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steddiealltheway · 1 year

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Au where HoH Steve keeps getting pestered by his roommate and best friend Robin to learn sign language in case his hearing gets worse. Plus, when he gets his migraines it might be easier to communicate.

He goes to the bookstore and finds a sign language book and signs to himself trying to pick up the basics. And, to his surprise, he takes to it pretty quickly and easily learns at least the alphabet.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Flash over to Eddie who has been coming to this bookstore because they surprisingly have D&D guides and a huge fantasy section - plus, Murray, the owner, sometimes lends him books instead of making him buy them.

But when he glances around and takes in the familiar surroundings and spots the very unfamiliar new guy in his favorite chair in the corner, he instantly freezes. Because this guy is his absolute dream guy.

Eddie thinks about how he made a New Years resolution that he wasn’t going to run away from things anymore. This time, he’ll actually go after what he wants. He walks towards the man, but stops in his tracks as he watches the man sign to himself.

Eddie takes a moment then decides that this won’t deter him. Instead of going to the fantasy section, Eddie goes over to the language section and grabs the first sign language book he finds. He goes to the register and gestures to the corner while asking Murray, “How long has he been here?”

Murray glances and shrugs. “Only a few days, but it looks like he’s going to keep coming back. Why?”

Eddie looks down and tries to figure out what to say.

“Ooooh. I see,” Murray says with a big smile and motions to the book.

Eddie feels himself flush red as he replies, “I’m thinking of asking him out in sign language. Rather than just, writing it down, you know.”

Murray stares at him for a moment but then scans the book and hands it to him. As Eddie takes it, Murray says, “You should probably know that he…” He trails off and gets a big smile on his face that sets off the warning signs in Eddie’s head. “He’s going to love that,” Murray finishes. “Have a good day!”

Eddie looks at Murray for a second before finally deciding that he’s just a strange man, and everything he says sounds strangely cryptic. So he shrugs it off and hurries home to start learning.

-:-:-:-:-:-

A few days later, and Steve finds himself sitting in the same bookstore with another sign language guide after Robin bet him that he wouldn’t keep up with learning the language. And although he may have started to give up a bit, he went right back into it to prove Robin wrong. Plus, there was twenty bucks on the line.

He’s caught up in the sign for “bitch” when he’s tapped on the shoulder. He jumps back and looks up at a guy with longer dark curly hair and big brown eyes. In his speechlessness, he nearly doesn’t notice the man rubbing his chest with his fist.

But Steve notices the circular motion, and then realizes that it’s definitely a sign for something. Oh! Sorry

Steve smiles widely at the man who smiles back at him. He points at him and signs your name? Steve can feel himself turn red as the deaf man takes pity on him and very slowly spells out E-B-B-I-E.

He points back at Steve who slowly spells out his name as well.

The other man nods with a smile and signs his name back quickly as if repeating it. Steve nods enthusiastically although he struggles with the difference between S and A, but he gets distracted and can’t help but sign beautiful as he stares up at Ebbie.

Ebbie scoffs. You are beautiful

No, you. Steve flirts easily. Maybe there will be a new motivation to learn sign language…

Ebbie pulls his hair in front of his now rosy cheeks, and takes a deep breath before quickly signing something which Steve gets none of. He really should’ve taken this sign language thing more seriously. He shakes his head at the man and hopes he doesn’t give up too quickly.

Ebbie looks a bit discouraged but slowly signs again, but Steve only captures you and want. Clearly this man is a bit too advanced for Steve.

Steve motions for a pen by just scribbling in the air since he hasn’t learned the sign for it yet, while praying that Ebbie doesn’t think he’s stupid. But the other man quickly nods and pulls a pen and small notebook out of his pocket as if he’s prepared for this moment. Which makes sense because he probably has to do this often.

Ebbie scribbles something fast and hesitates before showing it to Steve.

Do you want to go on a date?

Steve stares at the note and takes a minute to process while he tries to figure out what signs meant what. Then, he finally takes in what the question says, and makes eye contact with a very stressed looking Ebbie.

Yes, Steve replies as quickly as he can remember what the sign for it is.

Ebbie looks overjoyed for a moment, and then calmly signs F-R-I-D-A-Y. Then, he holds up his hands to show eight fingers and points down at the ground which Steve takes to mean here.

Yes, Steve replies dumbly not knowing how else to explain his gratitude.

Ebbie quickly gives him a thumbs up and waves at him goodbye. Steve waves back as Ebbie turns around and walks out of the store.

Steve can’t help but notice Murray hunched over at the register seeming to be crying from laughter. He wishes he was reading whatever book he has.

-:-:-:-:-:-

For the next three days, Eddie stops by the bookstore and has brief conversations with Ateve who takes pity on him and signs slowly for him. He even shows him a sign language book after noticing how poorly he’s signing.

Eddie’s just surprised that he agreed to the date after he signed the question so atrociously that Ateve couldn’t even vaguely understand it.

But he notices that he’s beginning to get slightly better at signing, but him and Ateve usually stick to spelling things out letter by letter until they have to ultimately go to the notebook.

But Eddie really likes Ateve. Sure, he has a weird name, but he has a really great personality that shows through even through his signing. Plus, his laughter is music to Eddie’s ears. He wonders what his voice would be like if he attempted to speak.

But that’s a horrible thing to think. Right? Eddie really doesn’t know the etiquette or what’s offensive in the deaf community. He needs to do more research. This research ends up taking him down a path of learning every curse he can in sign language… he feels oddly productive.

But then the day of the date comes, and Eddie really wishes he would’ve spent more time on learning things he could actually use. He ends up sticking to beautiful when he first sees Ateve.

Ateve smiles brightly and signs something that Eddie doesn’t recognize, but he signs thank you hoping for the best. It seems like the right response.

The walk over from the bookstore to Enzo’s is quiet except when they pass by Murray who is cackling by the register. For some reason, the past three days he’s had a laughing fit, but Eddie thinks maybe it’s just something he got from Alexei.

Eddie nearly whispers a pep talk under his breath as the approach the doors, but he doesn’t want Ateve to look over and see. Instead, he just holds up his fingers for two when they get inside and are quickly seated.

Eddie takes a moment to look at the menu before looking up at Ateve who shyly signs hi.

Eddie signs it back while biting back a huge smile before he sees a waiter approach from behind him. He’s been dreading this moment.

“Hello, gentlemen. What can-”

“He’s deaf,” Eddie says at the same time as someone else next to him. He turns and looks at Ateve who stares at Eddie in shock then he realizes…

“Holy shit,” Eddie says.

“Holy shit is right,” Ateve replies.

The waiter clears his throat, “I’ll be back in a moment.” He quickly walks away looking extremely confused but relieved to have been removed from the situation.

“I thought you were deaf.”

Ateve laughs, “Well, I’m Steve, and I’m a bit hard of hearing and sometimes get really intense migraines, so my roommate has been encouraging me to learn sign language.”

“Shit,” Eddie says and puts his head in his hands, “I thought your name was Ateve.” He laughs along with Steve and says, “I’m Eddie, and I started to learned sign language a few days ago after I saw you signing to yourself. But thank you for taking pity on me since you’re clearly advanced.”

“I stared learning days ago, and I thought you were fluent and taking pity on me. Plus, I thought your name was Ebbie.”

Eddie stares at Steve for a moment before laughing loud enough that the restaurant goes quiet as everyone turns to look at the commotion. Steve joins in after looking around.

The restaurant slowly resumes to the normal volume level as Eddie and Steve’s laughter dies down. Steve smiles and says, “If you want, we can still continue learning sign language. Together. If that’s something you’d be interested in…”

Eddie smiled back at him and replies, “Yeah, I’d really really like that.”

As the date goes on, they realize they have a natural connection and easily launch into multiple conversations, but then Eddie stops abruptly and asks, “Wait, did Murray know that you weren’t deaf?”

“Yes,” Steve answers confused but then a look of realization crosses over his face.

Bastard. Eddie signs.

Bitch. Steve signs back with a laugh.

Eddie finds that he can’t be too mad at Murray though because Steve deaf or not is absolutely perfect.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie ficlet #meddling Murray #hoh steve harrington #idiots to lovers #🌹🌹

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ameliathornromance · 20 days

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“It’ll be fine.” You reassured him, holding your Orc Boyfriends hand. You gave it a comforting squeeze. “She doesn’t bite.”

“But she’s a little girl.” Your Orc answered. He’d stopped just before your front door. “Look at me,” your Orc Boyfriend let go of your hand and gestured to his figure. Tall, green and muscular, he pointed at the door. “Your child is going to go running for the hills once she sees me.”

"I've already told her you're an Orc." You tell him.

"Telling someone about an Orc and seeing an Orc are two different things, hun."

At that, you roll your eyes.

Your ex, had gone out to go and chop firewood and never returned. Since you lived very far away from the nearest village, it was rare you heard news. After your ex hadn’t returned the next morning, you went into the village, crying, pleading and begging for people to help look for him.

But unfortunately, no one had seen him. And two days turned into a week… which turned into three weeks… and then a month. Around the two month mark, you got a letter from your ex, saying that he had been having an affair with the milk maid and they had eloped.

Your daughter, who was only a toddler at the time, did not understand what it meant when you cried so much you gagged or when you randomly burst into tears when you saw newly weds passing by in a heavily decorated carriage.

The only thing that held you together, was your child. While you still wondered what you did wrong and conjured up daydreams of keeping your husband here, your daughter made those vanish in an instant. Just hearing even a small giggle, was more than enough to drown out those thoughts… for a little while at least.

Around your daughters sixth birthday, you had met your Orc. You had been in town, looking for cake ingredients when the Orc offered to help you carry your many bags. From that point onwards, the two of you were always in contact… And it became romantic.

Once you told him you had a daughter and told him of the betrayal from your ex, your Orc snorted. “What a pathetic man. You and your daughter are better off without him.” He had let a grin cross his face, “and now you have me. And I won’t leave you.”

When he told you that, you had stared at him, hardly daring to believe it. The internal doubt was blown away by his words, you had to hide your face from him as you wiped your nose and dried your eyes.

“Oh, hun I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he comforted, “c’mere.” You had spent the rest of your date in his arms.

Hearing his reassurance only solidified your resolution: Your daughter would have to meet your Orc Boyfriend.

But your Orc – who was usually so boastful and confident – was now reduced down to a bundle of nerves. It was sweet, how he braided and re-braided his hair over and over again, asking: “does this look alright?”

