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aliteralsemicolon · 11 months ago

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I'll wait for your love - 18+

See part 1 | See Part 2 | Part 3 of We can't be friends (wait for your love)

The only thing you’re sure of is that you don’t want things to go back to the way they were and Spencer agrees that change may be for the best.

Spencer Reid X Fem! Reader

DISCLAIMER I do not consent to my work being used to feed/train AI and/or re-posted anywhere by anybody else This story is NSFW and contains graphic depictions + detailed descriptions of adult content. It is intended for mature audiences only, minors do not interact! You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read.

WARNINGS: Panic attack mentioned, slight PTSD depictions, case details (barely) mentioned, alcohol mentioned like once. Smut (not the focus at all): making out, nipple play, clitoral stimulation, praise, use of pet names (angel, pretty girl, etc). Proceed at your own risk.

Word count: 10.4K See notes at end for authors note & spoilers.

Avoiding Spencer wasn’t overly difficult on the flight back to D.C. You weren’t entirely sure how to face him after he risked his life for you, so you just pretended to be asleep the whole time. You even took a separate jeep from the tarmac to avoid a car ride back with him, and almost made a clean getaway to your car in the parking lot when Hotch stopped you.

“I’m sorry to hold you back, but I do need the Anchorage report on my desk before tomorrow morning. It can’t be put off any longer.”

He looked extremely apologetic and you understood. You’re grateful he gave you as much time as he has. That’s how you ended up stuck at work til the later hours of the evening. Besides the few workaholics, security guards and janitors roaming around the corridors, the only other person there with you is Spencer, oddly. Even Hotch has gone home. You’ve spent more time stalking the doctor work through the pile of case files on his desk than you have writing in the one on yours. Only when you're caught do you look away.

“Everything okay?” The innocent curiosity in his big eyes further reddens the hot embarrassment in your cheeks.

“Fine.” You mutter, dipping your head back down to the open page.

You’re never going to get this damn file done if you can’t get him out of your head, and him being barely three feet away from you doesn’t help. It’s very difficult for you to get your words from pen to paper. Anchorage wasn’t haunting you like it did at first. It was a traumatic event, yes, but alone isn’t the cause of this…block. Obviously the reality that you’re leaving is starting to dawn on you. Somehow your mind has linked this case with your departure and finishing this report makes it more official than your actual resignation.

Plus, as much as you definitely hate Spencer, you do did care for him. The shock of him almost getting himself killed in front of you is another thing occupying your mind. It’s barely been twenty four hours since then, it’s still fresh. You can see him stand and grab his satchel in your peripheral vision, he’s preparing to leave. There are a lot of memories attached to that brown leather bag.

Things he would carry in there for you when you forgot your own bag.

You don’t make it obvious that you’re watching him gather his things in small glances.

He bought extra hair clips for you to keep in there because you would often forget those too.

It’s over now. No point in dwelling on it. You shake your head once he’s out of sight, trying to force him out of your thoughts. Now that he’s gone you’re hoping to actually be able to get some work done.

He taught you chess with the mini chess set he keeps in there. You discovered that you actually quite liked chess and would ask to play with him all the time. It was also his ‘secret’ weapon to help you calm down.

You roll your eyes to push back the tears from the memories that refuse to stop playing. This can wait until you get home, it’s not important.

It wasn’t the chess set that helped you feel calm. Spencer could win chess against you in just a few moves, but he would deliberately stretch out the game so you could have room to breathe. The longer the game, the more time you had to spend focused on the moves and slow down your thoughts. You could open up at your own pace. He would let you feel in control.

It doesn’t matter if he’s near you or not, Spencer has a way of invading your headspace wherever he is. Your train of thoughts is interrupted with a light thud on your right. You covertly roll the tears away again and turn to examine the source of the noise. A mug of coffee placed on your desk by

“Spencer?” You sputter breathlessly.

“Sorry. I know you told me to stop. This is the last time I promise.”

You don’t fully comprehend what he’s going on about, not expecting him to be here at all.

“I thought you left.”

“I did– was. I was leaving, but I thought I’d make you some coffee before I go. Since you’ve been here a while.” He awkwardly explains.

You steadily direct your attention back to the mug, reeling in what was happening.

“Before you get mad, this really is just a cup of coffee from a colleague who thought it might help keep you energised if you’re planning to stay late. There’s no ulterior motive…”

He continues rambling but you’re not mentally present to hear any of it.

He made you coffee.��

Even though you’ve been nothing short of an absolute bitch. Granted he was a bitch first, but the point is that he’s still thinking of your well being regardless. You can’t hide your tears from him this time. It’s the soft buzz of your name that draws you back to him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you! I’ll take the coffee–”

His panicked sentiment is cut short when you jump out of your seat and shove past him. The breakdown you’ve been avoiding hits you like a ton of bricks. You run into the nearest empty office and he runs after you, making it past the door before you can lock him out.

“Spencer p–please get out! I’m fine.” You’re pacing in the same spot, fanning away the stream falling down your cheeks, hyperventilating.

He doesn’t respond to you, instead cautiously taking your hand in his. You’re in too frenzied a state to care. He guides you to sit on the couch against the wall and you blindly go along with it, still trying to get yourself together.

You want to stop the tears, but you can’t do that until you get your breathing under control. He slowly wraps his arms around you and you slump into him, head buried in his chest. You should try to fight it, you should push him away, but you can’t. Right now, surrounded by his scent, held in his arms, you don’t want to move. It’s not something you can properly explain, but the feeling is so comforting that nothing else matters. All you know is that you’re safe and that’s enough for you to allow yourself to finally break down.

The first few sobs are loud, like there’s not enough air in the world to stabilise your lungs. They fizzle out into silent whimpers and you grasp onto the fabric of his sweater, balling it in your fist, just letting yourself feel. Spencer still hasn’t said a word. His right hand is rubbing circles on your back and his left hand is gently scratching just above the nape of your neck.

You stay like that for a while, even after you’ve stopped crying. It’s been so long since you’ve been in this little bubble with him and you don’t want it to end. You pull away when you feel the strap of his satchel across his stomach as your hand drops to his lap. He visually follows every move you make.

“You’re still wearing your bag.” You sniffle, leaning back.

“I am.” He whispers, understanding that you no longer want to be touched.

He stays in his original position; facing you, but now with one arm resting on top of the backrest and the other idly in his lap. You’ve moved so that now you're facing ahead with your back leaning against the cushions, pulling your knees into your chest. You had never found comfort in silence until the first time you experienced it with Spencer. Staying huddled, you divert your eyes towards him. There’s a distinct wet patch on his shirt. It’s less visible on his sweater-vest, but it’s there.

“Your shirt’s wet now.” It’s almost impossible to make out what you’re saying with your mouth muffled against your arm, but of course, Spencer manages anyway.

“It’ll dry.” He smiles, tone delicate.

“But– germs.” You choke a little due to your previous crying.

“It can be washed.” He’s using his comforting voice again.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

The silence resumes. Neither of you dares to move, trying to freeze this moment. It’s obvious that you didn’t grasp how badly you craved each other’s presence.

“D–do…” The initial sound grabs Spencer’s full attention again. You take a deep breath, hoping he wants to stay here as much as you do. “Do you still carry that little chess set with you?”

A small, airy chuckle comes out from him.

“Would you like to play?”

“Please.”

He creates some more space between you and begins to set up the board once he’s pulled it out of his satchel. You move to accommodate the set up, now facing him with your legs crossed on the couch and shoes abandoned on the floor. You wait for him to make the first move. After the opening moves the game doesn’t seem to get any harder and you know he’s throwing the game. You’re okay at chess, but he’s obviously a lot better.

“You’re going easy on me.” You mumble.

“Because you’re not even trying.” He replies blithely.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Like I said, you’re making it too easy.” He gently teases.

“Not that. Helping me. You hate me, remember?” You say it like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

“I don’t hate you.”

“You literally told me that you hate me.” You chuckle, numb to the hurt that sentence once brought you.

“So did you.” He counters in defence, trailing your hand as it carelessly moves your queen to her demise.

“I was angry.”

“So was I.” He spared your queen, in turn leaving his king vulnerable.

“It doesn’t matter now…” You don’t finish the rest of your sentence but Spencer still hears it.

You’re leaving soon anyway.

“It matters to me.” If he left something unsaid you choose to ignore it.

“You’re letting me win.” You whisper, feeling the urge to cry some more, but there’s no tears left.

He doesn’t make a move, bringing the game to a halt. He’s waiting for you to meet his eyes. You know what he’s going to say.

“Spencer, don't.” You beseech.

“Why?” If you looked at him instead of the board you’d see the way his eyes are pleading at you.

“There’s no point.” This time it’s your voice that cracks.

You're looking everywhere else and it makes you too aware of your surroundings. Like how the couch is lined up directly under a window that anyone could peek into.

“Leaving is not the only option.” He solicits.

He regards your discomfort and closes the blinds from where he’s sitting, pulling you back into the privacy of your bubble.

“There’s nothing that you can say to make things go back to how they were.” You bite the inside of your cheek, fiddling with a random pawn.

It’s not a proper two way conversation. You’re talking to yourself just as much as Spencer’s talking to you. You’re both trying to convince you of what you’re saying.

“Things don’t have to go back to how they were.” The squeaks in his soothing tone are starting to melt any resolve you have left.

“There’s no reason for me to stay.” You oppose, trying to make any argument stick.

“I can think of more reasons for you to stay than for you to go.”

There’s an underlying tension bubbling. Neither of you notice it over your desperate tug of war.

“I don’t think there’s anything that you can say to get me to stay.” Another baseless sentence meant more for you than for him.

“Give me one chance. One chance to convince you.” He can see your internal struggle at his request and he throws out one final plea to sway you. “For nothing more than closure.”

Closure.

You’ve spent months in turmoil over the hows and the what ifs, trying to conjure answers to questions that wouldn’t stop pestering you. You couldn’t turn him down even if you wanted to.

“Closure?” You repeat, eyes finally latching onto his.

“Closure.” He whispers back in reassurance.

“Even if you can’t convince me?” You caution, not wanting to give him false hope.

He doesn’t say anything, thinking over the scenario in his head. He simply nods and you mimic the action, blinking away the blur in your vision and dragging around chess pieces. It takes Spencer a second to figure out that you were moving them back to their default places.

“Okay new game.” You announce.

Spencer blinks in confusion, waiting for you to elaborate.

“I can ask you any question I want and you have to answer honestly. If by the end of the game I’m not convinced to stay, you back off for the remainder of my time here.” You pause for him to interject, but he doesn’t. “That means we stay away from each other, only talking when needed for work. Even then as cordially and professionally as possible. No more trying to make casual conversation or bringing me coffee or anything like that.”

“Till the end of the game?” He studies you.

“Yup.” You smack your lips together. “Til one of us checkmates the other.”

“This means you’ll actually give me a fair shot?”

“Between the two of us, I’m not the one known for cheating at games.” You jab, trying to ease the tension you could definitely feel now.

“I meant a fair shot at convincing you. As in you’ll seriously take what I have to say into account.” He discards your attempt.

“No, I know. The opportunity was just too good to pass up.”

He can tell you’re trying to hold back a laugh from the small smile on your lips. It’s as adorable to him now as it was the first time he saw it.

“Any rules before we start?” He asks, unable to hide his own smile.

“Only that we have to be honest.” You answer, immediately dropping your smile.

“Okay.” He agrees, smiling slightly wider.

“Okay.” You nod again.

When he finally makes the first move it hits you that you don’t actually know where to start. Theoretically, you know what you want to ask, but don’t know how to ask. You don’t know if you should jump straight into the questions or start with some ice breakers. Nothing is said for about four to five moves when Spencer pauses the game.

“Are you going to ask any questions or have you decided that you just want to play one last game for your closure?”

“Huh?” You snap your vision away from the board. “Oh, sorry. I was thinking.”

“Do you want to return to the game after thinking of a few questions to ask?” He raises his brow and relaxes his jaw.

“No, no, we don’t need to do that. Let’s keep playing, the questions will come to me.” You brush off his suggestion and motion for him to continue with his turn. He doesn’t.

“What?” Your voice raises and you scrunch your nose from perplexity.

“Sorry, it’s just that you’ve put us on a time limit and this is how you’re using our time?” He airs, failing to conceal his amusement.

“Well excuse me if I don’t exactly have a list of questions ready to go for you.” You narrow your eyes in annoyance.

“Why would you suggest this if you don’t have any questions?” He tries to hold back his laugh and ends up snorting as a result.

“I have questions!” You jabber, unable to maintain your annoyance. “I don’t know what– where do I even start?”

“Start with whichever one comes to you first.” He shrugs, finally making his move.

A lot of things come to mind when you think about it. The thing that screams the loudest twitches a nerve and you become instantly irate.

