#I can’t figure out how I want to draw it yet-

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

Kingsguard part 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

M!troll x f!reader

2.3k words

You knew Ba’tual rarely slept with someone more than once, you weren’t quite sure exactly what to make of him letting you know he was expecting more.

(Oral: male receiving, size difference)

————

The sounds of movement woke you and you opened your eyes to see sunlight streaming through the windows and Ba’tual getting dressed.

“Good, you’re up. I though I was going to have to wake you” he commented, only barely looking over.

You sat up, your head spinning a little. Not the worse hangover you had ever had, but you certainly were not feeling so great.

Looking around you saw your clothes folded and sitting on the table along with the borrowed jewelry neatly placed beside them, so at least getting dressed and leaving would be easy.

Well, mostly easy. You struggled to figure out how exactly Bira had tied the shirt around you yesterday and you resigned to wrapping it any way you could just to keep it up. Hopefully you would not see anyone on your way back to the inn where you were staying.

As you went to leave Ba’tual stopped you for a moment and placed his hand under your chin to tilt your head up and make you look at him. He glided his thumb along your bottom lip before pressing the tip of it into your mouth, “I have things to do today, but I’m not done with you yet.”

He pressed his finger in a little farther and forced you to swirl your tongue around it “But you know where to find me.”

As you went to leave he gave you such a saccharine smile. He was still insufferable, but you supposed you did not have to like him to be able to have a little fun.

Tracing the roads back to the hold as a best you could, you kept an eye out for anyone who might recognize you, disheveled hair and last night’s clothes on incorrectly was not a good look on anyone.They were not many humans in the city so you drew at least some attention anywhere you went, but at least so far you did not know anyone you walked past.

You wanted to take a wide berth around the hold, figuring that was where you were most likely to bump into familiar faces. Besides the road you usually took to get back to the inn, you realized you actually did not know any other way back. Going through the main square was your only option for now.

Cautiously you looked out from the side street you were on to check who was there. It was still fairly early in the morning and almost no one was out yet, which was quite a relief. You moved quickly across, hoping your little hustle was not drawing too much attention and you made it just over half way across before you heard a familiar voice.

“Looks like someone had a good night” Bira teased.

You could have died of embarrassment right there.

“I’m just glad to see you didn’t spend all night writing notes” she laughed.

“Yeah” you laughed back awkwardly.

“So, anyone I would know?”

“I don’t think so” you lied.

She gave you a little shrug and a smile, “Well, hope you had some fun.”

As you turned you saw something that made your heart sink: Ba’tual walking towards the two of you. Quickly you started to walk off, hoping to not be too suspicious but you heard him call out to you.

“Hey, you left this at my place” he called out much too loudly for your liking and holding up a bracelet.

You looked back and forth between him and Bira and tried to brace for impact. You were one hundred percent certain that you had put on everything that was laid out by your clothes, you had no idea how you missed something.

“Him?” Bira practically spat at you, “You have a whole city to pick from and you picked him? That’s who you went home with?”

“Good morning to you too, Bira” he smiled, clearly enjoying the scene he was currently causing while he went to hand you the bracelet.

“I could have set you up with so many better choices!” Bira hissed at you as she snatched the bracelet from Ba’tual.

“She can’t help that she has good taste” he smirked.

“A whole city. A whole city! And you choose the guy who’s been pestering you nonstop?”

You did not know how to explain it, nor did you think Bira would actually care, but Ba’tual could actually be quite charming when he wanted to be. And besides, you had fun with him. It was not like you were looking for a relationship.

“Just because you don’t like me doesn’t mean that other people can’t like me” Ba’tual teased Bira.

“Fine, fine, make whatever poor decisions you want” she threw her hands up in defeat and sighed, “Just be careful, ok?”

“It’s fine, Bira. I’m an adult, I know what I’m doing” you assured her.

“And you” Bira snapped at Ba’tual, “don’t be such an asshole.”

“Oh but I think she likes it, she certainly seemed to like being pushed around last night” he smiled.

“Not another word” Bira warned him.

He smirked, “That’s fine, I have places to be anyways, but I’ll be seeing you later.”

“Really?” Bira asked you as Ba’tual walked off.

“I mean, it was really good” you shrugged.

Bira looked like she wanted to retch.

After getting back to the inn to wash up and change, the rest of the day went pretty smoothly at least. You headed back to the hold as you were supposed to meet with several of the huntsmasters from the minotaur clans that lived in the plains outside the city.

As you approached the hold you spotted Ba’tual in his typical spot outside, watching over two newer recruits as they sparred. He looked up as you passed and beckoned you over.

“Find me when you leave, I’ll be here all day” he told you.

You just nodded, fairly excited for whatever awaited later.

The day dragged on much longer than it should of. You found yourself struggling to write down everything the huntsmasters where telling you: important information about traveling routes for trading or following migrating animals, mostly just going in one ear and out the other. At the end of the day you smiled and nodded politely as you bid them farewell, kicking yourself for being distracted at such a vital time.

You quickly scanned the area outside the hold, the excitement building as you spotted Ba’tual sitting and leaning against one of the posts that lined the sparring area.

“Found you” you playfully called to get his attention.

“Great job” he snorted.

“Soooo” you began, “What’s the plan?”

“I’m starving, and could use a drink. Dealing with new recruits is draining.”

“Not a fan of being a teacher?”

“No. They all think they know better and then whine about unfair fights when sparring” he stood up and once more placed his hand under you chin to make you look up at him, “So I could could use a drink and some stress relief.”

You tailed behind him, somewhat struggling to keep up with his long strides as you made your way across town. The tavern he brought you to was one that you had never been to and you were the only human there. Ba’tual sat at the bar and and immediately started chatting in troll to the bartender. He smirked and nodded his head towards you and the bartender gave a laugh.

“What was that about?” you asked.

“Nothing, just ordering for us” he shrugged.

You were certain there was more to it, but it was not like you knew what he had said to prove anything so you dropped it.

The two of you made your way back to his place, a pleasant buzz in your head from the alcohol but less tipsy that then previous night at least. It was a short walk at least.

Ba’tual wasted no time once inside, immediately beginning to unlace his pants. “On your knees” he directed you, only barely glancing your way as he folded his pants and sat them aside.

You raised an eyebrow at him and remained standing.

“Please” he added with a clearly faked smile as he saw your facial expression, “And come over here.”

You knelt down between his legs next to where he sat on the bed and immediately he grabbed your hair and pulled your face right up against his cock. He was looking down at you expectantly, but did not say a word. You ran your tongue across his tip, lapping up the pre cum that had formed already. He groaned and tightened his grip on your hair, somewhat forcing his way into your mouth in his impatience.