And now, as your Orc looked down at you, with your pleading eyes and sighed. He knew how important this was to you, your daughter was worth more than gold. “You’re sure she’s not going to be afraid of me?”

You gave a reassuring smile, “one hundred percent.”

Sucking in a deep breath, and exhaling, your Orc Boyfriend nodded. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

The two of you marched forward. As the two of you got closer, you heard a loud giggle come from inside the house.

Your smile only grew wider as you opened the front door and out running, came a flurry of (H/C) locks that headed straight for your Orc.

Your daughter skidded to a halt in front of your Orc and pointed, looking between you and your boyfriend. “Mama, you were right!” She grinned widely. “He’s is super tall!”

“Honey,” You kneeled down to her height, “c’mon, be polite.”

“Oh, right.” Your little girl covered her large grin and stepped back a few paces. She stuck her hand out to your Orc, “I’m (D/N), it’s nice to meet you.”

Your Orc looked between you and the tiny child, who still held her tiny hand out to him, waiting for him to shake it. After your encouraging smile, your Orc uncertainly took her hand in his own and shook it. “Um, it’s nice to meet you too. I’m (O/B).”

“Come inside! I wanna show you the drawing I did of the birds earlier!” Not letting your Orcs hand go, your daughter proceeded to drag him inside the house.

As you watched them pass the threshold, your Orc couldn’t help a smile of relief wash over his face.

“I told you you’d be fine.” You whispered to him as your daughter thundered up the stairs to go and get her drawings.

“Why are you telling me that? I wasn’t nervous at all.” your Orc bluffed. He laid back into your sofa, his old confident smile returning.

The day went smoothly after that, your daughter held your boyfriends undivided attention for hours as she explained the fictional drama between her stuffed animals, Mr Blake, the Shopkeep and Mother Goose.

“No!” Your Orc’s jaw dropped when your daughter announced that the Shopkeep had been giving Mother Goose chicken instead of ham like she asked.

By the end of the day, your daughter was practically falling asleep in your boyfriends arms, eyes flitting closed and snapping open whenever the two of you spoke.

Once you’d put her to bed, you found your Orc sitting on the sofa, grinning. You return his smile, confused. “What?”

“You get up everyday and handle that kid.” He said, not taking his eyes off you. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

You rolled your eyes, crashing next to him on the sofa, “she’s a handful, but I love her.” you yawned. “It is a lot to do on my own, but I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“She’s got me now too.” Your Orc Boyfriend snuggled closer to you. Heart swelling, you threw your arm across his torso and you let your eyes slide closed. And the two of you fell asleep, basking in the domestic bliss.

#monster x female #monster lover #orc fiction #monster romance #orc boyfriend #monster x you #orc x reader #monster x human #monster x reader #orc romance #monster boyfriend #orc x reader fluff #monster romance fluff #orc x human #orc x female!reader #orc x human reader

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blueweaver1 · 3 months

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look at all these ~Waves~

I wanted to do a collage of different Fan Designs of Soundwave in my style, so I really appreciate the original creators for allowing me to do this :D (click for better resolution)

They are as follows: 1. @driftsart 2. @q-lyme 3. @transformers-synergize 4. @optimusprimeswinging-metalballs 5. @primekelly

#soundwave #transformers soundwave #transformers #maccadam #tf art #tf soundwave #soundwave fanart #transformers fan continuity

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txttletale · 4 months

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this is an image i generated using AI with the prompt 'mi-24 attack helicopter blushing demurely'. it is definitionally art and i am the artist (note that i did not say it's good art -- it isn't!). i'm going to ask some questions about it to illustrate why i think a lot of 'AI art isn't art' talking points are silly.

1. why did i combine 'attack helicopter' with 'blushing', when this is not something attack helicopters are known for doing? is there a juxtaposition being drawn there on purpose? what purpose?

2. why did i specify a specific model of attack helicopter? is the mi-24 known for anything?

3. what attitude does this prompt imply towards the mi-24 and the institutions that use it? is it a reverent and respectful one?

4. why is 'demurely' specified? are there other ways to blush?

5. would the resulting image have been meaningfully different if:

a) the type of helicopter had not been specified

b) 'blushing' had been replaced by 'frowning'

c) 'blushing demurely' had been replaced with 'fighting bad guys'

d) 'mi-24 attack helicopter' had been replaced with 'anime girl'

e) 'mi-24 attack helicopter' had been replaced with 'turkish president'

f) the prompt was affixed 'beautiful, high resolution, trending on artstation'

g) the prompt was affixed 'found footage horror movie'

6. does the fact that i have previously said i will make a bing ai image every time someone complains about AI art, sarcastically saying that by doing so i am stealing food out of artists' mouths, impact the perceived meaning and impact of the image? does it offer a new reading of the absurd nature of the prompt?

7. does the fact that i am a vocal communist impact your answer to any of these questions?

these aren't rhetorical or troll questions, to be clear -- they are merely being posed to illustrate that the idea that there is no artistic intent or human expression behind AI generated images falls apart under serious analysis.

#tattletxt #ai art

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2soulscollide · 1 year

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Write your book STEP BY STEP

hello hello, it's me again!

today i'm bringing you a step-by-step / checklist to finally get your book done. i know it can be a bit complicated to put everything together to make your idea come to life (you're definitely not alone!)

that's why i compiled some tips and made this post, in hopes to help some author out there :D

let's get started.

PREMISE

assuming you already have a good idea in mind, you should start by writing a premise. to help you with that, try to answer these questions:

who is the main character?

what are their goals?

which troubles will they face / what's stopping them from achieving their goals?

do they have an opponent? if so, who?

now that you know the answers to these questions, it's time to write the premise. the premise consists in a sentence that summarizes your whole idea.

PLOT OUTLINE

there are infinite ways to plot your story. you can do it by writing down ideas and linking them together, following a scheme, or any other method.

the most common plot outlines are these:

synopsis outline: one to two pages, where you hit all the major beats of the story

in-depth outline: outline each chapter/scene

snowflake method: develop the premise into a bigger paragraph, and that paragraph into a page (etc.) until you have the whole outline of your story

booken method: plot the start and end of the story, and the main characters

the novel factory created plot sheets for free, and you can choose from eight different templates. you might want to check it out!

KNOW YOUR CHARACTERS

having your outline defined, you should start developing your characters now. the main character's profile might be more detailed than the others, however, it's up to you. there are many character sheets out there on the internet that will help you create flawless characters.

i have a post with resources that might be helpful when creating a character, check it out!

and here you have some prompts and sheets to create a character:

Quick Character Creator - EA Deverell

Extremely detailed character sheet template - @hawkasss

The Best Character Template Ever - Dabble

Character Twenty Questions Worksheet - The Writers Circle

at this point, you should also define the narrator's voice, tone, etc, as well as the pace of your novel.

LOCATIONS

define the principal locations of your story, the settings, and where the story is taking place. it's important to know how the environment looks, and how your characters feel about it.

for this part, you might find it useful to do some research about some locations, if you're not familiar with them. find inspiration on Pinterest, Tumblr, or even on books, paintings, and art. everything is valid.

if your story takes place in a fantasy environment, you might need to fill out a template to create it or write down the way you imagine it to be. try to get as many details as possible, so there are no holes when developing the novel.

SUBPLOTS

you might want to give more depth to your novel by developing a subplot (or more than one). make sure it doesn't get too confusing or that doesn't take the focus away from the main action.

the subplot can be a romance, another character's relationship, a character's arc, a backstory, etc. this will make your story more real and 3D, more realistic.

develop it as a side story and mix it with the principal plot but don't make it as important as the main story, otherwise, none of the plots will make an impact.

SYNOPSIS

write a synopsis as long as you wish, covering every important part of the story. this will help you to really know your idea, and have a solid structure for it. it can range from 500 to 2,500 words, but you don't have to restrict yourself to a number.

things the synopsis should cover:

the status quo

the complication

initial challenges

midpoint

further challenges

the low point

the climax

the resolution

DRAFT

and we get to the best part which is writing! now that you know everything about your story, characters, locations, and scenes, all you have to do is to put all that together in words. don't feel pressured to make everything look perfect already, just write what comes to your mind. if you have a new idea for the plot, good, write it down! if this character doesn't make sense anymore, okay, get rid of them. just go with the flow, following the structure you've planned, and everything starts to come to life.

i know it's so tempting to go back, read what you wrote, and start editing and polishing, but trust me, don't do that! it's a waste of time, and you will take so much more time to finish your first draft. in fact, i've given up on so many stories because of that...

just when you finish the first draft, you will re-read everything and start editing, fixing plot holes, changing what doesn't fit well, etc. but for now, just write, get the first draft done. enjoy the process, don't rush.

thanks for reading!

i hope this post was helpful!

also, you might be interested in this free workbook with over 90 pages and many exercises! check it out here: THE WRITER'S WORKBOOK

resources for this post:

How to Choose a Plot Outline Method: 4 Techniques for Outlining Novels

How to Write a Novel: A Step-by-Step Guide

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dailyadventureprompts · 3 months

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I've got a new d&d group and they're almost all new players, with some of them having played with me before in oneshots/ gotten a couple sessions into campaigns that fizzled.

There's the usual learning pains: No one's quite got a handle on the rules yet and is relying on me for which dice to roll ( it's a D20 friends, it's always going to be a D20 unless it's damage I don't know how many times I have to say that). Person A is nervous and over-talkative , person B is nervous and withdraws from conversation, Person C is always running a little late...

But what really surprises me is the difference between them and the group I've had going for 2 years now:

Newgroup THEORIZES in a way that I don't think I've ever seen despite playing this game for two decades. I'll ask them what they're doing and they'll have a multi-minute chat weighing the value of different options. They don't turn to ME, or ask me if things are possible ( which is what new players tend to do), they turn to eachother and ask if they think it's a good idea that they do X or Y and then what could happen from there. I'm trying to be a good DM and let them learn the ropes but it's FASCINATING response. For example; the barbarian says "I'll use my shield to pin the monster in place so we can question them about the villain" and before I can even get into my response another player will say "but what if I used my rope instead to tie them up?", meanwhile none of them have confirmed if the monster is in any way related to the villain or is capable of speech (it wasn't, it was a mimic fyi)

Newgroup is LASER targeted on their goal, which was a surprise as someone who was DMing for a party that purposefully jumped ship on the A plot ASAP and is actively resentful of anything resembling a main quest. Newgroup passes through a mining village that's been deserted after a recent attack by monsters which drove people up into the hills, a Classic rescue mission with a bit of a dungeon delve on top, intended to give the party some XP and magic items before they leave the early game and I stop pulling my punches. Newgroup stays just long enough to confirm that the monsters have nothing to do with the A plot and unanimously decide to leave the village post haste. Meanwhile I have to be careful about what information I drop to oldgroup, as if they catch a single whiff of villanious wrongdoing they'll drop what they're doing and divert their attention to wiping that threat off the map. I've now had to have multiple villains make peace treaties in all but name with this party because of their habit of knocking out rivals/threats/governments.

