#but make it reader insert

[cosplayingwitch]

Winter Wonderland

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x GN!Reader

Word count: 259

Description: established relationship, living together, absolute fluff, hate vs love of winter.

Warnings: absolutely none. It's as fluffy as one can write without melting into a puddle.

A/N #1: technically, this is based in the "year of the OTP challenge, but I made it reader insert. The January prompt I chose was "snow".

A/N #2: this is completely unedited and written in 20ish minutes on my phone. Please excuse any errors.

For as long as you can remember, you've hated winter. It doesn't help that you end up with frostbite faster than most people, but your dislike started before that.

Your girlfriend, however, absolutely loved it. The first winter you were together, she was absolutely shocked. 

"What do you mean you hate winter?" Wanda shouted, "it's amazing! The snow, warm drinks, everything is beautiful."

"I just don't work well with the cold. I'd rather have warmth and sunshine than boots and coats. I can't drive in those things." You reply, shying away from her. 

Wanda's eyes light up. She definitely has an idea up her sleeve.

"I think I can change that. Close your eyes." 

You do as she asks, albeit reluctantly. Other than winter, you also hated surprises. 

"Alright. Open them." Wanda says, after what seemed like ages.

When you open your eyes, you just can't believe what you see.

Amazed, you managed to stammer out, "y- you made it sn- snow in our living ro- room?"

"I wanted you to be able to appreciate how beautiful it can be, but without the cold and frostbite setting in." Wanda replies as she comes up and hugs you from behind.

You're still flabbergasted at what you're seeing. A flurry of white, with the smallest tinge of red from Wanda's magic. Snow falling softly from your ceiling and appearing to form drifts in front of your couch. The beauty of winter without feeling the cold.

You take a deep breath. 

"This is absolutely beautiful. Maybe winter isn't the worst after all."

---end---

A/N #3: I'M BACK, PEOPLE! This is definitely one of the shortest things I've ever written, but it feels very nice. Any feedback is welcome, but please be kind with it.

[faithums]

telling jjk men that you ‘didn’t shave/wax’…༉‧₊˚.

✎ synopsis: telling the jjk men that you didn’t shave. do they care??? (spoiler- no.)

<suggestive> <fluff> <crack>

Inclu. gojo, nanami, choso, toji, geto, sukuna

[gogogodzilla]

day 29, somnophilia

mike schmidt x reader warnings: nsfw 18+, unprotected sex, creampie, free use (kinda), semi-established relationship, neighbor!reader, part 2, part 3 kinktober ☠︎︎ main masterlist ☠︎︎ read on ao3

You and Mike came to a relatively simple agreement. You’d watch Abby while he worked nights and he’d repay you by fucking your brains out. He was hot and good in bed, plus Abby spent most of her time in her room. So, you didn’t mind your arrangement much. 

That was until Mike got so busy you hardly saw him enough to receive your payment.

“You know,” you said as you took a seat at your usual spot on his couch, “you still owe me from last week.” 

He sighed and leaned over you, placing a hand on each side of the back cushion, trapping you. 

He pressed a kiss to your lips, “I know. I’ll make it up to you. Promise.” 

You grinned, “I’ll leave the light on for you.” 

Mike surprised you that night when he came home late that night, and you had curled yourself up in his bed, fast asleep. You awoke with Mike pressing heated kisses along your neck and his hand between your thighs. He pressed his free hand against your mouth, muffling the desperate moans that fled past your lips. 

You’d stay tangled between his sheets until the early morning when you’d sneak back across the street to your own home. Ever since that night, you’d tell him that if you wanted him to wake you up like that. The light was on more often than not. 

When he started working nights, things became slightly more complicated. By the time he got back in the morning, it was time to wake Abby up for school and you had to get ready for the day. That was until you had the day off and an idea struck you. 

You were about to head out the door before you turned to Mike, “Leave the light on for me?” 

His eyebrows furrowed for a split second before the corners of his mouth quirked up. “Yeah, of course,” he nodded and you were out the door, grinning. 

You waited a few hours, performing menial tasks around your home before you decided it was time to put your plan into action. Abby was off to school and Mike was asleep soundly in his bed, headphones placed securely on his ears and nature sounds drifting out of them. You slowly crept further into Mike’s room and began to set up the camcorder at the foot of his bed, flinching at the slightest creak of the tripod. 

You knew Mike wouldn’t wake up, but it was more exciting if you made yourself believe there was a chance. You pressed record and giddiness filled you. You made a show of stripping for the camera. You slowly slid off your sweatpants and underwear in one swoop. 

You picked up the pair of jeans he had on the floor and held them up to the camera, doing your best game show girl impression. You picked up your underwear and tucked them in the front pocket, patting it in before setting them at the foot of his bed. Your shirt was the next to go. You faced the camera as you slowly tugged your shirt over your head, revealing your bare chest underneath. 

You trailed your fingers up your torso and circled your fingers around your nipples, causing them to harden under your touch. You leaned your head back to give him a full view of your chest as you pinched one of your nipples between your fingers, gasping slightly. 

You turned and sauntered to his side of the bed where he was sleeping soundly. You ran your fingers gently over his forehead, brushing his hair out of the way, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

He made your job easier by wearing a black t-shirt and briefs and by always sleeping on his back. You threw the blankets covering his form to the side and kneeled beside the bed. Your hands wandered over his thighs before palming him through his briefs. 

You crawled into bed next to him and your hands drifted past the waistband of his briefs. You stroked him, slowly, before freeing his cock from its confines. You pulled his briefs down and over his balls, just enough for you to access everything freely.

You threw a leg over his thigh and your hand wrapped around his cock once again. He had begun to harden in your grasp but you couldn’t quite get enough friction. You slid down his body and turned so the camera could get a clear view of what you were about to do. 

You held him in your hand and swiped your tongue across the head of his cock. You groaned at the taste of him and enveloped your lips fully around him. You swirled your tongue around the pink-hued tip and Mike’s breath caught slightly but he didn’t stir. 

You steadily bobbed your head, gradually taking more of him with every stroke. One hand stroked what you couldn’t reach while the other gently fondled his balls. You pressed your tongue against the underside of his shaft, and Mike’s cock twitched in your mouth. 

You pulled away and licked your lips when the ache between your thighs became too great. You carefully straddled his lap and ground against his cock, spreading your slick. A soft moan left you as the tip hit your clit just right. 