Swirling your tongue around him got quite a response. He caught you off guard and bucked into your mouth, making you gag a bit and pull back. You looked up and shot him a dirty look, but he did not seem to care.

“Careful” you hissed at him.

“You can handle it” he shrugged.

“If you want me to blow you then don’t do that again.”

Cautiously you resumed, this time wrapping a hand around his base to hopefully keep him from shoving his cock down your throat. You started a steady rhythm of stroking him while you sucked on his tip and you felt his grip on your hair loosen as he relaxed.

Looking up at him, he really was quite a sight. When he was not being a pain the ass and kept his mouth shut he really was rather handsome.

You ran your free hand up his thigh and felt the taut muscle right under the skin, you had seen him sparring several times and knew he could absolutely manhandle you if he wanted. Slowly you moved your hand farther up his thigh until you were able to cup his balls, they hung heavy in your palm and you smile as you heard him moaning while you played with them.

He was leaning back on his elbow, eyes closed and taking deep breaths through parted lips.

“Fuck” he moaned, “That’s why he didn’t shut up about it.”

You snorted, you did not know what he was going on about, but it was almost charming in a way.

Slowly you took more of him into your mouth, enjoying how he tasted and smelled. He had been outside training recruits and sparring most of the day, giving him a strong, musky smell especially with your face between his legs and tasted of salt from the traces of sweat on his skin.

“Look at me” he directed you, though the commanding tone had all but dropped from his voice. Now it was almost a plea.

You looked up at him, though leaning back a bit he was watching you closely now, breathing heavily through parted lips.

“Spirits” he sighed, “You looked good with your lips around my cock.”

You held his eye contact and took more of him. At this point you were just at the edge of gagging if you went any farther and still it was only about half his length. You kept your tongue against the underside of his shaft, teasing him a bit as you slowly pulled back to see how he would react.

Quickly you felt his grip on your hair tighten again as he yanked you back towards him, though this time with your hand around him he did get deep enough to make you gag.

“Don’t” you warned him as you all but removed him from your mouth.

He gave you an almost pathetic whine, but released his grip on your hair entirely.

With your newfound freedom of movement you wrapped your other hand around him, working your mouth and hands in sync. He was nearly whimpering as you continued and you could hear soft words in troll falling from his lips.

As your pace increased so did his panting and ragged breathing to the point where he was nearly gasping as he finished. Spurts of thick, warm cum filled your mouth and quickly got to the point to overflowing and dribbling down your chin.

He reached down and wiped the cum off your chin with his finger before holding it to your lips.

You humored him, not only licking it off playfully sucking on his finger for a moment.

He let out a deep breath through his mouth before speaking, “Fuck” he sighed. “Really does live up to the hype.”

“Wait, have you never been blown before?” you asked in bewilderment.

“No? Have you seen troll tusks?”

“What about orcs or minotaur?”

“Look, we share a city and all get along, but not like that.”

“Then how’d you even know what it was?”

“My best friend is married to a human, you think he doesn’t tell me all about what he gets up to?”

“Fair” you conceded and you went stand up. You pressed yourself against him and began to kiss and nip along his neck.

“What are you doing?” he asked, almost sounding annoyed.

You did not know how to answer. It was obvious what you were doing: continuing.

“Aren’t we just getting started?” you asked, doing your best pouty, sultry voice.

“Wasn’t that enough?”

“No?” it was your turn to sound annoyed.

“Well, I’m tired. I’ve had a long day.”

“And I must be the only human you’ve had luck with, because while I’m not the only one in the city I must apparently be the only one willing to blow you” you fired back.

You saw his lip twitch as he scowled at you, clearly annoyed and doing his best to play nice. “Fine. If you’re going to be like that then give me a few minutes to catch my breath.”

[scribbly-artist]

Paint War

Summary: After talking Jinx down so they both didn’t get blown up, Ekko assists Jinx in getting everything ready to help in the big fight. They can’t crash the party looking all cool without some sick paint designs on their outfits though!

Author’s Notes: Thank you to this anon for the prompt requests for this fic! Despite not writing for Jinx or Ekko previously, I had a lot of fun trying to write them. :P Like everyone, I’m under the assumption they talked and maybe hung out between Ekko convincing Jinx to not hurt herself/blow them both up and the big fight. So here’s a little something I think could have happened!

Words: ~1,300 | AO3 Link

“You think this’ll work?” Ekko asked with doubt laced in his voice.

“Of course it will. You helped me build it, after all.” Jinx responded as she sat on a stool at what was originally her makeshift workbench.

The Boy Savior had managed to talk The Loose Cannon down from trying to hurt herself (both of them, really. If that explosive went off without Ekko using the Z-Drive, they’d both be dead) and convince her to fight as a major pawn in the clash between Piltover, Zaun and Noxus. With Ekko’s help, Jinx has converted her hideout into a secret weapon in the game of chess between the nations. They both needed to go and help so the whole world didn’t succumb to downfall. 

The big balloon was ready to go, just not launched yet. The weapons were attached, rebuilt to be more lethal and painted brightly. Just one final thing was missing in their plan…

“Now, we just have to look the part.” Jinx turned the stool so she could look at Ekko, who tilted his head in questioning. “We can’t go face first into a fight lookin’ like this. I need… something deadlier to wear. And we need paint!”

So they got to work. Ekko’s outfit didn’t need many changes, but Jinx wanted to rework her attire. She managed to make and attach a hood out of some extra cloth she had laying around to a big jacket, wrapped her chest with bandages and tape and tailored the rest of her outfit to her liking.

Jinx even dyed a few purple streaks in her hair.

“I haven’t gotten the chance to tell you that I dig the new hair,” Ekko commented, helping Jinx so she didn’t get hair dye everywhere. “I think it suits you better this way.”

“I don’t even know how long it’s been since I’ve had it this short. New trauma, new me, I guess.” She shrugged.

Ekko brought the paint cans up on the workbench, mixing a pot of it with a paintbrush so its colour would be consistent. “You really want paint all over you?” He asked as he took the brush out of the paint, holding a cupped hand under the brush so as to not make a mess if it dripped.

“Paint makes everything look cooler,” she replied. “Besides, you’re the pro at it. You painted more than me as a kid, and painted my cool hat I used to wear when we used to play…” her smile faltered to a frown as her eyes grew a little sad. “…back then…”

A sad sigh left Ekko as he pulled up his own stool, sitting down. “Once this is all over, we’ll figure this out. Okay?”

Jinx nodded and then shook off the sadness, spreading her arms out wide. “Let me be your canvas, Wonder Boy.”