“Okay.” You nod, tone harsh and flat. “Let’s start with whatever the fuck possessed you on the last case. What was your thought process when you put your life in danger like that?”

He almost gets whiplash from the change in mood, his face literally reads ‘are you serious?’.

“He was going to shoot you.” He states like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“I was wearing a vest, I would’ve been fine.” You contend.

“I wasn’t willing to take that risk.”

“Risk?! You literally put yourself in danger for no reason!”

“I think it was a pretty good reason actually!”

“Spencer that was–” You stop yourself with a grumble, inhaling deeply.

“It was instinctual, okay?” He softly explains. “I saw him aim the gun at you and I just reacted.”

“Well it was a stupid reaction!” You whine.

“I’m not going to apologise for it.”

The glare you give is piercing, you bite the inside of your cheek to hold your tongue before you say something you can’t take back. Spencer throws his head back and sighs.

“But I will promise not to do it again.” He adds, not fully intending to keep it.

This was slowly turning into another argument, both of you shooting back too fast with your responses. You aren’t in the mood for another argument. So you redirect your attention to the game.

“Check.” You mumble, buying yourself time to think of another question. “Why are you here so late anyway?”

“I wanted to finish some work before tomorrow morning.” He replies, moving his king to safety.

“Yeah, what’s up with that? You could’ve done those tomorrow as well.” Your voice softens out of curiosity.

“I wanted to get them finished in case there were more tomorrow.” It’s not his best excuse. You don’t know what he means by that. He doesn’t know what he means by that. He’s lying to you.

You scoff, poking your tongue against your cheek. “Wow. You really can’t not cheat during a game, can you?”

“Right, sorry.” Spencer clears his throat after the initial confusion clears. Complete honesty, it was your only rule. “I wanted to be here.”

“For…” You egg on, purposely rolling your ‘r’s to prompt him.

“I wanted to make sure that you were okay.” He admits, looking away from you.

“Why?” You’re genuinely puzzled at the admission. “You’re the one who almost died. I mean, it was stupid and your fault, but still. If anything I should be checking up on you.”

“Check.” That’s the only response he gives you. He hopes that you don’t push further, but he knows that you will.

His lack of response only forces you to think about the possible reasons by yourself, using context clues to figure it out. You are a profiler, after all.

“Is this because of the panic attack?” You note how his jaw twitches when he swallows at the mention. “It is! You seriously chose to spend your night stuck at the office because of that?”

“What else was I supposed to do? It’s not like you would talk to me, you literally refused to even look at me!” He gripes.

“Spencer I think anyone would panic if they got tackled to the ground by a six foot man without warning. I’m fine.” You giggle.

“What happened to complete honesty?” It’s his turn to glare at you.

“I am being honest!” You protest.

“Lying by omission is not being honest.” He rolls his eyes.

“Okay Mr. know-it-all, what am I lying about?” You challenge.

“Seriously? You don’t remember?” His approach is doubtful and he just stares at your dazed expression.

“Fucking spit it out already, Spence!”

Any sarcasm he had geared up for a response dissipates at your use of his nickname. He’s heard it plenty in the last few months, but not from you. For a moment things feel like they never changed. It stings in a bittersweet kind of way.

“You sc–screamed– uh–” He clears his throat and rapidly blinks, his nose twitches in the process. “During that panic attack, you repeatedly asked me to stay with you. Y–you, uh– you said you didn’t think you could li–”

“Stop. Stop. Stop talking.” Your voice quavers and you hold your hand up, ears burning up. “I don’t wanna know.”

You don’t know why it makes your heart race the way it does, you don’t even remember it. He waits a while before speaking up again, wanting to be careful about how he goes about the topic without you shutting down.

“May I ask you a question?” He voices professionally, trying to make the conversation less personal so you don’t feel cornered.

You nod, moving your king out of check.

“Is there anybody you will talk to about Anchorage? Without pushing them away?” He keeps the game going as he speaks to provide you with a distraction.

“Woah– Anchorage? Where is that coming from?” You titter.

“I want you to remember that we promised to be honest and I won’t push if you ask me to stop, but I know for a fact that you aren’t okay.” He waits for you to stop him but you don’t, even though you know roughly what he’s going to say. “Panic attacks aside, your avoidant behaviour around the topic, inability to focus, being easily startled, you’re showing signs of PTSD.”

“Spence, c’mon. I don’t need to talk to anyone. I already passed the psych evals.” You attempt to make light of the situation with carefully chosen words so you’re not lying. It was a futile attempt, you know he’s not willing to budge when he doesn’t give you anything more than a blank stare.

“Why does this matter so much to you?” You sigh in defeat. “Whatever happened…that’s a part of the job, you know that.”

“I also know, first hand, that it takes over your life. You can’t run from it, no matter how much you try to.” His tone is soft as he speaks, yet you feel like he’s accusing you.

“I am not running! Why would you say I’m running?” You object with a high voice, shrugging your shoulders. “And it’s not taking over my life. Also, check.”

“Because that’s what you do when you don’t want to deal with something.” He states point blank.

“Woah– so– that was entirely unnecessary.” You stammer, unable to deny it.

“I’m not criticising you. I just happen to know you and I know that you have a tendency to run from your problems. And it is taking over your life.”

“You’re profiling!” You gasp.

“You know that it’s not something we can just turn off! No matter how much we pretend like we can.” He waves his hands defensively.

You can’t argue with that, your lips twisting to the side.

“You want me to be honest?” You murmur sheepishly.

“Always. Please.” He responds gently, wanting you to be as comfortable as possible.

“I don’t want to talk about it. I spend a good chunk of my day actively avoiding thinking about it, but somehow I always end up thinking about it anyway. At times it’s like I can almost feel…” You breathe in instinctively. “This is the first time in months I’ve been able to do anything without it lingering in the back of my mind. Can we please talk about it another time? I would rather talk about other things…”

Another time.

“...right now.”

You’ve implied that there will be another time to talk and he definitely caught it, even if he pretends that he hasn’t. You don’t even know if what you said is true, you got too comfortable with the familiarity of his friendship. It was something you said out of habit from back when you two actually were friends. Not even a full hour's worth of conversation with him and he’s already worming his way back in.

“Um–” You drag yourself further back on the couch, creating more physical distance.

“That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it at all.” Spencer senses your urgency to leave the situation and jumps into damage control. “It’s your turn.”

“No, um, I should– I should go. Thanks for doing thi– helping me.” You turn away from him, aiming for your shoes and ready to bolt.

“The game’s not over.” He points out.

“Yes it is.” You declare, still in the process of putting on your shoes.

“You said til checkmate.” He huffs, shifting out of his seated position.

“I forfeit!” You throw your arms out in a shrugging manner, standing up after him.

“I can’t believe this. You’re going back on your word!” He doesn’t even raise his voice. He’s just hurt.

“What’s the point, Spencer? Closure doesn’t mean anything, I’m still leaving! You can’t magically change my mind!” You yell, getting louder with each sentence.

“I disagree. I think that you’re running again!” He blocks your way and yells back, maintaining his volume throughout.

“Maybe you should think less!” You suggest, still yelling. Sarcasm is your defence mechanism when you have no actual defence.

“You know what else I think?” He continues, emphasising the word ‘think’ every time he says it out of spite. “I think that you agreed to this thinking I won’t be able to convince you, but I am!”

“I don’t care what you–”

“I think you don’t want to finish the game that you started, because you’re afraid to ask the harder questions!”

“Stop.” You command, but it doesn’t deter him.

“I think that you’re scared to hear my answers because then it all becomes too real for you–”

“Stop!” The words almost get stuck in your throat, but you choke them out. “You’re wrong.”

“If I’m wrong then prove it. To both of us.” He sits back down and motions to the board. “Ask the real questions.”

“I don’t need to prove anything, you’re wrong.” You uphold.

“So leave.” He challenges, knowing that you won’t be able to.

If you truly believed that he’s wrong you wouldn’t feel the need to prove it, but you do and he knows that. You walk back over to the couch, head nodding from irritation, tongue poking your cheek. You kick your shoes off with a bit of force and return to your earlier position across from him.

“Your move.” He reminds you as you settle in.

You don’t reply yet, but move your rook to set him up for the next move.

“Check.” He smugly states.

“Who was she?”

You don’t move, examining him close for any change in his behaviour. He obviously didn't anticipate that question first, snapping his sights back on you.

“Sorry?”

“The woman who greeted me at your door. That night at your apartment.”

“Charlotte.” He replies, holding your gaze to show you he’s got nothing to hide. “We met at the library a week before.”

“Are you guys together?” You break away first, diverting your eyes to the chess board and trying to seem unfazed when moving your knight.

“No, God, no.” He denies immediately.

“I don’t know, she seemed pretty cosy for someone you met a week prior.” You don’t mean to sound as snide as you come across.

“No, it wasn’t like that at all.” He shakes his head.

“You sure? Because I’m pretty sure I saw her mark you up with a kiss on your cheek before disappearing.” You don’t look at him, examining a captured pawn as you wait for him to make his move.

“Mark me up?” He cognizes it instantly. “Are you…jealous?”

“What? No!” You vehemently deny, your voice rising in several pitches.

“You are!” His eyes widen.

“I am not jealous.”

His jaw slacks and he lets out an amused scoff. He doesn’t say anything, making you feel the need to fill the silence.

“I only bring it up because…I know you have a thing with…germs.” Your words falter because of your own uncertainty and you want to dissolve into the fucking floor.

Spencer tries to suppress a smile by poking his tongue out slightly. If the atmosphere was lighter he’d tease you about it, but he doesn’t want to make you take off again. Still, he feels the need to clarify the events of the night.

“I don’t know why she kissed my cheek, it was completely random.” He takes his time saying it, still fighting a smile.

You swallow nervously and purse your lips to the side in response. One question answered and you only have new ones in its place. Did she stay the night? Did she sleep on the couch or on his bed? Did he see her again?

“I drove her home right after you left.” He can almost hear your thoughts.

“Was it a date?” You softly gulp again, unsure if you even have a right to know.

“Yes.” He hesitates.

“Oh.”

“I wanted to try out casual dating for once.” He chagrins. “I honestly don’t know how you did it, it’s not even fun.”

“No it’s not.” You chuckle dryly. “So no second date, I presume?”

“Definitely not. I was just stressed the whole time.” He chuckles with you.

“Take a shot of tequila before you go next time, it helps settle the nerves.” You joke, jumping to give him advice you hope he doesn’t take. You can’t help it, it’s what you’ve always done. Even if it goes against what you desire.

“While moderate consumption of tequila can help relax the nervous system, I will not be turning to alcohol for stress relief.”

“Then blast classical music while you get ready and give yourself a pep talk out loud, it’s actually really efficient–”

“There won’t be a next time. For a really long time, if ever.” He interjects, miffed at your insistence.

“You willingly plan on committing to lifelong celibacy?” You exclaim with a puzzled look. “Why?!”

Spencer laughs at how raw your reaction is. He didn’t plan on giving out any more details but, with that prompt he decides that it’s now or never.

“I don’t think any future dates will appreciate me picturing someone else in their place the whole time.”

Oh.

Both of you lock eyes at the same time. This is not a road you’re prepared to go back down, even if that’s literally the whole point of this conversation. You’re too stunned to reply and Spencer uses this as an opportunity to be elaborate. He doesn’t want any misunderstandings this time.

“I couldn’t stop pictur–”

“Shut up.” You blurt out the sentence in almost one word.

Your heart’s racing like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff. You’re flustered, every part of your body is heated from how terrified you are.

“Y–you don’t have t–t…you don’t owe m–me an explanation.” You try to elaborate, contradicting yourself and stumbling on your words.

“I want to.” He reads that you’re apprehensive but pushes regardless.

“Please don’t.” The tears that you thought had dried out were building again.

“Why ask if you won’t let me answer?”

You don’t have anything to say to that. Did you want answers? Yes. Still, you didn’t expect how hard they’d be to hear. He whispers your name and you scramble to think of your next move, and not in chess. You’re unable to even think about the game right now. You want to bolt, but you can’t even get yourself to move. So you deflect.

“Because it doesn’t matter.”

“I disagree.” Although his tone is subdued, the pace of his wording is faster. “I think it does matter and that’s why you’re afraid to hear it.”

He’s right but you can’t bring yourself to agree. This is only going to over-complicate an already complicated situation.

“It’s not enough.” Your voice cracks.

“How can it be if you won’t even give it a fair shot?”

“Fair?”

It comes out louder than you intended. His words trigger resentment within you and you snap.

“Nothing about any of this is fair! I mean, fucking hell, Spencer, four years. That’s how long we’ve been friends. I mean I’ve shared shit that I thought I would be taking to the fucking grave with you! You were my best friend for four fucking years and all it took was like, five seconds?”

You sob, softer than when you were first crying, but the frustration is clear. He reaches out to touch your hand, but you push his hand away.

