#Gideon has probably had a few but no look me in the eyes. it was a spontaneous wedding not a shotg*n one

[way-too-obsessed-gamer]

I need you all to understand anytime it's said that the (non canon) ye olde new vegas wedding that Kremy and Gideon had was a "shotgun wedding" I am laughing my ass off. I don't think that means what you think it means

Actually you know what I firmly believe Gricko has called it that before and nobody has corrected him

[luveline]

I absolutely adore your Spencer x Hotch!sister fics! <3 Can we possibly see the dynamics if it were switched? A Hotch x Spencer's Older Sister fic, pretty please? But no worries if not! Thank you, hope you have a good day!

Was Spencer’s sister always this shy? Hotch can’t remember (and he can’t stop himself from flirting, just a little). fem, 1.4k

“Reid?” Hotch asks. 

Spencer grins at his phone. 

“Reid.” Hotch clears his throat. “Spencer.” 

Spencer puts his phone down on the desk, but he doesn’t seem to have heard Hotch either way. When he realises Hotch is standing by his desk, he perks up. “Hotch, can I ask a favour?” 

Hotch had been about to ask Spencer a favour, but it’s fine. “Sure.” 

“Uh, my sister is supposed to meet me for lunch in half an hour, but she doesn’t really like restaurants and I’m– me. Do you think she could come to the office?” he asks. 

“Sure, Reid. That’s fine, she just needs a visitor card.” 

Hotch can’t remember the last time he saw you. Probably when Reid first started tailing Gideon a few years ago, when you’d made the trip from Vegas to Quantico to see how he was settling. It was a brief introduction, and, while you may possess a few more practical graces than your brother, you were far shyer at the time. You didn’t mind shaking Hotch’s hand, but you struggled to maintain eye contact after. 

You don’t look much like your brother for reasons he’s never cared to ask, as Hotch has never placed much value on how family comes about. He doubts Spencer does either. But you stay in Vegas with your mother, and Spencer sees you three times a year. Birthdays and Christmas. And today, apparently. 

“What’s the occasion?” Hotch asks. 

Spencer smiles again. “I think she’s gonna move here, with me.” 

“Yeah?” Hotch isn’t the prying boss, but he’s a nosy friend. “Everything okay?” 

“Things are great, I mean.” Spencer has the expression of someone deciding what they can and can’t say. Eventually his eyes clear, and Hotch feels satisfied at the realisation that trust has settled tightly between them. “When I decided my mom needed help, Y/N, she hated that, and maybe she resented me, but– I used to worry she hated me, but she doesn’t.” 

“I don’t think she could,” Hotch says easily. 

Spencer nods. Whether he agrees is up for debate, though. “If t’s finally hit her that mom’s sick forever, so she’s feeling out her options.” 

“That must be a hard thing to realise.” 

“Yeah. But things really are great, she’s here now, her stuff is coming tomorrow, and– and maybe she’ll stay for a while.” 

Hotch likes excitement on Reid (when it doesn’t impede their most important work, that is). Truthfully, there’s so much to worry about that Hotch can’t admit to worrying about Reid as much in recent years, and yet he’s relieved to hear that there will be more Reid’s in a hundred mile radius. 

“I’m glad,” Hotch says honestly. “She’s more than welcome here. If she can cope with the photographs in the conference room, the round table is all yours.” 

Hotch retreats to his office and forgets about it for a while, submerged in his own lunch and a certain seven year old’s birthday planning. Jack wants a clown, and a cake with Cars, and he really wants a bounce house. Which is great, but Jack decided he wanted the bounce house last night, and his party is at the end of the week. Hotch makes a bunch of phone calls and finally gets to take a victory lap forty five minutes later. 

He steps out of his office, enticed by the sound of laughter. Spencer laughs like he’s surprised ninety percent of the time, and yours is no different. It’s clear to the listening ear who taught Spencer how to laugh. 

“I love it, I don’t ever want to hear a bad word about it,” you say through peels of it, a breathy, smiley warmth to you as a chair creaks from within the conference room, “and I mean that. Please don’t tell me any facts.” 

“I know so many you’d like to hear!” 

“I don’t doubt it, but please, as a favour? You can tell me about everything else.” 

“Processed cheeses–”

Hotch turns the corner as you put down a sandwich. “Okay, fine. I’m done, are you happy?” you ask, your smile fading into a more polite one as you meet Hotch’s eyes. 

“I didn’t get to say anything.” 

“Some things are better left unsaid,” Hotch says. He doesn’t interrupt, only says it into the quiet, and he doesn’t bother with fanfare. It’s just to alert Spencer of his presence. “Y/N,” Hotch adds, “hello. It’s good to see you.” 

He’s alarmed by your reaction —your eyes widen in your seat, hands hidden beneath your thighs, and your lips part ever so slightly. “Agent Hotchner,” you say softly, almost weakly. 

He’s not that intimidating, is he?

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he says. 

“You’re not interrupting, I was just telling her about the dangers of processed cheese. They’re so irregularly salty that the sodium has to be marked as a cause of heart disease on FDA approved packaging for the service industry,” Spencer says. 

“I’m sure some every now and then won’t hurt,” Hotch says, attempting to offer you a friendly smile. “Spencer tells me you’re staying here for a while, that’s great. How are you liking the weather? It must be a change from Nevada?” 

You look peculiarly hot. “It’s different,” you agree.

Voices ring from the bullpen. 

Spencer stands up. You stand with him, but Spencer says, “Sorry, is that Morgan? He said I have to go and get him when you’re here.” 

“Spencer–”

Spencer’s already leaving. “He threatened me, actually,” he’s saying, more to himself than either of you as he departs. 

You wring your hands. 

Hotch worries his brows are giving him away. You’re acting strangely, but maybe he’s too much. He is a special agent, sometimes the other parents at Jack’s school get antsy around him like they’re worried he can tell they haven’t paid their last parking fine. Maybe you’ve a secret crime you’ve committed. 

He watches you more closely, to your flustering. 

No crime, Hotch thinks, but a secret. Even from Spencer. 

“So how’s your day, Agent Hotchner?” you ask softly. 

It’s actually quite sweet, the way you say it. Your nerves are cute. 

“Busy.” The expected answer. “I’ve been trying to plan a birthday party between paperwork.” 

“For Jack?” 

He smiles with more gentleness. “Yes, for Jack.” 

“He was, um, a newborn, when we last met. Just a couple of weeks old, I think. How old is he turning now?” 

“Seven.” 

You breathe out. “Wow. Seven years.” 

Seven years, and your crush on him remains. That’s what he’d forgotten —when you visited Spencer at the time, even Gideon had mentioned your frazzled, almost dizzy disposition whenever Hotch was around. And Gideon tended to focus narrowly on work at work, so Hotch had known he wasn’t making it up. 

At the time it had been cute, but awkward too, and infeasible. He’d been dedicatedly married and in love with his Haley. And if he weren’t, your age gap might’ve been a little non-functioning, Hotch well into his thirties, and you a fresh twenty-five. 

Today you’re older, and more beautiful. Something about you has shifted, a blossoming into your features, and Hotch actually has the ability to notice it now. 

Your Spencer’s sister, he remembers suddenly. Probably not a woman he should flirt with, some subtle compliment lost on his tongue. 

“You look the same,” you say. 

He laughs. “That’s kind and untrue. I’m getting old.” 

The look you give him then is a shock and a pit, long the long forgotten twist of butterflies. “No,” you say, looking down at your hands, “I wouldn’t say that.” 

“What would you say?” he asks. 

You’re saved —poor girl, he doesn’t know what he was thinking, you can barely hold your head up— as Morgan bounds up the stairs and into the conference room. He gathers you for a hug as though he knows you better than he does, and Hotch loses sight of your face. 

Unknown to him and unseen, Morgan’s greeting is white noise. Why does he talk like that? you think to yourself desperately. He’s asking you all those questions with this weight to them, and he’s so calm! I’m going back to Vegas. 

“How long are you staying?” Morgan asks. 

You laugh weakly and accidentally catch Hotch’s eye, who smiles at you nicely. 

“Oh, I don’t know. A couple of weeks, maybe.” 

Longer, if you have reason. 

[cas-kingdom]

I’m in love with your criminal minds Drabbles!! If possible I’d love to see some bonding between hotch and Reid’s sister <333

You sleeping in arbitrary places wasn't exactly a rarity around the BAU. Not quite yet an official member of the team—though somehow Hotch had enrolled you in some sort of experience programme you were pretty sure he'd made up for your benefit—you had to make do with stiff seats and tucked away corners on the daily as you waited for Spencer to finish his work. Surprisingly, the long days and even longer nights hadn't seemed to sway your wish to join the team just yet, though no one had placed any bets that it would.

Even so, said arbitrary places weren't exactly made use of at nearing midnight on a Friday. Having returned from Gideon's case just that evening, Hotch had sent everyone home with their promises of sleep before hiding himself away in his office to complete some work before the weekend. By the time he'd finished, the bureau had settled into the usual ambience consisting of the few late night workers and janitors.

He headed into the break room with the intention of grabbing a water bottle from the fridge and heading straight home, but the sudden sight of you and yet another of your arbitrary sleeping spots told him that might not be achievable just yet.

You were curled up on the break room couch, a stack of pillows under your head and what looked to be your brother's tweed jacket doing its best to act as a blanket. Hotch stared for a moment, concern slowly pushing away his brief amusement at the situation, and rose a brow when one of your eyes opened to stare at him.

"Hotch," you greeted, not at all groggily, which told him you probably hadn't slept.

Hotch put his bag down and seated himself on the end of the couch. "Y/N, what’re you still doing here?" he asked gently. He put a comforting hand on your ankle under the jacket and you sat up, tucking your frizzy hair behind your ears.

You yawned and shrugged. "Sleeping. Or, lying down, rather."

“I mean in the building." He smiled at your belated look of realisation. "Is Spencer still here?"

The expression on your face grew from tired to exhausted at the mere mention of your brother. Hotch sat back and crossed his arms, an instinctive movement when he figured some profiling may have to come into play. Those lines settled against his brow as he waited for your response.

You picked at a loose thread in the couch. “Playing chess," you said, then looked knowingly up at him. "I know what you’re gonna say, Hotch, but it’s easier to just leave him and let him do his thing. Gideon’s death hit him hard.”

Hotch nodded slowly. “I know. But what about you?”

“I don’t remember Gideon much.”

A corner of his lips curved upwards. Trust you to worry the least about yourself.

"I don’t mean that," he said gently, wondering how his next words would be taken. "Spencer has a tendency to forget about the people around him when he gets himself into one of these states. Now—" He pointed a finger at you before you could rise to your brother's defense "—that's not his fault, and he'll come out of it soon enough. But in the meantime, I don’t want you sleeping here until morning, Y/N." His fatherly instincts long having kicked in, his eyebrows rose in solemnity. "You need some proper rest in your own bed. The couch isn't going to cut it.”

You breathed a dubious laugh, still pulling at the thread. “Spencer has no plans on coming home tonight. Rossi’s already tried.”

“Then let me drive you home?" Your fingers paused and your mouth twisted in thought. Your face was hidden by a curtain of hair, but Hotch dipped his head enough to see your expression. He smiled knowingly. You didn't want to be alone. "Or…I can set up the spare room at mine?”

You peered up at him and for the first time he noted your level of exhaustion. Not only had you been kept physically awake by Spencer's turmoil, but your anxiety about the situation had mentally drained you, too. With your mother states away in a facility and your father completely written out of the picture, Spencer was your person and had been since he'd taken custody of you at four years old. When he wasn't himself, neither were you, and Hotch had always known it.

You took a second to respond, looking past him and out the open door for a moment before returning your gaze to his. "You don't mind?"

Hotch smiled and squeezed your shoulder in reassurance. The end of your storm was near, he was sure.

"Of course not," he said. "You get yourself ready and I'll tell Spencer."

Criminal Minds Masterpost

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Violent Delights Have Violent Ends - Part Three

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

WC: 1.8k

TW: More rambling about art, Hospitals, poor male role models

A/n: Let's pretend like this didn't take me over a month to write. It's been a weird month for me so I really appreciate all of your patience <3 But the good news is, I've actually already starting writing Part 4...hehehe

“Hi Doctor Kolek. My name is Emily Prentiss and this is Doctor Y/n Y/l/n, we’re with the FBI and we wanted to ask you a few questions.”

The woman on the hospital bed nodded, eyes wide. There was a cloudiness to them, as if the memory loss from the past twenty-four hours was visible. “I-I told the police everything I remembered about yesterday.” 

“Actually.” You spoke up, giving her a small smile. “We wanted to ask you about your courses this semester. We’re working on the recent murders here, and they all seem to be connected to famous paintings depicting Shakespearean deaths.” 

Doctor Kolek gave you an incredulous look. “That’s incredibly specific.” 

You heard Emily mutter a “you’re telling me” under her breath, and you tried to minimize the smile on your face. 

“We know. I don’t actually work for the FBI, I’m consulting on this case. It’s not exactly what I thought I'd be doing with my degrees but…you never know.” 

Spencer was standing outside of the room, trying to remain inconspicuous as he and Derek guarded the room. 

“So Lover Boy, have you confessed to her yet?” 

Spencer scoffed, repeatedly, trying to seem as if the idea was incredulous—as if he wasn’t picturing every outcome of asking you out. 

“Yeah okay Reid. Don’t try to pretend like you haven’t been crushin on her since she walked into Hotch’s office four days ago.” 

“I don’t like–”

“What don’t you like?” Prentiss walked out of the room, eyebrows raised, a small smirk on her lips as she looked at Derek. You followed her out, looking inquisitively at the pair in the hallway. 

“Cats.” Spencer mumbled. “I don’t like cats.” 

You hummed in agreement. 

Prentiss let out a pretty dramatic gasp. 

“Okay Well.” You quickly started to defend yourself. “I’m allergic and it’s easier to pretend that I hate what I can’t have.” 

“That better be true Y/l/n. I was just starting to like you too…” 

You rolled your eyes and smiled at her. “Please. Says the woman who admitted to me about her weekends in—”

“Hey! I told you that in confidence.” Emily cut you off, pointing her notebook at you. 

“Weekends in what Y/n. Finish the sentence for those of us out of the know here.” Derek chimed in, very curious to know more about Emily Prentiss. 

You surrendered your hands in the air, mimicking zipping your lips shut. “Sorry Morgan, sworn to secrecy.” 

“Emily, come on. You know the girl for four days and she already knows more about you then, like, all of the team.” 

Prentiss and you shared a knowing smile and the both of you burst out into small fits of laughter. 

“Ha ha very funny. Do you believe this?” 

Spencer wasn't paying attention to Derek since the sound of your laughter actually made him turn to stone. He was frozen to the core because he had a realization. Spencer Reid wanted to hear that sound for the rest of his life. Considering how his parent’s marriage went, how Hotch’s marriage went, how Gideon’s life went, how Rossi’s marriages went, he didn’t exactly have a good track record in his history or in his mentor figures. The thought of you having to deal with him every single day made him want to crawl out of his skin. He couldn’t force someone to listen to him blabber on, and he certainly wasn’t about to make someone as wonderful as you do it. 

“Hey Spencer, you alright?” Prentiss’ hand on his shoulder brought him out of his head, and he started to shake his head but quickly nodded. “Ye-Yeah uh. Just..” He thought back to his thinking when something quickly came back to the forefront of his mind. “This is probably a, uh, ‘woman scorned’. She probably was cheated on or…” He managed out. 

“That would line up with the revenge against the men, especially since her end game….” 

Spencer nodded at you, while Prentiss and Derek gave each other a look. 

“What did Kolek say about the courses?” Derek interrupted. 

“She’s teaching three this semester. Spanish Art, which hasn’t really applied to us, Women in Art History, which has, and then, honestly it’s too good to be true Derek…” You bit your lip and looked at Emily, obviously troubled.

“The third course is a combination lecture between the English department and the art history department as a way to knock out two gen eds in one—it’s literally a course about literature in Art.” You sighed. 

“You’re joking with me.” 

You shook your head. “Derek you have no idea how badly I wish this to be fucking fake since it’s a lecture seminar—there’s like fifty kids in that course a semester, minimum.”

“Jesus Christ…”

_______________________________________________________________________

You, Derek, Emily, and Spencer spent the next three hours going through all of the kids in the course–learning the names, hometowns, languages spoken, grad years: everything about them. 

It was a dreadful process that caused all of you to almost lose your minds on several occasions. It didn’t help that the only thing you could really do was scan course loads of students that the three agents picked out to see if there could be some courses that aligned perfectly to fit the profile, but it was not helpful because all of these kids took almost the exact same courses. 

“I can’t fucking sit in these chairs anymore. I’m losing my mind.” You stood up and stretched your back a bit. “I’m going back to the hotel, and I highly advise that all of you should too. Especially since it’s now ten pm, and all of us being miserable tomorrow morning would be extremely counterproductive.” 

Spencer sighed and nodded. “I’ll walk back with you?”

You smiled and nodded at him, grabbing your coat off of the back of your chair. “Derek? Emily?”

“We’re going to finish up, but we’ll be in bed before the sun rises.” Derek mock saluted you and you nodded. 

The two of you left the two of them, starting to head in the direction of the hotel the FBI had set you up at. Well, really it was almost an Airbnb type of place. They had managed to get an entire house set up for the team since there were no actual hotels around. You and Spencer had landed with the rooms up on the third floor, while everyone else was on the second floor. This was nice considering it meant no one was waking you up when you managed to sleep in for an extra half an hour, nor were they in your business about your crush on Spencer, and maybe you didn’t have to sneak back into your room when the two of you would finish your late-night conversations. 

You had never met anyone like Spencer Reid. His intelligence was unmatched, and so was his want to learn. Tonight was all about teaching him the feelings of art. This was a big one considering that was something that traditionally steered Spencer away from art. Not because he couldn’t feel things, but because the expectation of emotions was a bit much. 

“I think a good one to start with is Turner’s Odysseus Deriding Polyphemus. It’s one of my favorites because Turner hid creatures within the nature of the scene; Hippokampos and Dryaids in the waves. Polyphemus in the mountains.” You handed him your phone, the piece of art on your screen. “When you first look at the image, you just see Odysseus and his men sailing away. But the longer you stare at the image,, more reveals itself to you.” 

Spencer nodded. “Rigth. So I get that part, but why. The optical illusions within the paint make it impressive artistry, but Holbein’s Ambassadors does the same thing, only with a weird skull optical illusion. What is the difference?” 

You smiled. “While I’ve had the privilege of seeing both paintings in person at the National Gallery in London, and while seeing both in person is extremely cool, Holbein was just showing off. He wanted to showcase his extreme talent and boast. Whereas Turner is hiding the story within the painting. He is asking the viewers to not only know what they are looking for but challenging them to find it. The victory of Odysseus suddenly seems more magical because Turner is capturing the isolation of the giant through the isolation of the mountains, making him seem small before you really consider the proportions of the paintings.”