He nodded as got to work. He started painting her clothes first, drawing different patterns and symbols on her outfit with a range of colours. This was very different to the murals he and his friends at the sanctuary were used to painting, but it was nice to try something different. And painting like this caused some more old memories to resurface into his mind.

“Heh, I remember when we did this as kids. You could never sit still,” he moved the paintbrush from the side of her jacket to her bare skin on her torso. Jinx shuttered at the sudden cold paint touching down on her skin with a shiver. “Whenever I painted on you before, you always squirmed because you were so ticklish.” He stated with a laugh, reminiscing.

“That w-was when I was just a kid, though. Not anymore.” Jinx replied. With Ekko’s comment, she was now hyper aware of the brush making contact with her skin.

But Ekko noticed that Jinx’s body went stiff. The exact same thing would happen when he painted her way back then.

“I dunno… Seems like that still rings true.”

“What? Me, ticklish? As if. That’s just a stupid kiddy feeling. I’m way past that now.”

Ekko swiped the brush, painting a long, colourful streak of bright green paint from her side all the way to her stomach. Jinx let out a strangled noise as her hand darted to her mouth to silence herself. Her eyes flew to look at Ekko’s face, a small smile across it.

“Ekko.” She tried to make her voice as stern as she could. Though, her vocal cords failed her in this moment. “Don’t even think about it.”

He didn’t even need to give a response as he started to drag the paintbrush around her skin with more tickly intent, from her stomach all the way to under her arm. Jinx let out a gasp as giggles started to slip through her defences, a hand swiftly latching onto Ekko’s wrist to stop him.

“Yohohou always did this when wehehe were kids, too.” She shook her head, giggling. This was so silly, but strangely she didn’t mind it. Thinking of her past self usually upset and hurt her, but with Ekko here… some parts didn’t seem as awful, at least.

“I just wanted to lighten the mood. You need all that spark and energy for the fight,” Jinx loosened her grip on Ekko’s wrist as he grabbed another paintbrush with some bright pink dyed bristles. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t tickle this time, I promise. Super serious now.”

“Pfft, fine.” Jinx gave in and leaned back in the stool, holding her arms back out with a bit of reluctance. Ekko got back to painting, the cold paint once again making Jinx’s skin crawl. She was focusing on trying to mentally block out the feeling of the paint sliding against her skin, until—

“Hahaha! Y-You’re totally doing it ohohohon purpose!!” She jumped off of her stool, surprising Ekko. His eyes grew wide as he stood up himself, waiting for a physical attack or something of the like from the other.

“No, I wasn’t! I swear!” He held his hands up in defence, the paintbrush that was in his hand clashing to the ground with a dull noise.

Jinx looked Ekko up and down in thought. And then a plan hit her. A somewhat menacing smile formed on her face, making Ekko shiver in place. She grabbed a loaded paintbrush of her own, a pretty bright blue.

“You’ve just started a tickle paint war. And I’m gonna win.”

Ekko had no time to react as Jinx launched herself in his direction, attacking him with whatever bare skin her own paintbrush could reach. He tried to run away with begs and pleads. He was ticklish himself after all, and Jinx knew that. But she didn’t relent.

Loud laughter bounced off the cave walls from both of them. Paint was flying in many directions as Ekko managed to grab another paintbrush to fight back during the brawl. They had a scuffle, seeing who could laugh the loudest. They were both entirely covered with bright, messy paint from head to toe once they called a truce.

Ekko looked at Jinx’s face, trying to catch his breath. “I think I missed a spot,” he moved back to the workbench, dipping his thumb in some purple paint. He made his way back to Jinx, holding her chin steady with one hand as he dragged his painted purple thumb across both of her cheeks, just below her eyes. “There. Think we’re ready now.”

Jinx laughed, eyeing Ekko’s body, colourful paint now all over him. “I think I did a good job, if I do say so myself.”

They shared another laugh together.

The calm before the storm.

[stayycalm]

i have a Request! could you write a little short about Hyunjin and Fem Reader? maybe something where Reader is in paris and taking picture of the beautiful scenery and ends up taking a picture of Hyunjin? but like they dont notice till they are back at their hotel? and then they are admiring the beautiful stranger and they cant sleep so they go out on their balcony to look at the beautiful lights but little do they know a wandering Hyunjin is outside looking for inspiration for drawing/paintng and when he sees a mysterious figure on a balcony hes enthralled by their silhouette? he hurries back to his room and begins to sketch right away and he wonders who the beauty was, and then they end up meeting? sorry this is long but i really want to know how you'd write this!!

ok, first of all, I want to deeply apologize, anon, because I'm just now finding this ask??? it's been in my inbox for a year?? so please accept my deepest apology and enjoy this! 😭

Drawn to You by stayycalm

The streets of Paris hum with life as I sling my trusty Canon Rebel T7 over my shoulder, ready to conquer my ambitious agenda. Two weeks here, and yet, the city’s allure hasn’t dulled a bit. Every street corner, every café, every wrought-iron balcony layered with Gothic spires or curving Art Nouveau façades feels like a treasure to an aspiring architect like me.

On this second-to-last day, I’m determined to make the most of it. The itinerary, planned by a finance teacher who wouldn’t know a flying buttress from a baguette, has been criminally devoid of exploration. I mutter under my breath, “How can anyone come here and not explore?”

I pause at Pont Alexandre III, lifting my camera to capture the graceful curve of a bridge flanked by its gilded statues, glowing in the soft morning light. Click. I take another, angling for the perfect shot of a bride crossing with her billowing white train, the Eiffel Tower rising in the distance.

As the day unfolds, I let my instincts guide me. From the serene paths of the Tuileries Gardens to ornate windows with their curved frames, I capture it all. Then, just as the sun begins to dip low, its golden light casting long shadows across the city, I find myself facing the Eiffel Tower. Its iron lattice glows with a warmth that takes my breath away. I can’t help but do a little happy dance as I check the shot in my viewfinder, triumphant.

A text buzzes from my phone, snapping me out of my euphoria. It’s my roommate, letting me know she’s heading back to the hotel. Sighing, I tuck my phone away and begin the trek back.

Later, I sit at the desk in our room, my hair wrapped in a towel from a much-needed shower. My laptop hums softly as I transfer the day’s photos. One by one, they fill the screen, and my excitement grows with every frame. I start editing, erasing stray tourists and clutter from the pristine geometry of my shots, until I reach the final picture.

My fingers hover over the trackpad as I zoom in on a figure in the background. He’s leaning casually against the bridge railing near the Eiffel Tower, his silhouette partially lit by the fading sunlight. His dark hair falls just past his shoulders, and his profile—what little I can see—is striking.

“Wow…” The word escapes me, barely a whisper.