“No!” You choke, sobbing harder when you try to compile your thoughts. “Five seconds to destroy all of it! It makes me wonder if everything we shared, our friendship, was it ever even that strong?”

Your anger simmers to sadness, as evident with how your yelling fades into whispering in the last sentence.

“I can’t even tell you when exactly those five seconds were. I mean, I know…but…I don’t. Where did it go wrong, Spence?”

“I don’t know.” Is all he can say after a beat of silence.

He knows exactly where it went wrong.

“Yeah, me neither!” You sniffle, immediately wiping a single tear that manages to escape. “So again, it doesn’t matter.”

“When you took it back.”

“What?”

“That’s where everything changed for me. You showed up at my apartment drunk, after your date with Nathan. Your exact words were ‘I mean as an amazing friend’.” His voice strains like he’s forcing himself to speak.

Your gaze falls, eyes darting everywhere as you try to jog your memory beyond the one sentence you remember.

“I don’t understand.” You croak.

“You know, if I wasn’t who I am, maybe you could love me the way I love you.” He chuckles bitterly, fighting back tears of his own. “That was– that was, uh, what you said before you took it back.”

“Spence, please…” You whine without sound, tilting your head back and chewing on your lip as a final attempt to stay composed.

“No, you wanted to know where it went wrong.” He laughs falsely to downplay his tears. “You can say it doesn’t matter all you want, but the fact is, it does matter. It matters to me and I won’t let you run from it anymore.”

You can’t look at him. Not with tears free falling down your face. You cup your hands together in your lap, pressing your fingers and nails together.

“You told me that I couldn’t love you.” You struggle to sound your words.

“I’m an idiot.” Another chuckle, but he sounds defeated. “When you said that, all I could think about was how badly I wanted to say that I do love you.”

You tearfully laugh at this admission.

“I only took it back because of what you said. I panicked. I thought I’d ruined things…which I guess, I still did.” Another laugh from you.

Spencer responds with the same regretful sound.

The irony spurs another fit of giggles amongst you, this one slightly longer and infinitely more rueful than the last. You look anywhere but at each other until it grows quieter.

“If you loved me, why the fuck would you tell me that I couldn’t love you?” You sound just as, if not more, defeated than him.

“Love.” Spencer corrects without missing a beat.

Your brows twitch up and your heart jumps.

“I was so hung up on every single part of your sentence that I didn’t know what to say first.” He proceeds to answer you without leaving much room to process what he said. “I wanted to tell you that I do love you. I love you as you are. Not as somebody else.”

“But you didn’t say any of that.” You ignore all his admissions, not fully comprehending.

“Like I said, I’m an idiot. I was in so much disbelief and that was the first thing that came out of my mouth.” He sullenly huffs.

You don’t reply, sniffling with your head down.

“For like a second, I had everything I wanted. Then you took it back and it was like my whole world had been ripped out from under me. In those five seconds, you’d given me a taste of what I’d spent four years convincing myself I couldn’t have and I just– I couldn’t go back after that.” He adds after a stillness.

After a short while, your focus shifts from your hands to the board in front of you. The game’s been long forgotten. You’re immersed in the conversation, in spite of how strenuous it is.

“I understand why you were distant, even mean, at first.” You snivel. “But after a while you just became downright cruel.”

Spencer doesn’t shy away from your gaze when you do look at him. His skin is as drenched from crying as yours is.

“I mean ‘I don’t want to see your face’? I know that I don’t really have a leg to stand on anymore, but, what the fuck Spencer?”

He doesn’t cringe any less with every reminder. He’s truly regretted the words since they left his mouth.

“I wanted to hurt you.” He reveals. “I thought you were being deliberately cruel and I wanted you to feel exactly how I was feeling.”

“Deliberately?”

He nods, hanging his head.

“I thought that you knew how I felt and were just trying to be funny or something.”

“Well I didn’t. I wasn’t.” You cut him off with a constricted voice.

“Even if you did, it’s not an excuse.” His eyes are glistening from the outpour of tears, but he still lifts his sights back to you. “I’m sorry.”

You don’t know how to acknowledge his apology at all. You’re not even angry anymore, all you feel is sorrow and regret for the way everything happened. An entire friendship down the drain due to an unfortunate set of circumstances.

“This is so fucked up.” You say with another mordant laugh. “All of this could have been avoided if we just talked about it.”

It stung less when you had somebody to blame for it. Your vision blurs and you make no effort to clear it, letting yourself cry openly.

“We’re talking about it now?” It’s almost a squeak, the way it’s spoken.

“Yeah, but,” your shoulders slump, defeatedly, and you have to pause to control your sob, “what good does it do now? I’ve already lost the best thing that’s ever happened to me in the most pathetic way possible.”

“I’m right here.” He counters in such a small voice that it gives your goosebumps.

“Spencer, too many things have been said…”

“When you first joined the team, I instantly knew I liked you.”

He chews on his lip and darts his eyes around while he contemplates if he wants to continue.

“I thought it was because of your kind nature. You were so sweet to everybody.” He decides he does, but his voice shakes throughout. “You have this gift…you make people feel so good about themselves. Whenever you spoke to me, I felt like the most important person in the world. It was impossible not to like you.”

You want to pretend like you don’t know where he’s going with this. You want to stop him, but your voice is stuck in your throat.

“It wasn’t until you bought me coffee for the first time that I realised just how much I liked you.” He chuckles again, as he reminisces in the memory. “You didn’t even get my order right until the fourth time, but it was still my favourite cup of the day.”

“You make me sound like a saint.” You finally choke out, attempting to play down the confession so it doesn’t crush your heart. “The only reason I even started bringing you coffee is because you learned how I like my coffee first.”

“Not a saint, an angel. I’ve fallen so deeply in love with you that there are times where it genuinely feels like I’m in the presence of an angel.”

It’s stated with such sincerity that it knocks the wind out of your pipes. Your eyes are widened and you’re biting your tongue with your mouth closed, staring at him with your chin tucked. He seems so confident, even with the glistening from previous tears in his eyes.

“I wanted to be in your life in any way you would have me. Even when it meant that I had to accept you with other people. And it was bearable, until…” His reminiscence only ends at the memory of the night that changed everything. “Like I said, I couldn’t go back.”

The last part fades into another whisper, only then do you find the courage to speak up.

“Exactly.” You stick to your denial. “It can’t go back to how it was before.”

Your heart is so sure of what it wants, but your head is blinded by fear. You’re at a crossroads, except one path, the path that leads to everything you long for, is clouded with a fog of uncertainty. The other path is so painfully clear, you can practically see what’s on the other side. A fresh start, where the risk of fucking up further doesn’t exist. What you don’t see is Spencer.

“Good. I don’t want it to go back to how it was.”

Spencer’s waiting for you to enter the fog. He’s going to be there holding your hand every step of the way.

“I’ve already handed in my resignation.”

“That matters less than everything you’ve claimed doesn’t matter.” He leans in, intensifying his eye contact.

“I’m pretty sure Hotch is really close to confirming my replacement.” You comment half-heartedly.

You’re trying anything to dissuade both him and yourself from acknowledging the obvious, but he doesn’t plan on letting you avoid it.

“I love you.” He whispers softly.

“Spencer…” You begin when he takes hold of your hands and whatever you had to say disappears from your tongue.

“I love you. With every atom that makes up my body.” He repeats himself with further elaboration to instil it in your mind.

“I’m scared.” You whisper back with a sob, finally accepting it.

“Why?” His voice can’t be any softer, but it still cracks a little.

“Because, you can’t guarantee that it’s going to end well.” You allow your vulnerability to peek through. “And that’s going to hurt more. I’d rather leave now than fall deeper.”

Although you didn’t say it back, it’s an indirect admission that you love him too. And it’s enough for him to fight harder.

“I know that my credibility isn’t the greatest,” he coaxes a small, sad scoff out of you, “but I truly believe that this, us, we’ll work. Because I know that I’m going to do everything I can to make this work.”

He feels bolder when you don’t pull away from his touch, folding your fingers into your palms and cupping over them. You observe the sight as it unfolds in lieu of a verbal response.

“I’ve spent four years judging any man that comes into your life, wishing I was in their place, swearing I would treat you better than all of them.”

Spencer feels the need to fill in the silence and he lets honesty guide his confession. He leans in further as if he’s indulging his deepest secret.

“Four years wasted wondering what could be, cursing out those idiots, but taking no action to make it happen. And that makes me the biggest idiot out of all of them.”

When he speaks like this, with his big, imploring eyes and prayerful tone, it melts your heart to a point where it almost hurts. The more he talks, the more you begin to lean in, opening yourself up to him.

“It took losing you to realise how badly I fucked up and for that I will never forgive myself. I know that I have no right to ask you to waste any more time on me…”

There’s no more resistance against the pull you both physically feel to each other.

“...but I’m begging you for a chance to do today what I should have done way before yesterday.”

Your faces grow closer by the second, you can feel each other's breaths against skin.

“And I’m going to spend every tomorrow proving what I said today.”

The likelihood of him changing your mind with one conversation wasn’t very high, both you and Spencer knew this when you got into it. You’re not entirely surprised when he somehow manages to overcome those odds too. You take the step to close the gap and lightly press your lips to his.

It starts off soft, there’s no lust, no ulterior motive behind it. It’s a simple confirmation that you’re both present and this is real. Spencer doesn’t shy away from the kiss, not that you’d call this a kiss. It feels more intimate, more unguarded.

Spencer pulls you onto his lap as he shifts and leans back against the backrest to allow more room for you. You wrap your arms around him and the kiss deepens. In the midst of you straddling him, he slides the entire chess board off the couch and the pieces scatter on the floor. It’s only when you feel that the kiss can’t bring you any closer to him does the lust emerge. It fuels a desire to prove that you both whole-heartedly belong to each other.

There’s no pinpointing when the switch happens. All you know is that the feeling of his lips against yours is no longer enough. You cup his jaw in your hands, swiping your tongue on his lower lip and it causes his grip on your waist to tighten. He parts his lips for you and it starts what you can only call a dance with your tongues.

Your breathing grows hotter, your hips subconsciously grind against him. There’s a prominent bulge that brushes against your heat and you whine into his mouth. Spencer grunts your name in response and then abruptly pulls away.

“Wait, wait, wait, slow down.” He breathlessly whispers against your lips.

“What?” You whisper back with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He gazes into your eyes, afraid that you might regret this later.

“I’ve never been more sure, actually.” You’re confident at first but the look in his eyes makes you pull back further. “Unless…you’re not sure?”

“No, don’t misunderstand me. I want you.” His tone rises just above the previous whisper with his clarification. “It’s just that the last thing I want to do is take advantage of you when our emotions are running high.”

“Four years, Spencer.” You lean in again, just brushing your lips against his. “The only reason you should be making me wait is if you’re not sure.”

He shuts that idea down by crashing his lips on yours. The kiss is so hungry, so desperate, it’s everything both of you have longed for and denied yourselves everytime you’ve been in each other's presence. It doesn’t take long for hands to start to roam. He traces the curve from your waist to your hips, stopping just at the hem of your shirt, tugging it like he’s asking for permission.

You rush to undo your buttons and he meets you halfway, starting at the bottom. His fingers brush against yours as you two reach the final button and you pull the fabric off yourself. You do the same with his shirt, lips remaining locked, except for the small gasps of air you take in between. It requires a bit more manoeuvring with him, but you’re both soon shirtless.

His mouth travels to your jaw and you shut your eyes from pleasure as he continues down to your neck. The stubble on his chin tickles your skin. You cup it, gently pushing him away with a giggle.

“Forget to pack a razor in your bag, Dr. Reid?” Your voice is teasing, more playful than seductive.

He chuckles, airily, hiding his groan. He knows you’re being sarcastic, but the use of his title, with your voice in this context, catches him off guard. You moan as you feel his growing bulge against your heat when his arms tighten around your waist, pulling you into his kiss. You swiftly undo the clasp of your bra, but before you can take it off, Spencer grabs you from just below the hips and lifts you up off him, gently laying you down on the seat of the couch.

There’s no room for hesitation as his lips find your neck again and he nips at the skin. Every suckle earns him short gasps and the grip in his hair tightens as he travels lower. He stops just above your breast, pulling himself up to sit on his knees. You stare up at him with a heated gaze, the nail of your thumb resting between your teeth with your lips parted to make up for the loss of his lips.

He reaches for your bra strap and begins pulling slowly, searching your eyes for any signs of you withdrawing consent. All he sees is how beautifully they sparkle when you give him a light nod. It’s been too long since he’s seen the stars that you hold in your eyes, stars he accustomed himself to before he even got to properly know you.

Gazing into his eyes, you’ve never felt more sure, more safe. You trust him implicitly and you’ve never wanted anything more. His constant need to make sure you're comfortable sends shivers down to your core. He slides the garment off you and Spencer’s beyond grateful that he’s already on his knees, knowing that if he was standing he’d fall to them because of the sight below him.