Because oldgroup know the game really well they're less experimental with what they want to accomplish. They know that things can be solved through class features/dice rolls/damage, and so those are their default solutions to most problems. Meanwhile newgroup has no IDEA what the limits of the game system are so they're trying clever stuff left and right. " Can I hit it in the eye with my arrow? Can I use this spell to find out if _____, Can we use the flying boots to _____?" They're asking genuinely good questions so often that it's made me want to play around with the d20 resolution system to get something more closed to the " drawback/mixed success" sorts of results you get in apocalypse world style games. ( I think I found a neat fix, more on that to come)

#dapper digresses

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oscalesoffeeling · 2 years

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'don't need no bible / just look in my eyes' etc.

#ellie rambles about stuff #like!!! religion and love and faith. blind faith... worship etc.#OBsession™. i am ughing rn.#quoting 'in your eyes' for the billionth time but:#'i see the doorway / to a thousand churches / the resolution / of all the fruitless searches'#all In Your Eyes. i Am one pretentious motherfucker huh!!!#and vague as hell. what the hell. anyway.#i love religion. i really do. if not in practice (blasphemy etc i know whatever) then in theory i just Adore it.#i love it as a concept certainly. and i love what it means to me personally.#i love being religious in a lot of ways. lots of meanings to that though ig.#a lot of ways that i do it. a lot of ways that i love it. etc. i love sentences that are easy to #interpret in a lot of different ways. fuck. whatever. ok.#i love like religion. how i see religion anyway. how religion is to me. in positive and negative ways.#like? such a beautiful shining thing. like the sun. but ofc you'll burn your eyes staring at it too long.#i do not give a shit. let it burn g-damnit all. g-d damn me.#g-d damns me *fingerguns* i may be weird about This All. but it's a Thing™ for me. however you take that.#any way you take that is probably true lmao #religion tw

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gubsbuubs · 2 months

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Hotch’s Daughter

(18+nsfw)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Hotch´sDaughter!reader

Word Count: ~ 6.5K

Warnings/Tags: Lots of teasing, BANTER, Hotch´s!Daughter,smut, Enemies to Lovers.

Request: This one-shot was inspired by a request for an enemies-to-lovers featuring Hotch's daughter and Spencer Reid -》 basically I've been having this thought for a few weeks now and I'm embarrassed to ask, I thought of something with a..I don't know if I can call it that enemies to (fuck) enemies, hate sex maybe (?) something like Hotch's oldest daughter It's somewhere between s9 and s12 Reid (whichever you think is best) and a difference of about 7 to 9 years. Reid just doesn't like Hotch's oldest daughter because he thinks she's maybe a little irresponsible (not that she's just a 20-something woman who's a hard-partying college student [that's not that important, so just extra info]) something like that also Y/N always teasing Reid in a passive-aggressive way (I have no idea what examples, sorry) when no one is around I don't know if you have a list of tips, but I would also like something like during sex "You've always wanted to fuck your boss's daughter, right Reid" and again LOTS of teasing during sex. I kind of thought of something like a college party where Y/N is like “competing at beerpong” or something (not drunk enough to be drunk) and for whatever reason Reid is at this party (a case or something or like Morgan dragging Spencer to a party with the excuse of "I know this guy and he's having a party and I feel like you need to relax Spencer", so he drags Reid to the party) and the rest (Y/ N and Reid) end up in a room alone. I know I've already asked for a lot, but I'd also like something like Morgan looking for Reid and hearing the “little noises” he and Y/N make through the door and the next day teasing him at work with it 🤭

Summary: Y/n, Hotch’s daughter, cleverly exploits Spencer’s boundaries by flirting to incite him. While Spencer remains resolute in maintaining distance, the tension between them escalates until one day, he finds himself unable to resist.

A/N: Hi my loves! This is just filthy and it´s ginormous, so sorry.

My requests are open! 🍒

English is not my first language- barely proof read this

As I strolled through the bustling bullpen, my sights set on the unit chief's office, I spotted Derek at his desk, buried under a mountain of paperwork as usual. With a mischievous grin, I called out to him, "D!! Party at my place Friday at ten p.m. You better show up."

Derek's head snapped up from his desk, his expression a mix of surprise and curiosity. "Woah, woah, woah!" he exclaimed, rising from his chair and halting me in my tracks. "What do you mean a party at your place, young lady?"

I chuckled softly at Derek's protective tone, he was more than just a family friend; he was like a brother to me. Working alongside my dad for years, Derek was an integral part of our family, just like the rest of the team. When my mom passed away, Derek's support was invaluable. Having experienced the loss of his own parent, he understood the depth of my grief like no one else could. He became my rock, offering solace and guidance through those dark days. I owe a lot to him; without his help, I doubt I would have had the strength to finish high school. He turned my pain into strength, helping me navigate through the toughest moments with his unwavering support and understanding. Derek's presence in my life has been a blessing, shaping me into the person I am today.

As I approached Derek's desk, I leaned down slightly to meet his gaze, a familiar smile playing on my lips. "You know… Mr. Hotcher and Jack are away for the weekend, visiting Beth," I said, my voice filled with excitement. "So, I'm inviting my friends from college to come over to my place to throw a party."

Derek chuckled softly, shaking his head in amusement. "A college party? Really, Y/n?" he exclaimed with a hint of disbelief. "I'm way too old for all that."

I grinned, knowing Derek's idea of a good time might not align with the typical college scene. "Come on, Derek," I teased, nudging his arm gently. "You're never too old to let loose and have some fun. Plus, you'll fit right in with your timeless charm."

Derek chuckled again, his expression softening. "Alright, alright," he relented, a twinkle in his eye. "I'll make an appearance, but don't expect me to stay past my bedtime."

I gave him a playful wink and a grateful smile. "That's all I ask for," I told him as I made my way to my father´s office.

I knocked three times, as I always did, and without waiting for a response, I pushed the door open.

"Hi, sweetie," my father greeted me with a warm smile, his tone softening as he saw me enter. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I just need some help before you leave," I replied as I gave him a hug, "I knew you would be leaving tonight, and I just need some advice. I'm having trouble with a paper. It´s constitutional law, and I have to submit it next Monday."

As I sat on the chair across from his, eagerly awaiting my father's assistance, he remained focused on his paperwork at his desk. After a moment, he glanced up at me with a regretful expression.

"Honey, I'm sorry," he began, his tone apologetic. "But I'm not going to be able to help you. I have to leave in a couple of hours." He checked his watch, a sense of urgency evident in his voice. "I'm sorry, but I would really love to help you, but I can't."

"Oh, no, Dad!" I exclaimed, feeling a surge of panic rise within me. "I really need your help. Where the hell am I going to find someone else who knows about constitutional law?"

The urgency in my voice seemed to catch my father's attention, his expression softening with concern. "I understand, sweetheart," he said gently, "But I really have to leave soon. Is there anyone else you can reach out to for help?"

I shook my head, feeling overwhelmed by the thought of finding someone else to assist me on such short notice. "I don't know, Dad you're the only one I trust to help me with this."

"Well, I know of someone who could help you," my dad suggested, his tone thoughtful.

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his hint. "Who do you have in mind.

My dad hesitated for a moment before answering, "Spencer Reid."

Spencer and I had a history of butting heads, constantly at odds with each other. He seemed to harbor a deep-seated animosity towards me, viewing me as irresponsible and reckless. Our personalities clashed at every turn; he was the epitome of a straight-laced, by-the-book good boy, while I reveled in pushing boundaries and challenging authority.

It didn't take long for me to realize that I could get under his skin by flirting with him when no one else was around. It was like he was going crazy because I only did it when alone with him or when no one seemed to notice. And it wasn't like he could accuse me outright. After all, I was younger and his boss's daughter, so who would believe his crazy theories?

So what better way to annoy the brilliant, uptight Spencer Reid than to play with his emotions and disrupt his carefully controlled world? I knew it was a dangerous game, but I couldn't resist the thrill.

The only one who knew about my provocations and how annoyed Spencer got was Derek, and he always told Spencer he only got so mad because he knew he was attracted to me but couldn't lay a finger on me or Hotch would kill him. Spencer always denied it, but I share the same opinion as Derek.

With the passing years I noticed a subtle shift in Spencer's demeanor, while my flirtatious antics had initially left him flustered and embarrassed, over time, he seemed to grow more confident in his responses. No longer did he react with the same level of embarrassment as before.

Despite Spencer's growing confidence, the frustration I could provoke in him never truly dissipated. If anything, it seemed to intensify as he became more accustomed to my teasing. To an outsider, he appeared calm and composed, but beneath the surface, he was like a tightly wound spring, ready to snap at the slightest provocation.

Asking Spencer for his help would be no easy task. I knew he would likely deny it, given our history of butting heads and the tension that simmered between us. Despite his expertise in constitutional law, I couldn't shake the feeling that he would refuse to assist me, simply out of spite or a desire to avoid any further interaction with me.

"Dad, I appreciate the suggestion, but I don't think Spencer would be willing to assist me," I said hesitantly, choosing my words carefully.

“What? No! Of course he is; I know you two aren't that close, but he is definitely more than happy to help," he asserted confidently.

Before I could protest, my dad immediately dialed the number on the phone. "Spencer, can you come by my office, please?" He spoke to the receiver with authority. I watched in disbelief as my dad took charge of the situation, seemingly unfazed by any potential reservations I had about seeking Spencer's assistance.

As the call went through, a knot formed in my stomach, uncertainty gnawing at me. I felt a sense of resignation wash over me, realizing that protesting now would only complicate things further. With a heavy sigh, I decided to stay silent, choosing instead to lay back on the chair and stare up at the ceiling, lost in my thoughts as I waited for the impending arrival of Spencer.