“What are you oooh-ing over?” My roommate’s voice startles me. She emerges from the steamy bathroom, her towel-turbaned head tilting as she raises an eyebrow at me.

I jolt, fumbling to close the photo. “Oh, you know… buildings.”

She rolls her eyes dramatically. “Only you could get off to a building.”

I snort, but the heat rises to my cheeks. Turning back to the laptop, I save my edits and close it, needing an escape. “I’m stepping out for a sec,” I announce, grabbing a cardigan and slipping out to the balcony.

The air is cool, and the city stretches before me, a sea of glittering lights. With the sun gone, Paris seems transformed into a constellation fallen to earth, each light twinkling like a star. I lean against the stone railing, letting the sight fill me.

It’s moments like these that make Paris feel like a dream—a city so alive, yet timeless. A city of romance, indeed.

Hyunjin's POV

The sharp click of my shoes against the marble echoed through the Versace store as I stepped out, the heavy glass doors swinging open. A wave of flashing lights greeted me, relentless and blinding, a cacophony of voices calling out my name—professional photographers and STAY alike. It was always surreal, this paradoxical familiarity. I didn’t know a single face in that sea of people, yet they all knew me, or at least the version of me they thought they knew.

My lips curled into a smile, practiced but genuine in its intent. The sunglasses resting on the bridge of my nose shielded my eyes, but they couldn’t hide my gratitude. I raised a hand, waving to the crowd before blowing a kiss into the air. The gesture elicited a cheer, a ripple of excitement that followed me until I ducked into the sleek black car waiting at the curb.

Inside the car, the energy of the crowd faded, replaced by the hum of the engine and the muted bustle of Paris beyond the tinted windows. When we pulled up to the hotel, I took a moment to shed the Versace image. Gone were the statement pieces; in their place, a plain hoodie, jeans, and sneakers.

Tonight, I wasn’t Hyunjin, the idol, the "Versace prince." Tonight, I was just Hyunjin—an artist looking for inspiration in the heart of Paris.

The city’s streets welcomed me with their usual charm: cobblestone paths, golden streetlights, and the murmur of life flowing seamlessly between its residents and visitors. It should’ve been easy—a city as alive as Paris practically begged to be captured in art. Yet, as I wandered through alleyways, past street performers and cafés spilling over with laughter, nothing reached out to me. The fire I sought remained elusive, a spark I couldn’t ignite.

The Eiffel Tower loomed in the distance, its iron frame bathed in the amber glow of the setting sun. I found myself on a bridge, leaning against the railing as I stared out over the Seine. The water reflected the dying light in shimmering streaks, and the Tower cast a long shadow over the city.

“Where are you?” I muttered under my breath, the question aimed at no one in particular. A sigh escaped me as I pushed off the railing, shaking my head. Inspiration had never been this difficult to find before.

By the time the sun had dipped completely below the horizon, Paris transformed into a city of light. Neon signs buzzed, music drifted from open windows, and the streets teemed with energy. But even in the midst of all this vibrancy, I felt disconnected. My steps slowed as I glanced around one last time, taking in the tourist shops and the occasional artist sketching caricatures on the sidewalk. Still, nothing.

Frustration prickled at my skin. I tilted my head back, closed my eyes, and ran a hand through my hair, exhaling sharply. When I opened my eyes again, I froze mid-step.

She stood on a balcony a few stories above me, her silhouette framed by the soft glow of the room behind her. Her head was tilted upward, as if catching the glimmer of the city’s lights on her skin. Her hair moved with the breeze, framing a face so serene it made my chest tighten. The faint flush on her cheeks, the way her lips curved ever so slightly—it was as if she belonged to this moment, this city, more than anyone I’d ever seen.

For a moment, I couldn’t move. I drank in the sight of her, committing every detail to memory. Then, a voice called her from inside, and she turned, disappearing into the room. I waited, hoping she’d reappear, but the balcony remained empty.

Shaking my head, I forced myself to move. My steps were quicker now, my heart racing with something I couldn’t quite name. By the time I returned to my hotel room, the feeling had morphed into a need—a compulsion. I rolled up my sleeves, grabbed my charcoal pencils, and approached the easel I’d set up by the window.

The lines came easily, flowing from memory to paper as if she’d etched herself into my mind. The curve of her lips, the slope of her nose, the way her hair had danced in the wind—each stroke brought her closer to life. I worked with a fervor I hadn’t felt in weeks, adjusting, refining, until the figure on the page mirrored the one that had captivated me.

I stepped back, studying the sketch. She was there, but she wasn’t. I’d captured her image but not the essence—not yet. The fire was back, though, and I felt alive for the first time. In what felt like forever.

rubbed my eye, trying to wipe away the sleepiness threatening to overtake me as I leaned against the wall with the rest of my group. Whoever decided that 4 a.m. was a good time to fly needs to be smacked. Hard. My eyelids started to get heavy, and I began to nod off when a voice called over the loudspeaker announcing that first class for our flight could begin boarding.

I groaned and smacked my head against the wall, wincing at the dull throb that now pulsed in my temple.

"What's wrong with you?" my roommate asked, poking my side from the chair she sat in.

"I didn’t get much sleep last night," I grumbled, swatting her hand away and rubbing the sore spot on my forehead. In reality, I didn’t sleep at all. My mind kept thinking about the beautiful stranger in that photo. Was he a tourist? What was his name? Was he that beautiful up close? These were the questions that kept me awake until we had to head to the airport, where I now stood miserably as the wealthy boarded the plane first.

"Screw the rich..." I muttered under my breath, running both hands down my face. Once it was our turn to board, my group got in line. I handed the stewardess my boarding pass. She scanned it, frowned slightly, then scanned it again, her brows furrowing. A pit grew in my stomach.

"Oh no," I thought as her eyes darted over the words on her screen. She turned her gaze to me and spoke. "I’m sorry, miss, but it seems we double-booked your seat..."

I felt like I was going to throw up. My face must have turned even paler as she continued typing on her keyboard.

"But it looks like I can bump you up to business class, if that’s alright with you," she said.

My sleep-deprived brain barely processed her words. I just stared at her for a moment as she added, "Free of charge, of course, for the trouble."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded, unable to form words. She printed a new boarding pass, handed it to me, and waved me through. I found our professor and gave him the update. He gave me a thumbs-up before pulling on his headphones and lowering his eye mask.

I made my way to the business class section, searching for my seat. It was in the middle row, meaning I had another seat next to mine. But when I saw the amount of space I had, I didn’t care—as long as my neighbor didn’t mind if I snored a little. I plopped down into my seat after putting away my carry-on. Letting out a sigh, I pulled the provided blanket over myself, turned to one side, and drifted off to sleep before we even took off.

