams come true they won’t happen if you just sit in bed all day every day on your phone. In the mean time I will be taking the next 3 months to extremely focus on myself without distractions. Here are a couple of things I will be working on, to prepare for my new lifestyle as a stay at home girlfriend that gets to travel the world.

I will be whitening my teeth, wearing my retainer, flossing and taking care of them every morning and night.

I will get my passport

I will perfect my morning routine

I will become well read on a variety of different topics

I will work out and go to the gym 3-4 times a week and stretch daily, hopefully be able to do the splits.

I will start saving as much money as I can (I won’t have to use money when I’m with him but this is for myself)

I will keep my nails and feet done at all times

I will have a healthy and balanced diet

I will learn to be a great conversationalist

I will learn to be emotionally intelligent

I will perfect my style, hair and makeup

I will have a solid hygiene routine and a signature sent. I like to smell sweet like strawberries.

I will watch videos and read posts from girls living the hypergamy/stay at home girlfriend or wife lifestyle.

I will be going out at least 2-3 Times a week to the prestigious sides of town for lunch, coffee, shopping, grocery shopping, exploring etc. Basically I’ll be hanging out over there so that I can be seen by more and more people causing me to eventually run into multiple different candidates until I run into the one, the guy I’m manifesting. It’s basic probability.

I think 3 months is more than enough time to complete this, Here’s something you should know. I am not doing this for a man. I am doing this for me so that I can attract a man who will take me around the world, pay for all my expenses and spoil me all because he loves me. Why would I date a regular guy who can’t do anything for me but cause heart break and make me pay my own bills. When there are plenty of men who will give me my dream lifestyle. Men control the world but women control men. Men have the power to change your entire life, and as an intelligent beautiful woman you can get any man you desire.

I’m choosing a man with a lifestyle that fits the one I want and I want a man who has to travel around the world for work who makes at least $500,000 a year or is a multi-millionaire. I want a man who feels like $5,000 is play money. I also want to quit my 9-5. That is what I want and that is what I deserve.

I can’t wait to update you guys when I meet my next boyfriend and he’s exactly what I’m looking for. I have wrote a page in my journal about the personality and characteristics I’m looking for in my next boyfriend as well. He’s going to have to check all the boxes, he doesn’t have to be perfect but he does have to be attractive, have a nice full head of hair, be tall at least 5’8, generous, emotionally intelligent, kind, at least 5-10 years older than me, a provider/protector and most of all he has to be madly in love with me. I don’t chase, I attract.

This 100% sounds like a real person and I feel like there are a lot of guys like this out there. I know I’ll meet him in the next few month or so. I will attract my guy. Catch you in my next post. <3

#hypergamy #spoiled girlfriend #soft life #black girl luxury #black women in femininity #soft black girls #black woman beauty #black women in leisure #black women in luxury #black luxury #stay at home girlfriend

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angelsaxis · 1 year

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makeup is a gender role thats doing more harm than good because the only reason/way it exists in our society is to force women of all kinds to cover "blemishes" and "flaws" that are RARELY if ever criticized on men (and if they are, its never for gendered reasons. dark spots never make a man less masculine, but they make women less feminine). women of all kinds are expected to fit a certain ideal of femininity that a lot of us, especially those of us who are trans or women of color or fat, will likely never achieve.

as much personal freedom can be gained from being able to wear makeup that finally matches your skin tone or foundation that isn't super harmful to your skin, its fucked that we live in a society that, again, puts this expectation of conformity on women. in its most extreme form we literally have women contouring their faces into the exact same high cheek bone/slim nose/full mouth look thats connected with peak (white) femininity and that zombiefies the features of Black women with it. there are women of color slimming their noses and that is meant to make them look more attractive. be serious.

the makeup industry is run by cishet white men. i understand that wearing makeup for a lot of women is an act of survival and a means of avoiding violence. i understand that. i understand that. nobody should say i don't. but the solution should then be making society less violent and less a threat to women who don't conform, not trying to convince more people that makeup is a net good.

the body positivity movement once it hit the mainstream had its flaws but at least the underlying message was great. now i see a lot of people who claim to be feminists do the bare minimum in praising the bodies of women who don't fit the beauty standard; praises like "cunt" and "queen" are still heavily reserved for the skinny, the curvy (not in a plus sized way), the able bodied, the cis. the flawless, the hairless. never for the disabled, the hairy, the trans women regardless of if they have a bulge or not.

we've got razor companies capitalising on the body positivity movement by leaning 100% into choice feminism with ads like "women have body hair (shave it)! women have dark hair, pubic hair, thick leg hair, and there's nothing wrong with this (shave it). Women come in all shapes and sizes (buy the razor)". I recently saw an add that implied the facial razor used to get rid of fine, dark hairs on a woman of color would help the world see the "real her" (or "you", rather).

(a lot of these ads are becoming more racially diverse without the core message changing. again, i understand that there are some women who literally have to shave for survival. its society thats fucked, not them)

more and more people on here are seeing feminism slide backwards; i am. I have no idea why, if there even is one reason and not a series of factors contributing to the dilution of feminist language on this site in particular and on social media in general and real life, also in general. a lot of the concepts are still here (consent, the general understanding of toxic masculinity, etc). but theres also resistance to naming patriarchy and to explicitly saying men are the primary beneficiaries of patriarchal violence.

#angel posts #if i get one clown on this post im turning off reblogs #but like its feminism 101

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youdrewstarsxaroundmyscars · 4 months

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Alright yall. I need help. Come sit. Be my therapist for a second. Have some hot cocoa even. We're gonna be here a while. <3

I am afab. Very average, very feminine presenting. Joining the marauders fandom and getting more into lgbtq+ side of media and things has made me question my gender identity a bit, and I don't know what to do. I say all the time "I wish I was a boy but only a pretty boy" in the sense that GOD do i wanna be a pretty boy like all the cosplayers and fancasts and fanart and fuckin book descriptions I see of these characters. I'll jokingly tell my friends if I knew and was promised that I could look like THAT ONE tiktoker if i transitioned, I would do it. But I don't know if that's fully 100% true.

I'm contemplating getting a binder. I think the only reason I've put it off for as long as I have is I don't know my own measurements and I don't own a tape measure. It would be super easy to get one, and it makes me wonder why i'm putting it off so bad. I have pretty big boobs for my body size, at least, that's what my friends say. Genetics-wise, all my sisters have bigger boobs and my mother's even gotten a reduction because of it. I've been contemplating that too.

I don't know if I want them gone, but I get such a gross disgusting feeling in my chest if i'm out and about and they're more visible with my clothing. If I were to wear a tight tank top under a hoodie instead of a bra and I go out in public it's like the nerve endings in my chest start doing something and it's so uncomfortable I feel like everyone is staring at them and I feel like I'm doing something wrong just for existing. just for being a woman with female body parts. Is that body dysmorphia? I'm not sure really, i think it started when I would attend church. I felt like every man in the room was staring at me and could notice them, even if i was sitting in the furthest back row and they were all looking forwards. I don't know. Maybe that's just religious trauma for another day.

I want clothes to fit me the way they fit men. I want to love a boy the way a boy loves a boy. I want the hands and the flat chest and the shoulders and the collar bones and the adam's apple and the stomach and the short swoops hair and the jawline. A Pretty boy. You know.

I think everyone desires to be attractive, and when there's so many variables with transitioning, you essentially roll the dice and hope you get a good deal. And I am insecure, and as shallow as it sounds, I would be afraid to be uglier than I am. Lemme tell ya, I haven't seen very attractive ginger men that's for sure. (you may attempt to change my mind if you so desire but if ANY of yall say ed sheeran ill cry cause no)

But some days, I feel alright with my face, with femininity. And I feel like I made up the desire to be a boy. I look in the mirror and think "you're pretty. you look fine, you even look pretty good. Why did you ever want to change that?" Then I'll scroll through tiktok or read a fanfic or see fuckin starchaser fanart that makes me rethink it all over and over again like an endless cycle. And I don't know what to do.

I don't look androgynous. I wish i looked androgynous. Maybe that'd be easier to figure it out. I know some of you are probably gonna say "just experiment with some things. try some different clothes or makeup" and I would if that was something I could easily do.

I never learned how to do makeup. No one ever taught me and I was scared to ask my mom for mascara even though I was in high school. My sisters were great at makeup, and hair, and fashion. All the things people tend to expect girls to be good at. They never taught me. They had moved out by the time I was old enough to start shaving my legs for the first time. Any time I do try something it doesn't match my face, or my hair color, or my skin tone and it doesn't look right and I just get lost.

I don't know how to do my hair, and I don't have anything to do my hair with except for a hairbrush and some ponytails, but my last haircut kinda fucked up and i have these side bangs that are chunky and i don't know how to fix them.

I think I have an alright sense of fashion, but in the way that I see things on my pinterest board and think "that outfit. I want that outfit" but individual pieces?? I wouldn't even know where to start. I like going thrift shopping but lately everything around me has been terribly expensive so I haven't even bothered. Plus it's not really fun going alone. And when I do get to a thrift store it's all...not good stuff?? If that makes sense. I never understand how people are so good at thrift shopping cause I can rarely find anything that matches and if it does match it's either too big or too small.

I just. I don't girl the way i'm supposed to. And I don't boy the way I want to. I don't even gay the way I want to gay. (in the sense that I really do look like a straight white girl. I wish I didnt. damn do i want to be a regulus black variant. can't even do that with my hair)

And even with pronouns. I don't like they/them for me. I look and act like a she/her so that one makes sense, and I've never really clicked with he/him. Maybe cause I don't feel like I look the part so it makes no sense to use it. All of my friends are long distance, and we only ever talk TO eachother so it's not like I'd ever hear it in practice to test it out. I don't know.

Maybe it's just my insecurities throwing all this around. Maybe i've been bullied or mocked or judged one too many times that now I don't even want to be perceived at all. I hate being perceived. Being noticed by random people quite possibly judging every move I make is horrifying. Add that to not enjoying being alone, well. Whoops.

So I don't know. I don't know what to do with myself. I can't make sense of any of it and I'm terrified of fucking something up. I know I shouldn't be. I know it's okay to experiment and see what fits me and what doesn't. Hair grows back, clothing styles change, even the sizes change. Bruises and scars heal, it's ok to fall down. I just..I feel like I can't let myself do any of it. I don't know why. Maybe a punishment of some kind. Not allowing myself to figure out who I am.

Maybe I'm so used to being what I'm not that it's become an unconscious thing I can't let go of. Just trapped in a bubble I didn't even realize I had been forced into until it was too late maybe. I don't know. I just don't know. I don't know where to start, I don't know what to do, I don't know how to do any of it and I just wanted to to be stopped. I want to be at the ends of this stupid long road and for it to be fixed.

I want it to go away.

(This kind of turned into a rant but if anyone has any advice I'd greatly appreciate it <3 happy new year btw!! heard some hella tea from my neighbors while writing this and that was very entertaining)

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notapaladin · 4 days

Text

wishes and horses and all the king's men

Lieutenant Malavai Quinn had once been foolish enough to believe in heroes. That was before he was trapped on Balmorra for ten years, where the Resistance undermines his Empire, his superiors are more interested in lining their own pockets than doing their jobs, and any hopes for the future are ground into dust before they can take wing. And then Lord Baras's new apprentice walks into his life.

or, quinn experiences the results of meeting the LS sith warrior (confusion, doubt, renewed sense of hope/purpose, falling at least a little in love, etc)

Also on AO3!