Spencer was just smiling at you, completely enamored by your passion for this topic. You looked over at him and blushed slightly. “Sorry, I just get really into these things and then I start to ramble and–” 

“No! No. Seriously. I don’t mind it, at all. I really like it when you…ramble.” 

You bit your lip and nodded, ready to continue with your tirade. 

But Spencer’s smile quickly turned into a frown, and it was the last thing you saw as your vision went black. And the last thing you heard was Spencer yell out before the world went silent. 

[half-dead-writer]

(Matthew and Gideon are typically both red coded so I switched up Gideon's color to violet to avoid confusion.) I uh, kinda went off the rails with this one?? It was supposed to be a one-shot smut but it has some plot, with feelings, even Also we're just gonna ignore the cryogenic freezers in this one aight guys??

Movie Night (NSFW)

Gideon always pissed Matthew off, but dissing Matthew's favorite movie while he wanted to spend quality time with the both of you was low. Not being able to get Gideon to apologize through conventional methods, you try something different. Would it work? Only one way to find out.

characters: Matthew Patel, Gideon Graves (Scott Pilgrim Takes Off)

words: ~7,1k

reader: gender-neutral

warnings: sex, dom reader (kind of) no beta

𝔯𝔲𝔩𝔢𝔰 + 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 / 𝔖𝔠𝔬𝔱𝔱 𝔓𝔦𝔩𝔤𝔯𝔦𝔪 𝔗𝔞𝔨𝔢𝔰 𝔒𝔣𝔣 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

Tonight's movie fun was supposed to be fun. If only your boyfriends could get along and not get on each other nerves at least for one day...

To be honest, you didn't really know how you ended up dating those two. Matthew and Gideon were far from each other's type, or at least that's what someone would say after spending a few minutes in their presence. They liked to annoy each other (one more than the other), but deep down, you knew they did care for one another. You just had to be patient enough to break up their stupid bickering and keep the peace by reminding them what's important.

"That plot is so unrealistic," Gideon commented with his mouth full of popcorn, "I mean, really-"

Matthew's hush quickly cut him off. "Just shut up and watch."

"But it's boring." Gideon scoffed, stretching himself even further into the couch and lazily putting his arm around you. Matthew, sitting on the opposite side of you, gave him a side-glance, responding in a half-whisper. "Not any more boring than your 14 seasons anime!"

Gideon's offended, sharp stare bore into Matthew's skull, "You'd know it's not boring if you took the time to watch it, it's actually really nuanced," making Matthew's blood boil even more.

"Maybe if you watched the damn movie, you'd see it's not boring too." He muttered through his teeth, forcing a sigh out of you. You knew where this was going too well.

Gideon was ready to hit him with yet another clever comeback, but you quickly nipped it in the bud, sternly calling them both out. "Boys." They turned their attention to you, tuning out the already neglected movie. "Is this really necessary?"

"It's him who started!" Matthew pointed an accusatory finger at Gideon, who just did a "hmph" sound in return. "Gideon," he looked at you, eyes narrowed in an expression comparable to a teen that's been scolded by their parent, "and Matthew. Please."

"What?" They asked in unison, both adamant about not being in the wrong, making you exhale once again.

"You're both acting like children."

"It's Gideon who acts like a whiny child!" Matthew pouted, unhappy at you "taking Gideon's side". "I wanted to watch my favorite movie with my both, lovely partners, and he's not appreciating my efforts! Can you blame me for being annoyed?"

"You should have picked a better movie to be your favorite." Gideon nonchalantly commented, causing Matthew's nose to scrunch up in irritation.

"Gideon." You whipped your head to look at him, pulling out of his embrace to properly sit up. He just shrugged, feigning innocence.

"Alright. I see there's too much tension in the room." Your boyfriends watched as you got up from the couch, putting the movie on pause. They looked at you, having no idea what would be your next move. Were they gonna be scolded like misbehaving children? Not like it would accomplish anything, and you knew you had to think up of a better solution. You were all adults, after all. Very annoying ones at that, but still adults. "Let's take a break."

Matthew was not really keen on stopping the movie, but he knew that was probably the best course of action. Maybe you'd talk some sense into Gideon? He was really looking forward to just nicely spending time together, and even if he didn't say it, Gideon's quips lightly broke his heart. You knew that, which is why you needed to find a way how to get Gideon to cool down on his asshole persona. Well, it wasn't a persona, more-so his way of being, mostly caused by his job as a CEO, which made him more stone-cold than he needed to be while also navigating a relationship with two people.

"Are we gonna talk about our feelings now, or what?" Gideon put the emphasis on feelings, cringing at the mere word. He crossed his arms, well aware of how typically it should go when there's a problem, but getting him to be vulnerable was harder than eating a cactus. The man was so behind on being casually open with his true emotions it almost hurt. Matthew, on the other hand, knew his emotions well, but Gideon's actions were slowly making him more sour than he needed to be.

"Well, do you want to, Gideon?" You asked, still somewhat hopeful it'd be a yes, but much more prepared for a less enthusiastic answer. As expected, Gideon shifted his sight away from you, staring into the corner with an unreadable expression. "...I just don't see the point." He muttered out, not liking the sudden spotlight being thrown at him.

"...Typical." Matthew commented, now crossing his arms as well. They both began a staring contest, getting you to quickly speak up again.

"Alright, no talking about feelings unless everyone wants to, okay?" That sentence caused Gideon to briefly look at you, regaining some of his attention. Matthew just intently observed, trying to decode your next course of action. "So... how about fixing the situations through actions?"

Gideon, along with Matthew, raised their brow.

"So- What? Do we shake hands? Hug it out?" Gideon asked, now briefly amused, regaining some of his bite with the quip. His intention wasn't really want to annoy you, but in the current state, that's as far as you'd get with him cooperating.

"Shake hands? No. Hug... Maybe?" A small smile invaded your lips, you knew one certain way how to release the tension lingering in the air. Before they could ask you more details about your supposed plan, you directed your stare to the wooden doors.

"To the bedroom!" You announced dramatically, hoping to ease the atmosphere with a lighthearted remark. That did the trick, igniting a spark interest from both boys. They followed after you to the specified room, looking at you for further instructions. The comfort of your bed filled you with even more reassurance to your unconventional plan. You cleared your throat, "Since you both obviously can't express your love thru words, let's try something different."

Both boys now caught up with your way of thinking looked at each other with less venom, interested in how your evening is gonna proceed.

"Matthew," you started, making him look at you with curiosity, "sit beside me." He silently obliged, leaving the other man still standing near the bed, hopefully not too bitter about not being picked first. "Gideon, be a dear and rid Matthew of his pants."

The request made Matthew look at you with surprise, later replaced by a knowing smirk. Gideon rolled his eyes, yet approached closer. He kneeled before him, swiftly unbuckling Matthew's belt. Matthew, eager to listen to your orders, lifted his hips to help Gideon take off his pants.

"Underwear too." You heard Gideon's sigh, clearly an attempt to look as bothered by the command as he could to hide his true feelings. Matthew, still very intrigued about the process, looked at Gideon with a cheeky grin, hoping he figured out the ins and outs of your idea.

"Don't get too smug about it, Patel." Gideon huffed, staring back unamused.

"I'm not saying anything, Goose." Matthew's response made Gideon narrow his eyes at the nickname he didn't wanna hear.

"Matthew, please." You gently reminded him to be respectful, making the man quickly get in check, "Sorry, Y/N." Your sight directed Matthew to look at Gideon, "I mean- sorry, Gideon."

Gideon raised his brow with a poker face, not bothering to show his acknowledgement of the apology in any other way.

"Gideon, could you present your amazing skills to Matthew as a reciprocation to your mutual apologies?" You crossed your legs, politely waiting for your boyfriend to take the hint. Gideon mulled over your words for a second, seemingly finally deciding to stop being a nuisance. It was an occasion to finally show Matthew who's in charge here, even if the roles seemed to show the opposite. Gideon craved power and control, being able to turn any situation to his benefit was one of his most practical quirks. In no time, he'd have Matthew writhing under his touch, that'd surely remind him who's the boss.

"Of course, darling." He spoke in a composed manner now, briefly adjusting his glasses before diving down Matthew's crotch. It didn't take long for a sharp gasp to embarrassingly fall out of his boyfriend's lips, caused by Gideon's tongue trailing down Matthew's slowly growing length. You'd feel a bit excluded from the boys play-time if not for the satisfaction you got by bossing them around - it was fun!

Matthew opened up his legs a bit more, letting Gideon rest his hand on his thigh while he was busy working his magic. Matthew's palm would be holding a fistful of your bed-covers if not for your hand which was lying nearby, being a better candidate for an output of his intense feelings. You felt his fingers wrap around yours, which you thought was absolutely adorable turn of events. Meanwhile, Gideon made sure Matthew kept the shameless noises coming, acting as a reward and reason for him to continue.

Matthew's breathing picked up as Gideon tauntingly sucked the tip, his stare focused on the bangs that fell on his face. You were kind enough to pull them away behind his ear, exposing his pretty features. The dark eyeliner was now highlighted with the crinkling of Matthew's eyes. It was hard for him not to just outright close them, but he wanted to observe the man sitting between his legs - it was a rare sight for Gideon to be on the giving end.

From the way Matthew's legs were trembling, it was obvious he was near his end. Gideon wrapped his lips around him and began to swiftly bob his head. His perspective of being in the center of attention changed, now basking in the status of being the main attraction. Or maybe it was Matthew? Either way, he was willing to put on a show for you, with Matthew as his co-star. You felt Matthew's fingers clench around yours as he began mumbling incoherently, signaling his soon-to-be peak.

"Gih- Gi-Gideon--"

Light reflected in Gideon's glasses as he pulled away with a cocky smirk, leaving Matthew's dick to twitch in disappointment.

"YOU DICK!" He shouted out of breath, not even trying to keep his composure. You looked at Gideon, who was smiling from ear to ear. You were about to say something, before Gideon started speaking before you.

"Do the polite thing and say please." He smugly requested, looking at Matthew's red face. He knew he was gonna say anything at this point.

"Fucking- Please! Please, pretty please, just let me-" Matthew sputtered, tired of Gideon's shitty mind-games. Gideon snickered before resuming his work, nearing Matthew's member again, sliding it into his mouth. He didn't expect Matthew to push his head deeper, to the point Gideon choked on the full length, while his throat got flooded with his release. You were quite surprised at the turn of events, but you couldn't deny you found it quite entertaining.

After Matthew loosened his grip, Gideon pushed himself off, coughing up the leftover cum and saliva that unflatteringly spilled on his chin. He wiped it with his sleeve, staring daggers at his boyfriend, who now had the same smug grin Gideon wore before.

"I'll fucking kill you," he growled, seething with anger and feeling absolutely humiliated.

Matthew chuckled while regaining his breath, pointing down at Gideon's pants. "Don't act like you didn't like it."

You noticed the uncomfortably stretched fabric covering Gideon's fully visible erection. Gideon glanced below, his anger even more visible with how red his face was. You guessed it wasn't only the anger. You spared him Matthew's further teasing by speaking up.

"Matthew, I think you should make it up to Gideon, it wasn't nice." You half-heartedly reprimanded him, gaining a cheeky grin in return.

"Of course, I'm sorry for acting so impulsively." Matthew leaned closer to Gideon. "You just drive me crazy sometimes, Gideon." Matthew purred, making Gideon's furrowed brows turn into a look of trying to discern how much of Matthew's words were a flirt or another way of getting under his skin. You gave the power to Matthew for the moment, sitting back to observe the boys.

Matthew patted the bed, "So please, come lay down here."

Matthew's smirk didn't betray any clues indicating what his next action would be, leaving Gideon to warily crawl to the spot he showed him. Thankfully, the king-sized bed was big enough for all 3 people to comfortably do anything they desired. Gideon glanced at you briefly, being met with the same lack of ideas. By no means was Gideon scared of the future, but it was obvious he wasn't used to not being in charge, which left him a bit on edge. Your caress on Gideon's hair ultimately added some reassurance during the situation, clouding his ego just a little.

The comfort of your touch melted away as Matthew began his plan, peppering Gideon's neck and collarbone in light kisses. Gideon was fully expecting for Matthew to pull some trick on him, act like an asshole just as he did on him. But that never came, instead, the shower of affection left him slightly dumbfounded and unprepared.

Matthew's soft pecks on his skin mixed with the lack of knowledge from Gideon's side left him unfit to contain the light sounds slipping out. Matthew continued, moving his hands around the shorter man's body, finally reaching their destination below the abdomen. He brushed the spot, making Gideon abruptly raise his hips, yearning for more. Surprisingly, Matthew provided, now properly palming him through his pants. Gideon closed his eyes, unable to hold eye-contact while Matthew had such a smug expression on his face. He lifted up his shirt, lowering his head to Gideon's chest, moving his kisses further down.

You shuffled to lay on your side, supporting yourself comfortably with your palm on your cheek. Gideon tried to calm down his ragged breath as he felt your gaze examining his face. You smiled, enjoying the sight of your boyfriend losing composure.

"Is something wrong, hon?"

"No. Nothing's wrong. Why would it be?" He responded, too absorbed in the sensations to show his annoyance.

"Just checking." You gently pet his hair again, getting him to lean into your touch just a bit. "It's nice to see you getting along with Matthew, you know?"

Gideon was ready to respond with a presumably some slightly defensive remark, before a hitched breath forced him to stop. You looked at the source of his reaction, seeing that Matthew already took off Gideon's bottom half of the clothes, planting his kisses in the most receptive spots of Gideon's body. He was comfortably laying down on his stomach, between Gideon's legs, lazily stroking his length with the added teasing of his lips.

His feather-light smooches slowly drove Gideon insane, why was he being so gentle with him? Was this his way of getting back at him? To tease him to death?

After a prolonged session of merely playing with him, Matthew finally granted him a bold lick, lapping affectionately at Gideon's sensitive nerves. An unauthorized whine got out of Gideon's lips, causing the corners of your lips raise upwards in a soft smile. You loved hearing Gideon turn vocal. Matthew made sure to cover each part of Gideon in his drool, yet still stuck only to outside licking - he would not risk putting his dick in his mouth just to get choked, he was smarter than Gideon's dirty tricks.

After some time, Gideon's guilty-pleasure sounds became even sharper, string of moans and labored breaths filled the otherwise quiet room. The grip in both of his hands abused the soft bed-cover, making it twist with each weak pull of his wrist. You knew he was close, and perhaps, you might have even guessed what Matthew was about to do pretty soon.

He teased the underside of his tip, which was now oozing with precum. Gideon leaked a lot at this point, but it was all quickly wiped off with a single brush of Matthew's tongue once in a while. You couldn't deny there was a light, uncomfortable feeling of your own underwear being damp due to the boys' show, but you held off from doing anything yet. You couldn't interfere with them making amends, right?

As expected, Matthew retracted his mouth away from Gideon being inches away from his orgasm. Gideon opened up his eyes, his piercing stare spoke more than thousand words.

"...Asshole." He huffed out, almost as if he predicted his action. Matthew only laughed in response, getting closer to Gideon, now straddling his lap. You tilted your head in interest, Gideon just squinted in confusion.

"You're not that sneaky, Gideon." Matthew hovered above him, holding Gideon's chest for support as he gently brushed against his still sensitive member. "You're begging for someone to fuck you with just a glimpse of your expression. Is that why you've been so moody? You wanna get laid so bad?"

Gideon had nothing to say in return, just listening to what he would describe as Matthew's rambling nonsense. "Did Y/N really have to push you to realize it? Because, Gideon, you seem much more desperate than the both of us combined." He slid right across his dick again, forcing a quiet whimper to fall out of Gideon.

"Yet, you still put up with the facade of the grand CEO, the one who has it all under control," Matthew continued moving, "one who wouldn't ask TWO available partners for sex, because he's gotta be the big man! People should come to you, not the other way around, right?" He took a minute to align himself just right, finally pushing his hips down, causing yet another moan to escape.

"Nff- S-stop pretending you're bored of the damn movie if you're just gonna pout like a stupid, horny teenager about it!" Matthew huffed out, slowly moving up as he adjusted to the feeling of being stretched.

You were honestly surprised at the events unraveling, finding Matthew pointing out Gideon's bullshit as... quite hot. Especially that Gideon did nothing to object his accusations.

Gideon grabbed Matthew's thighs, fighting the urge to just spill all of his thoughts at once, "T-The movie still did suck!" He bit back, trying to regain some of his previous grit. "But yes, Matthew, Y/N, if you both wanna hear it so bad, I-I'm fucking tired of you being so casual about your mutual affections! It's infuriating!" Matthew stopped his movements as he bottomed out on Gideon again, leaving him pant in frustration.

"What do you mean?" You tilted your head, now sitting up to carefully listen Gideon's weirdly chosen time to get vulnerable.

"How do you expect me to approach anything sincerely while NOT getting defensive, if all I get in return is a surprised reaction at Gideon showing an ounce of what he wants to do?" He went on, his cheeks getting redder from embarrassment and irritation. "Of course I'm gonna be fucking annoying, you're annoying!"

Both you and Matthew were truly shocked at the discovery. You waited a bit, making sure he didn't have anything else to say, but after a minute of silence, you concluded you weren't gonna force anything more.

Matthew could think of an array of quips or insults, pointing out how stupid his way of thinking was, but he was smarter, more mature with his feelings than Gideon ever was. You both knew your boyfriend's behavior could be better, but he never gave you a chance to change it, until now. How could you fix something if he didn't let you get to him?

Matthew sighed, leaning closer to Gideon's upset expression. "You are. So childish." Both you and Gideon had now surprise painted on your face, Gideon more so than you. He was appalled at Matthew response, but his significant other continued. "Of course it's gonna be surprising if you start acting like a normal boyfriend out of the blue. You're always so condescending! But have you ever considered, it's okay to be vulnerable once in a while?"

You didn't wanna preach, but you decided to join the discussion, "Yeah, Gideon- We're- We're not gonna laugh at you?? We would love nothing more than to finally hear your problems!"

"Ygh... That's why I don't like to talk about mushy-feelings stuff. You're always so- dramatic. It's not that deep." He tried to cover up his moment of weakness with a casual facade of "I don't care that much".

"Maybe it's not, even if it's not! We still care about you?"

"I- ugh, I know that you do." He muttered out, avoiding your intense stares.

"...So what's the problem?" You treaded carefully, treating Gideon like a wild animal who could be spooked if there was a sign of any wrong move.

"The problem is- I know I'm the asshole. And I know, I gotta change it." He sighed, trying to calm down his nerves, not even entirely sure why he bothered to disclose them in the first place, right now. Curse his temper getting out of control.

Matthew tilted his head, not entirely getting his point, but still choosing to remain patient with Gideon.

"I just-" The vulnerability in his words caused him to hesitate, feeling way too stupid about the topic to approach it with eloquence. "Hate not being in control." There. It was out.

He fully expected Matthew to just piss him off even further, with some smart-ass quip as they used to do on the daily, he would probably say something along the lines of, "too bad! get over it!"