His eyes don’t falter once, he’s trying to permanently etch this moment into his brain. He hovers his fingers above your body, thumb brushing against your hardened nipple and you softly whine. He looks awestruck, almost like he doesn’t believe what’s happening. You can’t help but wonder if he thinks your boobs look weird.

“Beautiful.” The words fall out of his mouth in a whisper, as if on cue. He’s really just thinking out loud.

Before you can respond he lowers down and plants a small peck to your sensitive nub before taking it into his mouth. You gasp again, head lolling back in pleasure. One of your hands goes for his hair, while the other clings to his hand that’s already holding yours. He switches between sucking, pulling and squeezing; rolling it between his tongue and uses his teeth to squeeze ever so slightly.

“S–spencer.” A strangled moan falls from your lips.

You tug his hair, whining and moaning as your hips roll against the strain in his pants. When your motions become continuous, he lets out his own strained groan and is forced to release your nipple with a small ‘pop’.

“Angel, I really need you to stop doing that.” He murmurs in your ear with a gentle, gravelly tone.

As soon as the nickname reaches your ears your hips involuntarily buck up again, making his hips automatically push down against yours. His cock presses against your core and you both moan, his head falling against your shoulder.

“Spence, more.” You quietly whine in against his ear. “I need more.”

“More?” He echoes back, turning his head so that your lips brush past each other when speaking.

“Mhm.” You nod weakly as he brushes a strand of hair out of your face and weakly connects his lips with yours.

Even when he’s got you vulnerable and at your most compromised, he’s still as gentle as ever. You don’t feel him undo your pants or sneak his hand in them, but you definitely feel him press the pads of his fingers against your clothed clit. Air escapes through your nose in a huff of surprise and you hum in his mouth, hips jolting at his touch. He can feel your slickness through your underwear.

“Oh, my pretty girl.” He sighs, breaking the kiss and directing his whispers in your ear again. “All wet for me?”

“Please..” Even with your broken whimper you beg him for more.

“Like this?” His deft fingers swipe your panties to the side, fingers landing directly on the clit this time.

They feel cold at first. The contrast against your heated body makes you squirm and you groan in a soft, high pitch.

“What are you feeling right now?” He pries a verbal response from you, circling your bud lightly. “Tell me.”

“Good.” You sigh, eyes shut as you try to savour the pleasure.

“Good?” His voice is still soft against your ear.

“Mhm.” You nod, one arm draping against his shoulder and the other hand running along his scruffy jaw. “So good.”

“And this?” He adds pressure to his movements. “Does this feel good?”

Your hips buck again and he feels rewarded when you moan. There’s no doubt that the sound of your voice is his favourite. He especially loves it when it’s directed at him. Whether that be in the form of a laugh or your sweet moans. It makes him somewhat dizzy. His lips attach to the skin just under your jaw in an attempt to coax more.

It’s very effective. Fingers working your bundle of nerves, circling and flicking while changing the pressure, and mouth kissing and sucking near your pulse. It makes your back arch, hand gripping his shoulder so you don’t float away. He’s careful not to leave any purple traces of him on your neck, mindful of you being bombarded with questions from your colleagues.

“I love how reactive you are, Angel. You sound divine– fuck.” He can’t help the grunt that escapes him. “You are divine.”

His touch alone is enough to make you feel electric, but the sweet nothings he’s whispering in your ear will be what send you over the edge. It’s a foreign feeling, being reminded that he values you for more than just your body. Just under an hour ago you had incredibly high walls built around you and none of them are left standing as you exposed under him.

Spencer’s not the first man to touch you, but he is the first that loves you. It’s something you’re not at all used to and it feels as overwhelming as it does good. It transcends the want, no, the need for the man on top of you beyond lust or love. You plan to show him just how strong that need is tonight.

The carpeted floor is littered with your clothes, carelessly thrown around and tiny chess pieces scattered around the abandoned chess board. Spencer’s comfortably lying on the couch, facing the ceiling and you’re lying directly on top of him with your face buried in his neck.

You run your fingers back and forth along his jaw, scratching his beard in slow streaks. He’s enveloped you in his arms, one around your lower back and the other playing with your hair. It doesn’t feel as peaceful as it seems, both of you are afraid of being the first to speak. You know you can’t stay like this forever and you decide to bite the bullet.

“Spencer?”

You only get silence from his end. You know he’s awake because his motions in your hair don’t stop. You push yourself up to face him, trying to study his face. The sudden movement brings him back from wherever he was zoned out to.

“Hm?” His features jump.

Does he regret it?

“What’s wrong?” Your voice shakes from worry. “You have this look on your face.”

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just thinking.”

“About…?”

“How bad we are at communicating.” He chuckles. “It’s concerning when you think about how all we ever do is talk.”

Hearing this makes you snort and you fall into him again. It sends both of you into a short fit of laughter.

“Oh that’s promising for the success of this relationship.” You giggle, sarcasm evident.

Hearing relationship makes Spencer inhale sharply.

“So you’re staying?”

“Well obviously, Dingbat.” You scoff playfully at the question and shift upright, straddling him. “But we really do need to get better at the communication thing for this to work.”

Spencer mounts his weight on his hands by either side of him and pushes himself up to you, stealing a deep kiss.

“Yes, we absolutely do.” He whispers, breaking away for only a second.

The kisses fizzle in you a plethora of smaller kisses.

“Spencer, I’m– serious.” You voice in between, loosely draping your arms on his shoulders.

“I am too.” He says in a hushed tone as he pulls away.

“I want to take it– this,” you motion between the two of you with your finger, “us, slow. Not four years slow, but, like, by a couple of months at the very least.”

“Okay.” He agrees, his eyes scouring your face with complete adoration. It’s not ideal, but he understands where you’re coming from.

“That means that we start again. Romantically. We have to talk about a lot of things first.”

He shifts his body out from under you, resting his back properly against the couch and pulls you back into his lap in one swift motion. Both of his hands graze from your shoulder to your wrist.

“How about…you come over this weekend,” He suggests, wrapping his arms around your waist for a hug, “we’ll do snacks, a movie, maybe an actual game of chess.”

“That sounds like a date.” You wrap your arms around his neck to return the gesture and lean your forehead against his.

“It’s not a date. Not yet, anyways.” He whispers. “I’m asking you to come over this weekend so we can talk about things properly, because frankly, I don’t think either of us is in the right headspace for it right now.”

“Should I be offended at that?” You giggle, not entirely sure what he’s alluding to.

“No!” He snorts with a high tone. “Dopamine aside, our Norepinephrine and Serotonin levels are too high right now for us to have a proper conversation about this.”

“I’m not saying that you’re wrong, because you’re not, but I also think you’re just using science to try and confuse me, so that I agree to wherever this speech is heading.”

“It’s times like this where your attentiveness puts me at a disadvantage, because this tactic has a hundred percent success rate on everybody else.” He grins and you chuckle, both leaning in for another kiss.

“Can we hold off on starting over? Just for tonight.” He reluctantly voices, not wanting to push any boundaries.

You draw back and raise your eyebrows with your eyes widened.

“Spence, I have waited for years for this. You’re insane if you think I’m giving that up without relishing in it for at least a night. We’re not starting over until we’re both officially back on the clock.”

“Okay.” He heaves from relief, leaning in for another kiss, but quickly withdraws with a new question. “Don’t you think the team’s going to be suspicious when we’re not fighting tomorrow?”

“Forget them, what am I gonna say to Hotch when I ask to withdraw my resignation?” You huff out a tiny groan. “He’s gonna hate me for all this paperwork.”

Paperwork reminds you why you’re here to begin with. You audibly gasp, jumping off Spencer and scrambling to put your clothes back on.

“Fuck! Spencer, get dressed!”

Spencer doesn’t share your panic, but adheres to your demand. You mutter a continuous line of obscenities as you throw on your clothes and when you don’t seem to be getting calmer, he intervenes.

“Hey, hey, hey!” He coos as he steps towards you, still undressed on the upper-half. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is that we’ve been here for hours!” You shriek, now fully dressed.

You push past Spencer and grab his shirt, deciding that he was too slow on his own. He lets you dress him as he probes further.

“That’s okay. No one’s going to notice this late.”

“No– Spence–” You sigh, throwing your head back. “In less than four hours, Hotch is going to walk into his office expecting the Anchorage report on his desk. I’ve barely been able to get half of it done in weeks, how am I going to finish it in four hours?”

You shake your head and begin working on his buttons. He grabs your wrists, urging you to look at him.

“You’ll have it done in less than one. I’ll help you!” His voice is light, airy, soft and accompanied with a chuckle.

“Spencer, you’ve already been here later than you need to be. It’s okay–”

“Let me help you.” He resorts to pleading, releasing your wrists and cupping your face.

You don’t have it in you to argue, his eyes staring back at you with sincerity. He wants to help. There’s no point in pushing him away, because as scared as you are about being too vulnerable with your trauma from that case, you trust him wholeheartedly. You know he won’t push for more than what you choose to share right now.

“Okay.” You nod and smile into the kiss he leans in for after the confirmation.

“Okay. Now, you go and start some coffee.” he instructs softly with a wide grin, waving to the scattered chess ensemble. “ I’m going to clean up here and join you.”

“I love you!” You lean for another kiss and hushedly exclaim as you break away, receding towards the door.

It’s Spencer’s turn to lose his breath. He’s affirmed his love for you countless times tonight and this is the first time you’ve verbally reciprocated it. He knows that it won’t be the last time either. That, to him, makes him the luckiest man in the world. He stops you from going any further by your arm and gently yanks you in his direction, crashing his lips with yours.

“I love you too.” He whispers after the kiss, letting you go.

Heat rises in your face again and you struggle to hide a huge dopey smile, one that Spencer has too. You’re floating on cloud nine, finally out of the blurry hurricane you’ve endured for months. There’s still a lot of things that you need to work out, but the thought of them doesn’t make you feel dread like it once did.

"One word frees us of all the weight and pain in life. That word is Love." - Socrates

Spoilers: Yapperoni (so much dialog in this chapter), BAU! Reader, enemies (kinda) to lovers, hurt, comfort, love confessions (they might be a little too sappy, idk, I was sleep deprived), the praise made me giddy at some point, smut but I edge you by not writing out everything, happy ending.

AN - I have a little tiny fear that people (me) will nawt (I don’t) fuck with this monstrosity, but out of all my drafts, this felt like the most natural course of action. I thought it would be really fun to go from friends to enemies to lovers. Now, literally nobody talk to me about writing fics after this. Uni’s started, so I’ll be very inconsistent for a bit. Casual reminder: I am not Spencer Reid. I don’t have an IQ of 187. Any facts I make him spew could very well be bull-shit and he only spews them for the purpose of the story. I also have no knowledge of how the FBI works and lack a ton of common sense. A lot of things were made up for the purpose of this story.

A comment today keeps semicolon away (from showing up to your house and eating all your snacks).

Thank you for reading!

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marscantread7 · 3 months ago

Note

Um um un sylus fucking us with his tail .... ♡ praise and maybe fuck us with his powers.. ?

Did you know I'm fucking insane anon. Did you know I'm the biggest monster fucker to ever exist anon.

(Excuse my brazenness idk what came over me there...)

I haven't finished his dragon myth bc I'm dookie butt at leveling up cards bc I'm more focused on story than like preserving materials to actually level cards up to fight💀💀💀 so idk if he had the energy manipulation evol as a dragon, so we're js gonna separate current Sylus fucking u w/ his evol from dragon Sylus fucking u w/ his tail

I'll do this hc style since I'm doing both to reply to u, but I'll do an additional post of them on their own to go into more detail

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Fucking u w/ his tail

-He'd stretch u out for hours, making sure ur loose and wet enough to take it. Using at least 3 valves of oil to make the slide easier

-He keeps asking u over and over again if ur sure u want to do this. His tail isn't soft, and he can't make it soft either. It's also, obviously, very big

-He peppers kisses all over ur face as he eases the very tip of the tail in.

-"Shhh, I know it hurts my precious. Look at me, yes, js like that, js take a little more for me- yes, good girl. We can always stop if it's too much. No? Okay, js let me know if u need a break."

- As much as u beg and plead saying u can take half, ur still human and he knows how fragile the human body is. He isn't trying to puncture any organs on accident💀💀💀

-Once a reasonable (and safe) amount of his tail is in, he js sits there for a bit, letting u get used to the feeling.

-"Can I start moving it now? I'll be gentle. No u silly thing, I'm not gonna go rough so soon."

- He fucks u at a very, VERY slow pace, so slow u feel urself drifting asleep until a very sudden orgasm rips its way through u, causing u to immediately squirt everywhere

-"Oh, that's it. Make a mess for me, cum all over my tail."