I woke up to the hostess asking if I needed anything to eat or drink. Blinking my eyes, I regained consciousness and asked for water and a snack. Once I had both, I sat up a little and took in the seat I was in. It was almost like a mini cubicle with a small folding table and a TV screen. To my left was the divider between me and my neighbor, who was busy drawing something on a sketchpad. I couldn’t see his face clearly because of the mask, hat, and headphones he wore.

My attention shifted back to my snacks as I pulled out my laptop to get started on more editing. At some point, I fell asleep again but woke up before they came around to deliver more food.

"Thank you," I whispered to the steward, who smiled and nodded before moving on.

"That’s a beautiful picture," an accented voice said behind me. I whipped around to see my neighbor looking at my laptop.

"Oh, thank you," I said shyly, setting my food down. I tried to ignore the flutter in my chest from his compliment as I continued to work. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed him shuffle and take off his headphones and hat, but I averted my eyes before he caught me peeking. To distract myself, I clicked on the picture of the stranger and zoomed in slightly.

My neighbor made a choked sound. When I looked back at him, his wide eyes were glued to my screen.

"Are you okay?" I asked. He looked at me, then back at the screen.

"That’s me," he said, pointing to the photo.

My gaze darted to the picture and then back to him, my eyes narrowing. "What are you—" But before I finished, he took off his mask, and the words died in my throat.

Here, next to me on this very plane, was the reason I couldn’t sleep last night. I sat there, mouth open in shock, as he looked at me with an odd expression.

"Are you serious?" I asked.

He nodded. "Why do you have my picture?"

"I wasn’t taking YOUR picture." I clicked to expand the photo. "I was taking a picture of the Eiffel Tower."

His eyes widened, and his cheeks flushed red. "Oh..." His voice was soft as he apologized.

I nodded, and we sat in awkward silence for a moment.

"What are you drawing?" I asked, trying to ease the tension, pointing at his sketchpad.

He blushed more, tilting the pad toward me. "It’s just a sketch of a woman I saw last night," he muttered, avoiding my gaze. The whole time we’d talked, he hadn’t fully looked at me. I wondered if there was something wrong with my face. But when my eyes roamed over the drawing, I tilted my head in confusion.

"She looks an awful lot like me," I chuckled, knowing that wasn’t possible. But his eyes snapped to me, then back to his drawing. His mouth opened in wonder.

"Were you staying at Hotel de la Tour Eiffel?" he asked.

My laughter died. "Yeah... How did you—" My eyes widened as we both looked at his drawing. It was me.

"Holy crap," I muttered as he shook his head in disbelief. We looked at each other again.

"I can’t believe I found you," we said in unison.

We spent the rest of the flight chatting quietly about everything and anything. Soon, we were landing, and a wave of sadness hit me. I’d never see him again. Once it was our row’s turn to exit, I grabbed my things and turned to him.

"It was nice to meet you, Hyunjin," I said with a soft smile before slowly making my way down the ramp and into the terminal. As I stood off to the side waiting for my group, I heard my name being called. I looked around to see Hyunjin waving at me.

When he reached me, he blushed, clearly embarrassed. "Sorry about that. I just..." He took a deep breath. "Can I have your number?"

I gave him a shy smile and nodded. The smile he gave me made butterflies flutter in my stomach, and I thought to myself, I might have brought home something better than pictures.

[neztune]

do you have any art of Heather in rtte? 😫🙏🏻 she’s my favourite!!!

Oh I absolutely do :3 Most of them are tiny doodles in my little on-the-go sketchbook… so I did try to make something digital real quick! Not the best… but she!

Heather is definitely one of my favorites in the series tbh…. If I had to choose a show-only favorite, it would definitely be her

And I have another Heather doodle for another ask coming soon too :D

[leapdayowo]

These two are the most fun to draw characters from the amazing digital circus :3 I really enjoyed the third and fourth episodes of the series, so I’m hoping to do more art of these two plus Zooble and Gangle (and gummigoo!)

[aspenaspenaspenaspenaspen]

“Pretty, just like your mother.”

[cuteniaarts]

Behold, my latest and most enamouring new obsession:

Malina, Lady of the Chief of the Northern Water Tribe. As if Red Lotus child OCs weren’t niche enough

[sexynetra]

I am on a mission to learn how to draw can you believe these are literally only 4 days apart I’m feeling so pussy pussy cunt cunt rn

[lyriumsings]

realizing why my art takes me so long sometimes but is so quick others and it’s bc ✨designing characters takes a long time ✨ lmao

[exopelagic]

sudden realisation that the thing holding my art back is that I never had an anime phase

[ectogeranium]

I might just be having an episode, but I’m currently figuring out the tattoos I want, and the placements >:3

[villainsidestep]

“think abt smth besides v3!au” no

[nariism]

neuvillette is aware that he shouldn’t have let you get so close. but he did, and now he’s lamenting the fact that your hands are grasping at his soft horns — his fucking horns, of all places — and he might like it.

uptight and strait-laced, you’ve never known the chief justice to be someone so easily flustered. yet here he is with heat crawling up his neck, so warm that you can feel it against your palms as they ghost over his skin.

you can’t help but laugh at his current situation.

he was vehemently against you coming anywhere near his hair at first, grumbling about how his horns were on the sensitive side and he would rather not have to go into work feeling uncomfortably aware of their presence on his head.

however, you were hard to deny with that little smile on your face and such soft hands grabbing at his arms, tugging him closer. a sweet voice chanting, "please, honey? pretty please?"

neuvillette has never been good at denying you what you want.

it’s how he ends up sitting at your shared vanity. you comb through his long hair, watching him with amusement in the mirror as he huffs and jolts with every brush of your fingers against his horns.

the fact that he was letting you get anywhere near them was surely a testament to his trust in you. he was completely vulnerable here, at your mercy.

“sorry,” you mumble disingenuously, clearly enjoying seeing your usually serious husband falling apart with a simple action. you quickly tie off the end of his hair with a bow and he sighs in relief, thinking that the torment is over.

it's far from over.

he draws a sharp breath when you lean forward and press two gentle kisses on him; one on either side of his head just beside his horns.

neuvillette glowers at you in the reflection, disapproval written all over his face. "stop that," he scolds.

you do, but only because you're worried he might melt into a puddle before your very eyes if you continue.

it becomes a daily routine after that, with him sitting patiently in front of the mirror while you brush and tie off his hair. and you always end it the same way: two kisses, a soft "have a good day at work," murmured against him, and a mischievous little smile that makes him sigh.

he responds everyday with the same two words. "stop that," with a narrow-eyed glare.

the day you do stop, he's confused and irritated.

not only because you have the audacity to throw a wrench into routine again, which you know he hates, but also because he can't figure out why he misses your lips so much.