You brought your hand down to where your bodies met and aligned him with your entrance. The whine that escaped you as you lowered yourself onto him was loud and you slapped a hand over your mouth to muffle it. 

You missed his hands roaming your body as you rode him, but there was something so pleasurable about seeing the minute changes in his demeanor as you used him. You dipped down to press open-mouthed kisses against the column of his neck. You clenched at the thought of covering him with hickeys to find later. You leaned down and explored his chest with your lips and tongue. 

You smiled as small red marks covered his neck and chest. You were confident that they’d blossom into the purple marks you desired once he awoke. You began to rock your hips faster against him as one hand drifted down to circle your clit. You used your free hand to knead your breast, pinching and dragging your fingertip across the bud of your nipple. Your legs were beginning to burn and tremble but the familiar heat pooling in your belly spurred you on. 

You leaned forward, and the new angle had you reaching your peak in no time. You spasmed around him as you continued to jut your hips against him, riding out your high. A satisfied moan escaped you as you felt Mike twitch within you and he filled you with his cum. 

You panted softly as you slid off of him. You kissed his lips softly before fixing his briefs and covering him back up. You stopped the recording and quickly got dressed. You tucked the camcorder and tripod under your arm before leaving Mike’s home. In a few hours, you’d bring him the lunch you made him, tucking the VHS tape inside the paper bag. 

You’d hold the door for him, and walk him out to his car, smiling the entire time. 

“I hope you enjoy your lunch,” you’d mention. He’d grin, a knowing glint in his eyes. You’d leave the light on for him for when he came home.

[naruryun]

ohh i am so terribly tempted to make a star rail side blog and only post found family content with Jing Yuan and Yanqing

[sunrotdropbrain]

Source under cut

[paperultra]

hammock.

Pairing: OPLA!Vinsmoke Sanji x Reader Word Count: 866 words Warnings: Kissing, slightly suggestive

“You’re blushing.”

“I am?” Sanji gazes up at you, dreamy and distracted. “I didn’t realize.”

You hum. You’re only vaguely aware of the hammock’s sway, of the blanket slipping down your shoulders as you prop yourself up and place your hands on his cheeks. Warmth soaks into your palms like sunlight, and you tilt your head, thumbs drawing over the flush on his cheekbones and tapping gently.

“Don’t say this is because of me,” you tease.

His hands reach up to cover yours. “Then I’d be lying,” he replies, turning his head to kiss your fingertips, “and I would never lie about how you make me feel.”

“Not even if you hated me?”

“The day I hate you is the day I should be tied to an anchor and fed to the sharks.”

“That’s awful.”

“I know.” His eyes search your face, and they narrow as he murmurs, “Who could ever hate someone as gorgeous as you?”

(Whoever coined the phrase “flattery will get you nowhere” has never met Sanji, you’re sure of it.)

Leaning down, you press your lips to his nose, to his forehead, to each cheek. A contented sigh brushes past your ears as you do so.

Eventually, you make your way to the source of his sweet words. You pause, and Sanji opens his eyes as you hover above his lips, just shy of meeting them with your own.

“Something wrong, sweetheart?”

“No,” you say. “Just wanted to see your pretty eyes before I kiss you senseless.”

He stills. Then he laughs, the sound blooming from deep within his chest and staining your world with gold. “Well – aren’t you a charmer,” Sanji quips, stroking your waist and pecking your cheek. His words are softer than usual. “Careful with my heart, now.”

“Don’t worry,” you say, and you kiss him fully, drinking in the way his grip on you tightens and the way his breath stalls in his throat when you speak against his mouth. “It’s in good hands, I think.”

The kiss is just as warm as his cheeks. You feel drunk as you pull away, and Sanji lifts his head to chase your lips, whispering your name with the reverence of a believer.

“You guys mind doing that somewhere other than here?”

The two of you freeze in each other’s embrace.

You jolt out of it and push yourself up, accidentally knocking the breath out of Sanji in the process. He wheezes and curls up as you lock eyes with a very unimpressed swordsman.

“Z-Zoro! We”—you scramble to unrumple your shirt, which had ridden up underneath the blanket—“I’m sorry, we – we thought everyone was going to be in the lounge for a while.”

“You thought wrong.” Zoro strides past and drops his laundry on the couch. “This isn’t your personal bedroom, Sanji.”

“I’m aware of that,” Sanji replies, annoyance dripping from every syllable. “Now would you mind just stepping out for a few more minutes?”

“Sanji, it’s fine,” you whisper, patting his chest. “The mood is kinda killed now, anyway.”

He visibly droops. “I know.”

“Good.”

“I wasn’t asking for your opinion, mosshead.”

The room fills with a completely different kind of tension as Zoro crosses his arms at Sanji’s response.

You, still trying to cover up your embarrassment, move to block Sanji’s view, pushing his bangs away from his face and attempting to smooth out his frown lines. His cheeks are still flushed, though the color is quickly fading back to normal as his attention turns back to you.

“C’mon, Zoro wants to fold his laundry. Let’s go up to the lounge and see what the others are up to.”

“Is that what you really want to do?”

“Yeah.” (It is now, anyway.)

“… All right, then,” Sanji acquiesces.

With that, you push the blanket off and clamber out of the hammock, nearly tripping and falling flat on your face in your haste to do so. Sanji follows close behind, and once he’s on his feet, you turn to Zoro and give him another quick apology before you and Sanji leave the men’s room.

“Of all the times to be interrupted,” your companion mutters as the two of you head to the lounge. He takes your hand in his and interlaces your fingers. “I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s nobody’s fault. Ships don’t have a lot of privacy …” You think back to the moment Zoro spoke up and groan, burying your face in your free hand. “I’m just embarrassed he caught us like that. I didn’t even hear him come down.”

“Me neither.” Sanji lets out an irritated sigh and then looks over at you; his displeasure softens. “At the very least, I’ll take it to mean you were enjoying yourself.”

Your face heats up. “Of course,” you say quickly. “I like our alone time."

“I like it too.” He squeezes your hand and leans over to whisper into your ear. “Next time, I could be on top, so I can hide you away if anyone walks in unannounced.”

“Wh – Sanji! Don’t say it like that!”

The man grins as you smack his arm playfully, planting a kiss to your temple as penance.

“Just evening the score, sweetheart.”