-He fucks u through the aftershocks of ur orgasms, and when u start to complain abt being sensitive, he js hushes u w/ a

-"U don't srsly think we're done after js one? Oh, sweetie. We're gonna be here all night."

Fucking u w/ his evol

-I'd like to think he only does those when he's super busy

-Like, say he has to write some report or like go over documents, and like ur both bored, but he really needs to get this done, so he'll like use his evol to fuck a dildo into u

-Ur laying on ur back on the couch in his study, face buried in a pillow as one hand holds onto the arm of the couch, trying to muffle ur moans as not to disturb Sylus

-"Ur getting a little too loud, kitten. Do I have to stop? No? Then quiet down for me, js like that."

-Using his evol is like second nature to him atp, so he really isn't putting much thought into controlling it. Sometimes he'll end up accidentally going a little too fast, and he has to apologize for it.

-"Ah, my apologies, sweetie. I zoned out a bit. Was it too rough? I'll make up for it, ur such a sweet little thing, never getting mad at me."

-And once he's done w/ everything, he'll fuck u nice and slow, whispering sweet nothings into ur ear, holding u tight.

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SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO GET TO THIS💔💔💔 I got sick AGAIN🤦🏾‍♀️🤦🏾‍♀️🤦🏾‍♀️ and then I started my period yesterday and that made me sick. Ts been sitting in my drafts forever, oh my days

Anyways, I'll write longer, more detailed versions of this eventually, but I hope u enjoy this💔💔💔

#love and deepspace #lads #lnds #love & deepspace #l&ds #marshall cant write #love and deepspace smut #sylus x you #sylus x mc #sylus x reader #sylus smut #sylus lads #sylus love and deepspace #l&ds sylus #lnds sylus #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #love and deepspace reader #love and deepspace mc

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archaeren · 1 year ago

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Hello!! I hope you're having a good day ^^ I came across your post about writing non-linearly on Notion and I'm excited to try it out because the advice resonated with me! Though, I'm really new to using the app and, if possible, need help with how to do this part: 'where every scene is a separate table entry and the scene is written in the page inside that entry.' ;v;

Hello! Thank you so much for messaging!!! Since that post about writing non-linearly (linked for context) blew up roughly ten thousand times as much as anything I've ever posted, I've been kind of meaning to make a followup post explaining more about how I use Notion for writing non-linearly, but, you know, ADHD, so I haven't done it yet. XD In the meantime, I'll post a couple screenshots of my current long fic with some explanations! I'd make this post shorter, but I'm unable to not be Chatty. XD (just ask my poor readers how long my author notes are...) (There is a phone app as well which syncs with the desktop/browser versions, but I work predominantly in the desktop app so that's what I'm gonna be showing)

(the table keeps going off the right side of the image but it's a bunch of unimportant stuff tbh) So this is more complicated than what you'll probably start with because I'm Normal and add a bunch of details that you might not need depending on what you're doing. For example, my fic switches POVs so I have a column for tracking that, and my fic follows a canon timeline so I have a column for dates so I can keep track of them, and I also made columns for things like if a scene had spoilers or certain content readers may want to avoid, which they can access in my spoiler and content guide for the fic. (As I said, I'm Normal.) I also do some complicated stuff using Status and estimated wordcount stuff to get an idea of how long I predict the content to be, but again, not necessary. Anyway, you don't need any of that. For the purposes of this explanation, we're just gonna look at the columns I have called Name, Order, and Status. (And one called Part, but we'll get into that later) Columns in Notion have different types, such as Text, Numbers, Select, Date, etc, so make sure to use the type that works best for the purpose of each column! For example, here I'm using Select for Character POVs, Number for Order and WC (wordcount), and Text for the In-Game Date. Okay let's get into it! Name is a column that comes in a Notion table by default, and you can't get rid of it (which drives me up the wall for some purposes but works totally fine for what we're doing here). As you can see on the scene I've labeled 'roll call', if you hover over a Name entry, a little button called 'Open' appears, which you click on to open the document that's inside the table. That's all default, you don't have to set anything up for it. Here's a screenshot of what it looks like when I click the one titled 'I will be anything for you' (I've scrolled down in the screenshot so you can see the text, but all the data fields also appear at the top of the page)

(This view is called 'side peek' meaning the document opens on one side and you can still see the table under it on the left, which is what mine defaults to. But you can set it to 'center peek' or 'full page' as well.) All my scenes have their own entry like this! Note that I've said scenes, not chapters. I decide the chapters later by combining the scenes in whatever combination feels right, which means I can often decide in advance where my chapter endings will be. This helps me consciously give most of my endings more impact than I was usually able to do when I tried to write linearly. So hopefully that gives you an idea of what I mean by writing inside the table and treating the table as a living outline. The 'Status' column is also pretty straightforward, and might require a little setup for whatever your needs are. This is another default column type Notion has which is similar to a Select but has a few more specialized features. This is how mine is set up:

(I don't actually use 'Done', idk why I left it there. Probably I should replace it with 'Posted' and use that instead of the checkmark on the far left? whatever, don't let anyone tell you I'm organized. XDD)

Pretty straightforward, it just lets me see easily what's complete and what still needs work. (You'll notice there's no status for editing, because like I mentioned in my other post, I don't ever sit down to consciously edit, I just let it happen as I reread) Obviously tailor this to your own needs! The Order column is sneakily important, because this is what makes it easy for me to keep the scenes organized. I set the Sort on the table to use the Order to keep the scene ordered chronologically. When I make the initial list of scenes I know the fic will have, I give all of them a whole number to put them in order of events. Then as I write and come up with new scene ideas, the new scenes get a number with a decimal point to put them in the spot they fit in the timeline. (you can't see it here, but some of them have a decimal three or four digits deep, lol). Technically you can drag them to the correct spot manually, but if you ever create another View in your table (you can see I have eight Views in this one, they're right under the title) it won't keep your sorting in the new View and you'll hate yourself when it jumbles all your scenes. XD (And if you get more comfortable with Notion, you probably will at some point desire to make more Views) The Part column isn't necessary, but I found that as the fic grew longer, I was naturally separating the scenes into different points along the timeline by changes in status quo, etc. (ex. "this is before they go overseas" "this is after they speak for the first time", stuff like that) in my mind. To make it easier to decide where to place new scenes in the timeline, I formalized this into Parts, which initially I named with short summaries of the current status quo, and later changed to actual titles because I decided it would be cool to actually use them in the fic itself. Since it's not in the screenshots above, here's what the dropdown for it looks like:

(I've blocked some of the titles out for spoiler reasons)

Basically I only mention the Parts thing because I found it was a useful organizational tool for me and I was naturally doing it in my head anyway. Anyway, I could keep talking about this for a really long time because I love Notion (don't get me started on how I use toggle blocks for hiding content I've edited out without deleting it) but that should be enough to get started and I should really, you know, not make this another insanely long post. XDD And if anybody is curious about how the final results look, the fic can be found here.

#notion #writing resources #writing advice #writing #writers block #writers on tumblr #writeblr #nonlinear #fanfic #fanfiction

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sibillascribbles08 · 6 months ago

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Big Ol' Rottmnt Fic Rec List

Hi, I've needed to do this for a while, so here's a big bundle of fic recs from me !

I've broken it down between one shots, chaptered fics, and series. I'll try to mention what the character focus is along with a brief summary and some personal thoughts. If you need more details I encourage you to check the fics summary and tags for yourself! I will only include an author's tumblr account if it's easy for me to find haha

One Shots

Mama's Boy - ashtreelane: Technically two chapters but it feels like a one shot. Casey Jr. angst, involving him finding out that maybe you can fix kraang infections and that he failed to save his mother. I love when people really pile the grief on Junior after all the fighting is over and the fic does it so well.

Forget-Me-Nots - GibbousLunation (AKA @klunkcat ): Hi, oh my god??? Leo and Mikey centric angst, in which saving Leo from the prison dimension has an insane ripple effect. Mikey dying? Nah he's going to start getting erased from every timeline and Leo slowly watches it happen (and refuses to do nothing about it). I utterly adore how this fic handles this concept. You see almost all of it from Leo's POV, noticing the little changes but writing them off as memory failures, because of how subtle some of it is.

Fight or Flight - pickledcarrotsandradish: Leo centric, post movie, Leo keeps waiting for his family to start lecturing him about all the dumb stuff he did during the invasion, and they aren't, so it's getting to him. A very neat narrative about how self loathing can warp our perception of how others see us. A++++

The Friend Zone Sounds Pretty Good, Actually - Cryptvokeeper: Eating this, eating this. You probably already know I love aroace Leo and this fic is an INCREDIBLE exploration of that. Even as just an ace person it hit SO many notes where I was just like "Oh god... I've been there buddy". And as a bonus the dynamic between Leo and Yuichi is v sweet. Love this a lot I've read it like five times.

Pink in The Night - unnamedmystery: Incredible April/Sunita fic. Like seriously this author wrote April's crush so well I think I was starting to fall in love with Sunita. Just incredibly cute all the way through, and great April writing, adore it.

《 until then, matriarch 》 - chiangyorange: HI OH MY GOD A nice chunky oneshot about Karai, about her being a leader, and it's phenomenal. It hits and hits and does not miss, really going in depth about her emotions involving her father turning into something wicked and having to destroy him, and how it ruins all of her good memories.

The Kindness of Collision - SpoonerizedSwiftness (AKA @splickedylit ): Hi I still remember the fic and the art suddenly showing up in the tag and then I was thinking about it for the next like five weeks aslkdjf A very interesting idea that when the turtles reach the age they were in the doomed timeline before things got reset, all the memories of their other life more or less hit them like a train. All of them have to comb through that information and it's a wonderful and emotional ride.

Chaptered Fics

Hamartia - Punable (in progress): Hi this is one of my all time favorite rise fics, mainly because in a way, it helped me come to terms with my chronic pain. It's Donnie centric and smack full of angst in all the best ways. Shorthand summary, an explosion in Donnie's lab almost takes him out (or kind of DOES take him out) and the recovery is not only long and agonizing, it may only go so far, and Donnie doesn't cope well with that.

Kick It Up a Notch - Brokenpitchpipe (completed): Hi this is my other all time fav rise fic. Donnie centric separated AU in which Donnie is raised by Draxum. My love for it stems a lot from the characterization of Donnie though, and even Draxum in this case. Not to mention that in a lot of cases it matches the vibes of the show. And in spite of all the humor, there's a few really gut wrenching moments. 10/10 will re-read.

Lightning in Our Fingertips Today - DaFlangsLairde (AKA @daflangstlairde-art) (completed): Leo and Donnie centric, mostly angst, with body swapping between the twins which results in Donnie finding out that Leo's ninpo hurts him. Love love love the character writing in this, and also how the swap is written.

Under Pressure - ParvumAutomaton (completed): Not sure this is a single character focused fic, but basically April goes cave diving and is out for a while, and the turtles get worried and go looking for her. This might be personal bias but as someone who gets really into caving stories, this fic hits the spot for so many reasons. A really great emotional ride, and if you wanna see April go through it then I super recommend it.

Nothing Haunts Us (like the things we don't say) - mad_and_thick_as_theives (completed): A lot of great fics by this author btw, but this one personally stood out to me. It starts of silly and light only to sweep in with the emotional weight. Turtles are all cursed with a truth spell, basically, but I think my favorite bit is who gets out of it first (and why). V sweet.

Creation of a Philospher's Stone - IgnisCanis (completed): Whoooo boy, if you want some Draxum centric character exploration this is a great one. It really fleshes him out as a morally grey character and also does a fantastic job at writing Mikey when he finds out.

The Ol Switcheroo - radishhqueen (AKA @radishhqueen) (completed): Haha not going to lie I have a few by this author (so I'll only tag them once) but MAN. Hands down my favorite take on future leo coming to the past, and maybe I'm biased because I like when those fics actually explore Junior's character in the process buuuuut I love it. Junior's already struggling to adapt himself to the present, and after getting caught up in a foot clan spell which summons his sensei to the present too it really doesn't get any easier.

Vigilantism for Fun and Profit - radishhqueen (completed): The Cassandra Jones fic ever. Zero contest. If you're uncertain about writing Cassandra because she had so little development in the show I encourage you to read this for inspiration (I know it inspired me a lot). It does such a great deep dive into her character post show and a bit of the movie too. Honestly anytime radishh has a Cassandra fic I am clicking.

Tried to Grow Up Good - Sroloc_Elbisivni (AKA @sroloc--elbisivni )(completed): The Casey Jr. fic ever. CRAZY in love with this post movie take on him. It's messy, it's fun, it's so so real and you get a good chunk of Casey Sr. in here too. Adore it.

Hold On (Or Three Times Donatello's Soft Shell Almost Killed Him, and One Time it Saved His Life) - dunk_on_em (AKA @spockazilla )(completed): If you ever want a bit of angst involving Donnie's shell this is my go to. Every chapter has an emotional swing, even the positive ones. And shows something most people might see as a disadvantage as a good thing, actually.