“If that’s your best, you’re useless to me. I can shoot you dead with a clear conscience. Is that what you want?”

“N-no, sir, sorry, sir—”

“Then focus, Jillins. Dismissed.”

Lieutenant Malavai Quinn has not been having a good day. Quite frankly, he has not been having a good decade, not since Druckenwell and Broysc and being relegated to this absolute shiteheap of a planet. He would not consider himself a particularly violent man, but this latest—incompetence of Corporal Jillins has pushed him dangerously close to the edge. His fellow officers are already useless at best and actively a hindrance at worse—he’d suspect some of them of treason, except he’s not sure even the Resistance deserves them—and now this? This? On the day Darth Baras’s new apprentice is set to arrive? She will be here any minute, and hardly anything is prepared—he’s going to offend a Sith—

He doesn’t put a hand on his blaster, but he is sorely, sorely tempted. Right, he thinks. Breathe. Ignore the pounding in your temples, the ache in your back that never goes away because the bunks here are apparently made of ferrocrete, the way you can feel yourself shrinking, rotting with each new dawn on this fucking planet. Breathe.

With the effort he’s spending reeling in his temper, he barely registers the approaching footsteps—low-heeled boots, plenty of traction, a light and easy tread. (In the years to come, he will be embarrassed by this.) He does, however, notice the voice. Low, feminine, a little husky—and hesitant, as though its owner thinks he’s going to snap at them, too.

“...I am not sure I particularly want to know what he did.”

He has an audience, and he’s already been rude. He exhales sharply, draws himself up, and turns to face the speaker. He represents the Empire and Lord Baras in all things. He will be professional.

His mind immediately divides into two. The cool, analytical part notes the physical features of the woman standing before him and extrapolates conclusions. Human, roughly 1.6 meters tall, medium-dark brown skin, impractically long white hair put up in a bun that makes it practical again. Scarring on throat and jaw consistent with strangulation, possibly responsible for the roughness in her voice. Twin lightsabers at her hips, ornate gold handguards gleaming. Pale yellow eyes. This, then, must be Baras’s new apprentice. Lady Yaellia, only child of House Ivros, twenty-two years old and recently graduated from the Korriban academy. At her age, he’d thought he’d had the world at his feet too. Of course, she’s probably going to turn out to be right, if she doesn’t turn out dead instead. At least she will have had glory first. It doesn’t matter; she is Sith, and his role is to serve.

The rest of it feels as though it’s been punched, because Lady Yaellia is stunning. He is no blushing virgin; he’s met his fair share of attractive people. (Not many, since Druckenwell. Poor lieutenants are not attractive prospects. Still.) But the red-and-white synthleather suit she’s wearing does not leave very much of her figure to the imagination, even if the only actual exposed skin is her collarbones. She has the muscles of a gymnast and the sort of thighs he is quite certain he could die happily between. Her mouth is almost distractingly full, moreso because she’s clearly forgone the elaborate makeup many Sith favor. There are tiny gold hoops in her ears and eyebrows that glitter as they catch the light, but they aren’t as bright as the eyes now locked on his.

Normally, eye contact would be near-painful—metaphorically if not literally, for among Sith it’s generally taken as a challenge. Normally, he focuses on peoples’ ears or eyebrows or interesting things just over their shoulders. But he holds her gaze for longer than two heartbeats and doesn’t want to look away. He’s as Force-sensitive as a brick, but her lips are parted and there’s a faint flush on her cheeks and he doesn’t need the Force to realize—

To realize it’s been a millisecond too long, and bow deeply before this can get awkward. More awkward. “I—apologize for the delay, my lord. Lieutenant Malavai Quinn. I’m to be your liaison here on Balmorra.”

She smiles. Or at least makes an expression that passes for a smile. “Apprentice Yaellia. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I hope to leave you in a better mood than that unfortunate young man back there.”

“Well, as long as you don’t piss in his cereal...” mutters the Twi’lek lounging against the doorway.

Malavai’s gaze snaps to her. Lord Baras’s communique had mentioned a slave, but no other identifying details. Looking at this alien, he can’t see any signs of servitude. She is tall and rangy and blue-skinned and notably not wearing a collar, though there are faint scars around her neck where one once lay. Her clothes are serviceable browns and tans with plenty of pockets, but he spots a name brand belonging to a high-end Kaas City sporting goods store. She is also wearing a headband in what he’s always privately thought to be the ugliest shade of chartreuse imaginable. Most importantly, she is carrying two blasters and dares to speak to a Sith as an equal. He grinds his teeth.

Lady Yaellia flushes harder and huffs, “Vette! Unhelpful!” And then she turns back to Malavai, clearing her throat with a faint wince. “Lieutenant Quinn, this...is Vette. My friend. Anything you have to say to me can be passed on to her as well.”

It is a decidedly odd exchange. He pushes it aside to be examined later at his leisure. “Understood, my lord. Lord Baras will brief you personally, but I’m to acquaint you with the climate here on Balmorra first.”

“By all means, go ahead. Ah—one moment—” He’s so unprepared for the sight that it takes him a moment to register the sight of her, not the alien, pulling out a datapad and stylus in clear preparation to take notes before flashing him a quick, encouraging smile that does something very strange to his chest. “I’m waiting.”

He tells her. It is...strange. Certainly not bad, but strange. He’s never had a Sith listen so intently and yet so politely. She asks clarifying questions and once or twice requests that he repeat things “a little more slowly, please, I—ah,” and a vague gesture at her ears that has him wondering if she has hearing problems even as his mind reels at hearing a Sith say please. She is either genuinely enthusiastic about this mission or a very, very good actress. She does not once make eye contact.

And then Lord Baras calls. He is excused. Whatever the details of the Sith’s true mission, it’s not for him to know.

But he stands just on the other side of the door, ears tuned to the sound of her voice—yes, my lord, of course, my lord, as you wish, my lord, meek and deferential as is proper—and his stomach drops as he remembers the briefing he’s read. She’ll be taking out the satellite control tower in the Markaran Plains, a veritable deathtrap of mechanical security. She is Sith, but...she is one woman. He doubts his aid will make a difference in her chances of survival.

Regardless, he must do his duty. He gathers his equipment before he is summoned back into the room, and this time he does not look at her face. She’s almost certainly going to die anyway. “My lord, I've prepared what you need for your assault. In order to destroy the mainframe, you'll mount this charge to the base and activate it. Then contact me for detonation.”

She studies the explosive charge he’s given her. He’d thought it was fairly small, but it takes both hands for her to hold it properly. “If it can be detonated remotely, couldn’t I do it? I’m sure you have more interesting things to do.”

He really doesn’t. More to the point, he’s quick to explain, “It would be safer if you were as far away as possible, my lord. There will be very little time to flee once it is armed.”

She hums thoughtfully, still looking at the charge and not at him. “I am very fast. But you are right. And...um. It is good of you to consider my safety, Lieutenant.”

His face goes hot. “Think nothing of it, my lord. It is my duty. Will you be leaving immediately?”

She shakes her head. “I’ve been requested to liaise with a Lieutenant Davrill regarding another operation. I’ll be around for a short while.” And then she half-turns to go, before pausing to focus her gaze on him. Well, on the Imperial flag behind his desk, but roughly in his direction. “One more question, if you don’t mind. Do you know an intelligence officer by the name of...Breerden?”

“Breerdin,” the Twi’lek corrects.

Yaellia coughs. “Yes. Him.”

He tries to keep his face impassive, but his lip curls anyway. “I have heard of him, my lord. Might I ask why?”

Immediately, he realizes he probably shouldn’t have asked that question. Not when it makes her eyes narrow and her back stiffen as she says crisply—coldly—“He wanted me to hush up the accidental death of a Chiss delegate by an Imperial officer. He offered to pay me to keep quiet about it. I want to know who to file a complaint with.”

For a moment, all he can do is blink at her. Sith do not file complaints. Not when they have lightsabers and the Force to do it for them. And they certainly have never lowered themselves to care about the rampant corruption and flouting of duties that is par for the course here on Balmorra. Particularly not when that corruption could be presented as necessary for Imperial interests—and he has no doubt Breerdin, the swine, did exactly that. “Uh,” he says finally. “That would be Major Bessiker, my lord. But there is no reason to trouble yourself; I can file the necessary datawork for you.”

She shakes her head firmly. “I’ll do it. He will listen to me.”

He won’t listen to you, Malavai hears. It’s the truth, but it still stings. “...Understood, my lord. Will that be all?”

Strangely, there’s color in her cheeks again. “Um. Yes. Thank you. I’ll be in touch.”

Only when she’s well and truly out of his office, with the door shut behind her—and he keeps his gaze firmly on the back of her head while she leaves, thank you very much—does he let himself fall out of parade rest and into his chair. For thirty-two seconds, he sits there and thinks.

This, then, is his lord’s apprentice. What a strange Sith.

(Quite unbeknownst to him, that strange Sith steps into the hallway and immediately grabs Vette’s arm, her eyes wide. “Vette.”

Vette raises an eyebrow, lekku curling warily. “Yeah?”

She takes a deep breath and blurts out, all in a rush, “Please, please tell me I sounded normal in there.”

The Twi’lek rolls her eyes. “You sounded fine. Why?”

Seemingly at a loss for words, Yaellia gestures back at Lieutenant Quinn’s closed door and makes a frustrated grumbling noise before finally spitting out, “Do you see him?! He looked at me with—with those eyes, and I forgot how words worked!”

Vette blinks slowly. “I’m sorry, him? The guy who looks like he’s stepped in bantha shit? The stick up that man’s ass probably has a stick up its ass.”

She turns immediately red. “You,” she sniffs, “have absolutely no concept of Imperial decorum. That man epitomizes it. It is extremely attractive.”

“So what’s the problem? You’re Sith. Imps practically worship you people. He’d probably be flattered if you hauled him into a supply closet.”

Yaellia chokes. (A stylus falls off Malavai’s desk.) “I’m fairly sure he prefers women who can—who can make eye contact and string together coherent sentences at the same time!”

Vette winces. Yeah, Yaellia’s always been shit at that in the weeks they’ve known each other. There’s only so much polite averting of gazes you can do before people realize it’s not just politeness. She reaches out and pats her friend/former master’s (for about five minutes) shoulder. “You’ll get your chance.”

Yaellia deflates. “I hope so,” she mutters. “Come on. Let us find Major Bessiker and perhaps a food cart. I am famished.”)

Malavai does not hear from Lady Yaellia for the rest of the day. This is fine.

He does, however, hear that II Officer Breerdin has been officially reprimanded and a full investigation into the death of a Chiss delegate on Imperial soil has been launched. It’s enough to lift his spirits, even if only slightly. There are standards to maintain, no matter what II says.

He works. He takes precisely twenty minutes for dinner in the officers’ mess, counting the time it takes him to walk there from his office. There’s no need for him to linger; it’s not as though he has friends to catch up with. Even if he did, what would he say? “I’ve met Lord Baras’s new apprentice,” invites distasteful gossip regarding the particulars, and he will not speculate on his superiors’ personal traits.

He chews on a roast nerf sandwich that not even Kaasian purple curry sauce can save and reflects that it is, after all, quite a long way to the Markaran Plains even in a very fast speeder. She might have only just arrived, and she will undoubtedly be busy. He must be ready to back her up.