To his astonishment, Matthew didn't say any of that. He just looked at Gideon with indiscernible expression, which later faded into a gentle, maybe even a bit amused smile.

"Really? That's it?"

Gideon tried to figure out what exactly Matthew meant by that.

"Gideon. Nobody likes being in the dark about what's gonna happen." He continued, convinced he saw through Gideon's simple words. He spend enough time with him to figure out it wasn't just his narcissism problem. I mean, Gideon wasn't totally an ass. If he was, there simply would be no relationship. But there were those treasured moments where he would actually show he still had a heart.

Your soft voice shook Gideon out of his thoughts, "Yeah. It's fine, even if it's scary, you know?"

He wanted to convince you he wasn't scared, opening up his mouth, yet closing it promptly after. You all knew that was a lie.

"But it's alright. We're all there for each other, right?" Gideon just rolled his eyes. "Yes, I know it sounds corny," you tried to lighten up the mood, smiling at your boyfriend's reaction.

"I'm all for corny," Matthew chimed in, loosening up as well. "And, Gideon. No, we're not gonna be making a big deal if you show us a little affection. Hell, even once a week normal get-together would be an improvement." He only lightly teased, testing the waters with how Gideon would respond.

Gideon felt- actually, he didn't know what he was feeling. Relief? Cringe? Something for sure, but his kitty-timer on discussing heart-to-heart matters had just ran out. He would deal with this later.

He sighed. "Okay, it's cute and all, but- can we continue this conversation later? When I'm maybe, not balls deep in Matthew? I know I kinda started it before, but, really. It went for longer than I expected it to go." He impatiently tapped his finger on Matthew's thigh, making the other man chuckle in the absurdity of the situation.

Even though you had the clear visual of your boyfriends mid-sex right before you, the importance of listening to Gideon finally voice out his worries occupied your mind more than the previous activity.

"Right," you grinned, seeing as Matthew was slowly resuming his movements. Gideon exhaled contently, finally getting to feel the sweet friction again. He still felt a bit embarrassed my spilling his guts like that, and he had a feeling he would feel dreadful starting the topic again, later. But for now, he had better things to focus on.

As you watched Matthew gently hump Gideon, after such a prolonged break, you decided it was finally a time for you to do something. You were patient enough before, giving the boys a chance to reconcile, but now, having much more info about Gideon's thought process, you thought it wouldn't hurt to reassure him of the sincerity of your words.

Gideon moved his head towards your way, feeling the mattress sink under him as your body inched towards him.

"Mind if I join?" You asked with a hint of playfulness in your voice, obviously knowing neither of them would mind.

"Not at all." Gideon smirked, feeling a bit better once the focus was redirected onto purely sexual matters - a more familiar territory for him.

"...You wanna trade places, Y/N?" He huffed out, slowly lowering and raising himself off Gideon once more.

"Maybe later," you politely declined, having other plans for now. Both boys watched you with interests, mostly Gideon, seeing you approach him first. "For now, I'm good just helping from the side."

Your cheekiness shined as you assaulted Gideon's neck with affection-filled kisses, you wanted to reward him for finally speaking up. Not like you wouldn't do that before, but now, it was especially a great occasion to do so.

Gideon couldn't help but squirm, being showered with overwhelming sensations by two people was more than enough for him to start making noises again. Matthew noticed that, quickening his moves with a content and smug smile, letting out labored pants once in a while as well. Your pecks went up all the way to his cheek, after which you pulled away to briefly looking at Gideon with the sweet expression he loved seeing on you. Stare filled with love and adoration. Gideon used to be salty about you showing that to Matthew more often than him, or at least that's what he tried to convince himself. In reality, you reserved them for both of your boyfriends, never choosing sides.

He smiled with half-lidded eyes, reciprocating back some of the love you still chose to show, even if Gideon wasn't perfect. It's true, his sincere moments of tenderness were rare, but you felt over the moon whenever you got to experience them for real.

Your lips pressed into his, pulling him into a passionate makeout session not too long after. The feeling of your tongues dancing together only increased upon closing your eyes. You could not let Matthew get neglected, though. Being good at multitasking, you reached out a hand, wrapping it around Matthew's length, working your wrist in a steady pace to the roll of his hips. Actually, you didn't even have to do much, given Matthew already moved his body in satisfying, rhythmic thrusts.

You didn't know how much time has passed ever since you resumed your actions from the previous conversation, but it was enough for both Matthew and Gideon's movements to turn uneven and erratic, being an obvious sign of their fun ending pretty soon.

Not wanting to muffle Gideon's approaching moan of satisfaction, you broke the kiss, turning your attention to Matthew now - you liked to take turns spoiling your boyfriends. Your thumb lightly massaged the sensitive spot on Matthew's tip, lightly smearing the quickly gathering effects of your touch on him. You leaned closer to his ear, happy to provide Matthew with some praise. You knew he loved it.

"You're doing so well, hun. Such a good boy, for me, for Gideon... Show how much you love us, hm?" You whispered into his ear, causing shivers to run down Matthew's spine, it was all too much for him. Spilling right into your hand, a high-pitched whimper hit both you and Gideon, who had troubles keeping quiet as well.

Matthew kept pushing his hips up and down, faintly haunted by overstimulation, yet still helping Gideon ride his orgasm until he totally bottomed out, letting Gideon lightly scratch his thighs while he filled him up.

You retreated your hand as soon as you noticed Matthew was ready to fall down right onto Gideon, too exhausted to do anything else. Not bothering to get up and get a napkin, your laziness pushed you towards less conventional methods of cleaning the mess - simply licking it off. Matthew was always flustered whenever you did that. They both had difficulty calming down their labored breathing, simply basking in the afterglow for a moment. You were kinda jealous.

Giving them a minute to regain their strength, you patiently waited for a good time to vocalize your need of being pampered as well. Not like it wasn't obvious at this point, though.

Matthew was the first to get off of Gideon, feeling a tad bit too sticky to keep laying down, not wanting to make more of a mess on the already dirty covers, he put one foot on the ground. He intended to take another step, but Gideon voice stopped him before he could do so.

"Wait." He spoke in a tone that seemed almost as if the words coming had to be manually forced out of him. "... I'll get you the towel."

Gideon stepped off the bed, heading towards the bathroom. He wasn't in a rush.

Both you and Matthew looked at each other with the expression that could only be described as "...aw. he cares."

Soon enough, Gideon called Matthew's name, making the other man's head turn his way, only to get the towel thrown at his face. Well, Gideon still being Gideon. You chuckled, seeing the way he smirked, it wasn't a rude gesture, just a playful banter (for real this time). He could have thrown the towel way harder if he intended to piss Mattie off. Matthew didn't seem to mind either, briefly rolling his eyes before making himself decent.

Both of the boys now sat down next to you, each on the opposite side. They exchanged knowing glances, getting a mischievous spark in their eyes as you came to realize their little plan.

"You didn't think we were gonna let you miss all the fun, did you?" Matthew started, showing you a mischievous and cheeky smile. You reciprocated, grinning like a fool.

"Of course not." You were waiting a lot for this moment.

Gideon was first to get you down on the bed with a light and push of his hand. You'd be offended by being treated like a piece of meat, but the eyes narrowed in a not fully smug expression let you know Gideon was just feeling particularly playful at the moment. You guessed the orgasm cleared out his mind enough for it to show up without it being a big deal, which you didn't mind one bit.

He climbed on top of you, his hands wandered all across your body, slowly lifting the shirt to expose your tummy. In the meantime, Matthew got off the bed, grabbing the fabric of your pants to remove them. Not bothering to leave anything out, he pulled them off along with your underwear, choosing not to comment on it's soaked state.

The difference between the two boys' actions was an overwhelming mix - Matthew's moves were slow and gentle, careful not to cause you any discomfort, while Gideon was getting straight to the point, covering your whole neck in hickeys and gliding his palm all over your torso.

You parted your legs, giving Matthew more access. He responded by softly brushing his fingers against your delicate nerves. You had to let the few quiet noises out of you, making both boys quite pleased. Gideon lowered himself down, reaching your collarbone to leave a trail of red spots leading up to it from your throat. Matthew continued, keeping a satisfying cycle of steady movements.

Gideon pulled away to look at your marked skin, pleased with the outcome. He turned his head to look at Matthew, giving him a silent signal to switch places with the nod of his head. He complied, picking himself up from the floor to shimmy over next to you. Gideon grabbed your legs so that they weren't hanging off the bed, positioning you to lay vertically on it. You had a grin throughout the whole ordeal, amused by how coordinated they could be under the right circumstances, working like a two cogs in a machine.

Gideon occupied himself by going in-between your legs, sparing no time to indulge you with his golden tongue. Matthew laid himself next to you, smirking at the reactions you showed.

"Enjoying yourself, love?" he commented playfully, gaining a tired smile in return.

"Very much so," you replied a bit out of breath, seeing him squint his eyes in amusement.

He leaned closer, softly putting his hand on your cheek to envelop you in a deep kiss. His other hand lightly massaged your uncovered chest. His touches were always so warm, it was a nice feeling, in comparison to Gideon's, which were commonly pretty cold. Maybe that's why he yearned for so much physical contact.

Your tongue almost slipped out of Matthew's mouth as Gideon began to intensely suck and twirl his tongue along your sweet spot, making you squirm. You were not an asshole, doing your best not to accidentally push him with the trembling legs caused by the overwhelming sensations he gave you. Knowing Gideon, though, he'd probably be into it.

Being the sneaky bitch he is, he followed his current way of pleasing you by suddenly inserting at first one, then two fingers into you, this time successfully getting you to pull away from Matthew for a gasp. The other man took a moment to glance at Gideon, who wore a smug smirk on his face. He was in his element, after all.

Short period of getting used to the act let you slowly melt into ecstasy, feeling your orgasm just around the corner. Your senses were slowly getting clouded, exhaling all sorts of labored breaths and whines. Matthew looked at you with affection, endeared at the display of your emotions. Gideon, too focused on his task, didn't register Matthew silently creeping up to him, waiting for just the right moment to strike.

Seeing your muscles tense up, Matthew, wanting to add fun for the both of you, pressed Gideon into your crotch, earning a shocked groan from the other man, now covered in your essence. You were too busy to even notice the commotion, only seeing the aftermath of Matthew's actions after you calmed down your uneven breaths.

Gideon got up to tackle now startled Matthew, pushing him on the bed next to you, holding him by the arms. A guilty smile appeared on Matthew's face, observing as Gideon's expression quickly changed from a threatening dismay with his poor choice to a devious smirk.

Matthew yelped, unprepared to feel Gideon's teeth sink into the crook of his neck, not too hard, but enough to leave a mark.

"What was that for??" Matthew huffed, a bit taken aback by the gesture, yet not too audacious, seeing as he didn't attempt to throw him off of him. He knew the answer to his question, making Gideon raise his brow in confusion.

"Play stupid games, win stupid prizes," he answered, too proud of himself for getting the upper hand.

"Don't act like you didn't like it," he added, referencing Matthew's previous words. Matthew rolled his eyes, being taken out of his faux irritation by hearing the sound of your chuckles.

"You're both worth each other," you joked, gathering yourself up to wrap your arms around them both, pulling them into a tight hug.

"We're all worth each other," Matthew responded, caught in a silly mood as well.

The three of you kept the embrace for a few more moments before retreating, the sweat covering your bodies was getting a bit too uncomfy. Gideon's glasses had visible stains on them, so he chose to safely put them on the bedside table. His eyes traced the intricate shapes carved onto the ceiling of the room, seemingly for no apparent reason.

Matthew was laying between you and Gideon, absentmindedly playing with your hair with one hand. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence, he knew you loved it, and he loved making you feel nice. He wouldn't mind giving this treatment to Gideon as well, but he never seemed to care for it.

While the both of you were occupied, Gideon took this time to think about your previous conversation, the one happening at the most inconvenient time due to him letting his nerves get ahold of him.

It wasn't fair. Gideon was supposed to be in control. He had to be in control. He wouldn't let the unknown overwhelm him. You and Matthew were people, ones that he let be close to him. Too close for his own comfort. He knew it was solely his problem, which is why he was so defeated by admitting it. Gideon didn't really like having his own problems pointed out. But if he wanted to keep you, he had to get his shit together.

Before, he loved Ramona. He really did, just like now, choosing to accept his love for you and Matthew. But with her, it was way easier. She showed him affection, Gideon was riding his high horse, not showing it back - he didn't have to, he had his wealth and status to do it for him, right? Well, in a 2 people relationship it didn't really go well. He could not be worse than Matthew, he could not be worse than you. Or else, the remaining people would realize what a shitty person he is, just like Ramona did. He couldn't get her back, and it stung not only his pride. Which is why he felt constantly threatened by your seemingly easy way of getting along with Matthew.

He hated admitting he was the problem, he hated that he knew the solution. Showing his true feelings would force him to confront that thought, which was a very unpleasant process. It's not like he never showed you affection, though.

It would usually happen when Gideon was too exhausted to be grumpy after work, simply needing to spend his next moments in the comfort of your arms. It would happen right before you were planning to go to sleep, sometimes a bit earlier, sometimes a bit later, depending how much work Gideon had for the day. He wouldn't speak, he would simply fall onto the same bed you were sitting on right now, clinging to any person who was available at the moment.

But what he loved most was when he had both of you at the same time, free to just wrap his arms around you or Matthew and feeling the reciprocation from both sides. He didn't have to clearly express his need to be hugged, or even why he wanted to do that. He was just sleepy, his acting excused by the obvious circumstances.

Then, he would wake up, usually way before any of you. His work forced him to develop a habit of waking up right around the time his alarm would go off. He could look at you with the affection he didn't dare to comfortably show whenever you were awake. He didn't want you to to get too used to it. It's not like he didn't want it to show it, it was just reserved for certain moments only. And if he showed it one time, then didn't feel like it the next day, he would surely come off as even bigger asshole. So, to avoid that, he was just an asshole all the time - he didn't have to explain himself then, you were used to it, right?

Even though he clearly saw the holes in his logic, he tried to navigate living this way, somehow. This, in turn, created the current problem. He felt neglected. And it was all caused by none other than himself, even if he tried to shift the blame on his partners to feel better -mostly Matthew, as he was the one to usually respond to his moodiness with a fight back.

Gideon grew tired of living this way. Seeing Matthew giving his affection to you so effortlessly still fired up some scraps of jealousy in him, but today, he felt motivated enough to finally take small steps towards his goal of having a better approach for this kind of stuff.

He silently scooted over closer to Matthew, gently throwing his arm across the man's waist, resting his chin on his chest. Matthew stopped mindlessly combing thru your hair, positively surprised at Gideon's initiative. He welcomed his warmth, reaching out his other hand to grant him the same gesture. Gideon appreciated it, exhaling contently while closing his eyes. Maybe it wasn't that bad if the reward so satisfying.

Seeing this development caused you to smile, mimicking Gideon's idea of wrapping your arm around Matthew. Well, there goes the no-sweaty-hugs notion.

"Good thing I have two hands," Matthew joked, his expression growing fonder with each second of the peace passing by.

"Even..." You silently took a moment to count, "six, or eight, if you really try," you pointed out Matthew's superpowers. He chuckled in response.

"Two is just fine." Gideon commented, lazily looking at both of you.

"So... do we take a bath?" Matthew asked, slowly stopping his movements.

"Your hands are getting tired, aren't they?" You smirked in amusement.

"Not saying they aren't... But we still do need a bath." He squinted his eyes in a calm smile.

Gideon sighed, not keen on pulling away, yet still took into consideration Matthew's point. You were all sticky, and probably smelled by now. He sluggishly got up, waiting for the duo to follow him to the bathroom.

. . .

Returning to the couch, now squeaky clean, the three of you sat themselves comfortably once more, all snuggled up under a soft blanket. Gideon didn't comment anything else about the movie, silently watching as the credits began to roll on the screen. Maybe he even enjoyed it, just a little bit?

Matthew was the one to break the silence, "...Well, Gideon," turning his boyfriend's attention onto him, "if watching my favorite movie was such a torture for you, perhaps I could give at least one season of your anime a try. To even things out."

It was hard for Gideon to contain the sparkles appearing in his eyes, he really didn't expect Matthew to care about it, at all. He calmed down the smile threatening to invade his face, clearing his throat a little to speak, "That would... make things fair, I suppose." He tried to cover his excitement with a layer of nonchalance, but it was pretty clear nonetheless.

Both you and Matthew didn't even attempt to hide your joy at seeing a glimpse of Gideon's silly side shining through.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

sunflower, chapter thirteen

summary: in which they go to bone town 

warnings: having a nightmare, crying, fear of abandonment,  penetrative sex, a bit of dirty talk, praise, creampie, crying after sex

word count: 1810

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

previous chapter - series masterlist - next chapter

Glancing up, you looked over Spencer’s sleeping form once more, before looking down again at the sketchbook in your hands, checking to see if you’d gotten his hair just right. It had gotten a bit longer now, beautifully sprawling out over the pillow. Scratching a few more hairs onto the paper, you’d gotten it just right.

Taking a moment to stretch the hand that had been clutching onto that pencil for way too long, you were suddenly startled by Spencer waking up with a gasp. It took a moment before he noticed you sitting there in the corner and immediately took a sigh of relief.

“Hi,” he said quietly, letting a few tears run down his cheeks.

Jumping out of your comfortable position in the armchair, you moved to sit on the bed beside him, “it’s okay, you’re okay.”

Grasping your hand, he took a few deliberate deep breathes, “it was, um, I had a nightmare.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I, um… it was about Gideon, my old boss… and then Blake… and then-…” holing his focus on your hand, he muttered, “they all left me. Just like my dad did.”

Staying quiet, you just leaned over to wipe his cheeks.

“Everyone that’s ever meant something to me has left,” looking up at you, he whispered, “it’s only a matter of time before you leave me too.”

“Why would you think I’d ever leave you?”

“Because I love you, and people that I love tend not to stick around.”

“Spencer,” you called his attention, “I am not going anywhere.”

Scooting closer to him, you tugged a piece of hair behind his ear and continued, “the way that you make me feel, I’ve never experienced that with anyone,” moving your hand down his arm, you leaned closer to him, “I love you so much,” softly pressing your forehead against his, “I’m not gonna leave you. The only way that’s happening is if you kick me out.”

“God, I love you,” he breathed out and then pressed his lips against yours. The beard that he’d grow during the recovery scratched you slightly, but in a pleasant way. Feeling his hand travel up your back, in order to get you closer, you swung your leg over his hips and straddled him.

As soon as you were settled down in his lap, he slipped his tongue past your lips and danced it over yours. Pressing your body closer to his, you couldn’t help but grind against him ever so slightly, making him hum into the kiss. Feeling him quickly grow hard under you, your movements grew more persistent.

Softly moaning his name into the kiss, he pulled away slightly, “fuck, we should probably slow down a bit.”

“Why? Am I hurting you?” you moved back to look at him properly.

“No, Y/n, you are definitely not hurting me, just, if you wanna slow down, we can,” bringing his hands down to a safer zone, he rested them on top of your knees, “we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“Do you not want to?”