Atlas, My Brother - swampcryptid (AKA @the-name-is-rizzotherat)(in progress): Get your Raph angst, specifically involving him always shielding his siblings, this time via a curse. My guy is already going through it and I think it'll get worse if a solution isn't found.

I've Got You Under My Skin - Cass_Phoenix (in progress): More Raph angst, and some Donnie, a truly chilling exploration of the possible consequences to connecting with the kraang. This fic constantly has me on the edge of my seat, and constantly stressing for Raph.

What We Leave Behind (How We Start Anew) - iam57311 (AKA @iam-57311)(in progress): Any Baronjitsu fans here? An alternate take on canon in which Draxum and Splinter co-parent the kids since they're first born (made?) Hilariously while I love the Baronjitsu content in here, I think some of my favorite parts are actually with the sisters, Big Mama, and Draxum's sister who is so so cool I love her.

Proof of Redemption - iam57311 (complete): Another one of theirs! A short and sweet lil close to canon fic about Draxum steadily gaining the trust and affection of the Hamatos, with each chapter focused on a different character. I love how they're all paced out from each other, really hits how some are much slower than others to trust Draxum hehe.

No Crime* Only Brooches - OllieTheScribe (AKA @olliethescribe) (in progress): Well I have to get THE HypnoWarren fic in here. Such a fun take on these characters, I love love love the backstory they built up for Warren too, plus the dynamic between these two and the turtles after (eventually) become friends haha.

Minor Interference - bambiraptorx (AKA @bambiraptorx) (in progress): What can I say? This fic is delightful. Between the hilarity of the turtles going with Draxum just to mess with him, the lore additions for yokai and the Hidden City, HoH Donnie, and their slowly building dynamic, always eager for a new chapter with this one.

Series

A Butterfly with a Mechanical Wing - Amethyst_Goldenwind (AKA @amethystgoldenwind ): Donnie centric series about being a non-verbal autistic. I'm always fond of non-verbal/mute explorations of characters, and so far I really like how, because his family has grown up with it, all of it is very normal for them. The various forms of communication are delightful. Excited to see further entries.

Analogous Hues - alwerakoo (AKA @alwerakoo): It's a separated AU with similar titling themes as my own, needed to check it out. The titles are just about all they have in common though! This AU focuses a lot on the turtles (Raph and Leo with Splinter and Donnie and Mikey with Draxum). I love how this explores not only the dynamics of the two groups and how different they are, but also the dynamics between each of the siblings, also how some magic sibling connections can influence that. Not to mention the different home life in more ways than one. If you're into separated AUs that really dig into the turtles dynamics try this one out !

#scribs speaks #rottmnt fics #fic recs #rottmnt #long post #that's all for now #I may make another one down the line when I do a bit more catch up and find some new ones !#some holiday posts suggest showing fic writers appreciation #best way I got to do it rn #some of these fics are well known but I'm giving them a shout out anyway

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reds-skull · 8 months ago

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CW FLASHING IN THE VIDEO (3rd from the bottom)

This is it. 3 months in the works, the comic (and video) are finally done.

A little over a year ago, I uploaded the first work in Revenant AU, Ghost's origin comic. I never thought I'd write a whole series for this, but I'm so glad I did. I got a whole new hobby out of it, haha.

I already began working on part 2, but this for me marks the start of it. I'm really excited to get back into this world!

Under the cut there are some comments on the comic I thought some people might be interested in (don't wanna make this post longer than it already is lol). I will upload the frames from the video separately, with comments on it there.

Bottom line is, thank you for letting me just go wild with this :)

Okay, I'm mostly gonna talk about the part where Fate shows Makarov the 141+Farah. Makarov doesn't see the Fate of people as literal images, he often has to interpret odd symbolism in the flashes he gets from the Weave of Fate.

I decided to go for a style I saw in a collection of calling cards in MW3, mainly from this one:

You can really see it in the faces and pitch-black cel shading.

I'll be going in order of appearance, starting with Farah.

Obviously, each of the "flashes" shows the Reaping of each person, Farah being crushed under rubble. Behind her is a helo of green gas, which symbolizes the Russian experimental gas. The motifs around her are more interesting imo - they're taken from the Urzik flag (and yeah apparently it's "Urzik" and not "Urzikstani"... according to the wiki at least). Wings, plants (feels to me like a pomegranate and some sort of crop, but I couldn't find what it is specifically), and a moon, upside down.

I'm skipping ahead a bit, but I've had the idea to make a drawing of Gaz in the Hanged Man pose since I started the AU basically. I tried sketching it once, and it went bad so I gave up lol. But I decided to come back to that here, and add some sort of tarot connection to all of them. I know practically nothing about tarot, googled the meanings of each, they fit well enough, I called it a day lol.

So Farah is the Moon, upside down.

Price is next, showing him taking control of the brain of someone. I didn't use the flag of the UK for the 141 (it'd be kinda boring...), instead I took the Taskforce 141 logo, and broke it down to different elements.

I took the laurels for Price, both framing his illustration and sitting above his head like a crown. I decided he will be the Emperor.

Next up is Gaz, the Hanged Man of course. Gaz gets both the wings and the stars (I changed mine to 4-pointed because... I like them better). Pretty clear why, both symbols relate to the sky. The illustrations kinda follow a rough day cycle, if that makes sense. Farah being night, with the moon. Price with his golden and purple color palette, twilight. Gaz being sunrise, and Ghost and Soap, day. This is why Gaz has a sun behind him.

Ghost was fun because he's the only inhuman one out of the group. I'll let you think what that implies, that even in Fate's Weave, Ghost is an outlier... Ghost gets the skull, and the card "Death". That one was easy, but what I did add is blood flowing down the skulls, like tear tracks...

Soap, the problem child, gave me the most issues as always. For once, it wasn't his fucking face, it was the flames behind him, and overall contrast and readability issues. Soap's illustration is probably packed with the most "hidden" details, though they're obvious if you've read the fic and Konchar's side story. The headless man behind Soap is Konchar himself, holding 4 chains with dog tags on them. The 4 soldiers from Soap's squad, who he killed before Soap was Reaped. Soap's pose is from the moment he came to his senses, after getting shot in the head and destroying a large part of Verdansk. He has 4 swords, pointing at him and downwards, so his card is 4 of Swords, upside down.

Between Soap and Ghost is a circle and a triangle. I'll explain that in the post concerning the video, since that's where I got that from.

If you read all of this, thank you so much! There will be another post for you to read in a moment lol

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amethystfairy1 · 7 months ago

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Regarding the Iskall Situation...

I've received a lot of asks wondering about what my take is on it, and since I'd prefer to have it all taken care of in one swoop so we don't have to continue to focus on it, here's my stance on the subject.

A: Yes, I have seen the credible evidence from Kasszki, I read the doc they posted, and I feel awful for them and the other victims that they had to deal with this. I'm glad to hear that the Hermits and others were supportive of them and helped them handle this situation in as professional a manner as possible. I have also seen the credible information from False that Stress left for her own separate reasons.

B: I strongly denounce Iskall's behavior, and I have absolutely zero intention of supporting him as a creator ever again.

C: Please don't pester the creators or the victims. I said it in my initial response to this situation before we knew what had happened, but my opinion remains the same here. Any information we get from the Hermits is a privilege, not a right. Hermitcraft and it's associated fandoms are well known for being healthy, good spaces, and I'm proud to be a member of this community. Now our money is where our mouths are. Please don't feed into the rumor mill, please continue to support the Hermits as you always would and don't pry or demand more details from them. This is a very difficult situation for all of us, and I'm certain it's even worse for all of them. Please keep in mind the Hermits are all grown adults, many of them had professional careers before they joined Hermitcraft, and they are handling this in as professional a manner as they are able. I applaud them for that. As their fans, we need to do the same.

What are my plans for Iskall and Stress in TTSBC?

Understandably, I've received several asks about what I plan to do about Iskall and Stress's characters in TTSBC. I've answered them individually, but I just want to put this here as a one-stop spot for what my stance is so it's clear.

I've always been a 'character not content creator' author. My characters are just that, characters. Does that mean I can completely remove them from the creators upon which they are based? No, of course not. That's not how this works, either. So here's my plan moving forward.

The two stories that heavily feature Iskall in TTSBC, "Run with It' and "Carry me Home Tonight" will remain up. They are timestamped with their dates of posting which was long before any of this came out, and again, they are very clearly meant to be characters, not the creators.

Iskall will be removed from the TTSBC: Wiki, and I will not be writing any new content for his character.

Does that affect the plot of TTSBC? Yes, it does. I'm not going to pretend it doesn't, and those of you who have followed the series at length can likely see where the issues arise...but I'm an author, and I can pivot. I also have an awesome little team behind me of @silver-sunray, @boo-the-ahh, and @khoirkid who are helping me to make sure TTSBC carries on smoothly despite this unforeseen struggle.

Stress will not be removed from the TTSBC: Wiki. As I mentioned in an ask earlier, her role in the story is very minor, and I hadn't planned for her to have any other pieces to herself outside of Hermit-a-Day May anyway...so aside from specific instances where it might be necessary to mention her, she will not be making any more major appearances. This is mainly because I'm a Hermit/Traffic/Empires writer, and I plan to stick to that notion unless future events cause me to pivot otherwise.

Lastly, I would appreciate if we could avoid anymore asks about the situation. If there are any further updates I'm sure I'll find that out on my own, I'm very active in this fandom and I see things pretty quickly when they spread, so if any new things related to this situation spring up, while I greatly appreciate your concern for me and my work, please don't send it to my inbox or in DM.

I'm very saddened by this, as I'm sure many of you are. Hermitcraft and it's associated fandoms have been my safe space for many years, through some of the hardest moments of my life, and with the mess that MCYT has proven itself to be at times, it felt like we were untouchable here. But like Doc said, the Hermits are good, and they are strong. And as their fans and supporters, we need to be the same.

Be good, be strong, and let's make sure our lovely community continues to be the positive space it always has been.

-Amethyst

#iskall situation #amethyst rambles #ttsbc #ttsbc au #through the sky blue cracks

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dioslesbianwife · 1 month ago

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Hi! I have been reading almost all your posts, I think? And I really really love how you write all of this! So, if possible, I have a request for the reader having 3 stands and getting shot tree times by the arrow. Even Enya wasn't sure of her survival, and one of her stand is attack, the other was defence, and the last is healing, but if she used all three stands, she unconscious for three days that's why she'll only use one or two at a time

(There's a lot more details in all three stands, but I'll give this much for now)

And please take your time. I can wait and thank you so much!!! And have a great day

hiii, i wasn't sure if you wanted certain characters' reactions but since u mentioned Enya and the stand arrow I'm going with part 3 characters but you can totally message me or comment if u wanted smth different instead- anywho thank u so much for being patient and ty for requesting and hope u enjoy <33 (also have a great day/night too!)

You were shot three times by the Stand Arrow, something not even Enya thought you could survive. But somehow, you did. The result: you now have three separate Stands - one for attack, one for defense, and one for healing.

The catch? If you use all three at once, you're unconscious for three whole days. You typically use just one or two at a time to avoid the cost.

DIO

“Three Stands... Three Arrows... and you survived.”

Completely obsessed. You're a miracle, a perfect example of divine power.

Wants you on his side immediately. May even offer you a place at his side as some twisted recognition of your power.

“You were born to be above others. Don’t squander it being a hero.”

If you reject him and collapse after using all three? He watches your sleeping body, murmuring to Enya about your potential.

Jotaro Kujo

“Tch. Of course you’d pull something insane like that.”

He’s lowkey impressed. He doesn’t show it much, but he watches your fights closely, analyzing how you shift between the Stands.

If he sees you trying to overexert yourself in battle: “Don’t. We’ve got this. Don’t pass out on us now.”

He takes it personally if you use all three to protect the group and then collapse. Will sit by your bed for three days and scowl at anyone who tries to make noise.

Joseph Joestar

“THREE Stands!? GOOD LORD, that’s... that’s amazing! Also absolutely bonkers, but amazing!”

He nerds out. Tries to research you like some kind of walking Stand anomaly.

Says you were blessed by the goddess of luck to even survive three arrow hits. He’s a mix of fascinated and slightly worried.

“You’re like a Swiss army knife! Wait- don’t pass out! Damn it!”

Polnareff

“Mon dieu... you’re like three warriors in one body!”

Thinks your ability is absolutely cool. Trains with you constantly.

Gets reckless during team battles thinking you can “cover everything” and then feels guilty when you collapse.

Will 100% volunteer to carry you bridal style while dramatically sobbing over your noble sacrifice.

Avdol

“That kind of power comes with a heavy cost. You’re incredibly strong, but promise me- don’t treat yourself like a weapon.”

Very calm and wise about it. Helps you develop strategies to only use what’s necessary.