[ozzgin]

There needs to be some sorta part 2 to player reader! Imagine her life is just getting kidnapped by another suitor every other day or somethin. Or gettin forcibly married to one with a legion of other monsters interrupting the weddin. Girl is livin my dream of bein desired by monsters! 😩😢

See, that’s the trouble, I feel like everything else from now on should be up to imagination. Will Reader be serially kidnapped? Serially married? Will the mayor of Monstertown have to intervene and turn Reader into some sort of publicly owned existence that can be borrowed within a strict interval like a library book, in order to avoid the monsters killing each other?

“I’m here to return Reader”, the Eldritch creature says, pushing the little card onto the counter with its tentacle appendage.

“Uh huh. That’s one week past deadline, so I’m afraid you’ll have to pay a fine.” The worker responds, checking the files.

“Of course.”

“Is Reader alright?” The employee questions upon noticing the feverish state of the human. “It looks a little worn out.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. Might’ve gotten too enthusiastic.”

“Happens, happens. I’ll let you know when it’s available again.”

Also, as a little side note, this was the initial idea I had for a header picture but I can’t be bothered to do anything beyond this doodle. Found it funny so I thought I’d share. :)

[a-pastel-edgelord]

Shinsuke Kita is a man who likes what he likes and gives little thought to things he doesn't. He'll go about his daily routine: rise with the sun, eat, morning ablutions, out to the fields until lunch, take a break, then back into the fields until dinner, do chores around the house then a small past time or two until it's time for bed. Unless it's the weekend or a game day, then he goes to Onigiri Miya to catch up with Osamu, Gin, Akagi and Omimi around lunch time.

However, he finds himself going to Onigiri Miya a little earlier on some days with the hopes of catching you while you're on shift. You're a part-timer and university student—but Osamu has been telling him that you have the chops to run the restaurant by yourself. "I know I don't hafta worry about leavin' for an hour or so. S'good feeling, Kita."

It's easier to like someone if a friend vouches for them. Yes, that must be the reason he's fond of you, because Osamu is. He arrives at the restaurant an hour early—an electronic bell chimes through as he enters. It's busy as usual but there's no line.

"Welcome!" You look up from the register and beam. "Kita-san! I'll call the boss over, he's in the back doing inventory."

Before he can protest, you've bounced away. He hears a muffled conversation the opening of a door and a moment later Osamu takes your place with a raised eyebrow. "Yer awfully early, Kita. S'not delivery day is it?"

"Nah, nothin' like that. Just... Had some spare time."

"Spare time huh." Osamu repeats, like he's tasting the words for the first time. "Well, did ya want anythin' ta eat? The usual?"

"Sure, that'll do."

"Uh-huh." Osamu leans back to shout into the kitchen. "Go ahead and make Kita his usual!"

You respond in a sing-song voice. "Already started!"

Shinsuke can't help the grin that hitches onto his features even as Osamu casts a wary but amused eye over him. The two men make eye contact for a few beats before Osamu sighs. "Please don't go scarin' off some of the only good help I've been able ta find."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"Yeah-huh."

But nothing else can be said on the subject because you emerge from the back with a tray laden with food. There's even a side of fried tofu—not typically part of his order. You must have seen him looking because you hurriedly explain, "The boss said you like tofu, so I just did some up. I hope that's ok." Osamu rolls his eyes and walks back to the kitchen, catching Kita's eye as he goes.

"S'just fine." Kita takes the tray. "But I'd like to repay ya."

"You don't have to do that! It's my pleasure." You try and reassure.

"Then it'd be my pleasure to make ya dinner some time. Could do it today, after the game if that's ok?"

As you fumble through saying yes, Shinsuke savors his first bite of food. Yeah, he could eat your cooking for the rest of his life he thinks. It would be a nice addition to his routine.

[totallynotashieldagent]

falling for jason todd happens slowly and then all at once

it starts with lazy pre-patrol Friday evenings. he knows you don't have work in the morning so he stays for a snack before heading out.

it turns into "hey wanna watch a movie?" which turns into "I'm ordering food for us" and then you're lying on the couch at other ends but your feet are in his lap as top gun plays on the TV and he doesn't even realize he's doing it but he's rubbing the tension out of your heels.

it turns into "oh my office has a workshop for first aid happening" and you take it because you figure you should know how to patch him up after the bad nights

that turns into him showing up on a Tuesday night, which NEVER happens but he's on edge and he's anxious and he doesn't know what else to do and he just needs a hug and you do it.

you hold him until he stops shaking and he falls asleep on you like a weighted blanket.

maybe in hindsight, that is where it all started. waking up in a mess of limbs and untangling yourself, pushing him off until he falls on the ground and you laugh before leaving to get ready for work and... he doesn't leave. he's there when you come back in the evening because he just- he doesn't have an answer except, he didn't want to go.

you shrug and say you don't mind and you continue with your evening errands and chores and he orders food and during it all you realize how... domestic this all is.

it's a wednesday evening and he knows gotham is waiting for him but tonight...just tonight, he wasn't something calm, something normal.

the air is thick but neither of you address it. and he leaves eventually with unsaid words and confusion hanging in his mind.

the routine of friday night hangouts continue but every touch is more.. electric and neither of you say anything because you really do think that it's just in YOUR mind and the other doesn't feel that way at all.

it goes on for weeks and weeks until the tension gets so bad that you're snapping at each other for even breathing too loud but still you're in the same space because you can't handle the thought of being a part

it goes on for an embarrassing long time because even though the love is requited, you're both just fucking idiots

it goes on until a bad patrol night and he shows up with a bunch of knives sticking out of his back and instead of going to a safehouse or alfred, he's here. with you. and your hands are shaking because this surgery level shit and you took a BASIC aid workshop. you're crying silently as you do your best to fix him even with the Lazarus healing kicking in and you keep whispering to yourself "not yet not yet not like this not like this not before I can say-"

and everything just ...freezes

"Before what?" He rasps, his breath laboured and hard

"It's nothing-" You whisper and continue to bandage him

so he twists his back and looks at you, asking again.

"Before what?" His eyes are glowing green as his wounds are slowly starting to heal under your fingertips. "Please-" He strains. "Before what?"

"Before I can be brave enough-" You swallow, your shaking hands pressed against the bandage of his back

"Brave enough for...?" He whispers, his eyes darting across your face, memorizing every feature. Your eyes, your Cupid's bow, your parted lips-

"For this-" You finally take a leap and press your lips to his.