"what are you doing? i am going to be late."

"hm?" you peer up lazily from your spot on the bed, still half asleep.

"you have to do my hair."

"i thought you didn't want me to, so i slept in today."

your husband is eerily silent for a moment as he mulls over your words. then, he carefully perches himself on the edge of the bed, back turned to you expectantly and still wordless.

no, he would never admit he likes it just a little bit — the vulnerability, the trust, the feeling of your hands threading through his hair, the intimacy of it. hell no.

but neuvillette doesn't have to say a lot of things for you to understand; not when the way his skin heats up says it all; not when you're the first person to touch his horns in centuries; not when he’s saying stop that with such an affectionate glimmer in his eyes.

you give him four kisses that morning, two on either side.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[azullumi]

"once more to see you" ; aventurine

summary — to him, love was like a religion waiting to be discovered and he’ll find god in the way the sun looks on your skin; alternatively, aventurine thinks he’s rotten work and tiring to take care of but not to you, not if it's him (please get the reference).

pairing — aventurine (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — established relationship (but aventurine wants to de-establish it), somewhat fluff, slight angst with comfort, never proofread never what?!!, 1.3k ; ficlet

note — 2.1 broke me (the whole quest knocked at the door of my house, shook my hands, congratulated me, and invited itself into my home before pouring water on my face, slapping me, throwing me around, and left with the door open, all the while, my family watched). this is day 1 of writing for aventurine until i have him.

“you have a lot of moles.” his voice, despite a gentle whisper, tears through the silence of the night like a drop of water that ruptured and disturbed the surface of the pond. “especially here.” he gently taps on your skin; they seem like stars, he swallows the words back down. 

you feel aventurine’s finger trace on the back of your neck and the curve of your shoulders, seemingly drawing—or connecting something. it was ticklish, the way he gently drags his hand and ghosts over your skin, a soft laugh slipping past your lips (you’ll capture his touch on your skin as if you were a sinner remembering how forgiveness tasted on your lips). there was something intimate that lingers in the air between you two as you lay in his bed with him, a fleeting moment that will be inked into your mind. 

(the both of you leave your titles behind, mixed together with the scattered objects on the floor, laid on the cold ground to be picked up and worn later like a shiny medal even if you weren’t proud to have them.)

“they say it’s where your lover kissed you the most in your past life.” you stir in your position as you speak, coming to face him and meet his pretty jewel-like eyes—how alluring it was, painted with vivid colors yet it never shines. the sound of mirth laughter bubbles from his throat, a pleasant melody to your ears.

he asks, curiosity tracing the tone of his voice, “and from where did you even hear that?” and you shrug, bringing your form closer to him as you seek for more warmth, “i can’t recall. perhaps i heard it from topaz or maybe from one of the members of the ipc? they’re the only ones i often see and talk to.”

“the doctor?” he wraps his arm around your figure, his hand settling on the small of your back.

“that man will only scorn at that idea and call it stupid. he’ll most likely say that ‘only fools would believe such concepts.’” you mimic the way the esteemed doctor spoke, from the serious expression that he always don on his face to the deepening of his voice. your seemingly successful imitation earned a chuckle from the blonde-haired man before you.

“i’m sure he will.”

silence falls between you two and you took this time to adore each and every line of his being. a few strands of hair fall over his eyes—beautiful, captivating, mesmerizing, you could list out every word to describe his eyes but it would never be enough. you had always wondered why he would hide it until you witnessed the reason why he does so. 

aventurine seems to study your expression at the same also, a soft look on his face as he did, and you can’t help but be curious. “what are you thinking about?” you ask him, breaking the silence that nurtured itself in the space between you and him.

you, he wishes to answer. how you look at this moment in his embrace: you were wearing one of his shirts, albeit, not exactly to your size but you insisted, saying that you liked it as it smelled like him. how gentle, loving, adoring, you were everything; he looks and thinks of you as if you were his everything (he doesn’t deserve you). but he doesn’t say it—the thought weighs too heavily on his mind, claws at his throat, and suffocates him—, instead he utters something entirely different that creates a shift in the air between you two. 

“i don’t think i can do this.” he turns his head to look away from you, staring at the ceiling instead. it seems to extend itself far and far away from him.

the horrible part of being human is the tendency for destruction that lies in your bones. stained palms, calloused pads, despite the gentleness of your touch and the comfort of your caress. the desire to devour flesh and bones, to understand the underlying thoughts and meanings behind words and unexpressed feelings by consuming them. to submerge and drown in the depths of one's despair and desire (too close that the line blurs into one). the horrible part of being him was his tendency to destroy—hesitation and doubt lies in his being and aches at his chest, tugging on his heart’s strings, and settles on his throat—, it’s not like he doesn’t want to hold you, it’s just that he can’t.

“do what?”

“this.” you know exactly what he was referring to, know what he’s afraid of. he has laid himself bare and vulnerable in front of you countless of times that you have memorized the constellations that adorns his skin. you know him, you have known him enough to recognize the fear that tugs on his voice and see the walls that he tries to build up in front of you. you know him enough to know what thoughts are plaguing his mind.

“why do you think so?”

“don’t you think i’m too much to take care of?” he tries not to choke on his words and bite his tongue, careful not to let his voice crack lest he crumbles underneath your caress. i am undeserving of it. worthless. failure. selfish. discarded. coward. loser. nothing. you are bound to leave. 

“not for me.” you caress his cheek and guide him to look at you—instead of the ceiling that seems to appear farther than it originally was in each passing second as the walls glean over him like a shadow—, to meet your gaze and see the sincerity that lurks deep within. “never will i get tired of you. so, let me carry your burden.”

he takes a few seconds to answer, uncertainty lingering in his tone: “it’s not yours to have.”

“it may not be.” you answer with no hesitation, “but it doesn’t mean that you must shoulder them alone.”

he opens his mouth to speak but unable to find the words to say, he closes them. there was a moment of stillness shared between you two. comfort, relief, assurance seeps into the ache of his bones and you say something too heavy even for this steady and silent night to hold, the words too much to be held—light spills in like a flood as if it was pouring out from the sun itself.

“i love you.”

“you utter such words as if it’s something easy for you.” as if loving him was just as simple as waking up in the morning and adoring the way the honey-light hugs your form as the dust settles in the corner of your room. when he’s stripped of everything and left with nothing, would you still love him the same? would you still kiss him as gently as you did? would you still hold the shards of his form even if it makes your hand bleed? 

you spoke in a gentle yet firm croon, gaze unwavering, “because it is.”

you see the falter in his expression: his face, that once was crumpled, relaxed and so did his gaze soften. and you smile at him with only adoration in your eyes—like a devout follower to a divine being. “are you still afraid?”