“Of course I do, I just don’t wan-“

“You’re not, trust me,” picking one of his hands up and placing it on your side, dangerously close to your boob, “I want you.”

“You sure?” he searched your eyes.

“Yeah, Spencer,” you leaned down again to kiss him, “I need you.”

Kissing him deeply, he inhaled sharply as you started your hips movements again. Gliding your hands down his chest, once you reached the bottom of his shirt, you tugged it up. Parting, he carefully helped to remove it. Nervous that that might have done something, you asked, “are you okay?”

Letting the shirt fall on the mattress beside you, he smiled, “yeah, I’m fine.”

“Promise you’ll tell me if you are in even an ounce of pain?”

Slipping his hands under your shirt, “I promise.”

Leaning down to plant kisses all over his jaw, carefully skipping the neck and down to his chest, he played with your tits, squeezing them lightly, ending in a slight pull on your nipples, making you roll your hips.

Sliding your hand down to his groin, you palmed his hardness through his pants, “can I please take these off you? It’s really not fair that you’ve seen me naked, but I’ve barely seen you.”

Chuckling lightly, he replied, “I’m not gonna stop you.”

Crawling down the bed, you took them with you, pulling both his pants and boxers off, leaving him completely naked. His cock sprang free, hitting him in the stomach. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” you tossed his clothes to the floor.

Keeping your eyes locked on him, you hurriedly took your own off. It wasn’t pretty, but it was fast, even though you almost got stuck ripping your shirt off, the two of you just giggled through it.

Soon you were on top of him again, still giggling lightly, although that did die down when you realized just how bare you both were. You could feel everything.

Grabbing a hold of your hips, he grinded you harder down on his dick. Closing your eyes at the pleasure shooting through you every time the pressure was just right on your clit. Reaching your hand down, he quickly grabbed it, making you open your eyes and look at him, “wait, there’s a condom in the drawer on the right,” he breathed heavily.

“We can, but I’m on the pill, so I’m great if you just wanna…” your offer was cut short as he pressed his fingertips against your clit.

Rubbing in slow circles, “if you’re okay with it, then so am I.”

Not needing any more foreplay, you grabbed a hold of his cock. Hovering, teasing your entrance, you slowly sank down on it, till you were filled to the brim. Your legs quivered slightly on the way down. It didn’t hurt. Even though you knew that you weren’t exactly a nun, you were still a bit nervous about it hurting. But it didn’t. Not to say that it felt the same as riding a toy, this was very much different. Even just knowing that this was Spencer and not just some inanimate object lit a fire deep within you that you couldn’t quite explain.

When you were completely settled on him, you didn’t move, taking a moment. Brushing his hand over your thigh, he breathed out, “fuck, you feel amazing,” then looking you directly in the eye, he reassured you, “take your time.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle lightly at his sweet words, causing your walls to clench down on his dick, making him inhale sharply, “what’s so funny?” he smiled.

“Nothing’s funny, I just love you so much.”

Moving his hand further up your thigh, he came to touch your clit again, making it hard not to rock your hips. Looking down at him, brows slightly furrowed, mouth agape, you unconsciously slide a hand over your body, coming to rest at your left boob, cupping it and pinching the nipple.

Slowly you started moving your hips, letting out shaky moans.

Fuck, it felt incredible. Only just begun, but the high of it all made the end creep up on you that much faster than you expected. Whining his name, he cooed at you, “you’re doing so good.”

Keeping his hand’s movements up on your tiny bundle of nerves, you started lifting your hips further up, until just the very tip was in, and then you eased your way down again. Finding a good rhythm, you kept it deliciously slow, feeling every single inch of him.

Feeling not far off from cuming, you moaned out, “Spencer, keep doing that, I’m-, oh fuck!” arching your back, you let go. Supporting yourself, with a flat palm on his abdomen, keeping yourself upright, your hip buckled, desperately riding out your orgasm. Never stopping, he kept on stimulating you until you almost had you rip his fingers away from you.

Panting, you crumbled, laying down on top of him and rolling your eyes shut.

Stroking his hand down your back, he slurred, “I knew that would feel amazing, but fuck, that was so much better than I imagined.”

Your legs were trembling on either side of him. Keeping your face smooshed into his shoulder, you moved your hips ever so slightly, wincing slightly at the overstimulation, though it only lasted a few moments, hearing Spencer curse under his breath made your recovery quick.

Picking up the speed, you kept your upper body low, staying close to him. Feeling his fingers dig into your sides, maybe in an effort to help you along or maybe he just couldn’t help himself, you enjoyed the feeling of his control for just a moment until you remembered the state he was in. Reaching down to remove them, you brought them up and interlocked your fingers with his.

“You-, “you choked out amidst your moans, “are not allowed to do that.” Hovering above him, looking deeply into his eyes, “let me do all the work.”

Tightening his grip on your hands, he smiled, “yes, ma’am.”

Giving him a quick kiss, you then stayed right there, completely close, sharing his breath, observing every single one of his reactions. It wasn’t long before you saw his eyes struggle to stay open, and panting out a question, “where?”

“Inside, please, I want to feel you, I want all of you.”

It was almost like you could see straight into his soul as he came. Doing his best to keep his eyes open, you kept up your movements, milking him of every wonderful drop, the sensation only made you smile. Coming to a stop, you stayed there for maybe a little longer than necessary, not wanting to part from him. You closed your eyes. Jesus Christ, you loved this man.

His breath returned to normal after a bit, but yours didn’t. It certainly got more regular, but it also became wobbly. It wasn’t until you opened your eyes again to see a slightly blurry Spencer looking up at you with worry, that you came to learn why.

“Y/n, are you okay?”

“What?” you breathed out shakily.

“You’re crying,” he pointed out, letting go of one of your hands to touch your cheek, “was it, oh, I’m so sorry,” he carefully pulled out of you, there forth slowly letting his cum leak out and drip down onto his lower stomach.

Confused you wiped your eyes, “I’m not sad, I don’t know why I’m crying, that was amazing.”

“Oh,” he smiled.

“I love you so much,” you cried, laughing lightly at the silliness of your reaction.

Letting out a soft chuckle, he too became all teary-eyed, “I love you too.”

Whipping your cheeks and planting kisses on them as well, he kept on whispering the proclamation on repeat, well after your tears had stopped.

next chapter

© 2022 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[justagalwhowrites]

Beskar Doll - Ch. 46: Naboo

You and Din seek help from your oldest friends. A continuation of Beskar Doll Ch. 1-45 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: the Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Female Reader

Warnings: None really this time besides like... angst but that's a given. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only

Length: 3.1k

You’d never been happier that Tatooine was so close to Naboo. The trip only took a few hours and you spent the time trying to connect with Grogu again, but it wasn’t working. You gave up after a bit, resorting to pacing to pass the time instead. Naboo was close enough that rerouting power wouldn’t really buy you any time so at least you could pace the hold this time. 

“Doll,” Din was leaning against a nearby wall. “You should rest.” 

“You think I can rest right now?” You asked, brows raised. 

“You should try.” 

“I should change,” you said, sighing deeply. You were in clothes from Naboo, things that might make you recognizable there. You couldn’t risk it. 

You found something more nondescript and let your hair down, so you wouldn’t look like you were from Naboo, and found Din again. He was cleaning a blaster in the galley, focused on it intently. You came and wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your head on top of his helmet. His hand came up to hold your arm, giving you a squeeze. 

“I hate this,” you said quietly. 

“I know.” 

He reassembled the blaster and set it on the table before he reached for you, tugging you gently onto his lap. Once you were settled, he removed his helmet and closed his eyes, putting his forehead to your own, a hand on your hip. 

“Cyare,” he said gently, opening his eyes and looking into your own. “You should consider staying on Naboo…” 

“No,” you said sharply. “Absolutely not.” 

“If you are carrying…” he began, but you cut him off. 

“It doesn’t matter,” you shook your head. “If I don’t have you and him it doesn’t matter. I’m going.” 

He reached up and threaded his fingers through your hair, cradling your head in his large hand, pulling your face to his, kissing you softly. 

The Crest chimed and you pulled back, frowning. 

“We’re coming up on Naboo,” he said, setting you on your feet and putting the helmet back on before heading for the cockpit. You followed at his heels, buckling into the copilot’s seat and holding your breath as you heard the hyperdrive slow. 

When you’d jumped here just days before, on your way to surrender to Gideon to try to keep something like this from ever happening, you’d barely even looked at the view outside your ship. Now, you took it in, the tense chill of dread thrumming through your entire body. You unbuckled yourself from your seat and got up, walking to the front of the cockpit, as close to the viewer as you could possibly be. 

It wasn’t what you thought returning to your home world would be. You’d hoped you’d be able to return one day - probably when you were much older and there was no risk of anyone recognizing you. You wanted to come back and be able to experience this world again, not be desperate for help - desperate enough to put your friends at risk. 

“Where should I land?” Din asked. 

“Theed Spaceport,” you said. 

“We’ll be on records…” he began but you cut him off. 

“Good,” you said, looking back at him. “Let Gideon come to us. Let him try to get to me here, in my home, on my world. If he finds us now, that just puts us closer to what we want. If he’s stupid enough to try to fight me on my terms, I might just give him a quick death.” 

Din looked at you for a moment before giving you a single nod, bringing the ship into the port. 

You took limited weapons off the ship and started off, leading Din through the city toward the palace. 

It was strange being back. The last time you saw Theed, it was all but rubble. Cinder had decimated it, destroying so much of the place you’d called home your entire life. Now, it looked almost how it did before except all the buildings had the shine of newness to them. Replicas of what had stood before, things that had been there for centuries before the Empire tried to reduce your people to ash. 

“Where are we going?” Din asked, keeping a hand on your back as you moved through the city. 

“Back side of the palace,” you said, looking up at him. “Sosha and I had a plan, just in case I was ever in a spot like this one, where I desperately needed help… I just need to get there.” 

It was strange, moving through the center of the city as a normal person. Even with people giving Din a relatively wide berth, you’d gotten used to moving as part of the queen’s entourage - and sometimes as the queen herself, when Sosha needed a stand in. It wasn’t like you needed to wind your way through crowds on market day. But your husband kept a hand on you the whole time, making sure nothing came between you, and you made it to the edge of the palace grounds quickly. 

“This is where it’s going to get a little tricky,” you said cautiously, looking around the side of the structure. You saw the backs of guards and you waited for them to turn. “Move, we have to be quick.” 

You grabbed Din’s hand and ran down the side of the palace to an area that was walled off. 

“We need to go up and over,” you said. “I can climb it but…” 

He wordlessly lifted you into his arms and ignited the jetpack, setting you down inside the wall. You grabbed his hand and yanked him into bushes lining the inside of the wall, peering through a gap in the branches as guards on patrol came through. You’d gotten somewhat lucky. The patrol schedule hadn’t changed since you were a handmaid, you knew when to expect an interruption. The guards made their perimeter walk quickly and were out of sight again. You took Din’s hand and pulled him back out of the bushes, running full tilt toward a river that ran through the city, below the palace walls in a spot that was reinforced by forcefield, and down to a waterfall and the edge of a cliff. 

“We’re going for the falls,” you said quickly. “Can your jetpack get us through the water or do we need to climb it?” 

“Water won’t hurt it,” he said and you pulled him into another bush just seconds before another patrol came through. The guards swept quickly and moved on. As soon as they were gone, you took his hand and ran again, making it to the cliff’s edge this time. 

“We need to go about 30 feet down, through the falls. You have to stay as close as you can to the rock face,” you said as he lifted you into his arms as yours went around his neck. “It’s forcefield protected a few feet out from the cliffs so you can’t access it from outside.”

He nodded once, dropping over the edge of the cliffs, staying close enough to the rock that it snagged on your hair. He dropped down the 30 feet and brought you through the falls, the heavy blanket of cold water soaking you to the bone almost instantly. But through the falls was what you were looking for - an intricate tunnel system leading off one man-made cavern. Din landed and set you down, adjusting something on his helmet. 

“What is this place?” He asked, looking around. 

“Emergency access tunnels,” you said. “They go to a few places, all through the city. The palace, of course, the major government buildings… the thing we’re interested in, though, are the residences of former monarchs and current senators.” 

You went to the third tunnel in from the left and pressed the code you’d memorized years ago into the panel there. The shimmering forcefield covering the tunnel dissipated. 

“Let’s go,” you said, starting down the tunnel and a run. 

About a click in, you found the tunnel that led to Sosha’s and you entered a different code. The forcefield dropped and you took the stairs two at a time until you came to another panel, entering the last code. It exposed a large door - one you needed to actually push on to open - and you cautiously went into Sosha’s home. 

The tunnel had dumped you into what looked to be her sitting room, the door you’d come through a section of wall that completely blended in when it was closed. You tried to stick to the marble and off the rugs as you dripped onto her floors, looking for some kind of panel to see if she was home. 

You found one relatively quickly, pulling up Sosha’s data for the day. 

“Sosha’s out at the moment,” you said, looking through things. “But she should be back soon, judging from what’s here…” 

You looked around the room for a moment, trying to breathe. It was surreal, being back on Naboo, surreal to be surrounded by luxurious and beautiful things. Everything here was plush or shining. The floors and table tops glistened, the ceilings soared at least 20 feet over your head. The seats looked like they’d feel like a cloud if you were to actually sit on them. 

A table by the window that overlooked the water caught your eye and you approached it slowly. There were a dozen pictures displayed on holocubes. You picked one up slowly, reverently. 

It was of you and Sosha when you were girls, just starting at school together. You were hugging each other. You were both 11 and you were missing one of your teeth. You remembered losing it just two days before you were set to leave for school and worrying to your mother that it would make you seem like a little kid, showing up without one of your teeth. 

“I’m sure there will be other children there who have lost a tooth,” she said, brushing your hair back. “As soon as you start speaking, no one is going to think you’re a little kid.” 

Looking at the photo now, you recognized that you were a little kid. Your teeth were still a bit too big for your face when they first taught you how to kill someone to defend your queen.

Din came and stood at your shoulder, looking down at the image in your hands. 

“That’s me,” you pointed to the smaller version of yourself on the left. “That’s Sosha.” 

He put his hand at your waist and tugged you against his side and you put the photo down. You picked up another one, a formal portrait of Sosha with all her handmaids. You were seated immediately to her right, your body tilted toward hers, you just one more than half a dozen others, all identical, faces the same mask of cool detachment. You remembered being so nervous that it made your stomach turn but the image didn’t show it. 

“This is from her first coronation,” you said, looking up at Din. 

“You look young,” he said. 

“I was young,” you laughed a little. 

“I know,” he said gently. “I just… didn’t expect you to look that young.” 

You nodded slowly. You understood that. You set the photo down and Din picked up another one. It was toward the back of the table, one of the few set out that wasn’t posed. Another handmaid had probably taken it when you were all in the royal residence, no one else really around so you didn’t need to be on guard. You were there with Sosha, laughing next to her. You were both in handmaid gowns - someone else had been standing in for her that day, apparently - and Dagres was standing next to you, looking at you with a charmed smile on his face. You swallowed past the lump in your throat. 

“That’s Dagres,” you said, looking up at Din. It was strange, seeing them both like this - not that Dagres was really there to see. You’d loved him so much then. Part of you still did, but it was a different kind of love now. Something soft and quiet and friendly. It had seemed so vital and consuming then but it paled in comparison to what you felt for Din. 

“He protected you,” he asked without asking. 

“Yeah,” you said quietly. He just nodded, looking at the image for a moment longer. 

“I feel like I owe him a debt,” he said. 

You leaned your head on his shoulder and sighed. 

“Me too.” 

You’d been so absorbed by the images of your past you didn’t hear people arrive until it was all but too late. 

“Well if we can reschedule with the ambassador…” 

You recognized Sosha’s voice immediately and were about to drop into a curtsy when she came into the room. Her security was faster. 

“Highness!” The uniformed man yelled, jumping in front of Sosha and pulling his blaster, firing. Din threw you behind him, the blaster bolt pinging off his beskar as he ripped his own blaster free from its holster.

“Din!” You yelled, leaping around him, putting yourself between his gun and Sosha - the place you’d trained to be for half of your life. 

“Captain Pell!” Sosha threw her arm in front of him, forcing his blaster down before stepping forward. “I can assure you, this is the last person you need to protect me from. My dearest sister could never mean me harm.” 

***

Din kept his blaster out, not ready to trust anyone here enough to not hurt you.  

“Your Highness,” you dropped into a curtsy. Din kept his eyes on the guard. 

“You have never needed to curtsy to me,” the woman - Sosha - smiled before running forward and pulling you against her. You flung your arms around her neck, clutching onto her. 

“Seemed like the right thing to do,” your voice was wet. Sosha laughed. 

“It’s so good to see you again,” she said quietly. “I didn’t know if I ever would…” 

“I know,” you said. “I know….” 

The two of you separated and looked at each other for a moment. Din could easily see how you’d been tapped to be her body double. The two of you were the same height, similar build and coloring, even your facial structures looked similar. He was certain that - in the ceremonial makeup - the two of you would be nearly identical. 

But, like you knew him without the helmet, he was certain he’d know you then. He’d know. 

Another woman who looked almost shockingly like you came into the room, datapad in hand. 

“I think I’ve found…” she began but then she looked up, her eyes going wide. 

“Hi Donné,” you said softly. 

She didn’t say anything, just launched herself across the room to throw her arms around you, crying as she did. 

“We didn’t know if you were even still alive,” she choked. “We hoped but…” 

“I know,” you said, giving her a squeeze before she pulled away from you. “I’m sorry I got you both all wet…” 

Neither woman seemed to care about the fact that you’d inadvertently soaked their fine dresses. 

It was so strange, seeing you in this environment. You moved so seamlessly through his world - through dealings with criminals and other bounty hunters - it was easy for him to forget that you weren’t like him. You came from a place like this, raised amidst the trappings of high society. 

“It would appear that I owe you an apology, My Lady,” the guard said, holstering his weapon but still keeping an eye on Din. He bowed his head to you before nodding toward Din. He frowned behind his helmet. You were titled - you’d never told him that. He knew about your history with the monarchy on Naboo, of course, but he didn’t know that you were nobility yourself. There was an odd twinge in him, a sense that he was in a place he didn’t belong. You were made for this place, not him. The sickening feeling that you didn’t belong with him, not really. “You found a Mandalorian for security?” 

“Not quite,” you looked up at Din, stepping back toward him and slipping your hand into his. “This is my husband…”

“You’re married?” Sosha smiled, her hands going to her heart. You nodded. “Oh Solmé, I’m so happy for you… And to a Mandalorian, no less. Of course you would marry a warrior…” 

“I’m afraid we’re here for less than happy reasons,” you said, your grip on his hand getting tighter as Sosha’s face fell. “I’m here because I need your help. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important, I wouldn’t risk coming here if it wasn’t important…” 

“I owe you so much,” Sosha reached for your shoulder, pulling your forehead to her own. “I will do anything you ask of me.” 