Drabble Master List.

[railingsofsorrow]

Recharging. . .

[spencer reid x reader]

summary: spencer's best remedy is his little family.

pairing: s.reid x f!reader (+ eden reid!)

w.c: 3.8K

warnings/content: fluff; cuteness overload; children; spencer is a girl's dad; discussion of a case; mentions of death and traumatic events; this is basically a hurt/comfort blurb; mentions of pregnancy; mentions of marriage; crying.

A/N: is anybody in need of some fluff? this was supposed to be a short drabble.... enjoy this old WIP as I finish some of my requests.

loosely inspired by ocie elliott's take me home

want to read more works about this au?

→ day-off

━━━━━━━━━━━━

You stopped the low humming to the song as you eyed the rearview mirror to check on your kid. The familiar scratching against your seat warning you she was awake.

“Hey bub,” you take advantage of the red traffic light to dive your hand back and tickle her bare feet. She'd always kick off her shoes the first chance she got. Your favorite sound echoes through the car: her giggle. “You were just napping, where'd that energy come from?” you refer again to the tip of her feet bumping against your car seat. Another reminder that she was getting bigger every day.

Eden raised her arms, wriggling her little fingers like she did when she was excited for something. You were pretty sure she got that from Penelope, you always saw they do this whenever she came over to your place.

“We're visiting daddy!”

A laugh bubbles out of you. Eden left you amazed by her perception of things. Although the route from your apartment to the BAU wasn't that strange for her anymore, given that you and Spencer drove a lot to drop each other off with her in the car.

“Are we?” You turn on an avenue, humming. “I didn't notice.”

Eden looks at you through the rearview mirror, “but you're driving, mommy. You need the GPS. It's in your head.”

“Is it?” You're amused at your toddler's choice of words. “Okay. Yes, we're visiting daddy at work. We've come to pick him up because he's very tired from a case and it's not good to drive while you're tired, right?”

“Right!” She nods vehemently, craning her neck to check on the view through the window. “And he needs me to recharge his bats.”

You finish parking your car and a smile curls up the edges of your mouth. Eden can't say the word batteries so she shortened it to an easier version which is bats. You still have to teach her what the word actually means.

“That's right,” you say, taking off your seatbelt and opening the door. By the time you reach the backseat, Eden is grinning like the Cheshire cat. Her excitement never ceases to rub off on you, even though you enter this building most of the days in a week. “Hi, baby.” You cooed, welcoming your child in your arms after unbuckling her seatbelt. Her light brown curls that you have no idea who she got it from tickle the side of your face as she snuggles to your chest to stare at the tall FBI building.

“Shoes on. Coat on. All warmed up. Shall we go up?”

An eager Eden exclaims a loud YES and that's enough for you to start walking.

From “Spencer”:

[6:34 p.m] No need to pick me up, angel, I can drive. I am not that tired.

[6:35 p.m] Is Eden still at your mom's? I can pick her up on the way.

This is the mutual feeling you have on workdays. Not in a million years you'd understand how hard it was to be away from your daughter for more than one day. Until it happened.

It makes your heart break when you're not able to tuck her into bed or pick her up at school to see her excited little legs run towards you. In spite of the fact that Spencer and you manage well to alternate days at work so she always has one of you close by, it's difficult to not see her every day when a case takes either one of you out of the city.

You can only image how much he misses her after being away for four days.

You left the messages unanswered and click on another chat instead. Light of my life with a bunch of hearts is the one you're looking for. Penelope somehow stole your phone someday and changed her contact name to this; you never changed it back, just left as it was, it suits her anyway.

“Smile.” You request Eden as you lift your phone to take a selfie of the two of you. Her grin exposes her two missing front teeth. “Done.” You kiss her cheek and adjust her in your hold to type another text, waiting for the elevator to reach your desired floor.

To “Light of my life 💗❤️💕”

[6:38 p.m] incoming at five... four... three...

You hit send right as the elevator doors spread open.

Just as you step into the bullpen, it's as if a switch has flipped because your daughter promptly tucks her face into the croak of your neck, her cold nose making your shiver slightly. Her hands clinging onto your blouse.

Eden gets shy under watchful eyes, no matter how many times she visits the BAU.

Penelope is walking briskly out of her office, her hands wriggling into your direction as she catches sight of you and the bundle in your arms. Every eye in the bullpen turns to you because of the commotion.

You haven't seen your husband yet.

“There is pumpkin!” That's the reason that pulls Eden out of her shell. She practically throws herself out of your arms and into her favourite aunt's arms. “Oh, hello, hello, my beautiful niece, whom I have missed so much!”

Eden is giggling and you can't help but smile softly at the scene. Soon, your friends start approaching one by one. It doesn't take long for Eden to have at least two new toys in her hands. Emily and Derek are competing which one she likes best.

“She's so big.” JJ entwines her arm with yours.

You sigh, leaning closer to her, “Yes, she is.” You say, observing Eden play with Emily. “Henry as well! How is he by the way? We haven't had a playdate in so long.”

JJ nods, “He's great, my sweet boy.” Her eyes hold a fondness that you relate. “And that's true. We have to set up a date, catch up on things that aren't murders and blood.”

“Preach, Jayge.”

Your laughter dies down when the two people missing from the group appear. Your eyes met Spencer's and his whole body seems to relax as if it physically pained him to stand and seeing you just helped him take a breath of fresh air. Luke greeted you with a side hug and was immediately captured by Eden's endearing spell, as expected. Although, once Spencer entered her line of sight, no one else mattered.

Spencer let his satchel drop to the ground without a care so he could scoop Eden up as she jumped into his arms. His sullen demeanor converting into a cheerful one in a blink of an eye. This is what Eden means by “recharging”.

You watch the reunion with a growing smile, deciding to approach them a little later.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Spencer says while peppering kisses at her cheek, her little nose and her forehead. Eden could only reply with giggles as her whole face became red at the overwhelming love she's receiving. “Daddy missed you so much, did you know that?” And the crack in his voice goes unnoticed by her, but not by you, so you take advantage of everyone's distraction to step towards your little family.

Eden is giving her dad a butterfly kiss when you get to them. That's her way of saying I missed you to any of you when you come back home.