The other denizens of the mess hall keep talking amongst themselves—idiot chatter about Huttball scores and relationships and mission gossip—and he’s suddenly sure that if he hears one more unauthorized sound he’ll shoot something. His sandwich isn’t worth finishing.

As he rises to dispose of it, he realizes that Lieutenant Davrill is eyeing him. Pointedly, he turns away.

Too late. Davrill is approaching. “Quinn.”

“Davrill.”

“What have you heard about that new apprentice of Lord Baras’s? You’ve met her, right?”

He stiffens, and now he makes eye contact. “I have, yes. Why?”

Davrill frowns. “Captain Rigel’s set her on Operation Breaking Point, down in Gorinth Canyon. She told us she’s working with you on some mission of her lord’s. I felt it appropriate to consider combining our efforts.”

He doesn’t know the particulars of Operation Breaking Point, but he knows enough. He’s suddenly regretting that sandwich. Baras would not take just any Sith as an apprentice, but the last report he’d received on rebel activity in Gorinth Canyon had used words like army and overwhelming force and too bloody many droids.

On the other hand, if she cannot triumph against overwhelming force, she is no Sith, and Lord Baras will have a new apprentice. One who will not, Emperor willing, cause even a whisper of inappropriate thoughts to cross his mind.

“...I trust she will be in contact with you if your aid is required,” he says, and steps out onto the pavement.

Sobrik is never quiet. As soon as he leaves the building, his ears are assaulted with speeder engines, pedestrians chatting, pedestrians arguing, and the horrible discovery that someone down the block has either been raised by gundarks or has never heard of the existence of headphones because they are very loudly blasting an InstaComm video. But outside doesn’t contain buzzing fluorescent lights or a humming HVAC system, so it’s almost worth it.

He exhales and rolls his shoulders, gazing up at the flat gray of the night sky. He wishes he had a cigarette, never mind that finances had forced him to quit years ago. The cold wind revives him like a slap.

Back to work, then. He has suspected Resistance comms to slice.

It is 2000 and he is about to go off-duty for the night when his comm chimes. Lady Yaellia’s frequency, audio-only. He all but lunges for it.

“Yes, my lord?”

She sounds tense. No, distressed. “What’s the comm frequency for a medevac? There’s an injured soldier here, and we don’t have enough kolto to patch him up!”

“I can still fight!” a distant male voice huffs.

“You can not,” she snaps. “You shouldn’t even be standing—I can see bone! I want you off your feet, Lieutenant! Vette, make him sit down!” With a huff, she turns her focus back to Malavai. “Lieutenant Rutau is the only survivor of—what did you say it was? Second Battalion, Besh Company, First Platoon? The droids in here are ruthless. I will be completing his mission for him, but I am not going to leave him here alone and injured.”

There’s a somewhat closer protest of, “My lord, you really don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do,” Yaellia says firmly. “Without good, brave Imperials like you, the Empire is nothing. You are who we fight for.”

Malavai blinks mutely at the wall, heart suddenly pounding. She sounds like—like something out of a storybook. His mother had read him stories when he was very young, before his brother was born; most of them featured heroic Sith, valiant and noble warriors who had been protective of the Imperials under their command, who had valued their lives as more than just blaster fodder. Who had believed in the Empire and everything it stood for, not just their own ambitions. He’d dreamed once of serving under a Sith like that, but as he’d grown older and wiser he’d realized there were no Sith like that. Maybe there were, during the Great War or the Long Flight—in the days of Naga Sadow or Odile Vaiken—but there are none now.

It seems Yaellia of House Ivros hasn’t gotten the memo. She’s still talking to Lieutenant Rutau, reassuring him that help is coming, that the mission will not fail, that he will be safe. That he’s been very brave.

He thinks, suddenly and abruptly, of the now-Lord Venditor, back when he had been Private Venditor under his command. Before Druckenwell, before the man had panicked and thrown a speeder at a Pub with his mind and been shipped off to Korriban. He’d been idealistic too. Kind. He’d spent a great deal of time worrying about his family’s tuk’ata-breeding business on Dromund Fels.

It hadn’t lasted. He’d been younger then than Lady Yaellia is now, but he’d adjusted quickly. Thrived, even. The last time Malavai had seen him, he had been the perfect Sith.

(The perfect modern Sith, not like this figure from the most fanciful myths.)

Slowly, his heart rate calms. She is young. Life has been kind to her. She will learn. Give it five or ten years, especially under Baras’s tutelage, and she’ll be as cruel as the rest of them.

In the meantime, she’s asked him a question, and he quickly pulls up her coordinates. “My lord?”

“Oh—yes?”

“I have your location and am calling in a medical transport from the nearest outpost now. It will arrive within the hour. For future reference, I am sending the medevac frequency to your datapad.”

“Oh, thank you!” Then, while he’s reeling from being thanked by a Sith, she turns to Rutau and says softly, “See? You’ll be fine. Now, do call me when they pick you up, alright? If I come back to nothing but a blood trail I shall worry.”

The Lieutenant mumbles something. Malavai’s not paying attention, because Yaellia’s speaking to him again. “I regret to say we might not get to the satellite control tower until tomorrow morning, but it shall be our first priority. You’ve been a great help so far, and I hope we’re not keeping you from your own rest.”

He swallows. “Ah—no, my lord. There is no need to concern yourself with me.”

She lets out a low hum. “...As you say,” she murmurs. “Well. Um. Good evening, Lieutenant.”

“Ah. Good evening, my lord.”

The call ends.

He stares at the wall for a long time, replaying his mother’s voice in his mind. The memories are thirty years old, but they might as well be yesterday.

“Long, long ago, when tuk’ata had fur...”

He shakes his head. He is overtired. It is time to call it a day.

Malavai Quinn’s mornings look like this:

At 0605, he rises. While cursing himself for oversleeping, he trudges to his closet-sized fresher to wash his face and wage the next battle in the never-ending war against his own beard, knowing it’ll be stubble again by the afternoon. If he’s not doing PT that day, this is also when he showers; otherwise, he puts it off until after his workout. Ablutions complete, he dons his uniform quickly and efficiently. Breakfast is tea and toast made on a range older than he is. There’s no commute to worry about; much of the military housing is concentrated near the spaceport. He has no lovers or pets or potted plants, and all his underlings know not to contact him unless the city is actively on fire. By 0700, he is in his office and starting his workday. After ten years, he has his morning routine down to a science.

Except today, at 0630, his work comm chimes. Since he is taking a sip of tea at the time this is nearly fatal, and he has ample time to reflect on how stupid and undignified a death it would have been as he clears his airways.

The comm is still chiming. Wheezing, he picks it up. No holo; he’s just gotten tea down his front and he’ll have to change his shirt before anyone is allowed to see him, no matter what the emergency is.

“Good morning, Lieutenant!”

He blinks slowly, a lapse he will blame on not having finished his tea yet. Lady Yaellia is astonishingly chipper. He wonders if this is the power of the Dark Side fueling her at an hour where the non-gifted are typically consumed with hatred for all life. “Uh. Good morning...? My lord,” he hastily adds.

“Apologies for the early call. I just wanted to tell you that we are setting out towards the satellite control center now, and expect to arrive within—Vette, map? Two hours.”

There is a distant groan within comm range. “You fly, I’m taking a nap...”

Irritation is a wonderful source of energy. Disgraceful. What kind of servant—she’d called the Twi’lek a friend, but surely there can be no friendship worth having with a lowly alien, one with a Republic accent that can peel paint—disrespects a Sith like that? And what kind of master allows it? He takes a deep breath and deliberately sets his anger aside until later, when it can serve him. “I will be ready, my lord.”

She hums happily. “Good. I’ll talk to you later.”

And then she ends the call. Still feeling slightly poleaxed, he downs the rest of his tea in a single swallow and goes to change his shirt. He’ll clearly have a long day ahead of him.

She isn’t the only operative he’s monitoring—he has a small squadron scouting the outskirts of the Balmorran Arms Factory, and another embedded deep in the Windswept Plateau tracking a Republic investigator’s movements—but none of them are Sith. Regardless of her feelings on the matter, she is the most important one. He sips tea from a thermos and watches dots on a half-dozen screens, marking time until he sees the dot that is Lady Yaellia approaching the satellite center. From there, it’s a simple matter to slice the security cams and watch her on holo. As he types in the command, he wonders how far she’ll get.

The holocam buzzes to life. For a moment, there is nothing out of the ordinary. Republic soldiers and Republic droids, both tense. The flickering of a laser fence just offscreen.

And then blaster shots ring out, and as the first droid falls there is a blur, and Lady Yaellia strikes the survivors like a thunderbolt.

Slowly, he sets his tea down. His mouth is dry, but he doesn’t think he can risk looking away. He can’t miss a second of her in motion.

He has seen more skilled Sith in action. He has seen Sith who were more powerful, more brutal. But Yaellia is a fine-tuned mixture of speed and grace, as agile as the best gymnasts. Her brilliant crimson sabers, red as blood, move so fast they leave afterimages when he dares to blink. She parries blaster bolts with ease, dancing around nearly every return blow; when she’s not quite fast enough, she snarls like a beast and he swears he can see the air ripple as she draws on her pain to fuel her strikes. As she advances through the station, Vette lays down cover fire, shooting into melee with the air of a woman who’s used to her partner’s fighting style.

And where they strike, Republic scum falls. Laser-cut metal and severed limbs litter the ground. The air is filled with the silence of the dead. It is glorious.

As Yaellia stops to arm the charges—panting raggedly, her hair falling out of her bun, her eyes sun-bright—he tells himself it is only patriotic fervor he feels. That his only desire in this moment is to be the one in Vette’s place, backing her up. That if he is breathing hard, fists white-knuckled on the edge of his desk, it’s only because of the rollercoaster that is watching her in combat.

And then Lord Baras calls, and he curses out loud before sucking in a breath that scorches his lungs and answering—with only a slight waver in his voice—“My lord?”

“Quinn,” Baras rumbles. “How fares my apprentice?”

He makes himself breathe evenly. “Very well, my lord. She is arming the charges at the satellite control center as we speak.”

“Good, good.” Baras hums thoughtfully, and then orders, “Put her on the line. It is time I gave her her next orders. You will find a holomail with details pertinent to you.”

He nods. “At once, my lord.”

When he calls Yaellia, she answers at the first ring. “Lieutenant?” she pants.

He swallows hard. “My lord, I mark your progress, and see that the charge is armed. I will detonate once you are at a safe distance. But first, I have Darth Baras on holo for you. I will retreat and leave the line secure.”

She huffs out an affirmative noise. He sets his comm down and turns to his holomail, which indeed does contain a short message from Lord Baras. It’s not much: a name, a location. He starts to wonder why in the Emperor’s name Baras is so concerned about an ensign, but decides he’s better off not knowing.

Baras ends the call, and he picks up. It’s still on holo, and he’s glad that the quality and scaling will mean it’s harder for him to give anything away. Not that there is anything for him to give away. Really. His mind is not at all replaying the arch of her back as she spun out of the way of a blaster bolt or the way her teeth bared in a snarl as she whirled to slice a droid in half.

She pushes her hair back from her face and almost smiles at him. Fuck.

He exhales sharply. Best to jump into it. “My lord, Ensign Durmat is being detained in the brig of the Republic crater outpost in Gorinth, awaiting questioning by the investigator Baras has me tracking. I will alert you if she appears to be heading there; I assume you wish to get to Durmat before she does.”

“Emperor willing,” she agrees easily. “What can you tell me about her?”