Shortly after, a knock was heard at the front door, and I could feel my heart race with anticipation. "Come on in," my father said.

"You called for me, sir?" Spencer's voice filled the room as he entered, his presence commanding attention. "Reid, hi. Please, sit down," my dad gestured towards a chair.

As Spencer's eyes immediately locked with mine, I rose from my seat to allow him to take it. With deliberate steps, I made my way to stand behind my father, positioning myself so that Spencer's gaze was met with my silent presence looming over him.

"Well, Spencer," my dad began, his tone measured as he addressed him, "I asked you to come here because Y/n has a paper to do for constitutional law, and she requested my help, but I have to leave. So, I was wondering if maybe you could help her."

As my dad spoke, I could sense Spencer's hesitation growing. His eyes darted up to me, and I gave him the smuggest grin I could have mastered, relishing the irony of the situation and how much I was enjoying it.

With a sense of satisfaction, I observed Spencer's struggle to hide his unease. He was caught between wanting to keep his cool and not wanting to help me. If I had asked him myself, he probably would've refused just out of spite. But now, with my dad asking so nicely, Spencer had no way out. He couldn't say no to my father.

"Yeah, um," Spencer cleared his throat, his discomfort palpable. "I could help her," he reluctantly conceded, his words laced with annoyance.

I couldn't help but smile widely at Spencer's visible frustration, reveling in the satisfaction of knowing he was forced to comply with my father's request. Meanwhile, my dad remained oblivious to the tension in the room, with his head down and his attention focused solely on the paperwork before him.

Spencer's gaze bore into mine, and his eyes narrowed with irritation. "Anything else, sir?" He inquired, his tone tinged with impatience.

"No, that's all. Thank you very much," my dad says, briefly looking up from the files and giving Spencer a slight smile. "But if you two need to schedule a time to work, please do it outside. I just really need to finish this," he adds, his tone slightly rushed.

I seize the moment to kiss my father's cheek, bidding him farewell with a soft, "Have a great trip, dad. Say hi to Beth for me" and with that, I stepped out of his office. Spencer was already making his way towards the break room as I closed the door.

As I entered the room, I found Spencer already brewing some coffee, so I stood by his side, leaning against the counter.

"That was so sweet of you, Spencer, agreeing to help me out," I remarked, my words dripping with irony as I playfully mocked him.

"Don't be difficult, Y/n," Spencer responded in a frustrated tone, still focused on the task at hand and not bothering to look at me.

With a sly grin, I spoke, "I have to admit, Spencer, the idea of having a taste of Professor Reid excites me very much." My words were casual but tinged with a hint of mischief, aimed at both teasing him and stoking his frustration.

Spencer paused in his task, his grip tightening on the handle of the coffee pot, as my words hung in the air between us. Slowly, he turned to face me, his expression unreadable as he met my gaze. "Y/n, you know I'm only helping because your father asked me to," he replied evenly, his voice tight with restraint.

"Oh, Professor, don't be so uptight," I purred, "After all, who wouldn't jump at the chance to learn from a man like you?"

I watched with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction as Spencer's gaze shifted upwards to the ceiling, his breathing growing deeper as he fought to regain his composure.

His jaw clenched tightly, and the muscles in his neck were visibly tensing as he battled to suppress his rising frustration. Despite his efforts, I could see the simmering irritation beneath the surface, a testament to the effect my teasing was having on him.

Spencer's gaze flickered back down to meet mine, his expression a blend of annoyance and resignation. "Y/n, this is not the time or place for your... games," he replied, his voice firm and authoritative.

Undeterred by his stern tone, I leaned in closer, the corners of my lips curling into a playful smile. "Oh, Spencer, where's your sense of adventure?" I whispered huskily, my voice laced with mischief. "Don't tell me you're afraid of a little excitement."

His gaze hardened, a flicker of irritation flashing in his eyes before he regained control. "I'm not afraid of anything," he retorted, his tone sharp. "But I have more important things to focus on than dealing with your incessant need for attention."

I couldn't help but chuckle softly, my amusement bubbling up as I continued to push his buttons. "Oh, Spencer," I teased, my voice dripping with mock sympathy. "It must be exhausting being so uptight all the time. Maybe you just need to loosen up a bit."

As Spencer's frustration simmered beneath the surface, I leaned in closer, the twinkle in my eyes daring him to retaliate. "Come on, don't tell me you're getting worked up over a little harmless banter," I continued, my tone laced with provocation. "Maybe you're just not up for the challenge."

Spencer's frustration reached its peak, evident in the sharpness of his tone. "You know what? Just email me the paper requirements. I'll write it for you," he said tersely, his patience worn thin. "I don't want to have to deal with you."

With that, the door swung open, revealing Rossi.

"Uncle Dave!" I exclaimed with excitement, unable to contain my joy at seeing him. I rushed forward and enveloped him in a warm hug.

Rossi raised an eyebrow in surprise. "I didn't know you were here, kiddo," he remarked, returning the hug with a smile.

"Oh, I came to ask Dad to help me with a paper," I explained, my voice tinged with faux innocence, "but he couldn't help, so he asked Spencer." With a subtle smirk, I continued, "And uncle Dave, Spencer was so kind, he offered to write it for me; do you believe it?"

Rossi chuckled at my explanation, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Well, it looks like you've got yourself quite the helper," he remarked with a grin, nodding towards Spencer.

I glanced back at Spencer, noting the hint of annoyance still lingering in his expression as he poured his coffee. It was clear my teasing had gotten under his skin more than I'd anticipated, but the satisfaction of seeing him flustered outweighed any guilt I might have felt. His irritation was palpable as he begrudgingly accepted the task of writing my paper, his movements stiff with frustration.

"Well, anyway, thanks, Spencer," I said, a playful grin spreading across my lips. "You were a real sweetheart for agreeing to write it. I've got to run now, but I'll shoot you an email with all the details. Kinda need it ready by Monday, okay?" I added, punctuating my words with a playful wink. "You're the best, Spence."

With those words, I leaned in to plant a quick kiss on his cheek, a mischievous twinkle in my eye as I knew it would only leave him more annoyed. Ignoring his exasperated sigh, I waved my goodbyes at Rossi and made my exit.

As I walked away, I couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at how effortlessly I had turned the situation to my advantage, leaving Spencer to deal with the consequences of his reluctant agreement.

—x—

Friday came around, and I spent the afternoon hastily preparing my house for the party, rushing to stock up on booze and snacks. As the sun dipped below the horizon, my friends began to trickle in.

The party unfolded beneath the starlit sky, casting a dreamy glow over the backyard pool area. Colorful lights twinkled around the pool, illuminating the water in shades of blue and green. Laughter and chatter filled the air as guests mingled around the pool, their voices blending with the rhythmic beats of the music.

I had a full-on bar set up, stocked with all sorts of booze, beer, cocktails, you name it. Bottles of beer and liquor lined the counter, while colorful cocktails were expertly mixed and poured into plastic cups. The backyard was packed with all sorts of random people, just having a blast. Music was pumping, and bodies were moving everywhere. Everyone was enjoying themselves and letting loose.

In one corner, a game of beer pong was in full swing, and I was getting my pong on, sinking shots, and taking names like a boss.

Amidst the laughter and cheers, a random guy's voice cut through, calling out to someone nearby. "Yo, guys, the cops are here!" he exclaimed, his words sending a wave of panic through the crowd. The comment caught my attention, and I glanced up from the game, scanning the room until my gaze landed on Derek, who had just arrived.

"Guys, don't worry, it´s just my big brother!" I yelled, "And he is not a cop; he is actually FBI, but he is NOT A SNITCH!" I slurred my words as I rushed to hug Derek. "And ladies, he is singleeeeeeeeee! So feel free to shoot your shot!!"

Derek chuckled at my introduction, playfully rolling his eyes at my antics. With a grin, he accepted the attention, raising a hand in acknowledgment to the crowd.

"You came!" I exclaimed, my excitement bubbling over as I jumped up and down in front of him like I was a little kid meeting their idol for the first time.

"Of course I came; you invited me, so I had to come," he replied with a chuckle, his tone affectionate as I hugged by his side.

"I'm glad you're here. I have a great friend for you to meet," I said, eager to introduce him to someone new.

"I actually brought someone with me," he said, looking down at me.

"What? You dirty dog... Who's the lucky girl?" I asked, surprised by his unexpected response.

"Well," Derek chuckled, trying to contain a laugh, "his name is Spencer."

I playfully smacked his bicep, a grin spreading across my face. "What? Really? I thought you had a girlfriend for a moment."

Derek shook his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Nah, I just brought Pretty Boy with me." As he spoke, I couldn't help but glance around the lively crowd, searching for any sign of Spencer amidst the sea of partygoers.

"Well, where is he anyway?" I inquired.

"Oh, he said he had some files that he needed to drop," Derek replied nonchalantly, his gaze drifting over the house. "He's probably in your office."

I made my way inside the house, the sound of laughter and music fading away as the door closed behind me. Traversing through the familiar halls, I eventually entered the office. Spencer stood by the desk, his attention focused on a document as he scribbled away.

"Is that my paper?" I asked, my excitement evident as I quickly moved to stand by his side.

Spencer glanced up, a condescending smirk spreading across his face. "Yeah," he replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm, "I just needed to cut something out. It sounded too smart to be written by you."

"Well, I must say, Spencer, I'm impressed with how quickly you wrote the paper," I teased, my voice laced with faux innocence.

Spencer's jaw clenched tightly, his frustration evident as he fought to maintain his composure. "You know, Y/n, if you actually put in the effort, maybe you wouldn't need someone else to write your papers for you," he retorted, his tone sharp with irritation.

I sat on top of the desk, a mischievous glint in my eyes as I locked gazes with Spencer. "Well, aren't you just the sweetest for helping out a damsel in distress?" I teased, a playful smirk playing on my lips. "Guess I owe you one now, huh?"

He took a deep breath, his hands slipping into his pockets as he regarded me with a knowing look. "Don't you start, Y/n," he warned, his voice laced with annoyance.

I chuckled softly, enjoying the way I could always push his buttons with just a few words. "Start what, Spencer?" I replied innocently, batting my eyelashes exaggeratedly. "I'm just expressing my gratitude for your generous assistance."

Spencer shook his head, "You know exactly what you're doing," he countered.

I leaned in forward in his direction, my playful demeanor masking the underlying tension between us. "Do I, Spencer?" I asked, my voice dropping to a seductive whisper. "Or are you just imagining things?"