“i don’t know.” he whispers.

“it’s alright. you have all the time in the world.” your hand weaves itself into his own, fingers lacing with one another, and you gently squeeze. it was a form of reassurance, a way of telling him that you’re here with him through all of it.

the warmth has settled in your being and you spill yourself into the cracks of his vulnerability. “i love you.” you say once more and you kiss the mark on his neck—lingering and soft as if you wish that it would take all his hurt away. the way he shudders underneath your touch, the hitch of his breath soon followed by a gentle sigh as he cradles you closer to him tells you everything that you wish to hear.

for once, he sleeps as if he had nothing to carry, nothing that shackles him to the stars that forsakes him.

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[submattenthusiast]

caught

summary - catching matt humping his pillow

pairings; sub!matt x soft-dom! reader (no use of y/n)

contents; smut; male masturbation; mommy kink; etc.

notes- thank y'all for the love on my work, i heart each and every one of you so bad. enjoy!

you didn’t necessarily have a rule against matt touching when you’re not with him, no but he recently figured out he couldn’t cum without you.

he tried so hard to cum, he felt like his dick was going to fall off with how many times he’s jerked himself off, trying to reach that high point. he feels pathetic, absolutely fucking pathetic, he can’t cum without the soothing praises that you whisper, the soft pet names you call him, he needs it, he needs you. 

matt begged you not to leave the house this morning, claiming that the errands could wait and that spending time with him was more important. you reassured him that you would only be a few hours and that he could be the passenger princess if he wanted. 

upon his refusal you headed out, kissing his pouty lips goodbye. 

matt tried to keep himself busy, watching tiktok, youtube, eating, and playing video games– which satisfied him for a split second until he was bored again. he had never felt so clingy in his life, not clingy enough to call or text you though. he had stalked your location just about a thousand times after you left. you were still at the store, not on your way home, not in the driveway.

matt slid down in his gaming chair, you still weren’t home yet and it had been hours. he was pouting, he just wanted to be with you. his mind began to wander, thinking about you, how pretty you were, how much he loved you, how your hands felt wrapped around his cock.

sinful thoughts began to cloud his head, he was practically drooling at memories of your intimate moments. matt winced at the tent growing in his jeans, cock rubbing against his boxers, beginning to feel tight. he closed his eyes, a soft exhale coming from his mouth as he reached down to palm himself.

this was so wrong, is what he kept kelling himself but it felt too good, and you were still nowhere to be found so why not? 

his pleasure was short lasting as lust took over his body, he craved more. his hand was no longer enough for him. he opened his eyes with a groan, agitated that he still couldn’t satisfy himself.

his blue eyes roam around the room, looking for something to satisfy his hunger until they landed on the pillows on his bed, specifically the pillow you sleep on. matt chewed on the skin of his lips, he felt dirty for even considering humping the very pillow you sleep on at night, but it smelt like you and your scent drives him insane.

insane enough to hump this pillow for some relief.

matt sauntered over towards your side of the bed, reaching for your pillow, catching a whiff of your natural scent. he let out a whine before positioning it properly. he nervously sat next to the pillow, he’s never done anything like this before, he was feeling awkward. he adjusted his cock in his jeans, they were getting unbearably tight. that was the final push he needed.

he was driven to please himself that he forgot to check your location, to make sure you wouldn’t catch him in such a vulnerable position. you had stopped for gas quickly before heading home.

matt was kneeling on the bed now, plush pillow brushing against his crotch. he started easy, not wanting to cum so quickly, he was flustered enough by his actions. he wanted to draw this out  as long as possible, so he kept his jeans on, gaining as much friction as possible.

faint moans and whimpers bounced off the walls of the room, the wood of his headboard squeaked as he moved his hips frantically against the pillow.

the sound of the garage rang throughout the house, you were finally home. matt was blissfully unaware of your presence.

“matt?” you called out, and was met with silence. it was creepy, not to mention all the lights were out. the only time the house was quiet like this was when you both were asleep. you shrugged it off and stepped out of your shoes and made your way upstairs. 

his name was on the tip of your tongue until you heard them, the sound of moans and whines coming from your shared bedroom. you stopped on the top of the stairs, unsure of what to think, mind going to the worst case scenario.

you tiptoed to the door, calmly twisting the knob. you were met with a mouthwatering sight, matt grinding hungrily into one of his various pillows, mouth ajar, pleas of desperation falling out. his hair was a mess, shirt pulled up just enough to show his happy trail, jeans unbuckled but not fully off.

you were about to make your presence known until a particularly loud moan came from him. “fuck mommy it hurts please” he moaned. he paused his thrusts momentarily to shuffle his jeans down to his ankles, not bothering to remove them fully. 

he froze as he saw the door open, he swore it was closed before. he stood in his boxers unable to move as he turned his head to the door. you stood in the door frame, smile on your face as you greeted him “hi honey, missed me?”. his face burned red, he can’t believe you caught him with his pants down, literally. you treaded into the room, shutting the door behind you. 

“i-i can explain–” he stuttered out “just missed you so much and i got horny-” he babbled. “are you close?” you questioned, debating on what to do with the boy. “y-yes are you mad– i’ll stop” he anxiously spoke, breaking eye contact. 

you stepped further into the room, walking towards the opposite side of the bed. matt’s curious eyes followed you, watching your every move. you perched up against the headboard, as if you were going to watch tv. you patted the spot where he previously was, he was still frozen, hesitant to move. 

“you’re going to cum from humping that pillow sweetheart, then if you’re good i’ll take care of you” you explained to the boy who was visibly confused. “y-yes mommy i’ll be your good boy i promise” he said while climbing back onto the bed. 

matt leaned down into the bed as he gained his rhythm back, hips thrusting into the pillow hurridly. “there you go, just like that” you praised, your thighs clenched together as you watched him, fucking into the bed like he does you.

his cock spasmed in his briefs and the coil in his stomach threatened to snap. “mommy close fuck– please need to cum” matt sobbed. his hips never slowed, chasing the orgasm that he’s been craving for hours. 

“ah please mama i can’t hold it please fuck” he pleaded. “cum for mama” you hummed.

his eyes rolled back into his head as he came, his hips stuttered and his jaw went slack. high pitched moans decorated the room.

white stripes of cum filled his boxers, leaking out from the side. he rode out his high, exhausted from all the effort he put in.

“thank you mommy fuck i needed that” he sighed,flopping onto the bed next to you. you giggled at his silly motions, before caressing his hair.