You took a deep and shaky breath as she stepped back from you again. 

“An Imperial remnant has taken our son,” you said, your voice cracking. “And I need help to get him back. I need access to information about Imperial bases so I can try to find him and if there is anyone you can spare…” 

“You have a son?” Sosha asked, covering her mouth for a moment.

You nodded. 

“He’s a foundling,” you said. “His name is Grogu and the Empire wants him for research. Please, Sosha, we have to get him back. I’ll do anything…” 

“Is the Empire still afraid of you?” She asked. “Of what you did to them?” 

“They still want her,” Din said. Sosha looked up at him and he stepped closer to you, even though he knew you didn’t need protection here. He wanted to be ready. To make sure no one took you from him again. 

“Good,” Sosha said, taking your hands in hers. “We will find all the files on Imperial bases and we will go there, together.” 

“Sosha…” you began, but she cut you off. 

“If the Empire is afraid of what one of you could do to them, imagine how terrified they’ll be of five of you,” she smiled a little before looking over her shoulder at her guard. “Besides, anywhere I go that could be dangerous, Pell and his contingent of men also go. Right?” 

He sighed. 

“Yes, your highness.” 

She smiled and looked back at you. 

“I will get the other handmaids,” she said. “And we will go, together, to get your son.” 

“Thank you,” you all but collapsed against her. She put her arms around you. “Thank you, I can’t…” 

“This is what sisters do,” she said quietly. “We’ll get him back. If it’s the last thing I do, we will bring your son home.”

[drrutherford]

May, 2024.

It starts like this; his father offers him a cigar. And Gideon declines.

"Now you're too good for my old cigars?"

It's a poisoned dart. His nerves begin to thrum. "That's not-... It has nothing to do with that." He defends, following Andrew into his office. "I'm just thinking if I win this case it'll mean that I'll have Felix around a lot more so I'm trying to- I probably shouldn't..."

There's a puff of smoke from the lit Cohiba Siglo, the bitter coffee scent singes his nostrils even at a distance. Andrew exhales sardonically. "Ah, yes. A model father."

Gideon looks at him. Really looks, and sees, perhaps for the first time, what he's failed to see these last few years. The flash of insecurity-resentment in his father's chestnut eyes, the wiry hair – more salt than pepper these days – frown lines about his mouth, the papery creases around the corners of his eyes... He's getting old. Older, perhaps frailer, too. Maybe it shouldn't come as a shock. But for someone who's always been more myth than man, as immortal and impervious to ageing as some demigod in the Greek Pantheon — it's a realization that occurs to him with a start. Gideon lashes his own retort back behind his teeth, letting the patriarch's bitterness pass as if unnoticed.

"You know I've been seeing Amélie."

"The schoolteacher, you mean? The one we had over for the holidays?"

"Journalist." The surgeon corrects a little tersely. He can't help the suspicion that it's an intentional slight, innocently dressed as a slip. Andrew has information at his fingertips and all the paranoia in the world to use it; knows everything Gideon wants to do almost before he does it. He would have found every piece of dirt on Amélie that he could find, traced her genealogy back to Eve and the Serpent before letting her so much as draw breath under the crystal chandeliers of his front foyer. He knows she's a journalist.

"Pleasant young lady," Andrew acknowledges charitably, "awfully well-mannered." But Gideon knows that it's about as much a compliment as he might throw to the runt of a litter. The mob boss has little use for well-mannered in his world and esteems it about the same amount. "What is it you wish to tell me about her, son?"

For all his years'-long stubbornness as his father's black sheep, Gideon feels a tendril of trepidation run through him at the question. The familial phrasing, the luring invitation. He wets his lips. "We've been together for almost a year now and known each other far before that. I know I didn't-... I haven't advertised that part, exactly," – he hadn't denied it, either, but had kept external opinions at bay as long as possible by avoiding the label of 'girlfriend' to shelter her – "but we've gotten to know each other in all that time."

"How wonderful."

Gideon struggles to continue. "And-... Well, the point is, I can't keep lying to her."

"Then don't."

"I mean about us. The family."

Andrew Rutherford's hawk-like gaze meets him over the thick frame of his reading glasses. "I fail to see how that's relevant to your girlfriend. Otherwise known as a girl who may be here today and gone tomorrow. With all due respect, of course."

"She won't be. That's my point." The stubborn streak is back as son and father stare at each other over the latter's desk, though Gideon feels his pulse beginning to hammer in his throat. "She's important to me... Special. I want to pursue something serious with her, but I can't do that in good conscience if I'm lying to her all the while. She deserves to know what she's signing up for, by being with me."

"Signing up for what, exactly?" A droll tone enters his father's voice. "You've made it ever so clear you have no part in this family's business endeavours, I hardly see how—"

"It's not good enough. I'm still lying by omission. It still affects her, my association to the family alone is enough to affect her. Reflect on her, it wouldn't be fai—"

"And how is it fair to this family that you would spoon-feed a journalist her next big break by telling her whatever drivel it is you believe about the work that we do?"

"Drivel?" He echoes. It's followed by a disbelieving scoff. There are so many things he could say to that in reply, write an entire bloody essay on exactly the sort of drivel his father has been responsible for in countless neighbourhoods across two continents an ocean apart. The fires he's ignited, the lives he has torn apart, the brainwashing of their mutual loved ones to bear the brunt of that blame alongside him. It makes him sick to the gills to think of all the drivel his father's allowed or actively incited, but it isn't why he's here today. He's fought that battle a million times already... He's always lost.

"She isn't like that. You don't know her at all." Gideon struggles to keep his voice even, rather than accusatory. Remembering that it has been just as much his choice to keep Amélie away from his father as it is Andrew's to be dismissive of everyone's potential to be more than lying, thieving opportunists.

"Whose fault is that?"

A muscle tenses in his jaw. His gaze stays fixed to the cabinet behind his father's desk, patience beginning to fray. "All I'm trying to say is that she wouldn't. She wouldn't want to bring harm to the people that I care about. Hell, she worked herself into a tizzy just thinking she might insult Lara by her choice of dress last time we met, or worried she hadn't complimented Yvonne enough on raising Maddie so well. She loves Damon as much as everyone loves Damon, and Adri she—"

"— And you're willing to change all that. By running your mouth off so that you can sleep better at night. What good will it do her, Gideon? Answer me that."

It's a wonder that Andrew doesn't see it. But is it so surprising? A man whose personal relationships are decomposing at various rates all around him. "If she is going to be a part of my life, a part of this family, she has a right to know what she's signing up for."

"If you're thinking about jumping into another marriage—"

"I'm not," He cuts in hastily, an embarrassed flush spreading along the back of his neck. "Or well, I don't know. It's too early to thi-... But it isn't about that, it's about clearing the air and giving her full disclosure before things get that point. Not just blindsiding her. Why is that so difficult for you to understand?"

Andrew strolls over to the long, arched window and grabs the tieback holding the silk curtains off to one side. He releases it with a snap, nursing his tobacco all the while. The room falls into shadows. "And what about Lara?"

"What about her?"

The father turns back on his son, moving towards his desk again, keeping it between them. "You love her — some say to a fault." A smile cuts cruelly on his mouth. "Because you think she's so different than me. What's to spare her my fate if your journalist runs prattling to the first newsstand that she can find?"

If he were a better man, he would tell his father that Lara's fate is her own. That she's neither a prisoner nor a child anymore; blindly following in her father's footsteps. That if she cleaves to the mob, one day her fate will be sealed either way; by a court or by a criminal, and that in either case there will be violence.

He would tell his taunting father that even in such a case the responsibility would be neither his, nor Amélie's, nor even some stranger's — but her own.

... But he isn't a better man.

The house of cards shudders with that warning and the surgeons croaks out; "She won't! I know she won't." Resting his argument on a plea. He hates begging, hasn't begged anything from his father since he was a child; but Amélie, he knows, is worth his pride. "You gave Rodriguez a chance. I just wish you'd do the same for Amélie."

In mentioning Lara, Andrew seems to know he's hit a nerve. His posture relaxes, he takes another puff from the Cohiba Siglo. It's almost gleeful. "They aren't quite the same though, are they?... Félix Rodriguez brings us prestige, a foothold into politics. What does your French girl bring us, exactly? What makes her worth the risk?"

Gideon doesn't offer any response. Once again, it's clear how much his father has grossly underestimated a person if he believes that Yvonne's fiancé is the sort of lapdog to roll over for a treat. But he says nothing. It isn't his job anymore to warn Andrew Rutherford of the consequences that come with devaluing human beings.

"You're going to do it anyway." The older man observes, after a beat of silence passes between them. He pulls out the office chair and eases himself into it. He rests his cigar on its wooden holder and looks up at his son expectantly.

"Yes."

He can't tell if it's respect or contempt in his father's eyes. These days, they tend to look the same. He steps away from the desk, as if testing the bounds of his freedom. He rounds the chair, turns his back on Andrew Rutherford and makes it almost to the door when the older man calls out to him. "— Gideon."

He turns, guarded grey eyes finding inscrutable brown.

"Not everyone will understand us. Not everyone should try." The mob boss reaches for his decanter, removing the top and pouring some of the liquid into a glass with careful, precise movements. "If you lose her, remember that it was not my doing."

— End.

Mentioned: @amescastaignede, @lararutherford, @yvonne-rutherford, @amaroadriana, @damonrutherford

[lasatfat]

Knight's Gambit

also on AO3

“In the laboratory, the gambits all test unfavourably, but the old rule wears well, that all gambits are sound over the board.” – William Ewart Napier

As Commander of the Inquisition, Cullen spends most of his waking hours in his office, on the training grounds, at the War Table, or travelling between the three. Even his meals, when he can stomach food at all, are eaten at his desk around his paperwork, or off of a plate in his lap in between training drills. When the workload eases a little, or the walls of his office seem to press in too close, he has taken to spending time in the gardens. He can take some of his less sensitive paperwork with him, or when he has a rare moment of free time, he can play chess or simply listen to the birdsong.

It’s one of those days today, and thankfully not because of the lyrium. The Inquisitor has just returned from their excursion to Crestwood, to establish contact with Hawke’s allies in the Wardens, and each member of the party turned in mission reports of varying quality and usefulness. None of them are sensitive enough to require privacy, so Cullen is sitting in the garden to read them through.

Cassandra’s are, as usual, perfect: concise summaries of the taking of Caer Bronach, the closing of the rift in the lake, and the meeting with Warden-Commander Theirin. The crimes of Mayor Dedrick. The only issue with the Iron Bull’s reports is the amount of back-and-forth clarification they’ll require. He includes several details that appear irrelevant, but Cullen knows by now to assume that those details are important in some way. He also marks any information he plans to send to his colleagues in the Ben-Hassrath. Gideon had never written any kind of report before coming to the Inquisition, and in many ways, it still shows; some parts of his write-ups are more like blow-by-blow accounts of an expedition’s events, rather than summaries of their missions and information about the area. Hawke had submitted a report of their own, though it reads more like a personal letter, with several questions about how Cullen is doing and when they can meet for “a proper catch-up.” Finally, Cole’s attempt is borderline incomprehensible, and the few details Cullen can decipher are mostly frivolous.

(Still, at least he’d made the effort. The closest thing to a field report Cullen had ever received from Sera was a drawing of Solas engaged in lewd acts with a Despair Demon. It was both inappropriate and unhelpful, no matter how well-drawn it was).

It’s while he’s trying to unravel Cole’s prose that Cullen catches movement in the corner of his eye. He looks to his left, and finds a cat perched on the bench beside him. There are hundreds of cats in Skyhold; not even Solas can say how long they’ve been living feral in the ruined halls and forgotten libraries, roaming the abandoned streets of the village, and hunting in the overgrown fields of the farms. This cat, however, is another newcomer in these ancient walls.

“Ser Purrlock,” he says, cordially. Her ear flicks at the mention of her name, and she pushes her head against his gloved hand.

The distraction has brought his attention not only to the cat, but to the sounds of the garden around him: birds calling in the trees, the whistling of wind through the battlements, the low hum of conversation. There are two particular voices nearby that he recognises. One of them is Torunn, which would explain Purrlock’s presence. There’s the quiet scraping of stone on stone, and a little click. The two are playing chess.

“…don’t understand it, Dor,” she’s saying. “He could have his pick of most of the girls here. And half the men.”

Dorian Pavus, her opponent, hums in agreement. “He certainly has a wide appeal.”

“Right? So what’s he doing kissing me?”

At this point, it becomes obvious to Cullen that they’re probably talking about him. He ought to make himself known, or better yet, walk away and let them finish their conversation in peace, but before he can do anything, Purrlock decides to clamber onto his lap. She settles facing away from him, as if she too is reading Cole’s report.

“No, no, shoo!” he whispers. The cat turns her head to stare up at his face, and the obstinate look in her large, blue eyes tells Cullen that she’s staying put, thank you very much.

“Are you complaining?” asks Dorian.

“No! I just…” Torunn pauses, and moves another piece. “I don’t understand what he sees in me, y’know?”

“You give yourself far too little credit, Torunn,” Dorian argues. “You’re a marvellous woman.” Cullen almost snorts. ‘Marvellous’ is far too small a word. He could list every compliment he felt applied – and there are countless compliments that apply to Torunn – and it still would not be anything close to enough.

Torunn speaks again. “You’re only saying that because you’re trying to nick my tower.”

There’s a brief scuffle, in which Torunn presumably snatches her tower back and returns it to its place on the board. Cullen swallows a laugh. Of all the people he has played with, Dorian ranks second only to Leliana in terms of egregious cheating.

“I say it because I mean it,” Dorian insists. “Stealing your tower would have been a bonus.”

“Come on, Dorian. You know as well as I do, men like him don’t go for women like me unless they’re curious.”

He ought to be offended, he supposes, but he is too busy reviewing all of his past interactions with Torunn, wondering where he might have given her such an impression. Perhaps she speaks from past experience, but that thought somehow bothers him more.

Someone moves a piece, and by the sounds of it, takes another. “One thing I do know is not to put a man’s rejections in his mouth,” says Dorian. “If our noble Commander isn’t interested in taking it further, let him tell you himself. And it’ll be his loss,” he adds, decisively.

Torunn falls quiet for a short while. “You know, one of these days, you’re gonna have to teach me how to play this properly,” she says, gruffly.

Dorian laughs. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Torunn snorts, and they settle into a moment of more comfortable silence. Purrlock, in turn, settles into a more comfortable position in Cullen’s lap, curled around on herself in the dip between his legs.

“So, how about you?” Torunn asks, eventually. “Made any moves on our Lord Inquisitor yet?”

Cullen frowns. Listening to a conversation about himself is one thing, but Dorian’s private business is none of his concern. He tries to lift Purrlock, and receives a loud hiss for his trouble. He withdraws his hands, hushing her frantically. She fixes him with a glare uncannily similar to one of Cassandra’s glowering looks, before snuggling back down to sleep.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” says Dorian, only half-playfully.

“Oh, come on, you’re always flirting with each other,” she retorts. “He’s sweet. I think you’d be really good together.”

Dorian is silent, for a disconcertingly long time. Cullen can understand his apprehension: as a Tevinter mage, many in the south treat Dorian with suspicion at best, and active hostility at worst. To court the Inquisitor would likely attract yet more animosity, and no doubt some of it would spill over onto the Inquisitor himself. Cullen would not want to risk contributing to such danger either.

“On the other hand, he’s a strip of nothing,” Torunn adds, when Dorian doesn’t reply. “You’ll get papercuts.”

Cullen can picture Dorian’s smirk when he says, “perhaps I like papercuts.”

“Oh!” Torunn moans, disgusted. “Oh, don’t even joke about that!”

“The way they feel on my skin, it’s just so…”

“Stop!” she demands, even as she’s cracking up. “Here, take my tower. Take both my towers! Take all my fucking pieces!”

They both roar with laughter. The clamour startles Purrlock, and she finally jumps from his lap and disappears into the bushes, presumably to find a quieter place for a nap. Cullen wastes no time in exercising his freedom – he stands up, and makes a beeline for the gazebo.

Dorian catches sight of him first. “Ah! Speak of demons, and thus they appear.”

Torunn looks over. “I know he was a Templar, Dor, but that’s a bit harsh.”

They both laugh again, though Torunn tries to apologise through it. She needn’t worry.

“I must be going,” Dorian says, once he’s finished laughing. “I’ve a thousand things I need to do.” He shunts his chair back and stands, in two fluid motions, as if he’s rehearsed the movement a hundred times. “Perhaps this is your chance for an honest game, Torunn.”

He gives Cullen a look as he passes, one that says hurt her, and you’ll have me to answer to. Cullen nods; he wouldn’t expect anything less. And he wonders if Torunn will give the same look to the Inquisitor, should she be put in Dorian’s current position.

Torunn doesn’t notice their silent exchange, preoccupied as she is with resetting the chess board. Cullen takes the seat opposite her. She has been playing with the black pieces, which seems a little mean-spirited on Dorian’s part.

“Don’t go easy on me, alright?” she says, which might explain it. “I hate it when people do that.”

“Very well,” he responds.

Torunn puts the last piece into place, ready to begin the game. “White moves first, right?” She gestures to his pieces. “After you.”

Cullen starts with his queen’s pawn, moving it two squares forward. She responds with her right mage’s pawn.

“How’s your head?” she asks. “Is the peppermint helping?”

“Yes, thank you.” He moves his king’s pawn next. “Though I haven’t needed any today.”

“Good.” She gestures over his shoulder, beyond the gazebo, after taking her turn. “You know mint grows in the garden here? If I can cross the right plants, I can breed some peppermint myself. Remind me after you’ve won this and I can show you, if you want.”

Cullen frowns. “We’ve made two moves each. You have every opportunity to win.”

“You’ve seen who my teacher is,” she retorts, as she moves her right-hand knight forward.

Dorian’s attempt at a tower theft is fresh in Cullen’s memory. “You make a fair point.”

Torunn smirks, taking one of his pawns. He has drawn her mage out.

“What about you?” she asks, blissfully unaware of the ground she has ceded. “Who taught you to play?”

“I suppose it was my sister,” he replies. “She would get this stuck-up grin on her face whenever she beat me, which was all the time. My brother and I practised together for weeks, in secret. The look on her face when I finally won…” He smiles, fondly, but it doesn’t last, fading from his face as quickly as it had come. “I do not write to them as often as I should.”

He tells himself that he’s too busy, that he needs time to parse through what has happened and translate it into ink on paper. In truth, he has done so a hundred times over, and each time, he found it wanting. None of it could justify him.

Torunn waits, but when it becomes clear he won’t say more, she picks up the conversation. “So, you have a brother and a sister?”

“A brother and two sisters,” he replies.

“Oh, snap!” she exclaims. “I mean, two brothers and two sisters. I’m one of the sisters, these days.”