Spencer's gaze held mine, a mixture of exasperation and something else flickering in his eyes. "You're impossible," he murmured.

A smirk played on my lips as I traced a finger along the edge of the desk, enjoying the way he couldn't tear his eyes away from me. "And yet, here you are, still falling for my tricks,".

Spencer's lips twitched with a hint of amusement, though he tried to maintain a facade of indifference. "I'm not falling for anything, Y/n”

I chuckled softly, "Sure, Spencer," I lightly patted his chest. "Keep telling yourself that."

As Spencer leaned forward, he rested his hands on the desk under me, his presence engulfing me. I felt a rush of anticipation course through my veins as his hands laid on either side of my thighs, sending a jolt of electricity through me as our skin touched.

"Is that a threat, Spencer?" I whispered, my voice laced with a mixture of challenge and intrigue.

His lips curled into a small smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling ever so slightly with amusement. "Not a threat, Y/n," he replied, his tone softening as he leaned in even closer, his breath ghosting over my lips. "A promise."

"You know, Spencer," I murmured, "Sometimes I wonder if you've got what it takes to handle someone like me."

"Oh, really?" he replied, raising an eyebrow "And what makes you say that, Y/n?"

"Well, let's just say," I whispered, my voice filled with mischief, "I've seen the way you tiptoe around me, like I'm some delicate flower that might wilt at your touch."

Spencer's expression softened slightly, "Ah, yes," he conceded, his head fell back slightly as he sighed "the boss's daughter, untouchable and off-limits.

"Exactly," I replied, "And let's not forget, I'm also significantly younger than you. Double challenge, isn't it?

Spencer's amusement faded, replaced by a hint of seriousness as he regarded me. "You know, Y/n," he began, “playing this game, using your position as Hotch´s daughter to your advantage... It's risky."

I raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Risky? How so, Spencer?" I asked, my voice carrying a hint of challenge.

His gaze hardened, and the warmth in his eyes was replaced by a steely decisiveness. "Because one day, you might push me too far," he replied, "One day, I might not be able to hold back anymore."

I felt a shiver run down my spine at the seriousness of his tone, the underlying threat sending a jolt of adrenaline coursing through me. Despite my playful facade, I couldn't deny the flicker of apprehension that sparked within me at the thought of what Spencer might be capable of if pushed to his limit. But instead of backing down, I met his gaze head-on, a defiant glint in my eyes.

"Is that a warning, Spencer?" I countered, my voice steady despite the racing of my heart. "Or a promise?"

"You always get what you want, don't you?" He remarked chuckling, his breath warm against my the skin of my neck.

I met his gaze with a sly smile, reveling in the tension that crackled between us. "Only when I set my mind to it,"

Spencer's lips quirked into a half-smile as he retorted, "No one likes a brat."

"But you seem to tolerate me just fine, Spencer," I teased, my voice dripping with mock innocence.

Toleration doesn't mean I actually like your attitude. Maybe you need to be taught some manners." Spencer's tone was firm.

"Oh, Spencer," I replied, "I didn't realize you were volunteering for the job."

Spencer's eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features before he regained his composure. "Don't push your luck, Y/n," he warned.

But I couldn't resist the opportunity to tease him further and see just how far I could push him. Leaning in closer, I let my breath brush against his ear as I whispered, "Or what, Spencer? You'll finally lose your cool and show me what you're really made of."

His jaw clenched, a hint of frustration flashing in his eyes as he resisted the urge to react. "You're playing with fire, Y/n," he murmured, his voice tinged with a mixture of warning and desire.

A thrill coursed through me at the knowledge that I was getting under his skin, that I had the power to unravel him with just a few carefully chosen words. Ignoring the warning bells ringing in the back of my mind, I leaned back with a smirk, my eyes alight with mischief. "Then let's see who gets burned first,"

I quipped, grabbing his tie and pulling him closer. Our faces were inches apart as our lips collided for the first time. Our kiss was hot and hungry, tongues clashing, our mouths grappling for dominance. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him even closer as his hand traveled down the small of my back. Our bodies pressed together tightly, the heat radiating from within only adding to the intensity of the moment.

My breath quickened as our lips pulled apart, and my fingers tangled in his hair as I slowly pulled away. My heart thumped in my chest, my body humming with a rush of pleasure. Spencer's eyes were glazed, his breath coming in sharp, shallow breaths as he stared at me.

With a sly grin, I pulled back slightly, "Careful, Spencer," I murmured, my voice low and teasing, "Are you sure you want to keep playing this game?"

Spencer was still breathing heavily, and his eyes focused on me with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine. My body buzzed with pleasure, and I felt myself melting into his touch.

"Only if you can handle it," His voice was hoarse, as though he were gripping onto his composure by a thread. "And I think we're beyond the point of asking if I want this to keep going... don't you?"

I swallowed; my voice was as low as a whisper. "You tell me."

His hands traveled down my back, his thumb caressing my hip with slow, deliberate strokes. "Don't play games with me," he murmured, his voice trembling with desire.

My breath caught in my throat as Spencer's lips grazed my neck, and I could feel my body reacting to his touch. Spencer's words were hot as they hit near my ear, sending shivers down my spine as his hands continued their exploration of my body.

"I'm not playing games," I whispered, my body trembling as his hands traveled lower, slowly moving towards my thighs. I shivered but made no attempt to move away, knowing that he wanted me to stay right where I was.

"Then what are you doing?" Spencer asked, his voice low as he gripped my waist, pulling me closer. "Because to me, it seems like you're asking for more."

"I'm not asking for anything," I chuckled, "I'm letting you take what you want."

Now was his turn to let out a chuckle "And what exactly do I want?" his voice filled with amusement, as he lifted my dress up until it covered my hips, his hands still firmly gripping my bare ass.

I swallowed hard, my body trembling as he played with me, his fingers gripping me hard. My breath caught in my throat, and my head tilted back, my body yielding to his touch.

"I think I want to hear you say it," Spencer murmured, his voice low, his eyes burning into mine.

Spencer's gaze locked onto mine. I could see the conflict playing out in his mind—the struggle to reconcile his desires with the reality of our situation.

"You want to fuck me, Spencer; you always have," I asserted confidently, refusing to back down. "But you were just afraid of crossing that line, of stepping into forbidden territory. Afraid of what it would mean to want someone like me… Hotch´'s daughter,"

Spencer's lips curled into a faint smile, a glimmer of amusement dancing in his eyes. "You know what they say," he chuckled softly. "The forbidden fruit is always the most desired."

"So, what do you say, Spencer?" I tested him, "Are you ready to take a bite?"

"I think I'm ready for more than just a bite," Spencer replied, his words full of aggression as he leaned in closer. I shivered as his hand traveled down between us, stroking the lace of my panties with his fingertips. At an excruciatingly slow pace, his touch grazed the soft material that covered the skin. I couldn't help but squirm against him, my breath coming in short, as my body tightened in anticipation. I let out a light moan, and Spencer chuckled in response.

The anticipation was killing me; his fingers were slowly caressing my sensitive bud, just teasingly enough to send shivers down my spine. His touch was gentle but insistent, and his fingers were enough to drive me wild with desire.

I couldn't help but move against him, his breath in my ear and his fingertips grazing my covered skin. It was exquisite torture, leaving me desperate for more, and Spencer knew it.

I let out a soft moan, unable to contain myself anymore, as he moved the lacy fabric aside to gain full access to where I wanted him most. His touch was tender but firm, his finger tracing upward on my wet slit.

"Please, Spencer," I moaned, my body shaking with desire.

"What's that? I couldn't hear you," he answered, his voice low and steady as he chuckled.

"You talk too much," I whispered, my voice husky with desire. My hands traveled between us, reaching for his, and I guided his fingertips to my entrance, pushing them inside. As his fingers filled me up, a soft moan escaped my lips, the sensation sending shivers down my spine.

Spencer's face was a mixture of surprise and desire at my bold actions, his eyes darkening with a hunger that mirrored my own. My quiet cries of pleasure filled the room as he moved his fingers in and out.

His eyes fixed on mine as my face twisted in ecstasy, his grip solid yet delicate as he grabbed the back of my neck.

"Hey, hey, hey," Spencer warned, “Eyes on me," he gestured with his free hand for me to look him in the eyes. "I want to see your face when you cum on my fingers."

I felt both embarrassed and eager all at once, but I couldn't resist the lure of his challenge. His voice was low, and there was a hint of authority in his tone. Feeling a rush of heat flood my face, my gaze shifted between his face and watching his fingers move inside of me.

My eyes widened as I felt myself teetering on the brink of ecstasy, every nerve in my body alive with anticipation. The intensity of Spencer's gaze only fueled the fire within me, pushing me closer and closer to my breaking point.

"Fuck, Spencer, I'm... I'm gonna..." I struggled to form the sentence as waves of pleasure crashed over me, rendering me speechless.

"You're gonna cum, pretty girl?" he asked, a sweet look of anticipation in his eyes.

I could only nod my head before it fell back in pleasure, and a throaty moan escaped my lips. A look of satisfaction crossed his face, and I could feel the pleasure all over my body. I closed my eyes, just taking in the sensation.

"Yeah, just like that," he said as he withdrew his fingers, his gaze locked on mine, savoring the moment. He put his fingers into his mouth, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Oh, it's even better than I imagined," he said with a soft moan escaping his lips.

I captured his lips, still tasting the remnants of my desire, and pulled him into another heated kiss. With skill, my hands flew to his belt, swiftly undoing it as I eagerly wanted him inside of me.

He pulled his clothes down, freeing himself, breaking away from our kiss momentarily to look down as he stroked himself a few times. His breath hitched with a low groan. I watched him intently, my own desire mounting with each passing moment.

With a hunger that burned hotter than ever, I leaned forward, my lips trailing along his jawline as I whispered, "Don't keep me waiting, Spence."

And so he didn´t.

"Oh fuck..." I moaned as I watched him sink into me with ease, his head falling to the crook of my neck as his jaw clenched in pleasure. My walls gripped him tightly as he bottomed out, filling me completely. My eyes widened as he thrust for the first time with a force that left me breathless. His movements were primal, fueled by a raw passion that consumed us both. I could feel every inch of him as he thrust, each movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through my body.

Spencer's lips curled into a devilish smirk as he leaned in closer, his breath tickling my ear. "You like that, Y/n?" he whispered "You like feeling my cock inside of you.?”