There is frustratingly little to tell. Wherever the Jedi found this investigator, she’s proof that they are capable of subtlety. “...She appears to be tailing one of the Republic's own—a Commander Rylon. I'm instructed to keep close tabs but stay out of her way.”

She nods, the holo bobbing up and down as she starts trotting back the way she came. “Good. We’ll be heading to the crater outpost now. Do you—do you want to stay on the line?”

“Do I want to—” He blinks at her. “Forgive me, my lord, I’m not sure why you’re asking?”

It’s Vette who answers, leaning into holoview with a smirk. “Boss lady figured you’d wanna watch this place get blown sky-high.”

Yaellia clears her throat. “Yes. That.”

He blinks again, and then feels his lips curve. “It would be my pleasure, my lord.”

So he stays on holo while the women jog back through the station, up an elevator (Yaellia demands, out loud, why nobody has ever heard of guard rails—“a rhetorical question, Lieutenant”), through hallways full of gore and shattered metal, and out into the shattered landscape of the Markaran Plains.

And then he detonates the charges. The eruption of metal and masonry in a ball of flame more than makes up for the assault on his eardrums, and when Yaellia lets out a victory whoop he finds himself grinning. The unused muscles ache.

“That was glorious!” Yaellia whoops, catching Vette in a sideways hug. “Well done, Lieutenant!”

Well done. A hot flush races over his skin, and it is briefly hard to catch his breath. His collar is too tight. Well done.

But there is still a job to do. He tears himself away from the sight of the destruction he’s wreaked and back to his console, where he quickly inserts a remote spike into the Republic crater outpost’s mainframe. It’s almost trivially easy; their backdoors are wide open for a slicer of his caliber. Getting into the actual security is somewhat more time-consuming, but eventually he manages it.

“I've managed to slice the security you'll need to breach the crater outpost,” he says finally. “Transmitting it now.”

Yaellia scrabbles at her belt for her datapad, smiling when she sees it. “Thank you, Lieutenant. Vette, I’m forwarding this to you.”

His part is over for now. He can breathe easily. Well, as easily as he has been so far, watching her. “Good luck on your mission, my lord,” he murmurs, and means it. “I'll be here if you need anything.”

Then, finally, he ends the call.

Hours pass like a kidney stone. He regrets having left Lady Yaellia to her own devices almost immediately; it’s a long way to Gorinth from where she is, and the Republic presence there is more heavily entrenched. But she survived whatever she was doing there for Operation Breaking Point, so she’ll probably be fine. He takes advantage of the lull to check in with his teams on the Plateau and the Arms Factory, relieved when they report that they’re following his orders not to engage. He supposes Jillins isn’t completely useless.

He’s about to eat lunch at his desk—a nutrient bar and more tea—when Lady Yaellia calls him again.

“Lieutenant Quinn?”

Even though she can’t see him, he sits up straighter. “Yes, my lord?”

“We’ve arrived at the crater outpost.” A pause. “...Do you...uh. Have a map of the area? It’s a bit...”

Vette interjects, “When they said it was a crater, they’re not kidding. It’s a kriffin’ nightmare down here.”

He clears his throat and pulls up the map he’s generated from sliced floor plans and aerial surveillance. Truthfully, he can understand the request; the crater is a warren of different levels and buildings, densely packed and heavily defended. “...I am forwarding it to your datapad now.”

“Oh, thank you!” Yaellia chirps. “You’re a blessing.”

He inhales so sharply he nearly chokes on his own spit. Bloody hell, why does she keep saying things like that?!

It’s only when he hears blaster fire at the other end of the comm that he realizes Yaellia has forgotten to turn it off. His mind spins. He should hang up. That would be the right thing to do. But he’s meant to be observing her, and she had asked him to be in touch in case she needs him...

He stays on the line. He keeps listening, though he does turn the volume down before the cacophony makes him lose his mind.

He notices immediately when the fighting stops and Yaellia’s footsteps slow, though he has to increase the volume again to catch the sound of two men speaking from what seems to be the next room.

“Pipe down, Durmat. There's something going on outside. I'm trying to listen.”

“Come on, Zixx, throw me a bone. Who's this agent that's comin' to interrogate me? At least answer that, will ya?” There’s a pause. Some muttering he can’t catch.

And then, in tones of anguish, “All right, all right, I ain't proud, I give! My dad's an Imperial agent!”

“Commander Rylon?!”

Ice fills Malavai’s veins. He thought he’d known all of Lord Baras’s assets stationed on this planet. It wouldn’t do to kill one of his allies by mistake, after all. He won’t give Lord Baras any reason to question either his loyalty or his usefulness. Rylon must have slipped in telling his son; surely that’s why Yaellia has been sent after the boy. But the man’s been a thorn in the Empire’s side for years—decades—and he’s never pulled a punch. He must have been a flawless spy.

And now Baras is having his son killed. Rylon will almost certainly be next. That makes no sense, unless this investigator on his tail is close to exposing him...

Or Rylon has outlived his usefulness.

Malavai’s hands go numb. Dimly, he registers a faint squeaking noise, and then realizes he’s shaking so hard that his chair is rattling. It doesn’t feel like a thing that’s happening to him.

No. He is loyal. He has always been loyal. He is no threat. He would die before he betrayed Lord Baras, and Lord Baras knows this.

(It wouldn’t be enough to save him. He knows this, too.)

Rushing footsteps knock him back to reality, back into his own body. He almost misses Yaellia’s pained-sounding “Really?!”

Zixx is gloating. “Take a look, Sith. That’s what two squads of the Republic’s finest look like.”

Yaellia sucks in a noisy breath. “Drop your weapons and stand aside,” she snaps. “Or die.”

Malavai blinks at the screen in front of him. That had sounded disturbingly like she was offering them a choice. A trick, surely. She’s trying to induce them to lower their guard before she strikes. She can’t possibly mean that. He can’t square it with the woman who had fretted—yes, fretted—over the Lieutenant Rutau now recuperating at the Markaran outpost.

It doesn’t work, anyway. The ensuing combat is remarkably short. So much for the Republic’s finest, he thinks with a scoff.

And then the stupid ensign is babbling, pleading for his life. Malavai does his best to ignore it, aided by the priority holomail he’s just gotten from his Plateau squad requesting backup against Pub war droids. By the time he arranges it, the ensign has finished up with, “Uh...I’m not exactly sure where I was goin’ with that. Please don’t kill me!”

You fool, Malavai thinks. She may be uncommonly...considerate of her underlings, but Lady Yaellia is a Sith. She would never dream of sparing Republic scum. And she certainly wouldn’t disobey her Master’s direct order.

And yet she says, “I’m willing to consider alternatives. Is there another solution?”

He’s honestly not sure he’s heard her correctly. But as he listens further, he realizes he has. He finds himself grateful to already be sitting down.

Durmat does, in fact, have a solution. The Republic has developed a memory-altering drug that leaves its victims a blank slate. Evidently, this was not the intended use, and it’s been slated for destruction because the Republic are idiots. He can think of half a dozen things he could use it for without blinking.

“...I’ll overdose and not know nothin’ no more. That way my dad’s secret identity is safe!”

Yaellia is silent for a long moment. Malavai tenses. Any moment, he expects to hear the hum of a saber igniting.

Finally, she replies, “Good idea. Where is it?”

The idiot ensign babbles some more, but Malavai’s barely listening even though he knows he should—a memory-wiping drug of such magnitude could be a great boon to the Empire. This is...insane. Bizarre. Such—mercy, such compassion, for an enemy? For the Republic? He isn’t sure what the tight, bilious feeling in his chest is. He knows hatred and jealousy, they are old bedfellows, but this sickens him. He doesn’t think he’s felt like this since Broysc. His hands hurt, and he realizes he’s been clenching his fists hard enough to leave half-moon indents in his palms.

He comes back to himself when he realizes Yaellia is speaking to Vette.

“The Republic talk about their moral superiority, and they create this? Hypocrites! We should burn this place to the ground and salt the ashes!” There’s a sharp thud, as though she’s punched a wall.

“...I dunno. Shit like this? Could be useful. Or at least, y’know, lucrative. I can think of a few memories I’d rather forget.”

A pause. Then, so quiet he almost doesn’t hear it, “...As can I. Come, let’s bring this back to him. Oh, and a change of trousers.”

He’s getting another call—from the Arms Factory, this time—so he listens with half an ear to the sounds of the two womens’ footsteps and whatever short, asinine conversation they’re having with Ensign Durmat as the drug is administered while the rest of his focus splits between uploading an uncorrupted version of the data spike his team needs and the nauseous fury constricting his throat.

“Who are you?” the ensign asks hesitantly.

Yaellia’s voice goes...strange. Soft. Gentle, he realizes, though his mind is almost numb to the further shock of it. “That doesn’t matter. Who are you?”

Now the ensign sounds nervous. “I don’t—I don’t know. I don’t know who I am. Can...can you tell me?”

Malavai can just make out the creak of synthleather. He wonders if Yaellia has knelt in front of the boy’s cell, hand outstretched to soothe him like a frightened animal. His stomach clenches.

“Don’t let anyone tell you who you are,” she murmurs. “You have to figure that out for yourself. Be brave, and walk in strength and in joy.”

The two women walk away. He’s aware that they’re talking quietly between themselves, but he suddenly can’t bear to listen. It’s all too much.

So he mutes them, knowing the risk he’s taking but figuring he will be contacted if he’s really needed, and just stares into space. His hands are shaking again.

She disobeyed Lord Baras. That is...that is treason. But our lord did not specifically say to kill the boy...and he has been silenced...

And her voice, soft and firm all at once, resolute as a fairytale heroine facing down a wounded krayt dragon. He’s never heard a Sith sound like that. He hadn’t imagined they could. It hurts something deep inside him.

He is jolted out of his reverie by a sharp buzz on his comm and Yaellia’s crisp, “Lieutenant Quinn, are you there?”

He’s tongue-tied for a heartstopping moment, and then forces out, “Affirmative. How can I be of assistance, my lord?”

She lets out an amused huff. “I just wanted to let you know that the mission was a success. Vette and I are on our way back to Sobrik now. Please consider yourself off-duty until then.”

He swallows. “Understood, my lord. I will—I will see you upon your return?” Stars, he sounds pathetic. He shouldn’t have made it a question. Now she’ll know he’s rattled.

She chuckles. It seems she doesn’t, or at least isn’t mentioning it. “Count on it, Lieutenant!”

And then she hangs up, and he isn’t sure what to do with his hands. He is not off-duty; he still has troops to monitor. He should get back to that.

Instead he rises, goes to his desk in the adjacent room—it serves as both a private office for more delicate conversations and a makeshift sleeping chamber on long shifts—and pours himself half a glass of wine from his emergency stash. It’s terrible wine, halfway to vinegar and not in a good way, but it will stop him from trembling through the next six hours of his shift like a tooka that’s heard the cleaning droids. Maybe it will even help him make sense of what he’s heard.

One thing is for sure: Lady Yaellia is nothing like what he’d expected. He’s tempted to write it all down, get it out of his head, but he stops himself. Text files can be incriminating. His own mind will have to do.

Slowly, he lays out the facts. On the one hand, Lady Yaellia is greatly skilled in combat and perfectly willing to slay enemies of the Empire. She displays bravery, honor, and compassion towards Imperial soldiers, all exemplary qualities. On the other, she also extends those same qualities towards members of the Republic, which is quite frankly insane. They hate us, he wants to scream. They wouldn’t hesitate to wipe us from existence, to finish the job Pultimo started. And you let them live?!