Works with you to develop signals during fights so the team knows which Stand you’re using and what to expect.

He’s the one who makes sure you’re cared for when you’re unconscious- fresh water, cooled forehead, incense burning nearby.

Kakyoin

“Fascinating... It’s like your soul split itself three ways to survive.”

He’s the strategist. Will absolutely build battle plans around your abilities.

Gets super anxious when he sees you use all three. “No- don’t- she’s going to- !” and then you’re out cold.

Waits beside your bed reading or doodling until you wake up, then casually says, “You scared us again. Don’t do that.”

#jojo's bizarre adventure #dio #dio brando #dio x reader #jotaro kujo x reader #jotaro x reader #jotaro kujo #joseph joestar x reader #joseph joestar #kakyoin x reader #noriaki kakyoin #polnareff x reader #jean pierre polnareff #avdol x reader #mohammed avdol

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newttxt · 4 months ago

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hi quip! i really like your one piece comics and i am curious how you do them! i'm not good at comics and want to be better at drawing them! how do you learn how to make comics?

thank you!

uh oh... im afraid u have caught me at the perfect crossroad of "bored at work" and "unrelated task ive been meaning to do but keep putting off."

this is long. i hope you like reading (and grayscale progress pics). and of course!!! disclaimer before we begin that this is just how I, personally draw comics. there is no "right way."

quip's comic-making process!

Switching my typing to make this more legible...

My process can kinda be broken down into 6 steps:

Brainstorming

Thumbnailing

Sketching

Panels & Text

Lines

Tones/Colors

1. Brainstorming

My brain is a leaky sieve on a good day, so I sloppily jot down ideas in my phone notes the moment I have them. This helps me when it's time to draw too, because if I feel art blocked, I can look through old concepts and see what catches my interest.

Otherwise, I love drawing for other people's writing. :) And if worst comes to worst, doing manga/comic page redraws in my style teaches me new things every time.

Once I have my idea, I'll usually make a bulletpoint list of "plot points" or "story beats" I want. Then I plan the comic with this format that I've adapted from a tutorial I read once. I'm going to use my most recent comic (original comic post) as an example.

I start in the third column, writing notes of what I'd want to see in each panel. I also include the dialogue (in this case, I didn't have to write the dialogue! it's from the fanfic linked in the original comic post!). I usually write the whole name like [Luffy:], but at this point I've drawn so much of these guys, just the first letter works.

I like to handwrite these notes to get an idea for how much text I'm putting in a single panel.

After I describe all the panels, I go back and separate them into pages. I can't tell you how to know how many panels to a page. It's whatever works for you. I just kinda know about how big each panel will be, and so I can feel when I'm probably running out of space. (Also. You can change things later. I don't in this example, but I add/drop pages/panels all the time.)

2. Thumbnailing

Thumbnailing—as the name suggests—should be done tiny. Too tiny to accidentally get sucked into details.

This is about marking down blobs where items/characters go, and figuring out the paneling. I'll draw and redraw these a bunch of times too.

This is also the most time-consuming/brain-working part for me. If I were in a zine that did progress percentage, I'd try to finish thumbnailing around the 50% mark (but I'm also a moderately fast artist, so your mileage may vary).

I think the terrible quality makes them charming, actually. I really like how silly they look. :')))

I will add, when you draw your "page" rectangle, make sure it's the same proportions as your actual canvas for the final image. You want an accurate idea of how much space each panel will take up, especially if you have a lot of text.

3. Sketching

This is my most recent change to my usual workflow, and it's saving me a lot of time. I make my thumbnails a bit bigger (each one about half the size of the final canvas), and I sketch these basic body forms right over them.

It just helps give me placement for my actual lines!

I usually draw these in a paleish color so I can lower the opacity and not get distracted by them while lining. The random darker parts are to either help keep two forms separate (like when two characters have their limbs all over) or to better define sections that were too sloppy/poorly proportioned.

I also think this helps my poses stay looser, because I have more dramatic/wriggly shapes that aren't too bogged down by proportions yet.

Sidenote: I CANNOT show this here, but sometimes this is when I take videos. Of myself. I prop my phone camera up and shoot a video of me acting each panel. :/// It looks really dumb, but it also shows me fun body language ideas like hand gestures, expressions, weight distribution, etc. Just pretend you're an overdramatic cartoon character, and try not to worry about your roommates or mother walking in on you doing odd things. (You can also use the video for anatomy reference later, but I usually just capture the vibe and don't try to copy the actual video frame.)

4. Panels & Text

Oh, boy. So, the panels are usually just straight lines (though it's fun to make creative exceptions, like a round panel to mimic looking through a spyglass), but there are some fancy rules that I don't strictly adhere to.

I believe (I have no technical training in this. Take everything I say with a grain of salt) the vertical gaps (between two side-by-side panels) should all be a consistent width and the horizontal gaps (between two panels on top of each other) should be another. The vertical ones? Should be thinner? Because you want the eye to easily glide between them, whereas the horizontal gaps should be a visual barrier to keep you from jumping ahead. Just something I've vaguely noticed.

There are lots of fun "default layouts" you can look up. Or keep it a consistent grid. I think it's fun to sometimes have characters/objects sticking out of panels and overlapping others. This is just a matter of taste, creativity, and inspiration. (Read Witch Hat Atelier... It has some of my favorite paneling...)

You may also notice I have already done the speech bubbles. This is, to me, a crucial step. This helps me catch early if I don't have enough room for all the words. It also lets me plan the art in each panel with the speech bubbles in mind. There's nothing worse than working really hard on a panel, and then you realize there's no room for the bubbles.

I also try to lay them out in a way that guides the eye! Even without art, can people tell where to go next? Better yet, if I want people to look at panels out of order (aka not left to right, in my case), can I use the speech bubble path to make them? Here's just a vague example of what I mean.

As an added bonus, doing speech bubbles early also allows me to be lazy! :) Ignore the comic; I'm not supposed to post it yet oops,, There's a whole lot of drawing to do on each comic page, and I am not wasting my time on stuff that will be covered up. So yes, if I hide my bubbles, there are a lot of unfinished lines trailing off into nothing. (As a bonus, if there's a part of a character you're struggling with—and it won't look weird to do so—you can move speech bubbles to just hide the problem area yayyy)

Making the actual bubbles could be their own whole tutorial, tbh, but there are some general guidelines I use.

Zoom out when you choose your font size. You want to know how it will look to the average reader, so it isn't super teeny tiny or way too big. You generally want to keep the same text size for all your pages/bubbles.

When I draw bubbles, I try to size them about one vertical letter height (and some change) around the words [left side]. This isn't always the case though, because humorously large or funny shaped text bubbles can convey different feelings [right side].

On Procreate, I set my bubble lines to Reference and just drag-and-drop the white fill on a separate layer below the lines. (Remember to turn Reference back off again when you're done, or your fill bucket won't work right when you're drawing.)

To get the white outlines I use to keep the bubbles from cluttering up the art, I literally just Gaussian blur an all-white copy of the lines + fills... and then I copy and merge it 5 times until it's opaque enough. This is a terrible way to do it, but it works for me. :')

5. Lines

This is the part that I can't tell you how to do. I literally just. Draw right over my wacky sketched body forms. Boom. Comic drawn.

I'll make three suggestions:

Don't focus on making every panel perfect. Give a little extra love to big ones or ones you want people to linger on. Otherwise, know that people are typically speeding through the art. It's way more important to focus on storytelling than art technique. In my opinion, a good story that's told well will always be better than a beautiful one told poorly. (Some comics are beautiful AND well-written... Alas, I am just a hobbyist who needs to get the ideas out of my head at top speed.)

Put your background lines on a different layer. Put your foreground lines on a different layer too, if you have those. Basically, I try to keep the main part of each panel (usually a character or object) on my lines layer so I can erase background/foreground/etc lines to ensure clarity/focus.

You can make background lines lighter colors too. I have too many numbers sorry. (1) Background. The stuff that's farthest away. Lightest lines. Few details; more focused on shapes and the suggestion of a background (I'm not good at backgrounds). (2) Midground. Same distance away as the characters are. Lines can be black. (3) Also midground, and also the same distance away. But they're very detailed, so I lighten them so they aren't so distracting. (4) The characters. Black lines for focus. For people who haven't seen the comic, I swear they are just hugging. This is SFW. D:

6. Tones/Colors

Do not. Do NOT ask me. I don't understand colors. I hate working with them, but I try because I want to improve. I hate doing anything beyond the simplest grayscale shading. Please go elsewhere for your coloring/tone advice. This is how my color picker looks 95% of the time. I have pre-set "percentages" of black that I got by lowering the opacity of a black layer and just color picking it. I don't even know the exact percentages I used. Good luck out there. Be better than me.

7. Sharing

This is a bonus step that I didn't mention earlier, but it's actually the most important of all of them.

You need a friend. Or maybe a groupchat or discord. A family member or coworker if you're really close like that. I don't know.

Find SOMEWHERE you can spam wips and be cheered on. Drawing comics takes a while, especially if you're trying to tell longer stories than I'd dare to attempt. If I don't force someone to praise me for every line I draw, I shrivel up and die.

Also if and when you post online, add alt text. I'll admit I'm the first person to complain and drag my feet on this, and I literally use a screenreader myself when my eyes hurt (strong prescription glasses wearer). Comics should be accessible, because stories are fun and everyone should be able to enjoy them.

***

Learning???

And I guess lastly, how do you learn to make comics? Two steps: 1) read them and 2) make them. This is the tragedy of creating things.

1) Reading them: I grew up reading comic strips, western serialized comics, and webcomics. I've always loved graphic novels too. Then in late middle school, I started reading manga (Death Note and Haikyuu were my first two), and now I'm trying to read more webtoons (sorry im so slow bree)!

I also... mass-consume doujinshi, thanks to proxy mailing services and bilingual friends/Google Translate/knowing some Korean. (I have an entire bookshelf of doujin, actually,,)

The thing is, it's not usually enough to just read comics. You also need to be thinking. :/ I notice paneling, comic devices, clever comedic timing, etc. as I go. It's just a lot of studying/learning while also enjoying the story.

2) Making them: You just have to start. :( Even if you think they're "bad." My first comics were actually just drawings placed randomly all over the page, connected by speech bubbles (yay... I was already practicing how to place bubbles to lead the eye around the page...). I was going to post a pic here, but I'm a coward. Backscroll my account and you can find some older ones though.

I also know my art in general improved dramatically when I did ten comics in ten weeks for my friend's fic. Don't do this. It hurt my hands/wrists. But do practice in moderation.

***

If you actually read all that... I hope it made even a modicum of sense. And maybe it was even helpful? Just know at the end of the day, there is literally no right way to draw a comic.

And if you aren't ready to go for it yet, you can start by just adding a couple speech bubbles to your illustrations or doodles! It's a way to add storytelling and dialogue writing to things you may already be making.

Yay. I love comics. :))))

#art tips #ask #THANK YOU FOR ASKING THIS #PLEASE TALK TO ME ABOUT STORYTELLING AND ART AND COMICS #i have so much more i can say but i will not because this post is already way too dense #ive been meaning to finish/post this for so long im sorry #making comics is this fun blend of THINKING REALLY HARD AND WITH PURPOSE and doing things innately and you rly dont know why #reference #art reference #i dont remember my tutorial tag #oh. was it #tutorial #I DONT REMEMBER

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buckets-and-trees · 2 months ago

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I’m still basking in the afterglow of RW&T ☺️ But a hoe can’t help but wonder…what would spicy alone time be like once election night and surprise night!! are over and Mr. and Mrs. Rogers are finally alone? 😏😘

This ask got my mind working, and then my muse sat me down and got me writing, and what I ended up with answering for this ask turned out to be better than the other idea I had originally intended to shuffle out as the epilogue, so...

Red, White & True: Election Day, Pt. 4 EPILOGUE

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers x curvy Millennial Female!Reader Word Count: 2.9k Summary: The hours after the election results are made official are full of public and press and speeches and congratulations and celebrations, but, at the end of the night, it's just you and Steve. Together.

Content/Warnings: political/campaign discussions, marriage of political convenience, slow burn, really the slowest burn, strangers to friends to true love, SMUT (unprotected vaginal intercourse), feels, so many feels

Notes: This takes place in a post-Endgame scenario where Steve stays and generally most of TFATWS happened.

Previous Chapter | Series

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

It is after 2am when you take a very full elevator ride up to the fifteenth floor with Steve and your friends, all squished together.

The Secret Service detail bid you good night as you and Steve reach the door to your suite, separating from your friends who continue down the hall to their own rooms. The giddy energy that's carried you through this whirlwind evening still buzzes between you, though exhaustion is beginning to creep in around the edges.

As the door closes behind you with a soft click, you get to shut out the rest world for the night. The suite is exactly as you left it—your stained blouse still draped over a chair, the garment bag from your wedding dress now empty on the bed, and Steve’s hastily discarded tux hung over another chair—but everything else has changed.