Cullen had made both connections before, and he nods, moving one of his pawns to take one of hers. While she has never outright stated that she lived much of her life as a boy, and later a man, neither has she taken great pains to hide it. He understands the idea, at least theoretically. Sisters and brothers of the Chantry will take on a new name when they dedicate their lives to the Maker. A Divine is renamed when she ascends to the Sunburst Throne. Torunn’s reasons may be different, and the changes more than just a name or title, but she had shed an old identity, just as they had. Just as Divine Justinia was Divine Justinia, and Chancellor Roderick was Chancellor Roderick, Torunn is Torunn. That’s all there is to it.

He isn’t sure how to explain all of this, however, or if he even should. Perhaps the comparison is insulting, or he has completely misunderstood the whole concept. Instead, he realises he has remained silent for far too long. 

“You are Torunn now,” he blurts, stupidly. “I believe that is most important, not who you were before.”

Torunn considers this for a moment, before she shrugs. “I don’t want to forget him,” she says. “I’m just not him anymore.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I get you.” She relaxes, visibly, and he finds himself sharing some of that relief. “Sorry. Not everyone understands it, especially Tal-Vashoth. The Qun…they kind of assign certain genders to certain jobs. If you’re a tamassran, you’re a woman. If you’re in the antaam, you’re a man. Ameqran, my mentor, he left the Qun when they told him he could either be a man or a midwife.”

“It’s a…” – Cullen searches for the right word – “…common association, I suppose.”

“True. You don’t get many men doing it here, either. The Qun just made it a hard and fast rule,” Torunn agrees. “My tama wanted me to be whatever I wanted to be. She just didn’t consider that I’d want to be a woman. I don’t blame her,” she adds, quickly. “The whole thing is completely different. It’s like learning a new language, I think. It takes a while to understand it.”

“How did you come to understand it?” he asks.

Torunn smirks. “Weirdly enough, it was Hawke.”

“You knew the Champion?”

“I think ‘knowing’ is a bit strong, but we met,” she replies. Her face falls, and she fixes her gaze resolutely on the board. “I said some really ignorant shit. Y’know, all this ‘if you could change your gender, I would’ve done it.’ And they said,” she puts on the appropriate accent, “‘what’s stopping ya? If you wanna be different, be different. Don’t take it out on me.’”

Cullen chuckles. “That sounds like something they’d say.”

Torunn doesn’t share the laugh. Instead, she fiddles with her remaining knight, tracing the curve of the horse’s nose. “I never got the chance to apologise for it,” she says, ruefully. “I don’t even know if they’d wanna hear it.”

“They sought me out when they arrived here, and I did far worse than that,” he offers.

“Yeah, but you helped them, in the end,” she argues. “All I was to them was rude.”

She moves her tower diagonally to take his queen. Cullen thinks she might be cheating, at first, but Dorian had said she wanted an honest game. “No, Torunn, you can’t move a tower diagonally.”

She frowns. “I thought you could to take a piece.”

“I presume Dorian told you that,” he says, with a half-smile.

Torunn takes a moment to realise the implication.

“That jammy git,” she grumbles, as she moves the pieces back to their previous position. “You wait ‘til I see him. I’ll shift his tower diagonally.” She grimaces, moving her mage. “That sounded less violent in my head.”

Cullen moves a pawn forward. Torunn moves her king to take his remaining knight…and into a trap several turns in the making.

“So, are you the baby of the family, like me?” she asks.

He decides not to press the Hawke issue, and instead finish the game. “The second-eldest,” he says, moving his queen into place. “Mia is older, Branson and Rosalie are younger. Check.”

Frowning, she points to each of the squares surrounding her king in turn, tracing the moves that his pieces can make. She finds her one way out, moving the king to the right. He moves his mage to block her. “Checkmate.”

Torunn repeats the circling of her king, and finds there is indeed no way out of her predicament.

“Motherfucker.”

Cullen snickers. “It was a good game, for a beginner,” he says. “I enjoyed it.” Though he enjoyed the conversation far more.

“Yeah, me too,” she agrees. “I take it you’re too busy for another game.”

“Unfortunately.” He could happily spend the rest of the day in this sun-drenched garden, teaching her the various strategies Mia had used against him over the years. But, as always, there is work to be done: reports to review, battles to plan, trebuchets that require constant recalibration. “I’m sure you have plenty to get on with, as well.”

“Yeah, they can always use more hands in the infirmary,” she replies. “I’ll clear up here. You get on.”

She begins gathering up the chess pieces, slotting them back into the storage box. Her words are still playing on his mind. Men like him don’t go for women like me. As loathe as he is to have his personal life become a subject for gossip, the idea that Torunn might think him ashamed of her is decidedly worse. Her hand comes to rest beside the game board, and he folds his own around it, heel of his palm pressing to the ring and little fingers. She looks at his hand, and then to his face, as his other hand comes to support her chin.

“May I?” he asks, leaning in, just slightly.

Her face flushes a rather lovely shade of pink, and her mouth kinks up into a smirk. “If you want to.”

Maker, he wants to, as much as he’ll hate to ruin that smile. He catches her bottom lip between his own. There is no surprise this time. She kisses him back, with a contented little sound. Her free hand comes to rest atop his own on the table, and he desperately wishes that he’d had the foresight to leave his gloves off when he dressed that morning.

When he pulls back, she chases him long enough to press a kiss against the scar on his lip. Her smile returns, but softer.

“That was really nice,” he murmurs.

She snickers, but not unkindly. “One way of putting it, I s’pose.” Her eyes flick down to his lips again, but she only takes a deep breath and breaks their gaze. “But this won’t get the baby bathed.”

“It what?”

“I mean, you have stuff to do, and this isn’t doing it,” she chuckles.

Cullen steps back, reluctantly, giving her room to stand. He makes it down the steps of the gazebo, back to the path, before he turns back. “Torunn.”

“Mm?”

“Talk to Hawke. Please,” he adds.

She frowns at him, at first, but her face quickly softens. “I will, if you write to your family.”

Cullen exhales a laugh. He knew she would say that, but he also knows that she’s right. “Alright.”

It won’t take him long. He already has the letters written, after all.

[loveoaths]

“Nothing, again?” Anakin repeats for what can only be the hundredth time, his long hair curtaining around his ears as he leans over Din. “You don’t feel anything? Really?”

“Really,” Din sighs, long and deep and only half as weary as he feels. Brushing Anakin’s hand off his helmet is easy. But pulling his aching body from the pile of splintered wood and loose dirt he currently lays face down in? 

That’s hard. 

Very, very hard. 

He wants to sit up and tell Skywalker, I’m done. I’ve faced a mudhorn, Moff Gideon, a furious Mandalorian queen, and a sand dragon, but somehow you are twice as exhausting as all of them combined. But Din had given his word he’d help the Jedi understand his strange disconnection to the Force, and if that requires getting his skull smashed in by wooden crates all day, he will, because Din Djarin never breaks an oath. 

Instead he says, “Do you have the information you need, Master Skywalker?”

He’s tired. Has been tired for the last ten years, if he’s being honest, but these last few hectic months traveling with the kid, sleep had been the furthest thing from his mind. He had a job to do, and then a quest. Now that the child — Grogu, the inner voice in his head that sounds suspiciously close to The Armorer reminds him, Respect the name, for it is all a warrior has — has been reunited with his Jedi-kin on Coruscant, Din had looked forward to sleeping for a day or seven.

Yet despite his best effort (or, more accurately, because of the universe’s better efforts), Din Djarin is not, in fact, spending the week in hibernation.

Instead he’s getting flung around a Jedi training room by Master Skywalker.

Again. 

“It doesn’t make sense. You do not make sense,” Master Skywalker huffs. With a faint grunt, Din rolls onto his back to watch the Jedi pace back and forth across the room. He’s learned by now that Anakin needs to move in order to work something out. Which explains why he’s been in perpetual motion ever since Din managed to mess up the Force so much that it violently sucked him and Grogu into a timestream and spat him out 35 years in the past. 

(”It’s as if you were a piece of tissue paper the Force couldn’t decide between getting rid of and keeping in its pocket,” Master Kenobi had mused a few days ago, before patting Din’s shoulder. “No offense, of course.” Din stayed silent, but he’d been a little offended. It seemed to him that rudeness and the Force went hand in hand.)

“The Force exists in and can be exerted on all things, and I do mean all,” Anakin continues, “Birds, bees, babies — even bantha poodoo, probably.” 

Skywalker extends his arms and presses his palms up. The wooden crate behind him levitates effortlessly off the ground. “I can lift this, but the second it’s within five feet of you—“ He floats the crate closer. When it’s within five of Din, the crate wobbles; by three feet it suddenly drops to the ground. Skywalker clicks his tongue, annoyed. “That happens. You aren’t just disconnected from the Force, you’re… hostile, to its very existence. You’re a black hole. Except not even that, because those have Force signatures too. I can throw things at you if they have enough natural velocity to carry them through your dead zone, but that’s about it. Do you understand what I’m saying here?”

“Yes,” Din replies, despite not understanding much at all. He sits up, this time pulling himself to his feet. Anakin extends a hand. Din glances at it a moment, earning him an impatient hurry up gesture, then takes it. Anakin hauls him to his feet. “The Force doesn’t work on me.”

“Doesn’t work on you yet,” Skywalker corrects, flicking a woodchip off Din’s shoulder before eyeing him like a shiny new droid he can’t wait to pick apart and put back together wrong. “I will figure you out. You’re too dangerous not to.”

“Thanks,” Din says, because as much as it is a warning and a threat, he also knows this is Skywalker’s highest compliment.

Force negative!Din does some “training” with Anakin.  // anadin fic tag.

[smolandweirdwriter]

Serafina and The Black Cloak Reread Thoughts: Chapter Three

Babe wake up new slang just dropped: “gnawin’ on leather” 

Her pa doesn’t like mr poe gives “my dad won’t let us watch horror movies so you have to sneak them over in a different dvd cover if we’re gonna watch a horror movie when you sleep over later tonight” omg rowena & serafina girltime au?? (Lol sorry)

Oooooh the dynamo’s busted I wonder what thaaat meeeaannnssss (hehehe)

Biltmore being one of the few homes to have electricity is a nice reminder of the time period

“she’d been trying to follow [her pa’s] rules at least some of the time” lol

“Spotting an upholstered chair she felt an overwhelming desire to run her fingernails over the plush fabric” REAL

Her being shocked at flower vases & the idea of flowers INSIDE the house is so funny

Awwww poor sera, looking for her momma and siblings everywhere…

Serafina is super smart. just putting that out there. She’s brilliant and I love her

Oop the first description of Edith Vanderbilt kinda gives chatgpt-generated ngl (obviously it wasn’t bc it predates chatgpt & shitty ai writing generators, & this book is SO MUCH BETTER than anything an AI could generate regardless) 

“A refined and attractive woman, Mrs. Vanderbilt had a pale complexion and a full head of dark hair, and she seemed at ease in her role of hostess as she moved through the room.” Idk what about this makes me think “AI generated” but it just DOES

“Serafina loved to climb the tapestries at night and run her fingernails down through the soft fabric” AGAIN SHES SO REAL FOR THIS

OHOHOHO MR THORNE NAMEDROP:

“I’m sure that most of you already know Mr. Montgomery Thorne,”… Mrs. Vanderbilt said with a gentle sweep of her arm toward a gentleman. “He has graciously offered to play [the violin] for us today.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Vanderbilt,” Mr. Thorne said with a smile as he stepped forward. ... To Serafina, who’d been listening to Biltmore’s visitors her entire life, he didn’t sound like he came from the mountains of North Carolina, or from New York like the Vanderbilts. He spoke with the accent of a southern gentleman, maybe from Georgia or South Carolina.”

Serafina having an eye for fashion was NOT what I was expecting from this reread lol (she describes mr t’s outfit then says “all of which she thought went nicely with his silvery-black hair and perfectly trimmed sideburns”)

Hmmm interesting she actually sympathizes with/likes mr Thorne at first?? I did nOT recall that

Lol serafina liking to watch mr Thorne’s fingers move as he plays and wanting to pounce on them is so Cat of her

OMG BRAEDEN BRAEDEN BRAEDEN BRAEDEN

Apparently he looks “sickly, a little frail even” which I do not recall, but hes also got “watchful, sensitive brown eyes” and “a rather fetching tussle of wavy brown hair”

“Are you lost?” WE GOT IT WE GOT THE LINE but more importantly we got the NEXT LINE which is “May I help you find your way?” And hes described as not timid or shy but also not overly confident which I LOVE (fun fact this line is very similar to one of the characters of my other favorite kid’s book series, Keefe Sencen’s “you must be lost” line)

Lol Braeden always sharing his food with Gideon annoys the chefs i LOVE him

OMG HE BOWS TO HER WHEN SHE GIVES HIM HIS NAME LIKE SHE’S A PROPER LADY!!!!! MEN!!!! TAKE NOTES!!!!!! THIS IS HOW IT’S DONE!!!

Name drop at last, missing girl’s name is Clara Brahms. Honestly I’m a little sad Clara isnt a recurring character later on. Braeden, Serafina, and Clara could’ve been a good trio 

OOOOHH “She had heard the servants in the kitchen joke that their master must have secretly found the Fountain of Youth” what a NICE SET UP for how the black cloak keeps people young & serafina’s suspicion of mr Vanderbilt

Mr Vanderbilt: *wears dress shoes to go riding*

serafina: criminal activity right there. Lock him up

This was my favorite chapter so far, probably because it introduces us to so many different characters and moving parts. I like Mr. Vanderbilt a lot more than I remember (as a historical figure now that I know more about him & also as a character) and Braeden is, of course, perfect in every way.

[spicybonelesschickenfeet]

Heartbeat 3/3

Summary; you had know Aaron hotchner since university, and ever since the first day of knowing him you had the biggest, fattest, most overwhelming crush on the guy. But for some reason he never knew, or even noticed. You had eventually learned to push the feelings away trying to figure out your own problems, focusing on yourself. Then, years later when you joined the bau after getting transferred... Things seemed to go downhill after reuniting with Aaron. But there's a bit of a romance twinkling between you and one of your new coworkers.

Aaron hotchner x nb!reader (past romance)

Spencer Reid x nb!reader (SLIGHT romance)

bau x nb!reader (platonic)

WARNINGS; you do ALMOST die at the end :P it's angst. There's canon levels of violence but may or may not be a little more violent, there's mention of unrequited love, you don't kill yourself but the unsub almost kills you , this also may Incudes a few adult rated scenes and language.

(Now a psa, the reader aka you in this story is a bit fem presenting and gets along better with the gorls. There's mentions of typically "girl" related things like makeup n stuff. Just a psa, oh and also Im still getting used to writing longer stories and it might feel like it jumps from one scene to another a bit quickly and that's because is it. Also I'm very reliant on speech rather than detail.)

___________

The following day you, Spencer, and Elle all explained what your aunt Naomi had said, and you took the two journals out of your bag and placed then on the table.

"My aunt Naomi was the one who found the clow killer back in 1987, she had found him in the mideof killing her ex boyfriend. She had previously called her father, the cheif of police at the time, on a payphone and told him she found the killer adt et to her boyfriends house. These notebooks are full of her notes, evidence, and other things that can definitely help us on this. Especially since this copycat is copying the clown killer down to the crime scenes and the outfits" you explained as they all looked through the notebooks and Gideon seemed to be very invested.

"She knew who is was before her boyfriend was killed?" He asked you and you nodded.

"She realized who it was the same day and went to the police and her father. She had a suspect list it's in the back of the lighter colored journal. And she seemed to really think it was her old English teacher" you explained and he gave a slight nod. Before looking back through the notebook.

Morgan looked at you for a second before asking. "you didn't bring that jean jacket with you?" You nodded to his question, "my aunt Naomi gave it to me when we went to talk to her last night" you say while looking at the crime scenes photos.

"Well it looks vintage, it's probably older than you" he teased and you just rolled your eyes. Getting back to figuring out a profile.

___________

It had gotten late, you and Spencer went out to the crime scenes and compared them to the ones from the real clown killer.

"It just doesn't make any sense, how would the copycat get more the same costumes? The were discontinued years ago" you say looking at the clown costume on the victim in the photo.

"Maybe our unsub got a hold of them... Or they're making the costumes their selves, I think th costms from the photo are moe silk that cotton. There's a clear difference in the stitching since the new one seemed to have a few rips in the stitching" Spencer commented and you made a "ahh" sound as you acknowledge that could definitely be the answer to ha question. "That could definitely be the case, the unsub must not be good enough at sewing for it be identical to the first!" You nod while walking around the crime scene.

Spencer stood there and seemed a bit uncomfortable, you turned fully to look at him "Spencer are you okay? You look kind of uncomfortable" you inquire and his breath seemed to catch in his throat. "I just.. I dont want to sound insensitive....." He half mumbled and you cocked a brow. "don't worry I know your not the best at words sometimes. Do you have a personal question?" You waked a few steps closer putting the journal back into your medium sized satchel.

Spencer gave you a very concentrated look. "Uhm.... How do you and hotch know each other? I.. didn't want to overhear but while I was walking to the break room I heard a few seconds of your conversation... " He asked his ears turned red with embarrassment from clearly being nosey.

You snorted out a laugh and patted his shoulder shaking your head. "It's okay Spence, hotch and I went to the same university and became friends. We had an argument a few years back, about seven years. I had been going to Europe to take care of my grandma and he tracked me down to my hotel room the night of my flight. I had cut him off two weeks before that so our last conversation was a argument. It wasn't anything really" you explained to him and he nodded while you spoke.

"I see.. do you want to go to the second crime scene now?" He asked, you nodded and the two of you walked back up onto the path.

While the two of you were walking Spencer asked you more questions, you found it nice that he was trying to learn more about you as a person outside of work.

"Wait so your thirty?" Spencer asked in shock and you nodded. "Yup, only six years older than you" you smile and he laughed a small bit. "I thought you were about as old as me. You look like you'd be twenty four" he joked and you chuckled. "well I just have amazing skin care-" you stumble, tripping over a rock you didn't see, your phone flying out of your hand and off of the path. "Shit- I'll get it just stay here" you curse, jogging off the path to look for your phone. It was dark so you used your flashlight to look for it.

You heard an odd cracking sound and called out. "Spence you okay?" It took a second before he responded. "Yeah! All good" he seemed confused.

You looked around before you found your phone. You smiled when you found it and jogged back up to the path to see Spencer unconscious on the ground, his forehead bleeding. "Spencer?! Spencer!" You rushed over getting on your knees and trying to wake him up. You quickly checked for a pulse which was still there, you took your satchel off to try and prop his head up and started to dial hotches number. It rang one time before he answered and someone ripped you up, causing you to drop your phone.

"Get off of me!" You screamed as you tried to get away from the hooded figure. "Shut up" they said as the held a rag up to your face, you thrashed around before feeling weak and it went black as you passed out.

(Hours later)

Spencer woke up and saw the blood on the grundfrn his head, he looked around in panic. You were gone. "Oh no- no no no- (F/NAME)? (F/NAME)!" Spencer yelled and when he received no answer he called your cell phone only to hear it ringing just a few feet away. He rushed over to see it taped to a tree with a note. He didn't know what to do so called hotch in a panic.