He slams his fist on the table. Now he has sore knuckles and an aching heart. Deep breaths help the latter. He closes his eyes, willing himself to focus. To think about this logically. Perhaps it is...he will call it tactically unsound, it doesn’t do to consider a Sith a few currants short of a plum pudding, but the mission was unquestionably a success. Moreover, her actions showed an impressive willingness to think outside the box and adapt to new information. He doesn’t have to like it to understand the reasoning. As for her motive...well, perhaps she was moved to pity. Stranger things have happened. Mostly in folktales, but they have. He vaguely remembers one about a tuk’ata pup with a cactus spine in its paw that seems applicable.

“Be brave, and walk in strength and in joy.”

He sets his empty glass down and returns to his main office. He has work to do, no matter how much Lady Yaellia’s words tug at his mind.

He writes up a report for Lord Baras and doesn’t realize until he’s halfway through the holomail that he has no idea what to say. He cannot lie to Lord Baras, of course. He’ll be found out immediately. And Lady Yaellia has disobeyed their master; he should be made aware of that. It would please him and raise his estimation of Malavai.

But Malavai has seen what happens to Sith who displease their masters. He’s seen plenty of smoking corpses, seen Lord Venditor’s fresh scars. And with a sense of nostalgia bordering on pain he remembers the myth of Lord Umbraline, brought down in her prime by a beloved, treacherous underling for the sake of their own advancement. That underling’s fate makes for a moral lesson to all baby Imperials never to betray their superiors. He doubts Yaellia would weep over his severed head.

So he puts down, The mission was a success. Ensign Durmat has been permanently silenced, and leaves it at that. It’s nothing but the truth.

Approximately five hours and forty-five minutes after Lady Yaellia’s last contact with him, he realizes he has been a fool—or at the very least, he’s committed the crime of drawing conclusions with grossly incomplete information. He’ll have to apologize when she returns. Normally, such a thought would tie his stomach in knots, but he rather doubts she’ll react with summary execution.

Still, when she walks in the door six hours and fifteen minutes after her last call, he is glad that the parade rest he slips into hides his faint tremor.

“My lord.” His voice is even. He’s proud of himself for that.

It’s been nearly two days since he’s seen her, and the battles she’s fought have left their mark. There’s a rip in her catsuit at the shoulder, showing the white lining, and her hair shows all the marks of having been hastily scooped into an approximation of her previous bun. Dirt has been ground into the seams of her gloves and the knees of her trousers. She’s taken out her piercings at some point, so there is nothing to distract him from her bright eyes. He barely even notices Vette trailing her.

Especially when she says, “Lieutenant Quinn. I hope you’ve been well?”

He nods. “Yes, my lord. Thank you. Ah. Permission to speak freely?”

She visibly swallows, shifting her weight. Were she not a Sith, he would say she was awkward. “Of course.”

He inhales. “I must be honest. Your success at the satellite listening center and Republic outpost has...surprised me, my lord. I computed the likelihood of success as nearly negligible. In my assessment, however, I only considered the capabilities of a typical Sith.”

He fixes his gaze somewhere around her left ear and continues, “Clearly, you are not a typical Sith. I will adjust future calibrations to account for your...unprecedented abilities.” Creative thinking. Mercy. Compassion. You act like a warrior from legend, my lord, and I wonder where it will take you.

She looks stricken, a dark blush spreading across her cheekbones. And then she grins, an expression of such pure delight he has to look away. “Lieutenant Quinn, you know just what to say!”

“...I’m not too proud to acknowledge when I’m mistaken,” he mutters, feeling his own face burn. He wishes it was just shame at his miscalculation; he is far too old to be blushing like a schoolboy because a pretty girl’s smiled at him, for the Emperor’s sake.

Vette coughs. “So, didja tell Baras all about how awesome we are yet?”

He meets her eyes deliberately. “Lord Baras has been informed, yes. I will alert Lady Yaellia at once when I receive a response.”

More annoyingly, she doesn’t even seem fazed. She actually has the nerve to roll her eyes. “Good to hear it. Hopefully it won’t be ‘till tomorrow, we need our beauty sleep.”

“It won’t be the first time I’ve stayed up all night,” Yaellia says simply.

Vette gives her a very pointed stare. “Ya-ell-i-a.”

She heaves an exaggerated sigh. “Ugh, you’re right. Lieutenant, I’m sorry I cannot stay longer, but someone insists I eat three meals a day and sleep in a real bed, and I wouldn’t want to impose on your personal time.”

“’Sides, we haven’t even seen any of Sobrik yet!” Vette adds, seeming to cheer up as soon as she’s told she won’t need to actually do her job for a while. As she slings an arm around Yaellia’s shoulders, she continues, “C’mon, I heard the Sunken Sarlaac is fun. Maybe we’ll see you there, LT!”

He could have died happily without ever hearing her call him LT. He takes a deep breath, lets it out through his nose, and says firmly, “Thank you, but no. I have work to finish up.”

It’s not a lie. And it certainly has nothing to do with any parts of his mind that may or may not be wondering what Lady Yaellia would look like during a night out—how she might wear her hair, if she prefers dresses or suits, if she would wear ever more elaborate jewelry—never mind that she fixes her gaze on the flag behind him and says briskly, “Of course, Lieutenant Quinn. I’ll leave you to it.”

He doesn’t normally work out at night, but as she leaves he decides he will make time to visit the base’s gym for an hour. The movement and exertion will settle his mind. So will the shower afterwards.

The very cold shower.

The next day, he wakes to a sore shoulder and a priority holomail and has very possibly never dressed so quickly in his life. He doesn’t even bother shaving. The hour between when he sees Lord Baras’s reply and when Lady Yaellia steps into his office passes in a blur. It’s slightly cheering to notice that she doesn’t have any of the signs of a woman who’s spent the night partying, unlike her visibly half-asleep companion.

After the initial exchange of pleasantries, he jumps right into it. “Lord Baras is pleased. He says it's time to zero in on your prime directive, and he awaits your contact. My office is yours; the line is secure.”

She nods. “Thank you.”

As she and Vette walk into the next room, he sits down at his console to go over the information he has about their target. There’s a lot to sift through, but much of it just needs to be collated and bulleted. Though he wishes he’d known the plan ahead of time, he’s always been good at making quick decisions. The surveillance and reconnaissance team he’s set on the Jedi’s investigator is highly skilled; thanks to the bugs they’ve placed, there isn’t a move she makes that he isn’t aware of.

Finally, he nods to himself. This will do. Anything else can be adjusted on the fly. Lady Yaellia has proven herself exceptionally skilled at that.

“...summoned Lieutenant Quinn. He’ll prepare you for your final task.”

That’s his cue. As Baras’s holo fades from view, Malavai steps in, fighting the urge to smooth down his hair. “Your final target is the Balmorran Arms Factory, recently captured by resistance forces. An incursion into the Factory will be a monumental feat. I’m excited by the prospect of you laying waste to that place.”

Vette elbows her and Yaellia perks up, face flushed and eyes gleaming. “...Oh, I excite you?”

Belatedly, he realizes his words could potentially be interpreted in a shockingly inappropriate way. If a subordinate spoke like that to him, he’d have them flogged. He all but stumbles over his next words, praying they spare him further humiliation. “W-well, what I meant was...when I imagine all the ways you will shape the galaxy, it is—very exciting, yes.”

Is it his imagination, or does she look disappointed? But there’s still that smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “You’re all red, though.”

Red? He probably looks like a prize Kaasian tomato. “Your question was—a bit surprising, my lord. I assure you that my mind is on the task at hand.”

Her eyebrows go up. “Was it? Surprising, I mean. Here I thought you wouldn’t let anything cross you by surprise.”

“Very few things do,” he mutters. “You...seem to have a knack for it.” That’s putting it mildly. He feels better about the shock of yesterday for having slept on it, but he’s always hated the unexpected. It so rarely works out for him.

She blushes again, dropping her gaze. He’s never before been tempted to call a Sith cute. Once again, professionalism will save him. He clears his throat and asks, “May I continue to brief you on the Balmorran Arms Factory, my lord?”

”Please,” she mutters.

He continues the briefing. Again, she takes notes. But when he gets to his description of Rylon’s personal guard, she comments, “You sound like you admire them.”

There’s no judgment in her tone or in her eyes, but there doesn’t need to be. He feels ill. “Only their tactical exploits, my lord. It will be a bright day on Balmorra when they are eliminated.”

That, apparently, is that. As she nods and goes to put her datapad away, he clears his throat. “One final thing, my lord. The investigator the Jedi sent has been concentrating her activity in the area. I have her under minute-by-minute surveillance and will contact you at once if she becomes a problem.”

She smiles at him. “Sounds like a plan. Thank you, Lieutenant.”

She keeps thanking him, just for doing his duty. His gut is a hot, squirming thing. “No need to thank me, my lord. I will be here to salute you when the Balmorran Arms Factory is a smoking husk.”

“I know you will.” She turns to go, only to immediately arrest her movement and ask, “Lieutenant?”

Vette groans. Both of them ignore her. “Yes, my lord?”

She glances back at him and reaches up to fiddle with her earrings. She’s put her gold hoops back in. “I do apologize for my curiosity, but I couldn’t help but notice...that is...you have a great deal of Sith opera recordings in here. Do you have a favorite?”

The question is so unexpected that he can’t bite back an honest reply. “I think you might have done as well to ask me if I’ve a favorite limb, but I’ve always been partial to Shkai’ven Shasôt—”

Yaellia lets out a little gasp and whirls to stare at him, eyes wide. “I’ve seen that! The 400th anniversary run, at the Grand Kaas Opera House—Taral’s aria, I don’t think there was a dry eye—” She’s gesturing as she talks, presumably the cause of several datapads sliding around on his desk.

Emperor preserve him. She likes opera. In a flash of insight, he realizes why her words from the previous day had been so familiar; they’re a direct translation from the famous Soldiers’ Chorus in the second act. His parade rest has become a medical necessity, because otherwise he’d have to find a chair. “I could not be in the city for the 400th anniversary,”—he’d been here, cursing his life—“but I was fortunate enough to witness Janrit Haskerl’s first performance as countertenor for that role, and even then I can assure you there was not.” The memory brings an old pang with it; he’d been so young. His father had been alive and on leave, and not even his baby brother kicking the back of his seat had dimmed the wonder of watching the curtain go up.

She’s gazing at him with open fascination. “That must have been incredible! I can’t imagine it—you must tell me everything. Oh, but what did you think of Tev Ralon’s early years; I thought their voice has improved with age, but you know what recordings are like, it’s just not the same.”

He can’t remember the last time anyone’s asked for his opinion on any personal interests. He can’t remember the last time anyone suggested he might have personal interests. It takes him a moment to find words. “I—must agree, my lord. At first, I judged them to be rather weak and reedy, not powerful or commanding enough to sing Lord Tanari’s part with the gravitas it deserves, but I find myself glad that they were given the chance to grow into it. I suppose you never can tell.”

“Exactly!” Stars, she’s so animated it hurts to look at her. The datapads hitting the floor are a problem for later. “I haven’t been able to go to the opera since before I was sent to Korriban; I’m dying to see how it’s changed. I hear they’ve recently finished some lovely new renovations for better acoustics—and gotten rid of those dreadful jade green curtains, what were they thinking—and they’ve shuffled the stage crew around so more of them will be able to handle the Force effects. Their new conductor is no Van Chkristi, but he comes highly recommended from the Ziosti Gardens. You should go there next time you have leave!”