“Hey,” you squeeze his arm in a gentle touch, grabbing his attention. “Tough one?” your question is discreet, only meant for him. Eden is fortunately too busy with her new stuffed toy that Derek is showing her to notice anything else.

The dimmed spark in Spencer's eyes along with the red outline of his eyelids are everything you need to know. You don't need words — you never needed words to understand Spencer — but he provides you a meek yeah and swallows hard. The only thing that seems to be holding him back from crumbling down is the fact that he's holding his daughter.

In an attempt of comfort, you pull his free hand to yours, intertwining your fingers and giving it a tight squeeze. Just for him to know that you were there and it's okay now.

He repeats the action, the corner of his lips pulling slightly. His attention is quickly stolen back to Eden, who starts listing possible names to the new friends that uncle Derek and auntie Emily had gifted her.

They discuss the matter until you bid everyone goodbye, a playdate, a babysitting afternoon and a girls night out scheduled. Trying to take Eden from Spencer was foolish, he didn't want to let her go. No matter how tired he was. Better yet, she didn't want to let him go either.

“I think grapes would be a great name, E.” Spencer praises her daughter's naming skills as he buckled her up in the safety seat. “What about this one?” He grabs the green bunny and places it in front of his face, his voice in a high-pitched tone to imitate an animal's voice. “What will you name me after, miss Eden Reid? I am green and I like carrots!”

Eden's bright caramel eyes glint with joy and she pulls the bunny to her chest, holding it tightly. “I know what I'm going to call them.”

“You do?” You were starting to be curious as well.

“Mr. Greenie.”

“You're so clever.” Spencer and Eden shared accomplice smiles and you see everything of him in her at that single action. It was in the nose scrunch whenever she found something particularly funny, in the spark of mischief in her eyes and even the outline of her mouth which you never stopped noticing from the moment she was born. Eden carried a lot of mannerisms and features from you but those things? They definitely came from him.

He's not even halfway to the driver's side when you steal the keys that he had stolen from you when you were in the building. You've known each other for ten years, for three out of those ten you have been married and Spencer still thinks he can be slick with you.

“You're riding shotgun today, pretty boy.”

His eyes are filled with amusement as you walk by and give his butt a soft squeeze.

“Really?” He says, leaning on your window. You had already turned the engine on when you give him a serious look. “It's a long drive. You already drove all the way here.”

Giving him an eyeroll, you muse, “It's not that long, Spence. And you're tired. Just get in.”

Quantico wasn't far from your home, but ten minutes in the road was enough to send Eden to dreamland. You were certain she had fallen asleep when her humming to Angeleyes, that was playing on the car radio, stopped.

You suppose Spencer has fallen asleep as well, until you stole a glimpse at him during a red light to see he was just staring out the window. A far away gaze.

His mind was far. You could feel that. You two enjoy the silence but it's not like that. This is not the kind of silence you want to bask in after a tiring day of work. No, this is different. It comes with the type of things you face at work, the voices in your head that claim they know what's best.

You know that silence. You've drowned in it once.

A gentle breeze caused a few strands to slip out behind his ear. He was letting his hair grow longer again. You liked it, it suited him.

“Hey.”

Your knuckles grazed his cheek softly, tucking a piece of his hair behind his ear. Your hand lingered at the nape of his neck and he let out a sigh, leaning back in a way that you knew he needed that kind of touch.

Good thing your love language is physical touch.

“You want to talk to me about it?” A whisper.

Spencer refrained from a verbal answer, but he reached up for your hand, lifting it to his lips to place a prolonged kiss which translated to I'm glad to have you.

“Not now,” he said, caressing your palm. Definitely later then. Your communication can be non-verbal sometimes and that's one of the great parts of your relationship. You knew that some days words were hard, so the touch and the eyes fulfilled the void of a voice.

He gave it a delicate squeeze and that's when you realized the light had turned green, so your attention was back to driving.

At some point, you could feel a comforting weight at your right thigh. It was the familiar warmth of Spencer's hand, something that he liked to do whenever you drove. Good thing his love language is physical touch.

“I got her.” He practically leaped out of the vehicle once you parked, walking around the other side to get Eden.

Your asleep child didn't so much as flinch while being picked up. You caught her little arms embracing his neck as you locked the doors of your car, her shoes on your hand and Spencer's satchel on another. He tried to fight you on that but you just ignored him.

“Sleepy head,” you mouth to him as the elevator went up. Eden's big eyelashes fluttered lightly when you kissed the top of her head.

The corner of your husband's lips quirked up, “Just like her mother. Sleeps anywhere.” He said, not breaking eye contact, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Rolling your eyes, you hummed, “Don't know what you're talking about.”

The apartment was quiet, an unusual occurrence at this time of the day. Normally, Eden would be rambling about her day when one of you arrived from work — I learnt about seagulls today and we made a drawing; grandma made cookies!; Teacher Susan read a story about a princess saving her kingdom, I want to be like her someday. Isn't it like what you do, mama? I want to be like you — a range of subjects mixed with her occasional endless energy of a child. Some nights, she wouldn't stop running around until she tired herself — and both of you — off.

Today was different. She was asleep before you even arrived home, it was way before 8 p.m and the apartment was quiet, no toys scattered around, no ink stain on the floor. She was into painting nowadays which is a rather messy hobby for a kid, but you'd indulge your daughter's wishes anytime. She is a kid, she should be messy.

“I love you, bub.” Your ears pick up Spencer's faint voice from the entrance of Eden's bedroom. You perched up at the wall, careful enough to make yourself unknown. Not wanting to disturb the little father-daughter moment. “I'll always be here.”

That was something that didn't need to be said out loud because Spencer showed that every day. He didn't spare love demonstrations regarding you or Eden, he never had. Although you know part of the reason beneath that promise. Some people haunt us forever, even when they are no longer present in our lives. His father still walks somewhere in the corner of his mind, no matter how many times you tell him that he is not him.

“Is the whole bathroom drenched or...?”

Spencer chuckled, seeking for your hand to pull you closer as you stride to your bedroom.

“It wouldn't be Eden if she didn't make an entire spectacle during bath time.” He said. “But I cleaned it up, so don't worry.”

“That's true.” You eye his soaked shirt attempting to contain a smile. “Guess you already took your shower?”

“You're so funny,” Spencer murmurs dryly.