"Reid? Where have you been everyone's been looking for you and (L/name), they called me and I heard them yell. We thought you guys were in trouble" hotch half scoled and Spencer panicked. "The unsub, they got (F/name), their phone is still here and there's anoe from he unsub we were waking back to the hotel and I don't remember what happened I-" Spencer started to choke on his words and "Reid were on our way, where are you? Spencer? Spencer, where. Are. You." Hotch spoke slowly to try and get through to a on the verge of a melt down Spencer. "We... Down the left path from the first crime scene." Spencer spoke as clearly ashe could and hotch responded quickly "okay stay on the line we'll be there"

___________

You woke up tied to a chair, you couldn't see right, everything blurry. You tried to speak but felt something covering your mouth. A mask? It felt moe metal. Like a muzzle or something.

"Your lucky I didn't kill your little friend" a male voice said from Infront of you. Your head fell forward with heaviness. You felt whoever was Infront of you bring your head to look up.

"Maybe I used to much Rohypnol... You look a bit to out of it. Hopefully you can still eat. Now if you scream no one will hear you this entire room is sound proofed." The voice spoke softer and you groaned trying to pull away but they took the mask off. "Okay now open up, it's chicken and rice" he spoke as you tried to pull away but his grip tightened on your jaw. You were forced to open your jaw and warm chicken and rice was put into your mouth with a soft fork that felt like one of those forks they give little kids. "Okay now chew and swallow, it shouldn't be to hard" he said and his hand covered the front of your mouth. You complied, chewing the food before swallowing it.

This went on for you don't know how long, but soon enough the man stood up and let your face go. "hopefully you know why I took you instead of kill you (F/Name)" the man spoke and you shook your head, a bit more aware of your surroundings now, your vision not as blurry. "you don't? Well it should be obvious. I cant let my own child send me to jail, but luckily your aunt Naomi sent the wrong ma to jail. That man was just killing josh to kill him. That old English teacher never liked Josh or the aunt Naomi. Are you thirsty? Chocolate or strawberry milk?" He spoke as your eyes widened, at a loss for words you brought your head up to look at your father.

You hadn't seen him since your sixteenth birthday. He still had brown eyes and (hair/color) hair. He looked at you with a clear look of empathy.

"But-.. why? Dad why would you do this?" You asked in disbelief and he sighed. "I made a promise to you when you were five, and that was I would protect you until you die. The people I've killed were either child predators or convicted felons. Except the one woman, but she had said to me that if didn't teach you to be a well behaved child she would smack you herself. I couldn't let anything happen to my doll" he said with the clear belief that he did it all to protect you. "Dad... This isn't okay..." You say with tears starting to weld up in the corners of your eyes. He sucked in a breath as he walked over. "You'll be fine, you won't ever get hurt again. Especially by that Aaron guy. You wont ever have to worry about anything. Daddy will always be here to protect you" your father said kissing your forehead and hugging you. You couldn't help but cry. You were scared, and you father was standing in front of you, whom you thought didn't want anything to do with you.

___________

The team was searching high and low for you. Until your mother mentioned your father still lived here.

"Reid you stay here with JJ and Gideon, Morgan, elle, your with me." Hotch said and then they were off and to your fathers house.

The house itself was in amazing condition. It was two stories with a wrap around porch, just down the street from your aunt's. It was a brow color, the yard had a large oak tree with an old tree house and tireswing that clearly hadn't been used in years. There were two saint Bernards on the porch sitting on the porch swing. One of them lifted it's head looking at the thee agents walking up onto the porch. The San Bernard layed it's had back down. Morgan knocked on the door and it opened quickly after they hard shuffling. A taller man with short (h/c) hair, brown eyes, and a million freckles opened the door. He looked as if he had just woken up.

"Are you mr.(L/Name), Frank (L/Name)?" Hotch asked and the man squinted, "yes? Is there something wrong?" He asked confusion riddled his being.

"we're here to ask you a few questions about your child? (F/Name) (L/Name)?" Elle asked and the mans face was confused. "Did something happen? I haven't seen my kiddo in years, not since their sixteenth birthday.. here come in" Frank offered opening the door. When they all walked in Frank whistled to the two dogs that got up and yawned loudly before walking into h house themselves and going straight to the dog beds near the fire place.

"Is it alright if we take a look around?" Elle asked and Frank nodded "that's okay, but uhm... My kids room? Ive tried to keep it clean and all that jazz, they cut contact with me after moving to Europe. But go ahead, your free to look around" he spoke with clear inferiority. The man was clearly very submissive. He clearly didn't want them to be suspicious of him or anything of the sorts.

"Mr.(L/name) can you tell me about your relationship with (F/Name)?" Hotch asked and your father gave a worried look. "Well, we had a good relationship, (N/name) was here every other month. Their mother didn't want to leave (N/Name) here and we decided to give them to oneanother every other month... We had a good relationship, they told me practically everything including crushes they had and their stresses." He explained hotch nodded and asked. "Frank did you ever feel like

(f/name)'s mother didn't treat the agreement th right way sometimes?"

Frank seems hesitant but spoke again. "well... Bernie never payed for anything for (N/Name), anytime my kid needed anything I payed for it. Their university tuition I payed for it, I even helped pay for them to move to Europe with their grandmother and Bernie... But bernie always lied to my kid, she always told (N/Name) that I didn't want anything to do with them when all I wanted was to be in their life. It was unfair that I didn't get to spend any time with them after they turned sixteen." Frank explained his eyes teary and full of deceit. Hotch could see Frank was hiding something. Then Elle showed up behind Frank and mouthed.

'we found something, basement'

"Frank we saw this house has a basement, could we see inside it?" Elle asked and they watched as Frank tensed.

"No. You can't." He sucked in. And Morgan spoke. "Why not? You haven't got anything to hide right-" they all heard a loud crashing sound. Frank stood up and ran past them into the hallway where the basement stays were and rushed down them, the door was open and a broken chair was laying in front of it. Ropes cut and on the ground as well.

Before Frank could do anything Morgan had him at gunpoint as Elle rushed to (F/Name) who was bleeding, they had hit their head on the side of the table. They flinched away from Elle their eyes widened and dilated.

"GET AWAY FROM MY KID!" Frank yelled he had a knife which must have been a concealed weapon and went to stab elle.

But the knife didn't even come close to Elle. (F/Name) had pulled elle behind them and the knife went into them instead. It took seconds before Frank let out a shaky gasp. "No- no I didn't-" it gave Morgan and hotch time to handcuff him. Morgan was silently cursing at himself for not shooting Frank. Elle helped (F/Name) lay down, they were struggling to breath since the knife went up and may have punctured there lung or how it was placed. Morgan called for backup and a ambulance while Elle and hotch talked to (F/Name).

"Is Spencer okay? Is he alive?" You asked them tiredly and Elle nodded "he's okay, he's alive. Tell.. tell me about your favorite memory with your pet!" Elle spoke shakily. Trying to make sure you stayed awake while the ambulance was coming. "Favorite.. uhm... Oh, when I was seventeen I adopted this...... Little old dog.. it only had a few years left.... But his name was... Fin, his name was fin... And when I got him the shelter workers told me.. he was aggressive but... He was actually..... Really... Sweet" you started to close your eyes but this time hotch spoke. "(F/Name) do you remember the coffee shop you slipped in? When we were studying together?" He said quickly as you let out a hoarse chuckle. "yeah, that was funny....man my head hurts" you say shakily bringing your hand to the side of your head that was cut open from the table when you broke free. It was still bleeding.

When the ambulance arrived and they got you into the stretcher you had gone unconscious but you were still alive. They all rushed to the hospital. Your mother in the ambulance with you since she had show up with the other agents. While in the ambulance you woke again looking around you went to feel your chest but the EMT's stopped you, you felt a hand on your cheeks. "it's okay sweet pea, your going to be fine" she spoke shakily and you furrowed your eyebrows ather blurry figure. "mom? Mom is Elle okay?" You half mumbled with a groan at the pain that was surfacing from your head. "she okay, can you see me?" Your mom asked. You turned your head to look at her. "yeah.. but your... all blurry like if was in a cup of.... Of water" you speak slowly.

When getting to the hospital the doctors and nurses had all rushed around you, trying to sober you up from the horrific amounts of Rohypnol found in your body. You had lost to much blood and halfway through fixing your wound they hadn't do a blood transfusion. And when they got you into a hospital room after fixing you up you were asleep. That was until you woke up again for the the second time since being stabbed. You looked around the room tiredly and see Elle, Spencer, your mom, your aunt Naomi, and Aaron.

"Look I know I almost died but I'm not dead so calm down" you joke and see Elle and spencers heads shoot to you direction Elle almost jumping out of her seat.

"You know for someone who could be dead you got some nerve joking like that" you mom scolled and you just giggle at her teary eyes. She kissed your forehead and you sat up tiredly rubbing your eyes. You looked at Spencer without any words. You just stared at him for a minute before speaking. "Are you okay? Is your head still hurt?" You asked, he gave you an *are you kidding me* look and shook his head. "No I'm okay, but are you okay? You had a whole punctured lung." He asked and you shrugged. "Meh, I'm good. You know I think nows a good time for me to tell you that you have this weird mark on your cheek. It looks like food or something" you say joking with his but he gives a confused look and wiped his cheeks. You smiled with amusement and whispered "I'm messing with you Spence" which earned you a glare from the brown haired guy.

The your aunt Naomi spoke. "so who wants Chinese? I'm ordering some for take out" you smiled at everyone in the room talking happily.

For almost dieing you definitely were happy.

___________

Now listen, this is my first time writing a planned out fanfiction. I'm a little rusty and I'm not the best at writing so Im sorry if it's a bit jumpy, not smooth, or anything of the sorts. But I hope you enjoyed :P.

[martianbugsbunny]

We Are Mandalorians: Our Love Must Be Forged (An AxePaz Fic)—Chapter 9

Righty-ho, this is the chapter where things get worse for like a second but in a really fun way and then everything is gonna turn out great. It’s literally my favorite part of the entire fic tbh, except maybe the happy ending (which I promise is coming eventually!) Also, I don’t remember if I’ve used any Mando’a before in this fic, but I don’t think I have, so the rule for big phrases is Mando’a is the actual dialogue and the translation follows in italics. Singular words that are probably common knowledge among Mando fic fans are just as-is, but here is a link to the Wookieepedia page about Mando’a just in case. Anything I use can be found there. Enjoy!!!

“Paz, will you say the vows with me?” Axe asked.

Paz was weary; Axe could see it the way he nodded. And yes, it seemed futile to do it in a pit, at the end; but if not then, it would be never.

“Mhi solus tome,” Axe began. We are one when together.

“Mhi solus dar’tome.” Paz took the next line, his breathing labored and his voice hoarse with exhaustion. We are one when parted.

“Mhi me’dinui an.” We will share all. Including death.

“Mhi—ba’juri verde,” Paz said, and Axe’s heart ached when he heard how Paz’s voice stumbled on this part. We will raise warriors. He took Paz’s hand and squeezed it tight.

The footsteps in the cavern above came closer to the edge of the pit. Paz leaned his helmet against Axe’s. “I love you,” he whispered. “With all the strength of my heart.”

Axe longed to prolong the Keldabe kiss until the end, but he was tired and he was afraid and his nerves were absolutely bare. “Let me hold you,” he said, his voice trembling. “Let me die with you in my arms.”

Paz laid down with his head in Axe’s lap, his breathing slow. His right arm seemed stiff, and he curled his left around Axe’s knees. Was it the most comfortable of positions?…No, not really, but it wouldn’t matter for long anyway. Axe draped his arm across Paz’s upper body, fingers clutching at the cloth beneath his armor in hopes of feeling his pulse one last time past all the garments of war.

Just as the footfalls above reached the edge of the pit, the sound of blaster fire split the air. Bodies collapsed, beskar alloy ringing out against rock, and Axe held Paz tighter. “I love you too,” he said. He didn’t know what was happening up there, but he couldn’t let Paz die without him hearing that.

The noise died down and Axe heard a jetpack fire. Seconds later, a Mandalorian in shiny silver armor landed in front of them: the notorious redeemed apostate Din Djarin. “They’re alive!” he called up to the edge. “They need medical attention!” He knelt down in front of Axe and pulled off his helmet to make half-direct eye contact. “Are you alright?” he asked.

Axe didn’t know what to do, what to say, so he shook his head. “Take care of Paz first,” he insisted. “I can wait. He needs help.”

Din pulled Paz to his feet. The strain of the past few days had definitely caught up with him; he looked like he was about to pass out. Axe didn’t feel much better than Paz looked, but like hell was he going to let himself be attended before he knew his husband would be healed. As Din left the crater, holding Paz securely by the waist, Bo-Katan dropped down next to Axe.

“Where’s the fleet?” he asked. His tongue felt thick and clumsy in his mouth. “They were gone, or I would’ve come back with—”

“Easy. TIE bombers attacked and they were forced to flee. They’re back in orbit now, and the Imperial base has been destroyed. Gideon is dead and what remains of the Imperials are being hunted down and eliminated, including the ones who were about to shoot you like ducks in a barrel.” Bo-Katan tilted his chin up. “You rescued a Child of the Watch instead of fighting?”

Axe inhaled and took a moment to clear his mind before responding, to make sure his words would come out without being jumbled. “He’s my riduur,” he said. “I couldn’t—leave him to die.”

Then he blacked out, falling face-first into Bo-Katan’s arms.

[lithiag]

Drawn Together (Prt 1) (Derek Morgan FF)

A/N: So this is the first part of my Derek Morgan fanfic. I hope you like it. I'm sorry it's bad, it has been a very long time since i wrote fanfic and published it somewhere. So sorry if there are a lot of spelling errors or grammatical errors. English is my second language and i mostly write on mobile.

This part is not super erotic yet. Don't worry, I know that is what you guys are reading fanfic for. Next part, I got you, Boo.

Idk yet how Tumblr really works. first time here.

Please don't yell at me :')

Hope you enjoy.

Drawn Together, Part 1

Melony sat at her desk and threw her pen down. She had been working on these reports regarding their latests case for hours, and her hand started to hurt from writing. A serial killer had targeted women in his area. They were always blond, and he always killed three before disappearing for a few years and reappearing in a new city. It had taken a lot of efford, but they had caught him. He did not go down without a fight though and it had gotten quite messy, which was partly the cause of the giant pile of paperwork the team now had to work through. Melony decided to give herself a few minutes to get a cup of coffee and a small snack to give her head a bit of time to relax. She got up from her spot and walked to the breakroom with her mug. She placed her mug under the coffee machine and pressed a few buttons. As it started pouring coffee, she grabbed the milk from the fridge and poured some milk in her mug while the coffee was still pouring too. She put the milk back in the fridge and grabbed her mug when the coffee stopped pouring. "Need a little break too, baby girl?" She heard a voice say behind her. She turned around to see a pair off deep brown eyes looking her way. "Yes, my hand started hunting from all the writing. You?" "Same," the man said and he walked towards her. He put his own cup under the coffemachine and started it. They had been colleagues for a while now. About 8 months, Melony thought. Some people on the team had worked together for years, but even with her 8 months she felt like she was part of the family. "I do think I'll be done soon. I am working on my last piece." She said "Lucky you. I will probably be stuck here for a while longer." "That sucks." "Well, we got the guy at least, so I'm fine with some paperwork, at least we got to help people." "True." "How is your extra report coming along?" The man teased. "That's the one I'm finishing up now. Thanks for that. You totally threw me under the bus." Melony said, faking her annoyance. The man smiled at her, "What can i say? It helped us and saved us quite some time."

36 hours earlier

The team sat around the table in the conference room of the local PD. They had been discussing the profile of the killer they were hunting and Hotchner was giving out his orders to everyone. "I want Reid and Morgan to visit the crime scene again, look for any details we might have missed the first time. Gideon and Pearson, talk to the victim's family. Find out anything you can. The rest stays here to work on the profile. JJ, ask the sherrif to call in a stetch artist to meet Pearson and Gideon at the house." Hotchner said "Don't bother calling and artist" Derek Morgan said. Hotchner looked at him a bit confused, "Why?" "We are in a tiny town, it is going to take way too much time to ask one to come in from a bigger city. And Pearson can do it" Derek said and Melony looked at him when he mentioned her name, confused. Hotchner looked at her, "Can you?" "I… I ehm" Melony sputtered. Derek reached for her file and pulled out a piece of paper she had hidden in the back. He checked to make sure he had the right one before putting on the table to the rest of the team could see it. "I saw her draw this on the plane based on the very few descriptives that were in the file." He said. Hotchner grabbed the piece of paper and inspected the drawing. "How long did this take you?" He asked Melony. "Ehmm, about 5 minutes, i think. There wasn't a whole lot to go off of." She replied. Hotchner looked down at the paper again, "Morgan is right, it will take too long to get someone from a different town. Take a sketchbook with you and some supplies, make the sketch when you are with the family." He said and gave a nod to dismiss them.

"What the hell was that?" Melony asked Derek while they walked towards the exit "I'm just helping. Mel, you have a skill we can really use." "But did you have to put me on the spot like that?" Derek stopped walking and looked at her, "Baby, would you have told Hotch yourself?" "No" "Exactly." Derek said before he pushed open the door and walked out.

"Has Hotch talked to you about it? Your sketch ended up helping us catch the guy" Derek asked Melony as he grabbed his cup of coffee. "He has. On the plane back he and Gideon talked for a bit. They called me over and Hotch said he wants me to follow some extra training, and he wants me to become our team's sketch artist." "So how did i throw you under the bus, exactly?" Derek asked with a teasing grin "You put me on the spot! Didn't give me a chance to think about whether i wanted to do it." "But it worked out." "You mean i got extra work" "Hey, that usually means extra pay" Melony didn't have a good comeback, he was right. They did offer her extra pay. "You better make it up to me though. As an apology for putting me on the spot." She said, teasing him back. Derek looked at her with an exaggerated offended expression, "Wow, you get extra pay but still want to bleed me dry, baby girl?" He teased. "Oh, absolutely. I am going to milk this for a while." Melony teased back and Derek smiled. "Fine, what do you want me to do?" "Well, tomorrow i have my first day of training. How about you help me with some practice tomorrow night?" Derek thought about it and smiled, "How about I do that, and i bring a pizza? Will that make us even?" He asked "Hhm… i don't know yet. Depends what pizza you bring." "Which do you want me to bring?" Melony just grinned, "if i told you that, i would make it too easy for you" she said and walked out and went back to her desk.

*

Melony sat at home, waiting for Derek to come over. He texted earlier that day to confirm the time and check her adress. Her training had been quite intense. She had to draw a lot, sometimes with very little details to go on. Sometimes she was shown a picture of an UnSub for a fraction of a second, then she had to try and draw it from memory. Other times someone would describe a person to her for her to draw. Despite it being a lot, and at times quite draining, she did have fun doing it.