I squirmed beneath him, unable to form a coherent response as his words sent shivers down my spine. "Spencer," I gasped, my voice barely a whisper, "shut up… just... keep going."

Spencer's lips curled into a sly grin as he leaned back slightly, his gaze locking with mine. "You always have to get what you want, don't you, Y/n?"

Spencer's lips curled into a sly grin as he leaned back slightly, his gaze locking with mine. "You always have to get what you want, don't you, Y/n?" He teased, “You wouldn't give up until I fucked you senseless."

"You're enjoying this as much as I am," I replied "Don't act like you're innocent in all of this."

Spencer's grin widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, believe me, Y/n," he whispered huskily, "I wouldn't have it any other way."

As Spencer's thrusts grew more forceful, I found myself succumbing to the overwhelming sensation of pleasure that washed over me with each movement. The rhythm of our bodies colliding echoed in the room, filling the air with the sounds of our shared desire. My nails dug into his back, my fingers clutching onto him desperately.

Spencer's movements were primal, driven by a raw passion that ignited a fire within me. With each thrust, I felt myself spiraling closer to the edge, my body on the brink of ecstasy as he pushed me further and further. I couldn't help but lose myself in the intensity of the moment, my mind clouded by the overwhelming pleasure that consumed every fiber of my being.

“I need to cum, spence, please," I practically begged, my voice thick with desire.

Spencer's smirk widened. "You want to cum on my cock, baby?" he teased, his voice dripping with lust.

My answer was a breathless "Yes, please, yes," barely more than a whimper, as I surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through me.

With one last, hard thrust, Spencer pushed me over the edge, and I rode the waves of ecstasy crashing over me.

"Fuck, yes!" He cried out as my body trembled with the force of my climax. And as I reached the peak of my pleasure, Spencer found his own release, his body tensing against mine. With a final, primal grunt, he pulled out, his hot release spilling over my thigh.

The room was filled with heavy, tense silence as we both caught our breath, the aftermath of our heated encounter hanging thick in the air. Spencer's hand moved gently, cleaning me up with tissues he picked from the box behind me on the desk.

"This can't happen again," he reiterated, as he threw away the tissues, his voice firm “It's risky. Hotch wouldn't hesitate to shoot me if he found out," he chuckled nervously.

I nodded solemnly, understanding the gravity of his words. "I know," my gaze dropped to the floor.

"But God…" He approached me again, his hands cupped my face. "That was something else," he murmured, brushing his lips against mine. "It's going to be hard to stay away from you, now that I know how you taste, and how good you feel around me." Spencer's lips met mine once more, kissing me sweetly. "It's going to be hard to resist you."

I teased, my voice laced with a playful tone. "And you can bet I’ll make your job harder"

"I wouldn't expect anything less," Spencer's lips curled into a small smile, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "But seriously, this… this can never happen, okay?" He emphasized, "We can't tell anyone about this. Not even Derek."

"I understand," I replied, my voice soft "Our secret stays just between us."

He nodded in agreement, a sense of relief washing over him as he realized I understood the importance of discretion. "Good," he murmured as he kissed my forehead.

—x—-

As Monday rolled around, Spencer arrived at the office and settled into his desk. Before he could even get started on his work, Derek immediately approached him, leaning in with a sly grin. "Hey there, pretty boy," he says, his voice low but teasing tone.

Spencer looked up, "Hey, what's up?"

Derek leaned in closer, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "So, what happened last Friday? You left the party early, man. Everything alright?"

Spencer hesitates, trying to come up with a plausible excuse. "Uh, yeah, I wasn't feeling too well. I thought it was best to head home."

"Feeling under the weather, huh?” Derek chuckles, not buying it for a second.

Spencer shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment as Derek's teasing hit a nerve. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, he stammered awkwardly, "Yeah, I was just not feeling right."

"So, you didn't hear anything when you were inside the house?" Derek whispered.

Spencer's heart raced, realizing Derek might know more than he's letting on. "What would I even hear?"

Derek's grin widened as he leaned in closer, his voice low and teasing. "See... when I went inside to look for you, because Y/n went to look for you but you two never came out…. And then I heard a couple getting it on in Hotch's office, and I was just wondering if you knew who it was. I want to know all the juicy deets."

Spencer's face flushes crimson but he maintained a facade of innocence, refusing to betray any hint of guilt. He cleared his throat, “Ah, well, you know how it is at these gatherings," his tone was light but his pulse racing. "People can get carried away. But as for the identity of that mysterious couple, I'm afraid I'm just as clueless as you are, Derek."

Derek chuckles knowingly, his eyes gleaming mischievously. "Sure, Spencer, whatever you say," Derek pats Spencer's back in a mockingly sympathetic gesture, "But next time, maybe find a quieter spot than Hotch's office. It's hard to keep things discreet when the walls are practically paper-thin."

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trashmouth-richie · 2 months

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the boy is mine // ziggy’s version ♡

@carolmunson prompt

♡firstly, i’m so excited about this, for the unification this could have for all of us fandom wide— hopefully there are more ideas like this in the future 💕

tw: depictions of hard times, established relationship, blue collar (?) vibes, money troubles, but you’re in love so it’s a non issue. fluffy, illusions to smut but nothing mentioned.

1.3k

the scene: a romantic night in at the trailer.

props included/mentioned (in passing or can hold bigger meaning): a throw pillow, vanilla frosting, a small notebook.

dialogue included (can be manipulated slightly if needed, can be placed in any order):- "i ran out of like, nice cups, is this okay?" - "aw, don't be like that. that's not even true."- "and you like that?"- "if you don't stop, we're gonna have a problem."

Birthdays.

Something rarely celebrated between the two of you. Even though you both agree every year would be different, every new year’s resolution—sworn to do it, but always falling short.

Until this year.

It wasn’t a pony or a working television, and still with the daily struggle of bills piling up and work slowing down— Eddie promised himself, your day would be special.

He dipped into the ‘broken window’ fund— started when some little shits tossed rocks at the “freak’s house”. It consisted of an empty pickle jar that lived in the same dark bottom cabinet holding the potatoes.

Just a few bucks, that’s all he would need until payday on friday.

The shopping basket was nearly pathetic looking as he scoured aisles for a special treat, realizing he had come up short when he needed an extra few bucks for gas.

Putting back the cake mix, the card, and a pack of twizzlers—Eddie left the store with a single can of vanilla frosting, the off brand kind.

He rushed home, hoping to still have enough time to beat you there before your shift ended at work.

Scrounging for the small notebook you got him for christmas, he flipped through the pages filled with past conversations about the pros and cons of leaving the trailer park, a forgotten list for groceries, and an even shorter list of bills that could be pushed back a few days.

He finally finds a clean sheet, clear of pen marks and gets to work. His hands flew with D&D esque inspired calligraphy, scrawling “happy birthday baby!” with a tiny jagged heart at the bottom with his initials.

A car door slams on creaky hinges and he knew you were home before even hearing your soft footsteps on the worn concrete— giving him only seconds to do a quick sniff of his pits and rake through his hair with his fingers— rings getting stuck along the way.

Your keys jingle on your finger as you lug your purse by its strap, nearly to the ground like you were walking a dog on a leash.

“There she is,”

The same cheesy charmer line he had greeted you with since you were teens meeting between classes by your locker, faces wedged almost as one to kiss as much as you could before being late. Hormones on fire.

Eddie ‘benjamin button’ Munson aged backwards, you were sure of it. Where you looked exhausted at any given hour, Eddie's puppy dog eyes grew bigger every day, not a single wrinkle on his cherub face.

“Hey babe,” you yawned with a hand covering your mouth, “did’y have a good day?”

His smile, all dimples and porcelain teeth stretched a mile wide along with his arms as you walked into them, pressing your cheek to the middle of his chest, arms slung lazy on his hips.

“Always a good day babe, never bad. And..someone, not sure who, has a birthday.”

Lifting your head his chin is dipped to you, “someone doesn’t like their birthday, Eddie— it’s a waste.”

You never had, it was never happy before Eddie— stemming from divorced parents fighting about which one should pick up the cake, and who was buying the gifts because ‘I did it last year’ which ultimately dissolved into you telling them not to worry about it because it was just another day.

“Aw don’t be like that,” Eddie frowns, “that’s not even true.”

You grumble into his shirt tossing your head further into him inhaling his scent. He kisses your hairline and strokes your back before working to remove your coat.

“Five years we’ve been together, it’s time we celebrate shit, sweetheart.”

Mumbling a drawn out ‘fiiine’ into him he tips your chin, with a curl of his forefinger, a little smirk on his lips.

“You’re really cute when you pout y’know it?”

“and you like that?”

His lips slot against yours, and you hum with content, “oh darlin’” he says with a fake southern drawl, “I love it.”

The tub was filled with the warmest temperature the water heater would allow— which wasn’t a lot, but still, it felt nice on your sore muscles from your shift at the same plant both Eddie and Wayne worked at, opposite shifts from you.

Eddie’s rings clacked on the plastic edge as he slid his long legs around yours into the water, sitting on the other end of the tub. He had helped you undress, hanging your coat on the back of a chair, giving you the beautiful homemade card that made tears spring to your eyes.

He followed behind you into the bathroom, running the water and putting the drain stopper into the drain before he ran back out to the kitchen returning with arms filled with stuff that he kept hidden from you until you were comfortably sitting in the cramped bathtub.

He plugged in an emerald strand of colorful christmas lights that you didn’t even know you had. It filled the cluttered countertop, weaving around the bar of soap and kitchen cup designated for holding your toothbrushes, lighting the bathroom in a cozy Christmas ambience… in April.

“We ran out of like, nice cups— is this okay?” He asked before pouring a can of Busch light into two red cups that were nabbed from Benny’s before it shut down.

Scrunching your face you move your arms from the depths of the water to reach out for his extended offering of warm beer, “when have we ever had nice cups?”

He laughed shrugging, “yeah, you’re right.”

Sitting square in front of you, long legs bent and wide open, Eddie holds up his cup in a cheers, “to you, my love, my sweet beautiful hotter than hell girl who for some reason fell for my charm, happy birthday.”

Clinking a his cup with yours you both smile before taking a swig of the cheap warm beer.

“mm, that’s nice.. what year?” you tease, never even having wine in your life.

He plays along like he always does, swirling the cup and putting the tip of his nose to the rim, “ah yes, a refined 1989 I believe— a good year for Busch I've heard.”