His ears burn. He doesn’t get that much leave, and even if he did his pay won’t stretch to the cost of a ticket anymore. Not if he also wants to buy groceries that week. But she’s so enthusiastic, so happy, he decides not to say any of that. “I will certainly consider it, my lord.”

Vette clears her throat. “Boss, maybe you wanna let him consider it while we get moving? It’s a long way to this outpost we gotta be at.”

Malavai could strangle her.

Even more so when Yaellia deflates and mutters, “Ah. Yes. Thank you for reminding me.” She shoots him a hopeful glance. “We must make time to continue this discussion later.”

Later. How long has it been since he’s had something to look forward to? The thought makes an unfamiliar bubbly feeling rise in his chest.

“It would be my pleasure,” he says, and means it with all his heart.

(Opera. He supposes that goes some way towards explaining her idealism, but somehow he cannot fault her. When he was young, he’d been inspired even by the tragedies.)

The data spike he’s had planted in the Jedi investigator’s comm network is showing increased activity. Frowning, he traces it. Near the Arms Factory, and getting closer. Should he warn Lady Yaellia? No, he thinks after a moment. She’ll be at the Sundari Outpost by now, and he doesn’t want to distract her. He’s been informed there’s a new Darth in residence.

As if summoned by the mere thought of her, his comm chimes. “Lieutenant Quinn?”

He isn’t sure he likes the wary tone in Yaellia’s voice. “Yes, my lord?”

“Have you ever heard of a Darth Lachris? The—the new planetary governor.”

He’s not surprised the old one is dead—the man was never competent—but there’s a twist in his gut at the way she says it. It must have been extremely recent. “I have, my lord. She studied under Darth Marr and is a veteran of the sacking of Coruscant.”

There’s nothing but the low rumble of a speeder engine; she must be in the air. “I see,” she says eventually.

“Might I inquire as to why you’re asking?”

There’s a definite intake of breath. “Oh, I’ve just...met her, that’s all. I was curious. She wants me to—to take down Grand Marshall Jacketta—”

“—Cheketta!” Vette calls.

“—You know my auditory processing is utter pants, Vette!—so killing Commander Rylon might take a trifle longer than expected.”

He nearly suggests texting or holomail if that would be easier for her, but bites his tongue. If she hasn’t requested accommodations, it’s hardly his place. “I have every faith you will succeed, my lord.”

She lets out a sharp huff. “You honor me. I’ll be in touch.”

“I await your word, my lord.”

She hangs up first. He turns his focus to the incoming calls from his away teams, grinding his teeth. No, they are not to engage unless discovered, no matter how tempting it is. Their goal is stealth. He is relieved to find that at least they’re tracking the targets he’s sent them after. The Jedi investigator has a codename—Sunshrike—but it doesn’t match to any encrypted strings in his database. The spike they’ve uploaded is picking up her increasingly irritated comments regarding an incursion into the Arms Factory. Lady Yaellia, he thinks, and exhales. He digs deeper, hunting for more information. His tea thermos goes colder and emptier.

Where are you? Who are you?

He’s starting to develop a headache by midafternoon—he’s worked straight through lunch—but having a puzzle to unravel at least keeps his mind off of honorable Sith with a passion for opera and an unusual sense of mercy. He welcomes it. The security systems of the Arms Factory itself prove frustrating to break into, but when he finally taps into Sunshrike’s personal network he is rewarded with quiet breaths and the echos of her typing, interspersed with the occasional Republic-accented, “Damn.”

He smirks to himself. Victory.

And then Yaellia calls him, her voice shaking. “Quinn?”

His heart seizes. He doesn’t want to know what could unsettle a Sith. But he must remain calm, for her sake. “Yes, my lord?”

She gulps. “We have very—very explicit confirmation of Republic involvement. I just fought a Jedi. And where there’s one, there will likely be more.”

A Jedi. He exhales sharply, wondering if they had fought in the last war. If they’d borne his father’s blood on their hands. “I suspected as much. Your confirmation is appreciated, my lord.” He almost asks if she’s well, but he’s afraid of what he might do if she says no.

“Right,” she says, and takes a deep breath. “Right. We will continue our assault, then, and contact you when the factory falls.”

There’s a click as she hangs up. He returns to Sunshrike, digging through her personal files. It takes a while, and he’s only peripherally aware of the news crackling in from the Arms Factory as he works. Republic ships are being violently decommissioned. The Resistance is in disarray. Something about a swarm of Colicoids. The Resistance Grand Marshall is dead—no, he’s only in custody. The man’s publicly denouncing the Republic and they didn’t even have to torture him first. The Balmorran “governor,” Vol Argen, is definitely dead.

At any other time, he’d celebrate. A name. Give me a name.

He doesn’t get a name. As the sun lowers outside his office he gets a tinny burst of secondhand static, and then the sound of a man speaking. Sunshrike whispers, “Finally,” to herself.

“What do we know of the enemy?” the man says, and then snaps, “I can see that, Captain. Shut up. Sith, I know why you're here. Be aware that these are the finest troops I've commanded in all my decades of duty.”

Indistinct speech. The man snorts. “My men and I would be disappointed if you did. Captain Eligyn, engage at will and hold the line. I'm coming with reinforcements. Rylon out.”

Malavai makes himself breathe evenly. After everything he’s seen Lady Yaellia do, she’ll be fine. More importantly, Sunshrike is moving. He fires off a call to his nearest squad leader. “Target is en route. Do not lose her.”

There’s a chorus of affirmatives, but he barely registers them. Sunshrike has live audio on what is almost certainly Yaellia’s confrontation with the Republic forces, and for long minutes all he can hear is the hum of sabers and the crack of blaster fire. It grows steadily louder, suggesting Rylon really is coming—alone. There is only the one set of footsteps. When the fighting dies down and the man snaps, “Enough of this. Just put him out of his misery, Sith,” Malavai tenses.

“Confess to him first,” Yaellia says flatly. “He deserves the truth.”

Shit. The worst part of it is, he’s not even surprised. Disappointed, yes—this is quite frankly the worst time her bizarre storybook-heroine tendencies could have come to the fore—but after what he’s seen of her so far he was practically expecting it. More importantly, the investigator’s position is converging on his troops. Almost there...almost...

A blaster shot rings out, and Commander Rylon sighs heavily. “It's unfortunate they were on the wrong side. They were excellent soldiers, and exceptional men. It was difficult betraying them—you can't bleed with a man and not form a bond—yet with their defeat, the Empire's cause is advanced.”

“You should have recruited them,” Yaellia says coldly.

“...I followed Baras's orders to the letter,” he mutters. “Recruitment was never my purpose here. I served for the glory of the Empire.” With a sigh, he continues, “But the life of a spy is a slippery one. In essence, I had to become a Republic soldier, and I've done things against the Empire that have sickened me.”

Yaellia takes a slow breath. “For the greater good.”

“Lieutenant!” Jillins on holo, frantic. His voice comes slightly doubled from the tap he’s put on Sunshrike. “She’s here—she has a lightsaber—”

“Delay her,” he growls.

“But she’s—she’s a Jedi—”

He could punch the man. If they weren’t separated by hundreds of kilometers, he might. Some of his rage must show on his face, because the man flinches. “Did I stutter, Jillins? You don’t need to kill her, but she must not be allowed to reach her allies!”

There’s already blaster fire in the background. Jillins whirls to return fire, barely stammering out an, “Of course, sir—” before dropping the call.

Not that it matters. He isolates that channel from the tap and amplifies the one on Rylon. He almost regrets it, because Rylon’s not dead yet.

At least his voice sounds labored. Agonized. Malavai can only hope his death is swift; he deserves that, at least. “Tell Lord Baras...it has been my great honor to serve him.”

He can’t hear Yaellia’s response, but he suspects he knows what it is. The hum of her saber is confirmation enough.

He should call her. Warn her.

But it will have to wait, because he has soldiers to direct. He hopes they remain competent under duress; their orders are very simple, but he’s learned not to underestimate the depths of their stupidity. He curses every second of comm latency as he watches the Jedi’s location draw closer.

It takes nearly half an hour before he can send a holocall to Lady Yaellia. She is bloodstained and beautiful even in the middle of some nondescript factory hallway, but he can think about that later. “My lord, we've got trouble. I heard your entire conversation with Commander Rylon.”

She draws back, frowning down at him. A lock of hair falls in her face. “Have you been spying on me, Lieutenant?”

His face burns. “No, my lord!” Not intentionally, at any rate. “As I told you, I've been surveilling the Jedi investigator—”

“...Oh,” she mutters, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Never mind, then. What’s the matter?”

He takes a breath. “She bugged Rylon's quarters. She knows everything, my lord.”

“Well, fuck,” Vette comments. He hates that he agrees.

Yaellia falls silent, staring at him. Her eyebrows knit together as she lets out a very quiet, heartfelt, “Bugger.” At a normal volume, she continues, “And now so do you. You’re in grave danger, Lieutenant.”

It doesn’t sound like a threat. It sounds like concern. He lets out a breath. “Yes, but I pose no risk to Lord Baras. If she gets away, she'll expose everything. She was heading to her ship, but I had my men cut her off from the Republic landing bay.” He’s just gotten the report that they were successful, with only one casualty. Not Jillins, sadly. “I am systematically blocking her avenues of transmission and escape, herding that Republic scum to her only hope—the spaceport at Sobrik.”

“Sobrik?!” she demands. “That’s ours! How does she think she’s going to survive?”

“My men report that she's wielding a lightsaber, my lord. It is very likely that she is a Jedi Knight.”

If the comm wasn’t floating in midair, Yaellia would have dropped it. She jerks, eyes wide. “No.”

“Yes. Unless you stop her, she's more than capable of fighting her way through the spaceport and commandeering a ship. I'll be able to delay the Jedi long enough for you to engage, but—”

“Don’t you dare,” she snaps.

He blinks at her. “My lord?”

“Don’t even think about putting yourself in the way of that Jedi! She’ll kill you, Lieutenant. I can’t—I refuse to let that happen. Put roadblocks, keep the civilians out of the way, do not make direct contact. We have to protect the people of Sobrik!”

He swallows, recognizing the emotion coursing through him as shame. A storybook warrior. She is what Sith should be. “...I...see your point, my lord. I will gather my remaining men and meet you at the spaceport.”

She exhales. “Yes. Do that. And don’t worry, Lieutenant. I’ll be there as soon as I can. You have my word.”

It is one thing to simply put a military base on high alert for approaching hostiles. That is easy. Turning that military base into a trap for a lone Jedi while also ensuring that the civilian population is safe, and that no actual Imperial soldiers are put in harm’s way? Somewhat more difficult. The roadblocks are simple, but having the base put under lockdown requires him to stand in front of Major Pirell and play the recording of his men under attack before the order finally goes out, and by then he’s lost hours.

The only saving grace is that he’s successfully delayed the Jedi. He has time.

During a brief lull in the chaos, his comm buzzes. Outgoing transmission, reads the spike still active on the Jedi’s comm. He doesn’t hesitate before rerouting it to his own and hitting “play.”

The Jedi turns out to be a human woman, her hood half-hiding her face. Through the layer of digital noise left over from decryption, he makes out, “This is Jedi Knight Mashallon. Nomen Karr’s Padawan was correct. We have traitors in our ranks.”