"Mr. President-Elect," you murmur, the title still feeling foreign on your tongue as you slip off your heels.

Steve's eyes find yours in the dim light of the suite, his expression softening. "I still can't believe it," he admits, loosening his tie with one hand, shrugging out of his suit jacket with the other. "I keep waiting to wake up."

"Which part?" you ask, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you move toward him. "Winning the presidency or marrying me twice?"

Steve laughs, the sound soft and intimate in the quiet of the room. He reaches for you, hands settling on your waist to draw you against him. "Both feel equally improbable," he admits. "But I know which one matters more."

His eyes hold yours with such intensity that your breath catches. After everything—the speeches, the crowds in Central Park chanting his name, the congratulatory calls from world leaders already flooding in—he's looking at you like you're the only thing that matters.

"I love you," you whisper, sliding your hands up his chest to rest at the nape of his neck, fingers threading through his hair.

"I love you too," Steve murmurs against your lips, pulling you closer. "More than I ever thought possible."

His kiss is tender yet passionate, carrying all the emotion of this extraordinary day. You melt against him, your bodies fitting together perfectly as his hands trace the curve of your spine.

Steve's phone rings, the sound harsh and intrusive in the quiet intimacy of the room. He groans against your mouth, hesitating for a beat before reluctantly pulling away to check the caller ID.

"It's Jake," he says, his brow furrowing. "At this hour?"

You glance at the bedside clock—2:17 AM. "You should take it. He wouldn't call unless it was important."

Steve sighs, looking torn between duty and desire. You place a gentle hand on his chest. "I'll get ready for bed," you whisper, gesturing toward the bathroom.

Steve nods and answers, "Jake, what's up?" His expression shifts as he listens, brow furrowing with concentration. "I see... Yes... Hold on." He covers the mouthpiece and mouths "sorry" to you.

"It's fine," you whisper. "Come join me when you're done."

Steve gives you a grateful smile before returning to his call, his voice dropping to that serious presidential tone you're still getting used to. You slip away into the bedroom, leaving him to handle whatever new development has arisen in the hours since you became the First Lady-elect.

In the bathroom you brush your teeth and wash your face, removing the makeup that somehow survived tears, kisses, and the chaos of a historic night. In the mirror, you catch sight of your wedding dress - the only thing you took time to carefully hang I the closet before rushing to change into something more appropriate for Steve's victory speech and rushing back into campaign mode.

The delicate fabric gleams softly in the dim light, and I find myself drawn toward it. My fingers trace the intricate lace at the neckline, remembering how it felt to wear it tonight—not as a political prop but as a woman in love. The dress had now witnessed both the beginning of your arrangement and the true beginning of your marriage. And yet both times, you’d missed out on one final element.

But it was something you could still experience.

A smile curves your lips as the idea forms. With a decisive motion, you reach for the wedding dress, slipping it off the hanger. The silk whispers against your skin as you pull it over your head, the familiar weight settling around you. It feels different now—charged with meaning and memory.

When you step back into the bedroom, Steve has just ended his call, placing his phone onto the dresser with a sigh that transforms into stunned silence when he sees you.

You move toward him slowly, the dress rustling around your ankles. "I realized there's one wedding tradition we missed. Twice now."

“I would hate to shirk on such an important responsibility,” Steve responds, understanding what you mean. His eyes darken as they travel the length of your body, taking in the elegant silhouette of the dress that now represents not duty, but choice. His choice. Your choice.

"You are..." he begins, words failing him as you reach him. His hands hover at your waist,

reverent in their restraint. "You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he finally manages, voice rough with emotion.

You reach up to cup his face, thumb brushing against his beard. The word hangs in the air between you as you and Steve look at each other, alone and with nowhere else to be.

Slowly, softly, Steve raises his hand to trace his fingers over the neckline of your dress, touching it with the same reverence one might touch a priceless artifact.

This.

This was why you wanted to put the dress on for him one more time.

Steve leans in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that steals your breath away. It's tender at first, almost worshipful, but deepens as his hands finally settle on your waist, drawing you against him. You feel the solid warmth of his chest through the delicate fabric of your dress, anchoring you in this moment that feels suspended between dream and reality.

His hands slide to the back of your dress, fingers finding the delicate row of buttons that run down your spine. He breaks the kiss only to turn you gently, and you can feel his warm breath against your neck as he begins to undo each button with deliberate care.

"I've wanted to do this since the first time I saw you in this dress," he confesses, his voice low and intimate in the quiet room. His fingers brush against your skin as each button comes undone, sending shivers down your spine. "Even then, when I barely knew you."

You close your eyes, savoring the feeling of his touch. "I wasn't the only one thinking about it that night?"

"Not even close," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as he reaches the last button at the small of your back. The dress loosens, silk sliding against your skin as he slowly pushes it off your shoulders. You turn to face him as it pools at your feet, leaving you in nothing but the delicate lingerie you'd worn beneath.

Steve's breath catches, his eyes darkening as they take in the sight of you. The reverence in his gaze makes you feel powerful, cherished, desired. You reach for him, fingers working at his belt with urgency.

"Mr. President-Elect," you whisper against his lips, a teasing smile playing at the corners of your mouth. "I believe you're overdressed for the occasion."

His laugh rumbles through his chest, vibrating against yours. "Can't have that, Mrs. Rogers."

You reach for his tie, already loosened earlier, and pull it completely free. As the silk slips through your fingers, his hands come up to cup your face, the kiss deeper now, filled with a hunger that's been building all evening. Between the historic victory and your surprise wedding, you've both been surrounded by people, forced to maintain the public faces expected of you. But now, alone in this suite, you can finally be just Steve and his wife—no titles, no expectations, just the two of you and the love that grew against all odds.

Your hands make quick work of his shirt buttons, desperate to feel his skin against yours. He shrugs out of it, letting it fall to join your dress on the floor. The sculpted planes of his chest never fail to take your breath away, and you trace your fingers over the warm skin and chest hair, feeling his heart pounding beneath your palm.

"I still can't believe this is real," you whisper, pressing your lips to his jaw.

When your hands move to his belt again, Steve catches your wrists, bringing them to his lips. "Slow down," he murmurs against your skin. "We have all night. We have forever."

The word 'forever' sends a thrill through you.

Steve's hands slide up your arms, across your shoulders, and cup your face with infinite tenderness. His thumbs trace your cheekbones as he looks at you with such intensity it makes your heart race.

"I want to remember every moment of this night," he says.

“Me, too,” you agree.

Steve lifts you with effortless strength, cradling you against his chest as he carries you to the bed. He lays you down with such tenderness it makes your heart ache, following you down until his body hovers over yours, his weight supported on his forearms.

"I never thought I'd have this," he confesses, voice rough with emotion as he looks down at you. The vulnerability in his eyes makes your breath catch. "Any of it. A second chance at life. Someone to share it with. The opportunity to serve my country again."

You reach up to trace the furrow between his brows, smoothing it away with gentle fingers. "You deserve it all, Steve. Everything."

He captures your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm before guiding it above your head. His lips find yours again in a kiss that steals your breath—passionate yet unhurried, as if memorizing the taste and feel of you. His other hand slides down your side, tracing the fullness of your waist, the flare of your hip, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

"I love you," he murmurs against your skin as his lips trace a path down your neck. "I love you," he repeats, the words a promise pressed into the hollow of your throat, the curve of your shoulder, the swell of your breast.

Your fingers thread through his hair, holding him to you as sensation spirals through your body. Every touch, every kiss feels heightened. His beard creates a delicious friction against your sensitive skin, making you arch beneath him.

Your fingers tangle in his hair as his mouth continues its journey downward, pausing to lavish attention on your breasts through the delicate fabric of your bra. His hand ghosts over the edge of the lace, and he glances up, seeking permission in your eyes before deftly unhooking the clasp.

The cool air of the room raises goosebumps on your newly exposed skin, quickly chased away by the heat of Steve's mouth. His tongue traces patterns that make you gasp, your body responding to his touch with an urgency that has you feeling heady. His fingers dip beneath the edge of your panties, finding you already slick with want for him. The sound he makes—half groan, half reverent sigh—sends a fresh wave of desire coursing through you.

"Steve," you breathe, his name a plea on your lips as he works you with precision, knowing already how to touch you to bring you to the edge.

Your hands fumble with his belt again, and this time he doesn't stop you. Together you rid him of his remaining clothes until there's nothing between you but skin and heat and the promise of what's to come. He settles between your thighs, the hard length of him pressing against you in a way that makes you both gasp.

For a heartbeat, he pauses, hovering above you with those earnest blue eyes trained on yours. "My wife," he whispers, the words filled with wonder.

"My husband," you answer, reaching up to trace his jaw with reverent fingers.

When he finally slides into you, it's with a slow deliberation that makes you both sigh with pleasure. Your bodies find a rhythm as ancient as time itself, yet wholly new in the depths of emotion behind each movement. His forehead presses against yours, his breath mingling with your own as you move together, building toward something transcendent.

Your legs wrap around his waist, drawing him deeper, and he groans your name against your neck. The sound of it—raw, unfiltered desire—pushes you closer to the edge. His hand slides between your bodies, his thumb finding the spot that makes you arch beneath him.

"Look at me," he whispers, and your eyes flutter open to meet his. The connection between you in that moment goes beyond physical—it's your souls recognizing each other, finding each other when neither of you thought you’d get to experience love like this.

The intensity of his gaze is your undoing. Pleasure crashes over you in waves, and you cry out his name as your body tightens around him. Steve follows you moments later, his rhythm faltering as he buries his face in your neck, a strangled groan escaping him as he finds his release.

For several heartbeats, you remain tangled together, breathing heavily, skin damp with exertion. The weight of him anchors you to the moment, to this reality that still feels dreamlike in its perfection. Eventually, he shifts to lie beside you, drawing you against his chest where you can hear the steady thump of his heart gradually slowing.

His fingers trace lazy patterns on your bare shoulder as you both bask in the afterglow. The city outside continues its restless pulse, but in here, time seems suspended. Tomorrow will bring responsibilities and challenges unlike any you've faced before, but tonight belongs to just the two of you.

Steve presses a kiss to your forehead, his beard tickling your skin. "I can't believe we have to be up in four hours," he murmurs, though there's no real complaint in his voice.

"Worth it," you reply, snuggling closer to his warmth. "Though I suspect this is good practice for presidential sleep schedules."

He chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest beneath your ear. "True. Jake was calling about the transition team meetings tomorrow. They've moved everything back an hour, thank god."

"Thoughtful of them," you say, tracing idle patterns through the hair on his chest. "Good thing you took the call then.”

"Mmm." Steve hums in agreement, his fingers still tracing lazy patterns along your spine. "But I'm thinking we might need to establish some boundaries. No more 2 AM calls unless the country is actively under attack."

You laugh softly against his chest. "I'm not sure the leader of the free world gets that luxury."

"Maybe not," he concedes, shifting to look down at you, his expression suddenly more serious. "But I want to make sure we don't lose this—us—in everything that's coming."

The weight of what lies ahead settles over you both. In just a few hours, your lives will accelerate into a whirlwind of transition meetings, security briefings, and the thousand details involved in preparing to move into the White House. The thought makes your stomach flutter with a mix of excitement and anxiety.

"We won't," you promise, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw with gentle fingers. "We'll make time for us, even with everything else. I've seen how seriously you take your commitments, Steve Rogers. And I happen to know I'm one of them."

He catches your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. "The most important one," he corrects you, blue eyes intense in the dim light.

You smile, feeling a wave of tenderness wash over you. "Then we'll figure it out together. Day by day."

Steve nods, pulling you closer against him. "Together," he echoes. The word holds new meaning now—not just the two of you navigating a fake relationship or even a real one, but partners facing the scrutiny and demands of leading a nation.

You settle against him, your body molding perfectly to his as exhaustion finally begins to claim you both. His breathing gradually deepens, the steady rise and fall of his chest lulling you toward sleep. But before you surrender completely, you take a moment to commit this to memory—the warmth of his skin against yours, the steady rhythm of his heart, the faint city lights filtering through the curtains casting a soft glow over the sanctuary of this room.

Just before you drift off completely, you feel his lips press against your hair.

"Good night, Mrs. Rogers," he whispers. "Thank you for saying yes. To all of it."

You smile drowsily, nestling closer. "Best decision I ever made," you mumble against his skin, finally drifting into sleep.

This night marks the end of one chapter and the beginning of another—for you, for Steve, for the country. Whatever challenges await in the morning, right now, wrapped in each other's arms, you are exactly where you're meant to be.

↠ Main Masterlist | Ask Me Anything | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

#steve rogers smut #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x yn #slow burn #political au #steve rogers x y/n #red white & true #aspen wrote something #female reader

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