You both laugh until your sides ache. This is why you adored him, making a normal day special by just being him—corny, cheesy, poor— and you had never been happier.

“Oh, wait!” he exclaimed, reaching out of the tub, ribs stretching taunt against his skin, soap sliding down them.

He grabs a lighter from the counter and opens the tub of frosting. Brandishing a white waxed candle tucked behind his ear with the flair of a magician, he plants it in the center before lighting the wick and sitting down roughly in the tub, water splashing onto the floor.

The flame lit up his features, his tongue poked out in concentration, the yellow light filling his dark pudding eyes with a boyish glee, and then they met yours.

“Should I sing?”

You shake your head, happy tears stinging your eyes, “no, this is perfect,”

“Well make a wish.”

You close your eyes tight not knowing what to wish for because all you’ve ever wanted is right in front of you. Blowing out the candle you lean forward and kiss him square on the mouth, hard and deep.

The beer tipped into the tub and was long forgotten as your lips worked down his neck, wet strands of hair curled around, his arms pulling you in, making you sit on his naked lap, the frosting birthday cake sitting on the floor.

You kiss for awhile, your chest pressed into his, his hands squeezing your ass, the heel of his foot knocking the plug from the drain.

“If you don’t stop,” you mutter between kisses, “we’re gonna have a problem.”

Eddie smirks, dimples poking out, stroking your cheek thumb sweeping your swollen bit lip, “throw pillow is already on the bed, besides, I’m not afraid of a little trouble baby.”

#carols prompts #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson blurb #eddie x you #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff

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wwolflesbian · 2 years

Text

I think a lot of leftists don't understand that:

a. the revolution is not going to be a bloody battle because pretty much every communist revolution like that has led to us all getting murdered by the state and the state using it as an excuse to install fascism as quickly as possible. most of us softie leftists don't even own guns and have never fired one. the US has the highest military spending of any country ever. we lose if we go to war.

b. while voting is never going to create the world we want it can slow the tide of fascism to give us time to work on the actual revolution. we need to work within the system somewhat, even if it can't fix the problem outright.

c. the revolution is already happening. it is happening in an underground way. not as in people secretly planning military plays cause again we lose in that scenario. but in order to properly get rid of the system of capitalism we need to create a system that runs counter to it. basically building the alternative without permission from the state.

d. everyone has their own unique jobs in the revolution. educators and propagandists, protestors which keep the cops busy and keep attention on issues, people building labor and renters unions, people making cop monitoring networks, people providing shelter and food to those in need, people protecting their friends and creating mutual aid networks, people running underground medical networks or whatever else is in their power. hell even people openly living as their truest selves is revolutionary, the fight against capitalism is the choice to do whatever is in your power to help someone you know who is in need. this is the revolution.

yes, violence is called for in many instances and we should be ready to fight back but genuinely stop expecting for someone else to start a war and do something to help someone. you want a community? start building. talk to your neighbors and start a renters union or something. I keep seeing leftists lament that they can't do everything but babe no one can but you can still do SOMETHING and it will help. even if that something is just letting yourself be helped for now so you can help someone else later.

also learn conflict resolution I swear to god so many communities fall apart because they don't know how to handle differences. teach yourself to not react before you think and allow yourself to be humble even when you are right.

#the revolution post #<- added to organize this with an ask I got about it so it's easy to find

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hai7ani · 5 months

Text

橘 (TACHIBANA/JÚ) haitani rindou

nsfw (no smut), complicated relationships, canon-typical violence, mentions of blood, wounds & abuse please proceed with caution

thank you for 300 followers! i thought i might as well upload this today ^^

masterlist | playlist

part iii / your lips, my lips; apocalypse

2004

Rindou had experienced true homesickness when he was 16.

Middle of December when the snow had just started falling in Tokyo, and he is home alone, disassociating to some Mozart playing at max volume along some other things (or thoughts) while laying flat on his bed. If Ran was home to hear the kind of music he is currently playing, he'd be a dead man by then.

But he doesn't care about Ran, no. He cares about you. You're the one who's been plaguing his mind -- so sticky and frustrating -- after he'd left your pouty figure back home in Kanagawa with kiss-swollen lips 5 months ago. You and your stupid, pretty lips that has taken his first kiss, your laugh that feels a lot more effective than those pills his Mother tells him to swallow for his migraine, your soft, shaky hands when they reached up to cup his cheeks as you open your mouth wider to allow his tongue in . . .

Requiem in D Minor reaches its peak, and he finally finds it in him to turn the volume down with a click of his tongue -- he's to become a madman if he continues this any further.

It's been 2 years since the boy's moved up to Tokyo alone with his brother. Rindou doesn't think he's struggled much in adapting to the lifestyle -- in fact, it suits him a lot more than he's expected it to. He likes to think he's adapted to it sooner than Ran, although the older seems to be much more put together than he is -- judging from the listening habits and different lifestyles both brothers have chosen to adopt in this big city as two young teenagers -- because Ran is actually doing something useful right now: staying back at school for extra Physics lessons and then attending his Track and Field club meeting after class, and Rindou is here: still dressed in his uniform, still not yet finished his McDonald's that he'd abandoned at the dining table before retreating back into his room to sulk because he's been missing a certain somebody a little too much.

He admits that things are more fun in the city -- the nightlife that he finds himself getting excited to when walking past the centre of Roppongi to get back home after night class, easily accessible skate parks that he frequents with a few friends after school in his half-buttoned uniform, the drifting culture he's taken up after spending most of his savings on a second-hand MX-5 to drift illegally on weekends where he doesn't have to get up early . . . It is all so different and fresh, and Rindou thinks he hasn't felt this good while having fun before.

But you wrote him a letter 2 months ago for his birthday and he still hasn't replied to it yet.

I still think about our kiss in summer. I also miss you a whole lot. See you next summer, and again, happy 16th, 竜胆.

You'd wrote it in the ending paragraph of your lengthy four-paged letter -- all the things you wished he was there back home to experience together with you, your stupid little thoughts flashing by your head while laying flat in bed at 3 in the morning, your already-planned new year resolutions that he knows you're never going to finish despite your sudden burst of motivation, recent hobbies that you've started picking up due to extreme boredom now that December is here and everything outside is cold and slippery -- and Rindou finds himself thinking about you and you and you over and over again.

Summer of 2004 -- when he finished his can of beer and crushed it in his hands as he silently admired you through the curtains of his eyelashes. When you caught his eyes and bit your lip before shifting closer to him on the floor while fixing the loose strap of your tank top. When he inched closer to your face and smirked, before puffing out a small, warm air that smells like beer with a hint of peppermint over your cupid's bow.

When you blushed and decided to be bold by placing both hands on his sturdy chest as you knocked your forehead against his very warm and red cheek. When he looked you in the eye one last time before pressing his dry, boyish lips tight against yours that tasted a lot like your favourite honeydew flavoured lip balm and he'd smiled into it.

Sweet, peachy, and the kiss wasn't perfect; it was merely just a quick peck, but it was so lovely that he finds himself growing warm at the memory of your eyelids fluttering open when he pulled away, only to lean back in and peck at your lips once or twice more before shoving in a tongue and getting you all worked up in the process, because he just couldn't help it -- you were so addictive. You were so pretty.

You are so pretty.

The boy sits back up in one swift motion and looks out the window to his right. He stares down at the bustling, happening city below from the comfort of his high rise.

A train passes by through the underground tunnels of Roppongi. Pristine, white snowflakes falls heavily from the sky and lands on the ground before slowly piling up on the sidewalk as a young child happily tugs on her mother's hand while pointing at it. The yolk of the sun is hidden behind thick clouds, but it is still bright outside.

The wires connect. Stars align. Clouds fade away.

He blushes.

Rindou wants to kiss you again.

He glances at your crumpled letters still splayed across his desk for the past 2 months, and the boy comes to a realisation.

Things are fun in Tokyo.

Life isn't.

And the next thing he knows, he is shoving a bunch of winter clothes and a few bags of expensive taiyaki into his black Jansport, before leaving a quick note on a yellow Post-it to Ran on the coffee table while finishing up his leftover McDonald's.

Going back home for Xmas *a badly drawn Christmas tree*

Will be back before the new years... or not

Depends on my mood. C u

🖕 - ur 弟

He throws the pen down, not before doodling yet another huge, ugly and messily drawn middle finger on the remaining space in the Post-It, and he slaps it on the table.

Rindou leaves for Kanagawa in the earliest train at 5 in the evening with your letters folded, safely tucked into the left pocket of his puffer jacket with a bag of warm chocolate chip muffins placed into the confines of his jacket to keep warm on the ride home. An elderly lady sitting beside him points it out with a teasing laugh and a silly pat to his forearm.

"Who are these for?"

He says it with a lopsided smile.

"My girlfriend."

Three more days to Christmas and Rindou is standing outside of your school gate.

He'd came straight after he arrived, not bothering to phone his parents or inform his brother of his safe arrival back home. Seeing you seemed to weigh far heavier to him, judging from how he's waiting patiently in the cold for you to get out of night class. Rindou knows of your schedule well -- he's memorised it ever since you showed it to him the last time he visited home.

"Fuck," he cusses, nose growing redder and patience growing thinner with each passing moment that you don't appear at the entrance. "Did I get the wrong time?" He murmurs to himself and pulls out his phone to check. Did he perhaps be smart that day and snapped a photo of your timetable? But he's sure you finish at 8 on Tuesdays, with Math being the last period -- he remembers you complaining about it because you have always been one to hate Math, while him on the other hand, is an absolute beast at it.

White snow slowly covers his two-toned hair as he shuffles his weight from one foot to another, and a deep crease forms between his brows after realising that his stupid ass did not, in fact, be smart that day and snap a photo of your timetable.

Rindou clicks his tongue. He's contemplating on leaving -- to turn around and just go over to your house right now. Maybe you are actually home this whole time as he's stuck here pondering his thoughts and you're getting bored out of your mind.

He thinks he cannot waste another moment to see you.

And after a few more analysing and breaking down on what would be the best option to do, a voice calls out for his name. A girl's voice -- smooth and filled with so much excitement, it seems -- and he turns around to look at her.