“Yeah, well,” you shrug nonchalantly, slowly encircling your arms around his neck. “Wasn't that why you married me? Or was it for my good looks? Nah, it was definitely my terrific sense of humour, wasn't it?” A peck on his lips. “You can admit it. I won't be mad.”

“Ego the size of a lake, that one.” He mumbles, burying his face in the croak of your neck and practically locked you in his hold.

You started to message on his shoulders to ease whatever felt heavy in his chest. At least, until he let you in.

It wasn't until after you both showered separately to finally call it a day and laid down to rest that he broke his silence.

“A little girl died. We couldn't get to her in time.”

Oh, kids.

Now it all made sense.

A shiver went down your spine at the thought.

“Oh, Spencer...” if the tone of your voice translated anything, it was that you understood. His body was entangled to yours when you tried to diminish a bit of his pain by showing that you were there. “I'm sorry, sweetheart,” you said into his curls. The moist sensation in your pajamas top let you know he was crying, but you didn't give it a second thought. It was what he needed.

“I could only think of her and I—” he said shakily, suddenly leaning away to cover his face. “Any rational thinking went down the drain.” His croaked out, drying his tears in the harshest way possible. You pulled his hands away from his face, replacing it with your softer touch.

“Spencer.”

“I can't even— even grasp my head around—”

You cut him off, “good. Don't do that. Because it's not real. Spencer,” you cup his cheeks, forcing him to look at you so he could focus on something that wasn't the disruptives thoughts in his head. “Eden is here, in the room next to ours, safe and sound.” That seemed to calm him down lightly, but you could see the conflict in his gaze.

“I wasn't fast enough.”

“It was not your fault.”

“You weren't there.”

You sigh, “I don't need to physically be there to know that you, as well as the team, did your best to crack the case, Spencer. As you do in every other case we have.” The hardest part of this job was still the loss that you had to live with. The guilt. The shame that, despite doing your best, you wouldn't be able to save everyone. “As we always do.” Sometimes, you needed some convincing too.

“I know it's hard to believe what I'm saying,” you forehead was touching his and your eyes were shut. “but it's the truth. You have every reason to feel that way, it never gets easy to face what we face every day. But, Spencer. It was not your fault. You did what you could, please trust me on this, okay?” Please, don't blame yourself. You don't deserve it.

“Our little girl is right next door, sleeping with her favourite plushie. Safe. Because we make sure of that every single day.” You know it's not that simple, to not doubt the dangers that run in the world, probably in your street, but you can't live in fear and you don't want your daughter to live in fear either. “And I'm right here. we're not going anywhere.” You won't lose us.

“Yeah,” he croaks out, releasing a batted breath. “Yeah, I know.”

Slipping an arm around your middle to bring you closer was the indication you needed to understand that he was hearing your words. Your husband settled for accepting your warmth for the time being, you were playing with his curls, gently brushing them away from his face.

That's all he needed, really. You. The home and family you have build together. Nothing else.

“You know,” you say, thumb traveling across his jawline until it reached the tip of his nose. “People keep saying she has your nose and I think I'm starting to see it.”

His body shook with laughter, causing his eyes to crinkle slightly.

“Oh, really? You're starting to see it now?”

Your lips curled up at the edges, “Yes.” You lied, poking his ribs, earning a glare. Your smile only widened. “No. The nose is clearly yours.” He raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

Spencer leaned close enough so he could press his lips to yours.

“She has the outline of your mouth, though.” He tucked a strand behind your ear. “And your eyes.”

Soft padding against the floor pulled you out of your trance and you knew who was at the door before looking through the open space of the door that's been left ajar.

“Is that a ghost that I'm seeing, angel?”

You decided to enter Spencer's playful undertone.

“Mhm. Good question, I think that's definitely a squirrel or something. Look at the red and yellow paws.”

Eden's mismatched socks flashed your eyes in the dim light of your side table lamp. Her soft giggling made you smile instantly.

“What are you doing up, sweetheart?” She curled up to his bare chest as soon as he scooped her up to hold her on his hip. “Mhm?”

She grabbed both of his cheeks, forcing him to lean down so she could say something to him. You observed them with a curious gaze. “It's not a squirrel,” Eden whispered. Spencer's face broke out into a grin, “tell mama it's me.” Spencer nodded and dutifully did as asked.

“Oh!” You exclaimed, acting surprised. “It's you, bub? With these tiny socked feet, I almost didn't recognize.” Eden's shrieks as you pepper her whole face with kisses. “You want to sleep with mommy and daddy tonight?” It's your turn to whisper as if it's a secret, but it's loud enough for Spencer to hear it as well.

Eden nods shyly, resting her head on her dad's shoulder. Her feet wriggling lightly. Who could ever resist those sweet doe eyes?

The three of you then lay down in your bed, Eden engulfed between Spencer and you. Hopefully, she wouldn't kick and turn all night like she commonly did. She was sleeping through the entire night alone in her bedroom, though some nights — like today — she would sneak in to yours.

Just like you expected, the toddler fell into dreamland with your soft chatter about random things you did during the day and what you needed to do during the upcoming week. You cracked a smile at her slight parted lips and wild curls dispersed on your arm which her head was laid on.

“Thank you.”

Your attention drifts from a sleeping Eden to Spencer. His eyes carried their usual light again. They now glinted with a familiar pride rather than the heavy darkness it was drowning in earlier in the evening.

“What for?” Your whole demeanor softened at the way he was looking at you, heart swelling with love.

“This,” he says, eyes falling on Eden. “For this. Her. You.”

You blink, the sudden urge to cry is being hold back by a thread. You don't know how to react.

“You're the best thing that's ever happened to me.” And he's said that before. When you first confessed and he said he felt the same. In your wedding day. When Eden was born.

“And you are the best thing that's ever happened to me, Spencer.” You manage to whisper beneath the crack in your voice. He lifts his torso to kiss both of the single tears that slipped out of your eyelids, caressing your cheek lovingly. “I love you.”

“I love you too, angel.” His mouth stretches into a soft grin. “And I love the life we have built.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━

taglist: @lilyviolets

━━━━━━━━━━━━

A/N: will never forgive the show for not making this man a dad.

[mwahmimi]

Thinking about Spencer who doesn’t like physical touch at all, constantly about germs and feeling uncomfortable at the thought of someone else’s fingertips. Until he meets you. It started with holding hands, interlocking fingers. Then letting you hug him good bye, perhaps a kiss on the cheek. Until one night, he pulls you into a kiss, his tongue flickering between your mouth and his own, as if it was shy. Now he can’t fall asleep sleep without you playing with his hair and peppering soft kisses on his face as he giggles and smiles up at you. He melts your heart when he glances up and whispers,

“I don’t have to wash my hands after I touch you.”