“you did all the work sweet boy, i’m proud of you” you warmly said. matt blushed at your words.  “but now mommy needs help too” you whined. matt jumped up “i can help, i’ll do whatever, please let me make you feel good” he begged. “whatever?, gonna fuck me like that pillow?” you teased, working him up again.

notes - this is really bad but i wanted to put something out. not proofread

taglist; @mattybsgroupie @frnkocnlvr @fratboychrisera @issysh3ll @zariyam @bellassturniolo @thepubeburgler @gwennybenny @matts-myloverboy

[nereidprinc3ss]

baby fever

in which reader and spencer discuss having a baby while at work

fluff warnings/tags: fem/AFAB!reader, bau!reader, BOYFRIEND!SPENCER or husband if u so desire, discussions of pregnancy/having a baby (obviously), reader wants a baby, so does spencer a/n: god i need him so badly. should i write follow up smut?? mwahaha evil emoji......

The coffee finished brewing minutes ago, but you’re still standing by the pot, watching Anderson’s daughter toddling around the bullpen on chubby legs. She’s not very adept at walking, but her spirit is indomitable—every time she tips a little too far forward, she catches herself and gets right back up. It’s not like she’s doing anything particularly impressive or even interesting, but you can’t take your eyes off her. Every movement makes your heart twinge, every giggle or curious quirk of her head is so adorable it physically hurts in your chest. 

From your peripheral vision you see Spencer approaching, bearing his own empty mug, but not even he can draw your attention away from the adorable little pixie and her tutu and her pigtails. 

“That is the cutest kid I have ever seen in my life,” you whisper to Spencer, hoping the quiet tone of your voice will help hide how much you feel like cooing and squealing. 

He smiles to himself as he pours his coffee. 

“That’s Rosie. Have you said hi yet?” 

“I’m afraid if I talk to her I’ll try to keep her.” 

“She is pretty adorable.” 

You turn to him as he leans next to you on the counter, sipping his coffee casually. 

“Adorable? Spencer. Puppies are adorable. You’re not understanding the magnitude of what I mean right now. I can’t explain to you how much adorable doesn’t cut it. I’m not kidding about the child abduction thing.” 

HIs eyes slide around the room as he chuckles into his mug. 

“Let’s maybe not joke about kidnapping a child in FBI headquarters.” 

“I’m not joking,” you hiss. “I feel like I’m going insane. I just—” 

At the last second you stop yourself, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“You just what?” Spencer asks, adjusting the hem of your shirt with his free hand. You glance down, watching the care he takes in the tiniest detail that you wouldn’t have given a second thought to. 

“Is something wrong with my shirt?” 

His eyes flick up to yours, hazel tinted with mild surprise. 

“No. It just was sliding up your waist a little bit.” As he says it, his knuckles brush the bare skin of your torso. You suppress a shiver, studying his profile once he pulls his hand away and goes for another sip. 

“Can we have one?” 

Your inopportune timing results in coffee dribbling down Spencer’s chin as he quickly attempts to wipe it away, wide eyes torn between you and trying to assess the mess he’s made. 

“You--you mean like a baby?” 

“Yeah, like a baby,” you say, grabbing his shoulders and squaring them to you before dabbing the coffee from his face and jacket. He watches on as you clean him up, completely still except for his wandering eyes. 

“I thought we were waiting on that.” 

“Waiting for what? A better time? There’s never going to be a good time with this job. And it’s not like we’d have to quit. Look at JJ. She has two and still does it.” 

“First of all,” Spencer begins, quickly recovering from your surprise proposition, “I don’t love the idea of either of us being in the field with you pregnant. And secondly, JJ also has Will and her mother to take care of the boys. We don’t have that. We’re both here all the time.” 

“I don’t care,” you groan, trashing the paper towels once you’ve done the best you can with his clothing. “We’d figure it out somehow!” 

“Mhm. It sounds like you’ve really devoted some careful consideration to this.” 

You drop your head to your shoulder, giving him your best puppy dog eyes and pulling lightly on his shirtsleeve. 

“Oh, come on. You haven’t thought about it at all? My perfect brain and your pretty face fusing to create a future Nobel-prize winner? Imagine how cute she would be, Spencer, we could put her hair in little braids and pigtails and we could dress her up and she could be in soccer and ballet and—” 

“She?” he smiles, studying your face intently. You roll your eyes. 

“Yes, she. Obviously we would have a girl. You—” 

The idea of Spencer as the father of your daughter hits you like a tidal wave, stopping you dead in your tracks. The images materialize in your mind’s eye so clearly, it’s like they’re already memories, so real and tangible you have no doubt it must come to fruition someday. But if before, your ranting was mostly a silly fantasy—now it’s become a bit more intense. 

He seems to sense your shift in mood. The big smile thaws slightly as he subtly grabs your hand on the counter. 

“What? What’s wrong?” 

There he goes again. Being kind. Being perfect. 

Tears sting your eyes, but you don’t let them fall.  

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong. I just... didn’t realize how badly I actually wanted that until I said it out loud.” 

The concern in his eyes softens to pure affection as he runs his thumb over the back of your hand. 

“I want it too. And whenever you decide you’re ready I’ll drop everything for you.” 

His words are like compounding pressure to the deep heat within you—forming something so solid and perfect you don’t have to wonder if it’s real. A ten on the Mohs scale, a concept that gets closer to actualizing by the minute.  

Your voice is quiet, revelatory as you admire the amber facets in his eyes. 

“You’re ready?”  

“I’ve been ready for quite some time,” he admits. And at once you feel the certainty of him paint your past and your future with one broad brushstroke. One day you will look back on your life and remember the time before Spencer, and that will be it. There is before Spencer, and with Spencer, but never an after Spencer. He wants to create something utterly permanent with you. “Come here.” 

He sets his mug down, carefully pulling you forward so you’re toe to toe with your back to the rest of the BAU; so that only he can see you. Despite how good the two of you are at avoiding PDA, occasionally an exception is made. He tenderly wipes away the few tears that have sprung from your waterline and accepts your arms around his waist, mirroring your embrace and completely enveloping you.  

“I love you,” he murmurs against the top of your hair, quiet enough that nobody in the office has a chance of hearing it. You sniffle. 

“I love you too. Also you smell really good.” 

He chuckles, hand roaming up and down your back for a moment. 

“And that is why we are holding off on this at least for a while.” 

“What do you mean?” you whisper indignantly as he gently peels you off him. His hands remain a steadying force on your waist as he smiles down at you beatifically. 

“I mean let’s give it two weeks and see if you still want a baby when you’re not ovulating.”