He’s never even heard of Nomen Karr; individual Jedi tend to blend together in a sort of sanctimonious brown-beige haze. But if they’re a Jedi of any importance, there will be a dossier. He spends a few minutes searching until one comes up, frowning as he skims through the Jedi master’s long career. A career, he notices, that seems particularly focused on opposing Lord Baras. This could be a problem.

“Uh. Sir?”

He takes a deep breath before addressing Jillins, who’s appeared by his side on top of his lookout post when he wasn’t looking. “Report. And it had better be important.”

Jillins gulps, staring somewhere past him. “You said to alert you when Lady Yaellia or—or that Jedi gets here, and um. The Jedi’s been spotted.”

“Good. You have your orders.” He sends a quick text to confirm—yes, the barricades have been placed and the civilians are off the streets with guards stationed at regular intervals. Yaellia will be pleased.

Jillins nods stiffly. “R-right.”

They stare through their binoculars into the darkening street as the lights come on, both straining for the sight of a glowing lightsaber. Malavai squints, trying to figure out if that flicker in the far distance is a faulty streetlight. When his comm doesn’t flash with mission updates, he decides it probably is.

Jillins mutters, “I hope Lady Yaellia catches up soon. She’s amazing.”

“Have you met her, or are you drawing yet another conclusion based on secondhand information?”

Jillins flushes and stares at his feet. “Well, I haven’t met her, sir, but—she wiped out an entire rebel base by herself! And took down that Grand Marshall! That’s—that’s pretty amazing, right...?”

There’s a steady light in the distance. He raises his binoculars and spots flowing robes and a lit saber. Jedi. “You aren’t wrong,” he mutters. Stars, he’s agreeing with the boy. His life really has changed.

They wait. Mashallon’s been divested of her speeder at some point, so she creeps from shadow to shadow on foot. It’s eerie. Where any normal person in a similar situation would startle at every movement, she only glances disinterestedly when rustlings in dumpsters turn out to be rakkons. Can Jedi see through stealth generators? Sense his troops somehow? If he gives into the temptation to pull the trigger, will they all be slaughtered in an instant?

Next to him, Jillins is practically vibrating. He hisses, “Hold, Corporal.” He won’t risk it.

Mashallon crosses the empty square unimpeded. She steps into the spaceport, where she’ll find a maze of barricades and droids to slow her down. Long minutes drag by.

His datapad lets him know he has a text. Without looking, he hits the button that translates it to speech and sends it directly into his earpiece.

The electronic voice reads: “From: vette ([email protected]). To: [email protected]. Subject: We’re here, exclamation point. Text body: N/A. End message.”

He wonders why his team hasn’t informed him, but quickly realizes it’s something of a moot point. Yaellia Ivros is barreling down the street and through the square on a speeder that looks like it’s been the victim of a direct orbital strike, Vette hanging on for dear life behind her. With his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he can barely make them out in the afterimages left by the rear lights. The rest of his soldiers have probably been similarly blinded.

He shakes his head to clear it and lifts his comm. “All hands, move out.”

Keeping a slow, measured pace is not the hardest thing he has ever done in his life, but it certainly deserves a spot on the list. Though they obviously won’t overtake Yaellia at the speed she’s moving, they can’t afford to be too late. As skilled as she is, she graduated Korriban a month ago and this is a fully-fledged Jedi Knight. She might need backup. Every instinct screams at him to run.

He walks.

The spaceport, when he reaches it, bears every hallmark of a Jedi passing through in a hurry. His team has to step, scramble, and sometimes climb over droid parts. Heavy barricades have been chopped in half. One of the locked hangar elevators has been sliced.

As he steps out of the elevator with a handful of his best men, he knows he’s precisely on time.

The Jedi’s hood has fallen back and there’s a blaster wound in her shoulder, but she’s holding her own against Yaellia’s swift strikes. Vette is crouched behind a speeder deploying a kolto spray drone, patching up Yaellia’s wounds even as they’re inflicted. As he watches, Yaellia surges forward, twists, and sends the Jedi’s blade skittering out of her hand and across the floor.

“Yield,” she growls, setting one saber at the Jedi’s throat.

Mashallon closes her eyes. “Your victory means nothing,” she murmurs. “The damage has been done. The proof has been transmitted. So, deal the deathblow, Sith. I am at peace knowing that the greater good has been served.”

In this moment, Malavai loves his job. “I hate to burst your bubble, Jedi.” He doesn’t even bother trying to stop his slow, cruel smirk. “No, that’s a lie. I’m reveling in it.”

Yaellia turns to stare at him over her shoulder, and the Jedi gasps. He could laugh. “I intercepted your transmission. You’ve been monitored and screened this entire time. The Jedi know nothing.”

Yaellia’s mouth drops open. For a split-second she just blinks at him—and then she gasps, “Lieutenant Quinn, I could kiss you!”

She doesn’t mean it. Face burning, he averts his eyes and mutters, “I was only doing my job, my lord.”

Mashallon takes a final breath, her gaze sweeping the assembled Imperials defiantly. “Gloat all you like, it means nothing. I remain at peace. And you will still fail.”

Yaellia turns back to her, her voice even. Pleasant. As though she’s asking about the weather. “The name of Nomen Karr’s padawan, if you please.”

Mashallon’s eyes narrow. “No.”

She sighs, shaking her head. “...I want you to remember I asked politely.” The saber burns a thin line in the skin of the Jedi’s neck.

The Jedi doesn’t even flinch. Her empty hands flex and then relax, her shoulders settling. “Unlike you, the Force and the Jedi way give me a sense of something larger than myself. I am resigned. Strike me down, I offer no further resistance.”

Yaellia draws in a slow breath, chest heaving. Malavai knows that the next sight he’ll see will be the Jedi’s head rolling on the floor.

And then, impossibly, she lowers her saber. “No,” she says coolly. “It would be a waste.”

What. None of Malavai’s men move. Malavai himself isn’t sure he can move. His legs have enough to do just keeping him upright. If the Republic are their enemies, the Jedi are...the Jedi are nightmares. The Great War was a thousand years ago, but none of them have forgotten the burning of libraries, the wholesale bombing of their greatest cities, the slaughter of millions. Had it not been for the element of surprise, they surely would have repeated their atrocities in the last war. Lady Yaellia would have been a child when the Treaty of Coruscant was signed, but he’s seen her files. He knows she took top marks in Sith history. She knows what the Jedi have done, what they will do again if given the chance. And yet she lets this one live?

It makes no sense. He can barely breathe.

Absurdly, he remembers a libretto he once discovered on the HoloNet. It had purported to be the text of an opera banned for centuries for un-Imperial sentiment. The central couple, and conflict, had been about a Sith sparing a Jedi’s life and the Jedi spending years trying to “bring them to the Light” in exchange. Though they’d fallen in love, it had ended in tragedy when the Sith killed them rather than lose what made them who they were, only to launch into a stirring final aria wherein they vowed to join the Jedi in memory of their lost lover. He’d given the address to the censors later, of course, but it had stuck with him. The last time he’d checked, the website had still been up.

He steps forward, resolute. “...I will take her into custody, my lord.” Surrounding the Jedi and wrapping Force-suppressant cuffs around her wrists is a simple matter, one he can do on autopilot. He’s glad for it, because while his hands and mouth move he doesn’t have to think about what he’s doing. “Your lightsaber, if you will, Jedi. Men, escort her to her new home in the main prison.”

“And treat her well,” Yaellia adds firmly, extinuishing her sabers. “Torture is notoriously unreliable, and I am under the impression that the Imperial armed forces is made of sentients, not beasts.”

Vette snorts. “Good luck with that,” she mutters.

The Jedi is marched away. Malavai remains behind. His men have this in hand, and he cannot leave until he has answers. Until he understands. When he draws close to Yaellia, she smells like smoke. He follows her gaze to his troops and murmurs, “I am sure you know what you’re doing, my lord. But sparing the Jedi is...” Insane. “A curious choice.”

She stiffens. He braces himself—has she sensed how much he’s truly questioning her? But her sabers remain unlit, and oxygen still moves through his lungs. When she turns to him, her eyes are hard as gold. He knows he’s being unfathomably rude, but he can’t tear his gaze away.

Her chin lifts. She’s challenging him as well. “The Jedi think we are monsters, Lieutenant Quinn. I refuse to prove them right.”

He almost argues. Of course the Sith are monsters. The Sith are their monsters. Carnage is her birthright, slaughter her crown. Her very creed promises strength and victory. What does she care if a Jedi judges her for knowing passion—for knowing life? For protecting her people with everything she has? But there’s a faint tremor in her shoulders, and he remembers the way she’d soothed Lieutenant Rutau and that Republic ensign alike. The way she’d granted Rylon an honorable death.

He remembers stories.

“I see,” he mutters, and looks away.

“...It's not my place, Lord Baras. I leave that for your apprentice to convey.”

It’s nearly midnight. Putting the city to rights and cleaning up the spaceport to an even semi-usable state had taken hours. He’s pretty sure the slaves and droids are still working on it. The Jedi has been placed in the most secure wing they could find. The guards had asked him when to schedule the inquisitor; he’d swallowed his gorge, been reminded of the Imperial armed forces is made of sentients, not beasts and told them it could wait a while. That he’s still upright and talking to Baras—who had demanded a report immediately—is solely due to his decades of military experience.

Yaellia’s near-emotionless voice from the doorway saves him. “I am here, master.”

She looks half dead on her feet; most likely the adrenaline crash. Vette follows her like a second shadow, positioned in such a way as to unobtrusively offer physical support.

As they enter, he stands a little straighter. She shoots him a quick glance, squares her shoulders, and does the same before bowing to Baras as deeply as she probably can without falling over.

“Nice of you to join us,” Baras snorts. “Quinn refuses to update me, insisting the privilege be yours. I assume the Jedi investigator has been stopped?”

She stares straight past him. “...She is no longer a concern, master.”

Baras grumbles, “I had hoped to avoid confronting her, but our hand was forced. What matters most is that Rylon can no longer be exposed.”

That’s right, Malavai thinks. And it’s all because of her. You have a rare find in your apprentice, my lord. And then, traitorously, You had better appreciate her.

“And how would you assess Lieutenant Quinn’s contribution?”

His parade rest is suddenly a statue’s pose. His hands clench into fists behind his back. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if she dismisses him. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if she doesn’t.

But the question seems to have the same effect on Lady Yaellia as an intravenous line of pure caffeine straight to the heart, because she jolts a little on her feet and blurts out, “Lieutenant Quinn? He’s an exceptional officer! Really, the best support I could’ve hoped for. I couldn't have done it without him! If you ask me, master, he is wasted in a place like Balmorra.”

His heart skips a beat. Baras tilts his head, studying him from behind his mask. “High praise indeed,” he says finally. “Quinn, I believe you have sufficiently repaid the debt owed to me. I'm putting you up for a captaincy and transmitting an executive order allowing you to station wherever you choose. You are dismissed.”

He can feel his mouth moving and knows words must be coming out, knows he’s thanking Lord Baras and expressing his sincere gratitude. His mind is a thousand light-years away. A captaincy. Freedom. I’ll never need to step foot on this blasted rock again. I could go anywhere—could make a real difference for the Empire—I could go home—

Lady Yaellia is looking at him. Heart hammering in his chest, he bows to her. “My lord, before I depart, it's been my extreme honor to serve you.” Swallowing hard, he adds, “You are...you are the epitome of everything the Empire stands for.”