[elixirofblues]

~ I fell in love with hope...

[juniemunie]

Yearning

[draconic-desire]

A Dance With the Dragon III — Opera

Yandere Neuvillette x Reader

[Part I] [Part II] [Part III — You are here] [Part IV]

Neuvillette enjoys bringing you to the Opera Epiclese. You, not so much. The result; a clash of tides.

Warnings: Implied past NSFW, typical yandere tendencies and obsessive behavior

You had grown to loathe the opera.

When Neuvillette first suggested it, you had perked up immediately. You ignored his rare smile at your excitement, knowing he believed to use this as a stepping stone to winning you over. You didn’t care; the Chief Justice was delusional if he thought you wouldn’t abuse this opportunity to escape.

Your plan, of course, was a complete failure.

Neuvillette kept a firm, guiding hand on your lower back the entire night. Even the slightest movement on your part would earn you a warning glower. He wasn’t even challenging you to act out; no, he was demanding your compliance. Bastard.

And Archons, the stares you got for it.

You knew that Neuvillette had worked his way up to being a well-respected and renowned figure, but you never expected the fanbase he had acquired. He was barraged by women and men alike, all hoping for a chance to woo, interview, or befriend Fontaine’s Chief Justice. He responded to all of their inquiries with aplomb, though you noticed his grip on your waist tighten every time an individual would glance your way, whether out of curiosity or envy.

Standing off to the side, you swirled the champagne glass clasped in your hand, opting to remove yourself from the conversation. Honestly, you were shocked he had allowed you to indulge in any alcohol with his obsession over your health. Such regulations included eliminating certain foods from your diet (“Why would anyone ever eat food that’s been deep fried?”) and drinking an ungodly amount of water each day, usually with a long conversation about its flavors.

Oh, and the physical activity, too.

With a scowl, you tipped the flute back to imbibe the rest of the champagne. Maybe if you got drunk enough, you’d have some respite from both the spotlight and your memories with him. He already seized every moment of your reality; you didn’t need him plaguing your thoughts, too.

But luck was never on your side these days.

A particularly nosy group of women had been giving you the stink eye all night, until one of them strutted up to your “date”. Despite being multiple paces away, you could hear their entire conversation. She curtsied, batting her long lashes flirtatiously. “Good evening, Monsieur Neuvillette. I am Trudaine, daughter of the Duke of Romaritime Harbor. I’ve been meaning to approach you for some time now, for who could resist such a handsome and powerful man?”

You rolled your eyes and kept chugging as Neuvillette beckoned you towards him. Before he could answer, you reluctantly closed the distance between the two of you, feeling his hand caress your lower back. Trudaine sneered as she looked you up and down. “I must inquire, who is the lady you’ve brought as your accompaniment tonight?”

Neuvillette tipped his head politely. “Greetings, Lady Trudaine. While I appreciate your flattery, I must decline your advancements. You see, Lady (Y/n) here is my wife.”

You choked on your drink.

While Neuvillette rubbed your back in a concerned manner, believing you had simply had too much to drink, Trudaine’s lip curled in disgust. “Her, a Lady?” she barked in disbelief. “Come now, Monseiur. She’s clearly nothing but a commoner, and not even one from Fontaine.”

Neuvillette’s judgmental gaze flicked down to the woman with a dangerous flash. “Lady Trudaine, I suggest you take your leave before I lose my temper.”

The Judicator’s expression must have spooked her, for she quickly shut her mouth and scurried to the safety of her friend group, no doubt to continue the gossip about you.

“My dear, are you alright?”

You waved Neuvillette away, coughing up the last bit of alcohol. “I’m fine, I’m fine.” You placed the empty glass on a nearby table; alcohol had been ruined for you for the rest of the night. “Though I don’t recall accepting your proposal, husband.”

Neuvillette ran a gloved hand through his bangs. “Ah, forgive me. Your human customs sometimes elude me. If it is a ring you seek, I’m more than happy to oblige.”

You gaped at him. “You seriously think I’m upset because you didn’t buy me a damn ring?” You pressed yourself against his chest, jabbing a finger into his robes. Neuvillette sucked in a breath, marveling at the proximity. You were actually touching him. He didn’t care in what context; he could feel your warmth, sense your heartbeat in tandem with his own. It took every ounce of his might not to rip that dress off your form and bury himself inside you.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” you whispered so as not to draw attention, “I am not, and will never be, your wife. I do not, and will never, love you. You may think us a couple, or mates, or that what you feel for me is love, but you have seaweed for brains. You have taken everything from me—my freedom, my career, my family, my vision. You have forced yourself on me and molded me into some hollow version of myself.” You gestured to your attire, all lace and frills to replace your preferred pants, to emphasize your point. “Delude yourself all you want with titles like ‘wife’ and ‘dear’ and ‘mate’, but they are nothing but empty monikers.”

The enamored look on the Justice’s face only served to prove your point. Stretching his cane horizontally behind your back and cupping your chin with the other hand, he trapped you against his form. “All in good time, my darling. Rocks may appear unbreakable, but the sea erodes them all eventually.”

~*~

Then there was the most recent time he had taken you.

Neuvillette’s idea of a ‘compromise’ was to forgo the formalities of chit-chat for simply sitting in your (private balcony) seats until the opera began. This development saved you from the crowd, but at the cost of being alone to fend off his intimate touches. You practically snarled at him when his hand snaked up your thigh.

“Try that again in public and you’ll lose that hand.”

“Later, then.” He muttered the promise as the lights dimmed.

The opera’s plot centered on an ancient monster rescuing a sacrificed maiden. Instead of devouring her, the creature took her into his care, and their love led to the creation of the Melusines. You nearly throttled Neuvillette at the climax, when the maiden denounced the humans who sent her to die in favor of becoming an immortal with the creature. The so called “monster”, then, transformed into a handsome god of the sea.

As the curtains fell and the lights rose, you glimpsed his subtle smile. Standing abruptly from your seat, you moved towards the exit without sparing him another glance. “Don’t even fucking start.”

~*~

This time, however, you found an opportunity to turn the tables.