The doorbell rang and Melony went to open it. "Pizza delivery." "Oh, is it with extra sausage?" Melony asked, trying not to smile too much. Derek started chuckling, "I didn't want to make that joke." He said and Melony let him in. Derek handed her the pizza so he could take off his jacket and he put it away. Melony put the pizza on the table in her dining room. "So, how was your first day, baby girl?" "It was pretty good. It was intense, but what do you expect from FBI training, right? What can i get you to drink?" "Ehm… do you have a beer?" Melony chuckled, "I have a lot more than 'a beer'." She replied and Derek looked at her curiously. Melony opened a cabinet that was placed on the side of the room, showing him the wide array of liqours she had. "I also have wine and beer in the fridge, and a bottle of Jäger in the freezer. So, what's your poison?" Derek looked at the cabinet in surprise, "I did not expect that. But I'm not going to drink alone" "Don't worry, I'll make myself something too." "Can you do a negroni?" "Regular or Dutch?" Melony asked. "What's the difference?" "The Dutch version uses genever instead of gin. It is more bitter, but the other flavours are a bit stronger as well." "Ehm… let's start with a regular one." "Alright, no problem. There are multiple different versions, but these two I make the most." Melony said as she dug through her cabinet for the right bottles. Once she got them she got to work. "Any specific reason why?" "The regular one because it is common, and the Dutch one because my mom is Dutch." "Ah, okay." Melony placed the finished drink in front of Deker. He grabbed the glass and took a little sip. Impressed, he put the glass down again. "Wow, baby, i am discovering a lot of your talents this week. What's next? Are you an accomplished musician too?" Derek asked teasingly. Melony chuckled, "I will have to disappoint you. I have tried to learn to play an instrument as a kid because my mom thought it would be good to learn to play music, but i suck." Melony said as she sat down across from Derek after she made her own drink, a raspberry daiquiri. Derek smiled a bit, "A pink drink for a lady?" "Oh, it's just because i don't really like the bitter drinks. This one is more sweet and sour." Derek gave a slight nod and smiled a bit. "So what pizza did you bring?" Melony asked. "Well, i decided to just play it save with pepperoni." "That always works." Derek opened the box and they both grabbed a slice. "So, how do you want me to help with your training?" "Simple. Describe someone to me, i try to draw them. You check to see if i got close." "Sounds doable. Someone we both know?" "Doesn't have to be someone i know. It can just be any random person. It's actually better if i don't know them so i don't get biased if i think i figure out who you are describing." "Okay." Derek put the last piece of his slice in his mouth while thinking about who to describe. Once he picked someone, he swallowed, cleared his throat and started describing them.

Melony drew out what he described. Big ears, small ears. A hook nose, dubble chin, tiny beady eyes. Almost anything came by. Sometimes it was a real person, sometimes a character from a film, sometimes he was just naming random features to see what she came up with. They ate pizza while practicing and sometimes Melony made them a new drink. "Baby, you make it look easy. You got just about every single one i described to you really close. It can't be that hard" Derek said after the fifteenth drawing, and his fourth drink, curious as to how she would react. Melony opened her mouth to defend the amount of time and efford she had put in to hone her skill, but then decided against it. She closed her mouth, flipped the page in her sketchbook to a blank one and put in in front of Derek and held out her pencil to him, a daring expression on her face. Derek looked at the pencil, thinking about what to do, "I can't." He said "Why?" He held up his glass, "I had more than two drinks, it's not safe" Melony chuckled, the alcohol slightly getting to her, "It's not a car. You'll be fine" "Nope, not gonna do it. Safety first." "Come on. I want to see your hidden talents" Melony said with a sly smile, her eyes half closed and sparkling in the light. If he hadn't known any better he would think she was trying to seduce him. But this was Melony, she didn't do seducing as far as he knew. He had never heard her talk about a man in her life. No boyfriends, no flings, not even a date or a creepy guy at a bar, let alone seen her with anyone. It made him curious. She was just secretive, or was there more going on? "I have many talents." Derek said lowly and grinned a little bit, "how many of them do you want to see?" Melony swallowed at his different tone. She didn't know exactly what he was implying, but his voice went from her ears straight to her core, and it put images in her head that really shouldn't be there. "All of them." She breathed, not realizing she actually said it out loud. Derek grinned more. "All of them? Well, i don't know if we can get to all of them tonight." He said and leaned closer to her. Melony looked away from him. Looking him in the eye was putting more and more dark thoughts in her mind. Thoughts that would lead the two of them to her bedroom. Thoughts that made her want to break so many rules. "H-how about we start with seeing if you can draw. You said it was easy." Melony said, hoping to calm her mind a bit. "Okay. Ehm, Could i have another drink?" He asked. He did sound thirsty. Melony looked at his glass and then made the mistake of looking Derek in the eye. It took all her strength tobreak eye contact, stand up and bring his glass with her to fill it up. As she walked to the counter she used to prepare their drinks, her mind started to wander. With each step more thoughts entered her mind. Would he be a good kisser? What would he taste like? Was he so muscular all over his body? What would he look like naked? How would he feel on top of her? As she started to imagine them together, she did not pay enough attention to her walking and she almost tripped. Derek noticed, got up and walked to her. He put his hand on her shoulder, "Are you okay?" Melony nodded, "I'm fine." She said. But she was anything buy fine. Him touching her shoulder sent surges of electricity through her, and she couldn't help but imagine his hands all over her. "Are you sure?" Melony nodded, not trusting her words. Derek didn't really believe her and turned her around and made her look at him. "You're not. Do you need anything?" He asked. Melony looked up at those deep, gorgeous brown orbs of his and only one word kept being repeated in her mind. Why did he have to phrase it like that? She tried to push her thoughts away, telling herself it was no use, that it was insane and she had to stop thinking like that, but she couldn't help it. Her body screamed it, and then she said it, "You"

[iviarellereads]

Nona the Ninth, Day Two, Chapter 7

(Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For detail on The Locked Tomb coverage and the index, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

(Second House icon) In which we learn many things, but few of them useful right now.

MUSH FOR BREAKFAST—HONESTY’S JOB GOES TERRIBLY WRONG(1)—THE CITY HAS A WORSE DAY—CAMILLA-AND-PALAMEDES—“KEEP HER HOME TONIGHT”—FOUR DAYS UNTIL THE TOMB OPENS.

Nona is awakened abruptly(2) and screams when something wet and heavy hits her face and splashes drops around. Cam tells her to start, and Nona resentfully describes her dream.

“It’s the sitting part. My feet are in the nice water, the safe water. The water’s in my boots. My socks are full of it. I’m talking to her but I can’t see her face. I tried to, Cam, but it’s what always happens, I don’t manage to look at it, it just doesn’t work.”

She goes on to describe that they talk, but she can't really understand the words. They touch hands, and it's always her hands, both the ones she's touching and the ones she's using to touch them. There are red eyes in the darkness, and in the dream she's very hungry. And she might have remembered more, but then a wet cloth hit her face.(3)

Nona gets changed, though she doesn't like the t-shirt she laid out, which shows a hamburger with legs.(4) It feels too juvenile now that she's got it on.

Cam apologizes for the sponge, and Nona apologizes for not waking up. Cam still promises not to do the sponge again, as the experiment failed. Strangely, Cam asks about her hands in the dream, though she usually doesn't ask anything after dream talk time is over. She asks if Nona likes the hands, and Nona says no, not at all. The narration tells us Nona hates having hands.(5) Cam squints at her, but doesn't ask for a reason, just thanks Nona for the answer. Nona asks if that was another clue, do they know who she is yet? Cam says simply, "No."

Nona expresses her love for Cam and Pal, brushes her teeth, and goes out to breakfast. Pyrrha made cold mush, with fruit juice and dried sultanas.(6) Pyrrha describes yesterday at work, where two men got into a big fight. Nona says her friends don't want to kill each other, though they say it often. Hot Sauce is good at quieting them when they get too rowdy. Pyrrha says Hot Sauce could have a big future with a different name. Nona says Honesty told her Hot Sauce's name was very special, and she (Nona) should ask her (Hot Sauce) about it some time.

Nona remembers last night's discussion and asks Pyrrha why We Suffer hates her.

“Because I remind her that her God was just a human being who could get tired and fuck up,”(7) said Pyrrha instantly.

She continues that We Suffer probably doesn't hate her so much anymore, after seeing her famous charm. Nona says if Pyrrha's charming, why's she single? Pyrrha affects a dramatic pose and says her heart is broken and she'll never love again. Nona wonders if Pyrrha is being more honest than she'd admit. It would make sense: she lost the Pal to her Cam.

Cam emerges and complains about the baby food for breakfast, which means it's not Cam but Pal. Pyrrha says options were limited. Pal asks what happened to her pay. Pyrrha admits she had to pay a bribe to some Site C guys. Pal offers a swap for Site B, he and Cam have ways- but Pyrrha says she'd rather save them taking such risks.

“I greenlight it every time, I thoroughly scan her for—” “You should be draining and replacing her fucking brain fluid,” said Pyrrha. “When Gideon and I designed that trial, I used to crack his skull and sieve it myself, just as a control variable. It’s aggregative. I doubt you’re testing her white blood cell count either. The only other people I put through that damn trial were Mercy and Cris, because only Cris didn’t mind being trepanned(8) on the regular.(9) Fucking around with souls is the problem, Sextus … you can’t ever get the full data on souls.”

Nona interrupts their argument to ask if they're fighting because everyone else in the city is. They both look guilty, and Pyrrha says they're just under a lot of stress, and Nona should eat her mush, even if it's awful. Nona thinks it's not so bad, really. At least it's easy to eat more of it than she usually does.

The timer goes off for Pal, and Cam comes back, looks at breakfast, and asks what happened to Pyrrha's pay. Pyrrha says she isn't arguing it twice. So, they all get on with their morning stretches, and then head out. Nona gazes longingly at the merchant stalls as they go past, and when Pyrrha asks what she's looking at, Nona says she'd like a gift for her six-month birthday. Cam says she can get one at a year.

Nona was alarmed; if she didn’t get a present now there was a good chance she would not get to have one later.(10) But Pyrrha said, “God, you think she’s ever gotten presents? I visited her hometown back before Anastasia got settled, and it was grim as fuck then. Just spooky caves all the way down…” This interested Nona, except Cam said sharply, “Don’t lead,”(11) and Pyrrha said, “No leading, ma’am, I understand. What do you want for a gift, Nona?”

Nona asks for a pack of coloured rubber bands for her braids, so she can have different colours on them. Pyrrha says she said a present, something that costs money. Nona says she chose it because it's cheap, so Pyrrha can probably afford it even on half pay. Pyrrha calls domestic life depressing, and Cam says, "Sometimes".

They continue walking, until Pyrrha splits off, kisses the top of Nona's head, and says her see-you-laters. Cam escorts Nona to school, just in time, and leaves. Nona is puzzled that Cam didn't come up with her like usual, but her attention is distracted by the voices of her friends.

In the classroom, "the nice lady teacher" is applying a cloth to one side of Honesty's face. Honesty asks that Nona do it, for his dignity. The teacher is relieved to see Nona in the doorway, and hands off the cold cloth duty. Honesty has a nasty black eye, and Nona is flad to cover it back up with the "cold, tingly-smelling cloth". The teacher tells the others to leave Honesty some space and prepare the room for class.

Nona asks Honesty what happened, but he won't answer.

Hot Sauce doesn't show up until the Angel arrives, not late but looking even more tired than the day before. She examines Honesty, to the Teacher's further relief, and pronounces that nothing has ruptured, he'll just be in some pain from it, and asks what hit him. Honesty asks how she knows it wasn't a fist, and the teacher says she (the Angel) is a doctor. The Angel clarifies that she's adjacent to being a doctor and is "getting a good crash course in, er, triage."(12)

Hot Sauce had come in "a suitable and careless distance" behind the Angel, and takes a tiny child's seat next to the window instead of her usual. The teacher asks her to switch back at break, but Nona figures she won't.(13)

At break, Nona gives half her fruit to Honesty, even though it was promised to Born in the Morning, who doesn't argue. Hot Sauce asks Honesty who did it, and Honesty says he can't tell her, and she doesn't need to freak out. Hot Sauce does a funny thing with her face that makes everyone nervous. Honesty tells her to stop, but she persists. Eventually, Honesty admits that he ran into a streetlight, and blacked out.

After eating some of the fruit for comfort, soggy berries you have to suck off the stems,(14) Honesty admits he got scared on the job he got, and he says he won't be working with those guys anymore. He fidgets with the empty spray from the fruit, takes one of Born in the Morning's, who again doesn't complain, and describes the job. It was supposed to be easy, but they talked themselves into a third robbery after two easy ones, and the third went bad.

Nona finds the story mostly incoherent, as I do, but essentially someone on the crew got separated from the rest, but opened the cargo hold on the third trawler anyway. And, instead of valuable cargo, he saw people with whited-out eyes, who all moved in unison to look at him.(14) This scared him so badly, he was freaking out everyone else once they picked him up, then they were being followed by more militia trucks, and Honesty ran off and got his brain damage.

Born in the Morning calls out that Honesty just said so many swears, but Honesty tells him to shut up. Born in the Morning says it's not fair he gets in trouble with Nona for swears but Honesty doesn't, and Kevin tells him to shut up. The shock of that act's rarity does the job, shuts Born up, and breaks some of the tension.

Hot Sauce says she'll take care of Honesty. Then, the teacher suggests they clean up, and Nona should ring the school bell and leash up Noodle. Before she does, Nona says she'll take care of Honesty, too. Honesty asks who wants her taking care of him, dumb as she is.

Hot Sauce asks how many vehicles it was. Honesty says he's sure it was the Convoy his job-crew tried to rob.(15)

=====

(1) Oh no! I like Honesty, he's a cute kid. (2) Hmm… That's funny, Nona waking up abruptly as soon as John gets cut off mid-word talking to the person who may or may not be Harrow. (3) See, it's not even the same dream… but why, then, would those interruptions be back to back? (4) Note Nona's outfit on the cover art. This must be a big day. Or it's just rather a vivid picture to describe. (5) That's an odd detail to be so specific about. (6) Overnight oats! Also, this is such a tiny thing, but… do you remember how excited Nona was at the thought of cold breakfast but not cold eggs? Pyrrha noticed. She's a warrior but she's also such a mom. I love her so. (7) Huh. Why would that upset We Suffer? Is it easier to rally a cause against a truly omnipotent God? I should've thought quite the opposite. (8) Trepanation - the cutting of a hole in the skull. Documented in tens of thousands of years of skulls, many with healed edges proving it was done well before death, and in ages with no modern anesthetic. (9) Side note here… Hm. Pyrrha is the cavalier, and G1deon the necromancer. She says she checked his cerebrospinal fluid regularly, for whatever the marker is of this soul-overlap going wrong. But, Cristabel was Mercy's cavalier. So, which role requires the CSF checking? Or is she just not mentioning having herself and Mercy checked as well? (This is the sort of thing I'm curious about potentially being fixed in the paperback edition, or left in place…) (10) Why wouldn't Nona get a present in six months? (11) Presumably, "don't give hints as to who Nona might be, and lead her to behave like someone she's not just to please them". Ever the scientist, Cam. (12) That sounds way more suspicious than lying about being a doctor. (13) I believe this is done as a power play of some sort, though I'm not entirely sure how or why. It's also possible she's so angry about seeing Honesty hurt that she needs to calm down before she confronts him about it and she knows she won't if she's sitting near him. (14) I'm operating under the assumption these are very sad refugee city grapes. There are plenty of edible green berries out there, but since Pyrrha put sultanas in the mush, it makes sense they have access to grapes at some level to make raisins. (15) But why would the Convoy be driving around with creepy horror-movie human cargo?

[wandaluvstacos]

Chapter 24 of Good Investment is now up on my Patreon!

Good Investment is available at the $5/month tier. People who pledge $5 a month have access to not only Good Investment but The Sponsors series (ongoing), Pretty Things (complete), May the Blood Run Pure (complete), and Kept Man (complete), along with the $1/month tier books, the Reflections trilogy (ongoing) and The Halfwife (ongoing).

Adri Schvaneveldt has always felt split between two worlds. In one world, they are the adopted child of a large and conservative Mormon family. In another, she is the CEO of a burgeoning fashion empire that pushes boundaries. But in order to be the latter, Adri first has to find the funding. After gaining a hefty following as a social media influencer/model, Adri has the potential customers– if they can get a reliable production model pounded out. And that means a bit of groveling at the feet of investors, most of who have never even heard the term “non-binary”.

But Adri lucks out with Gideon Snow, whose youth and open mind bring much needed funds to make Adri’s dream of diverse, accessible fashion a reality. Of course, lifting a newborn company to its feet is no small task, and late nights drive Adri to occasional stays at Gideon’s nearby house, where their relationship begins stretching beyond business. Adri knows they can’t put an entire business venture at risk for the turbulent whims of their heart. But reason doesn’t always win out.

Excerpt:

“Thank you,” Adri said again, because few other words came to them.

“It looked good on you,” Gideon said, voice low and soft, a perfect complement to the glow of the Christmas lights and the crackle of wood in the stove. Adri couldn’t blame wine this time if something happened. They’d barely had half a glass.

“I mean for everything,” Adri said, turning their gaze to their lap because it was the only thing that felt safe to look at. “With all my family stuff, it’s been nice to get away and just relax. Which is hard for me. But I appreciate being given the chance.” Adri couldn’t help but sneak in a look, which turned into a mistake. Gideon’s blue eyes were darker without sunlight to reflect on them, but their intensity was unchanged. Adri’s gaze darted to his mouth and back again. Shit. Did they just do that?

“I actually think this is the most fun I’ve had in this city since childhood,” Gideon said. “I should be thanking you.”

“All I’ve done is eat your food and have asthma attacks,” Adri replied.

Gideon laughed. “Don’t sell yourself short. I’ve really enjoyed our time together. I love that…” He paused, considered his words, and continued. “I love that you get it, you know? You get how it was to grow up here, and you never make me feel guilty for wanting distance from it. That means a lot to me.”

“It’s nice to be understood.”

“You’re also probably the only one who gets my Lamanite jokes.”

Adri snorted. “My one true endearing quality.”

“You have tons of those. Laughing at my jokes is just one.” Again Gideon paused, his expression thoughtful. Finally he reached out and took Adri’s hand, squeezing their palm lightly. “I wish you saw yourself the way I see you.”

Adri’s mouth went dry. They hadn’t realized how close they were to one another, and no matter how much Adri urged themself to scoot away, they kept leaning closer. They looked down at Gideon’s hand on theirs, at the thumb currently resting on Adri’s center knuckle. Pull away. Do something. But Adri was frozen like a terrified deer, and they didn’t know what voice in their head should be listened to.

“I…” Gideon faltered. “What you said to me in New York… I get it. But it’s been a few months and nothing has changed in the way I feel. So. Do with that what you will.”

“Gideon…” His name emerged more as a whisper than a protest.

“I wish I had a better idea of how you felt.” His smile was weak and forced. “Maybe I’d feel like less of a dumbass if I knew I wasn’t the only one.”