It’s not a lie. It’s not even an exaggeration. Honor. Strength. Order. As odd as some of her decisions have been, she displays every Imperial virtue. More than that, she inspires other people to follow her example—or at the very least, she should. He can’t imagine the sort of person who would purposely disappoint her when she holds even her own actions to such high standards.

And she flushes dark at his words. He can’t bear it. “The honor has been mine.” She pauses, and a tired smile breaks across her face. “Captain Quinn. I shall miss you.”

“Maybe our paths will cross once more, my lord,” he murmurs. He can’t look at her face anymore.

As he leaves, Vette turns to call over her shoulder, “We’ll probably be off this rock by tomorrow afternoon!”

So there’s a time limit. And then she will be gone, and he’ll probably never see her again. The thought is a knife to his heart.

He walks home, the wind ruffling his hair and stinging his nose. He doesn’t smell smoke anymore. When he reaches his street, the whole building is dark and quiet, and his apartment feels like a tomb. He stands in the doorway and thinks that he should be overjoyed at this unexpected good fortune. He should be celebrating. At the very least, he should make himself a cup of tea; he doubts he’ll be getting much sleep anyway.

Instead he sits at his kitchen table and stares out the window. There’s a light on in the apartment across the way. He wonders what they’re doing, if they were on duty tonight. If they’ve had their life irrevocably changed by any young, idealistic Sith lately.

“The honor has been mine.”

He wants it to be insincere. A lie, a trick, something. Who says that? No, he rephrases, what kind of Sith says that? He knows he shouldn’t trust it. If he was as intelligent as he likes to think he is, he’d be glad to see the back of her. Honor never lasts, no matter what the stories say. Fiction is fiction for a reason; the greatest Sith, those who made the galaxy quake at their whims, cared nothing for the lives of ants like him.

But.

But when he closes his eyes, he sees her tired smile. Hears the way she gushed about him to Baras, her eyes shining. Remembers the desperation in her voice when she’d told him not to risk himself against the Jedi. “I refuse to let that happen,” she’d said. As though he matters. As though he, Malavai Quinn, thirty-seven years old and a disgraced lieutenant on one of the most backwater rocks in Imperial space, with no status or influential allies or access to any particularly juicy blackmail, is important. Not because of what he can do for her or who he is connected to, but because he is a person.

He is suddenly furious. Where were you ten years ago, twenty years ago?! Where were you when I was new? How dare you come to me now, Yaellia Ivros? But even as he balls his hands into fists to stop them shaking, he imagines how that would have went. Twenty-seven year old Malavai had been going through the worst year of his life—his father’s death, Druckenwell, the war’s unceremonious end—and he wouldn’t have appreciated being reminded that such things as hope and decency existed in the galaxy. Seventeen-year-old Malavai frankly doesn’t bear thinking about; he’d been an insufferable teenager, and she probably would have stabbed him. He can’t say he would have complained. It would have been normal.

Then again, normal isn’t a word he can truthfully use to describe her. Despite the incredible results she gets, he knows her methods won’t make her popular. He can’t imagine even Baras approving. Then again, he also can’t imagine her letting his disapproval change anything. His heart is racing, and he’s not sure whether it’s terror or something else. She really could change the galaxy. If she lives.

If.

His heart sinks. Sith politics will eat her alive. Stars, if Baras finds out how she interprets his orders he’ll probably eat her alive. He tries to imagine a galaxy without her, without her lightning-fast sabers and strange sense of compassion and the sheer joy she takes in opera. Without the change she effects everywhere she goes just by existing. It should be easy; he’s only known her for a few days, and they’ve barely spoken. They are nearly strangers.

He wants to change that. He can change that; he’s a captain now, he can take any posting he wishes. He can find her ship, join her crew, serve at her side. For the first time in a decade, he can do anything.

By the time he wakes the next morning, he has made his decision.

Everything he owns fits into two suitcases. He could probably narrow it down to one, but he remembers sparkling gold eyes and decides to pack every music-related disc he has. He showers and shaves with particular care; after a brief internal debate over whether he should wear his dress uniform, he settles for his best everyday one instead. Too formal and he’ll appear ridiculous instead of sincere, and he can’t bear for her to think he’s not taking this seriously. He makes himself a cup of decaf tea before he leaves.

Afternoon, Vette had said, but he has no idea what a Twi’lek considers afternoon and he barely slept last night out of fear of somehow missing their departure entirely. It’s 1100 on the dot when he makes his way into the hangar at a brisk walk, looking for the ship registered under Yaellia’s name.

Fortunately, it’s impossible to miss. The Zhasanai’s Grace is a sleek Fury-class Interceptor, a very common model, but instead of the standard gray she’s been painted bright red with jagged black lines reminiscent of traditional Zabrak tattoos. Zhasanai, he recalls, is also a Zabrak name. He wonders who Yaellia named her ship for, and if she’d tell him if he asked. He suspects she would. As he approaches, his attention is caught by droids loading pallets of supplies into her cargo hold, followed by a chauffeur steering a cherry-red four-door Manta Landspeeder the size of a Cartel skiff in with them. Last night’s death trap was clearly the first thing she could grab; this is the sort of speeder he would have expected Yaellia to fly.

None of the workers pay him any mind. He stands at a loose parade rest and waits next to his suitcases.

And waits. After a while, he finds himself fighting the urge to scroll through his datapad. He hasn’t had time to catch up with the news in a while, and this is around the time of year when the drafts start for cricket season. But if Lady Yaellia sees him acting so frivolously in public, the sheer embarrassment will probably kill him before any of her enemies get the chance.

He’s started to lose track of how long he’s been waiting by the time the elevator opens to reveal her standing inside it. She’s got one arm looped through the handle of a Sobrik Spaceport gift bag and the other through Vette’s; at first he can’t make out what they’re talking about, but then he realizes she’s supplementing her side of the conversation with ISL when words fail her and upgrades his mental portfolio of her to include has exceedingly strong opinions on spaceport food. His mouth does something so unfamiliar he has to pause to recognize it as a smile.

When she sees him, the ISL stops and her face lights up. “Captain Quinn! Did you come to see us off?”

He bows as deeply to her as he would to Lord Baras. “My lord,” he murmurs. “I hope you don't find my appearance here obtrusive. I beg an audience.”

She blinks, and then nods. “Of course.”

He takes a deep breath. He should have practiced this speech, but even now that it’s happening part of his brain can’t believe it. “My reassignment is an evolution I've longed for, but I assumed it would never come. Aiding you on this planet—it has reawakened the ambition I began my career with, to make the most profound impact possible for the Empire.”

Before he can second-guess himself, he drops to one knee and bows his head. Yaellia chokes. “Captain Quinn!”

The spaceport floor is freezing through the thin fabric of his uniform trousers and badly in need of a power-washing. Someone’s dropped used chewing gum not half a meter away. Yaellia’s boots need polishing, and one of Vette’s is coming untied. He notices all of this only because his heart is pounding like an artillery bombardment and if he looks up he thinks he might faint. That would certainly not help his case.

Breathe. In for three, hold, out for five. Hating the tremor in his voice, he continues, “I cannot think of a more glorious and honorable way to make a difference in the galaxy than to serve you.”

She makes a noise like a dying gundark. He risks a brief glance upwards and finds her with both hands clasped to her mouth, her face absolutely scarlet. She seems to be beyond words.

His mouth goes dry. He has to make her see. “I'm here to pledge myself to you. I'm ready and willing to serve in—in whatever capacity you see fit.”

“Whatever capacity?” It is very close to a squeak. “That’s—really?”

“Oh, stars,” Vette mutters. “And I thought you two flirting over snooty musicals was bad—”

Yaellia kicks her sharply in the ankle. It would be funny if it wasn’t also mortifying.

He’s talking more quickly now. He knows he sounds desperate—undignified—but he can’t stop. He’s so close, he knows it. “My lord, if given the chance, I know I will prove myself to you. I'm a top-notch pilot, military strategist and a deadly shot. I can fly this ship, plan your battles, assess your enemies and kill them. You won't find a more tireless and loyal subject. I will dedicate every ounce of my strength to your cause.” Please. That Twi’lek can’t protect you alone, not from the kinds of threats you’ll be facing. You need me.

She’s still staring at him as though she can’t quite believe what she’s hearing. “...Captain Quinn,” she says carefully. “Are you sure about this?”

A voice, gentle yet firm. Words straight from myth. Nobility he’s only ever dreamed about. The absolute certainty that all of that stands balanced on a razor’s edge, and she will need all the help he can give if she’s not going to be sliced to ribbons.

He can only answer honestly. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life, my lord.”

Her chest swells with her deep breath, and it’s not his imagination that has her back straightening. She is noble in more than just her actions, after all. Fealty is her birthright. “Then I accept your service.” Her serious tone is utterly at odds with the grin that spreads across her face as she adds, “Besides, who else would I talk about opera with? I haven’t forgotten.”

He actually had. “Um,” he starts, dropping his gaze. “It would be an honor—”

A hand appears in his field of vision. It takes him a moment of confusion to realize Yaellia is offering to help him to his feet. “Now, do get up off the floor. I don’t want to think what it’s doing to your knees.”

He has a split second to think This is inappropriate, I mustn’t before his hand comes up entirely of its own accord to wrap around hers. It’s warm even through their respective gloves, and she only has to take half a step backwards to haul him to his feet. If he’d been shorter, it would be effortless. There’s a moment before he fully straightens where his eyes meet hers, and the expression in them is one he cannot bear to name.

But neither can he look away. She has yet to let go of his hand, and it’s frozen him in place like a tractor beam. “My lord,” he starts. You’ve given me my life back. You’ve given me hope. How else can I repay you?

“My captain,” she murmurs. Her voice wasn’t even this soft with Lieutenant Rutau, and that man had nearly lost a foot. Malavai just has a mildly sore knee.

Vette chooses this exact moment to ask, “Is this all your stuff?”

He jerks away from Yaellia like he’s been burnt, turning the full force of his glare on the Twi’lek. “Indeed.”

Yaellia looks over his suitcases with a judgmental eye, but when she turns back to him she’s smiling again. “We’ll get you set up right away, never fear. I can’t wait to give you a tour of the ship.” She pauses. “Ah, do feel free to make any adjustments to the cockpit you want. It might be a bit cramped in there otherwise.”

This time, he knows he’s smiling back. “...Thank you for giving me this opportunity, my lord. I will submit my reassignment papers as we depart.”

And he steps onto the Zhasanai’s Grace, ready to begin his new life.

Worldbuilding/headcanon notes:

- Quinn's love of opera comes from the fact that one of the Imperial Memorabilia gifts you can give him (his favorite type of gift) is a Sith Opera Collection. (The fact that another gift in that category is Banned Imperial History Document says a few things...) - Quinn & Yael are both super autistic. Quinn does not know this about himself. Boy You Gon' Learn. - His baby brother, Zeiran, is ~8 years younger than him and an Imperial Intelligence agent. They have not spoken since Druckenwell. - I am at least 95% sure I read the timeline right and Druckenwell/the battle of Rhen Var (Col. Rymar Quinn's death)/the Treaty of Coruscant happened in the same year. Please nobody tell me if I'm wrong. - Lord Venditor is my friend's OC! Unbeknownst to Quinn, he is a sad wet dog of a man.

#swtor #sith #malavai quinn #paladin writes stuff #darth baras #yaellia #vette #quinn is SO confused lol #“what is this?” “respect” “sounds fake”#star wars

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