Himeko approaches him from the entrance -- dressed in her cozy uniform and a heavy book bag is slung over her shoulder. "Rindou, you're home." She jogs up to him, leg warmers falling off her calves as she runs and stops just right in front of him. There's a wide grin stretched across her face as she stares up at the much taller boy and doe eyes squints a little from the lamppost shining down into them. Light snowflakes cover her eyelashes and she simply dusts them away with a little smile.

"Oh, hey." Rindou blinks. He then turns on his heel to head towards your house and Himeko follows along with a finger hooked onto a strap of his Jansport. "Why are you back home? It's not Summer." She states, and she soon realises that the last sentence had sounded a little stupid -- so she attempts to make it less awkward for her by asking more questions and attempting to converse with Rindou, to which the boy doesn't oppose on answering.

"It's the last week before winter break." She states while picking up her pace behind him to catch up with the boy's wider steps.

"I know. How's school?" He asks, his vacant hand shoving down into the pocket of his jacket to keep warm but Himeko nudges his elbow. He looks down and sees that she is handing him her book bag.

Rindou fishes the hand out to get a hold of the strap and he slings it over his shoulder -- just as habit allows. Himeko seems delighted at this, as she crosses her hands behind her body and starts skipping beside him on the sidewalk. But a brown bag hanging off his left hand catches her attention and curious hands starts inching towards it without him knowing.

"Just fine. It's been a little boring though, even the teachers are getting ready for the holidays." She replies. Rindou simply hums at it. He's never been great at conversations -- always the listener with you as his speaker.

And he feels a sudden jolt at the bag in his hand. He snatches it back quick, eyes sharp and movements turning defensive as he stares at the girl who is clearly shocked at his behaviour over a bag of chocolate chip muffins.

". . . What?" He clears his throat and stops in his tracks. He's getting irritated. Himeko tilts her head to the side. She points at the bag of muffins with a pointer, "Are those for me? I like muffins."

"'S for Mom. She wanted me to buy 'em before coming back." And with that, Rindou hands Himeko back her own bag to take. He doesn't say anything further, and he shoves its strap back into her hands, the weight pushing her arms down and she furrows her brows at his suddenness.

It's so awkward. But she is Himeko -- always the peacemaker of the group -- and she decides to clear the atmosphere with a change of topic.

"Ran didn’t come home with you?"

Rindou remains quiet for a while -- obviously feeling a little pissed, but ultimately, he decides to reply to her anyway.

"Nah, he's still in Tokyo. I came back without him."

"Why’d you come home then?"

"I just missed Mom's cooking, 's all." He shrugs. A lie, but Himeko doesn't need to know that. Though she beams at his response, "I went to your house for dinner yesterday. Your Mom's cooking is way too good." My house, dinner?

"Did Y/N go, too?" He asks a little too quickly, the steady beat of his chest growing quicker at the thought of you most probably sitting on his chair at his dining table while enjoying his mother's cooking before finding ways to sneak up to his room and mess with his DJ set that he'd purposely left home for you to play with. He smiles a little at the possible scene playing in his head.

The smile on Himeko's face falters a little at his sudden burst of emotion with the mention of you, but she fixes herself fast and shoots back a response just as fast.

"No, her father came home on Sunday. I haven't seen her since."

Rindou turns his head to look at the shorter girl beside with a worried expression -- a total contrast to all that he's felt just now. He stops in his tracks, and Himeko stops too -- just two steps ahead of him -- with the smile on her face completely gone now.

"What's wrong?" She asks, face full of genuine concern.

"What do you mean?" Rindou frowns.

Himeko tilts her head to the left, trying to grasp what exactly that he's asking, so she repeats her words from earlier by talking slower.

"Y/N's dad came home on Sunday . . . ? She hasn't attended classes today or yesterday. I haven't seen her since she left to pick her father up from the airport. That was Sunday. But we know how it is. Her dad's probably just looking for some family bonding time with her."

Rindou scowls at it.

No, you don't.

Though she doesn't notice it, she shifts a little awkwardly at Rindou's visible shift in mood.

"Bye." He bids curtly and he leaves Himeko behind. The boy quickens his steps and turns into the road that leads straight to your house. He can see the building from a distance and Rindou can faintly make out that the lights are on.

You must be home.

"Rindou? Where are you-" Himeko calls out, but she pauses after realising the road that he's taking. He hears faint footsteps behind him but he doesn't reply -- his beating heart way too frantic for him to say anything at this point, let alone actually think for a response.

Her words play in his head over and over again, and it gets so overwhelming to the point that he has to take a breather and fix his unruly hair that's starting to block his vision.

Your dad is home.

A step closer to your house. Snow crunches beneath his sneakers.

Your dad is home.

The gate is open. He sees the quick wagging of a fluffy tail just beside the metal.

Your dad is home.

Inu-sama sits by the gate and upon sensing his owner's childhood friend's arrival, it barks at him. And it doesn't stop barking despite Rindou being someone who it has grown so familiar with over the years of your childhood and Inu-sama's place in your family.

"Hey, bud." He reaches down to pat your old Shiba, combing down its fur and giving it a few belly rubs before reaching into the pocket of his Jansport to fish out a little treat for your dog. He's not forgotten its treats despite leaving the house in a rush. "Where's 姉さん?" He asks -- as if Inu-sama could speak -- and it can, actually. It barks again to the door after his question and Rindou takes it as a hint that you are probably inside.

But the gate is open. Weird.

So he kicks off his shoes by the entrance and brings a nervous knuckle up to knock on the door. His hearts thumps fast in his chest, breath stuttering in his throat -- not because the thought of you possibly opening the door for him makes him giddy, but because the thought of your father possibly opening the door for him makes him weak. Scared.

Rindou is scared.

Everyone is afraid of your father. Even Ran who is known to have no fear towards anyone in his life -- not even his elders -- is scared of your father. But everyone except Himeko, though. Somehow through her rose-tinted eyes she still holds on to the idea that your father is just like any other: a man who leads and a man who brings structure. But you can't blame her, for she hasn't seen your father in ages. She hasn't seen the man he has become.

And Rindou knocks again, but still, no response, so he tries his luck by twisting the knob. It's unlocked and he pushes it open. Perhaps it'll earn him a black eye for attempting to enter your house without your father's approval, but he'll risk it just this once.

"Y/N?"

He's half-expected the house to be empty -- from the state of your unlocked door and gate to the awfully quiet and icy cold atmosphere of your house. Rindou doesn't think there's anyone in the house.

That is until he looks down at the sound of a sob.

The monster has done it again.

You're crouching on the floor, surrounded by what seems to be broken shards of glass and a few blood stains tainting the marble white of your floor.

He bolts towards you in an instant, not before throwing off his bag by the foot of the door and stepping over the sharp glass to reach over to you on his sock-clad feet. They cut into his flesh and he hisses a little at the sting, but he ignores the pain, and he diverts his attention back all on you.

You're not moving from your position, but he can tell that you're crying. You're hurt -- the cuts and dark bruises that's starting to swell on your arms and legs cracks his heart at the sight, and you're cold -- God, you're so, so cold when he scoops your frail body up and into his arms, away from the wrecked floor.

Weak, shaky hands immediately move to grip on his shoulder, nails sinking into the flesh as you suck in a deep breath upon realising that there's someone holding you -- someone is touching you. You panic a little, a whine escaping your throat and you try pushing him away with all the strength that you can muster. You hadn't realised that it is Rindou. You hadn't realised that he has entered the house. It doesn't hit you that Rindou is back home in the middle of December. You continue fighting against in his arms with more tears springing up to your bloodshot eyes.

"Stop, Dad. Please. It hurts."

That alone sends the boy into a shaking mess.

But he gathers himself, and he attempts to ground you by sitting you both on the couch and pressing your cold body into his warm chest. He buries his nose in your neck and kisses the skin gently, feeling the quick pulse of your heartbeat against his lips while rubbing warm circles on your upper back -- a means to soothe you, a means to tell you that he's here. "'S me, babe. It's me." He says it so softly -- right next to your ear, only meant for you to hear, meant for you to listen.

You shudder a little at the sudden warmth invading your skin and into your bones, and it then strikes you that the person holding you is Rindou. Rindou is home. The peppermint of his smell that you've long grown to love makes its way in grounding your senses and you eventually relax in his secure hold.

You're safe now.

Rindou is home. You are not alone anymore.

And then you start crying again.

"Where's the bastard? Your mom too." He asks, tone rough but he's gentle when cleaning away the blood on your lips from being busted by no doubt a harsh strike and he wipes it off on his jacket. You hold the other hand of his on your cheek to kiss the palm. "The airport. He says he's going back to the States. Just after a day." Your voice is shaky as you try your hardest to explain to him clearly amidst your choked sobs, "Mom is still in Osaka." And he doesn't make you speak any further after that -- he simply nods at your reply and opting to hug you close to his chest and calm your cries instead.

Rindou sighs angrily at your answer, a deep breath escaping his nose. You only bury yourself closer to him at it.

So your father did actually leave you in here all alone like this and went back to continuing his career. He wonders just how long you have been staying like this, in this state.

He looks around the house to make sure the man is actually gone and his purple eyes don’t miss the heavy stacks of medical textbooks and printed samples of medical reports scattered all over the coffee table. Your test paper -- Math, Tachibana Y/N, Fail -- sits atop of the books, the papers crumpled and a little torn at the sides. The large frames that hangs on the walls of your living room -- none of them are yours, all are his -- are all displaying professional photos of him attached with the many titles and prizes awarded to him.

Doctor Tachibana Hiroji, PhD in Oncology.

Doctor Tachibana Hiroji, board member of Harvard Medical School.

Doctor Tachibana Hiroji.

Tachibana Hiroji.

What a man of noble character and high intellect, but is such a monster behind closed doors to his only daughter, his family.

Rindou turns his head back, and he’s gentle with you - soft hands wiping away the free-flowing tears and light bloodstains off your face.

And he decides that he doesn’t want to see you like this anymore.

Rindou presses his forehead to yours.

"I'll kill him, you know?"

"No, don't. You'll-"

"I'll kill him. I promise.”

Himeko stands behind the two of you -- scared behind the couch -- with eyes so wide and a heart pumping blood so fast underneath the bones of her chest that she thinks she might die.

But a broken sob from you on the couch breaks her out of her bubble.

She looks around the house.

She looks at your state.

She takes it all in.

"But we know how it is. Her dad's probably just looking for some family bonding time with her."

Oh.

tags: @nana-osakii

this took so long omg but i had time today to finish it so here it is ^^

reblogs are appreciated! thank you for reading :3

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