This time, Neuvillette had permitted you to mingle alone within the crowd in the Opera’s foyer prior to the show. Pointless chatter with the other opera goers was preferable to being alone with him, though you really knew that Neuvillette had agreed as a test of your loyalty. Although it seemed you could roam as you pleased, you knew the Iudex kept one eye on you at all times. A note slipped into a hand or a whisper for help into an ear would be detected immediately.

While you refrained from approaching others, that didn’t mean you could prevent others from approaching you.

Others like the exceptionally handsome individual striding towards you.

His azure irises soaked in your form as he ran a gloved hand through his fiery-toned hair. Once before you, he delivered a playful bow, lips pulled in a smirk. “Ah, and might I ask why a lady as stunning as yourself is standing by herself?”

You lowered the champagne glass from your lips, taking in the man’s appearance. Based on the thick fur coat slung over his shoulders and the single red earring flashing on his left ear, he certainly wasn’t from Fontaine, though he clearly possessed a good deal of wealth nonetheless.

Your eyes shifted towards the hydro vision on his hip. Your hand instinctively went to your neckline, where your own vision would have been. The only reason you hadn’t gone mad from its absence was because it was never truly far from you—that is to say, because Neuvillette was never far. Your heart ached, and somehow the fact that this man shared a hydro vision made you trust him. “And might I inquire as to who’s asking?”

The man offered you a coy smile. “Call me Tartaglia.”

Returning the smile, you sketched a brow cheekily. “That’s quite a unique name. You aren’t from around here, are you?”

“Am I really that easy to pin?” Tartaglia chuckled, blue eyes sparking mischievously. “Seems I’m losing my touch.”

“Not at all. If you ever need someone to get you acquainted with Fontaine, I’d be more than happy to oblige,” you shot back with a wink, your implications clear. Of course there was no world in which Neuvillette would ever let that happen, but you missed how fun it was to flirt—or just to even talk with—someone who wasn’t the Iudex. You’d take your fun when you could.

Tartaglia’s grin only grew at your suggestion. He offered you the second glass of champagne he held. “I noticed you might be needing another one of these, though really I just took whatever excuse I could to talk to you. Are you really here all by yourself?”

Before you could respond, your gaze subconsciously flicked around the room until it landed on the one who had brought you here. And it was then you noticed the Chief Justice glowering at you, his knuckles turning white around the goblet in his fist. The group of officials around him, though they kept prattling on, went completely ignored as his silver glare flicked between you and the mysterious redhead.

Oh, this would be good.

As Neuvillette excused himself from the conversation, your eyes met his own and a wry grin graced your lips. Blame it on the alcohol, but you were feeling bold and invincible. Like you were the one in power for once. Maybe that’s why, before Neuvillette could reach you, you leaned towards Tartaglia and purred, “It’s just you and me.”

Then you tilted your face up and kissed his cheek, the barest hint of your lips brushing against his porcelain skin. And yes, it was petty in every sense of the word, but you reveled in the furious spark of Neuvillette’s lilac irises.

No more than a second later, a shadow loomed over the two of you. Neuvillette stepped between you and Tartaglia, forcing the other man to take a large step backwards. You, on the other hand, were now partially hidden by the Chief Justice’s large frame, his left arm out to hold you behind him. His cane cracked against the floor in front of him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Tartaglia quickly recovered, looking more entertained than anything. “Woah, comrade! We were just having a bit fun! No need to spoil the mood,” he laughed.

Neuvillette’s eyes simply narrowed as he maintained his calm facade. “You will stay away from my wife.”

The redhead tipped his head, trying to get a better look at you past the Iudex. “Didn’t know I was chatting with the Chief Justice’s lady! Any chance I could convince you to share?” He laughed again, flashing sharp teeth.

Neuvillette was far from amused. “You should hope to never cross paths with me in court, Harbinger.”

Wait. Did he just say Harbinger?

You may have been locked away for four hundred years, but you’d still been informed of the Snezhnayan group of Delusion bearers and their influence (whether for better or for worse) across Teyvat in recent years. You barely had time to process that revelation as Neuvillette firmly clasped your wrist and dragged you outside.

Heavy rain had started to fall, battering the Court with its relentless downpour. Both you and Neuvillette were quickly soaked to the bone, and while you were shivering in your light gown, the Iudex whirled on you. “What exactly did you think you were doing?”

You gave a nonchalant shrug, knowing it would twist the knife even further. “What do you mean?”

“With that man,” Neuvillette said, gritting his teeth. His composed, human mask was slowly slipping, and you were in the mood to provoke the dragon beneath.

“What, I’m not allowed to talk to other men? You were the one who said I could mingle tonight.”

Neuvillette’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Talking? You kissed him, (Y/n). In front of your husband.” His tone slipped into a deep growl. “Your mate.”

Anger flaring, you went in for the kill. “Despite what you keep telling yourself, we are not actually married—”

“Silence!”

Thunder rumbled across the court so violently you swore you felt the ground shake. You gasped as the leviathan tattoo on your arm resurfaced, illuminating your face with blue magic. The authority in his voice cascaded down your spine, soaking your entire being as if you had been submerged into the depths of the darkest ocean. But no, it wasn’t just that—the rain had started to fall even harder, accompanied by gusts of wind that threatened to knock you to your knees. You could barely see five feet in front of you, but the visibility didn’t matter, since Neuvillette’s figure was as clear as day.

He was glowing.

The Hydro Dragon’s horns sparked with blue light, and his robes seemed to have expanded to create flowing waves on either side of his form. Tendrils of azure power snaked through the air around him, forming intricate patterns that resembled water droplets spiraling around one another. Blue seeped from the bottom of his cane and formed cracks through the ground that pulsed with raw energy, threatening to unleash the waters below. His irises burned as bright and silver as moonlight on a midnight sea.

Neuvillette might have been the most composed individual in all of Fontaine, but when his anger bubbled over, it was no mere flood—it was a tsunami.

You gaped at his appearance, the closest to his true draconic form you had seen to date. You suddenly felt like provoking him was your worst idea yet, but that wasn’t what scared you the most. “Did you…can you control…?”

“I am no mere water nymph or Melusine,” Neuvillette replied curly, power dripping from his body as smoothly as water. “I am the Hydro Dragon Sovereign. Water of the earth and the skies bows to me. As will you.”

You weren’t sure when you had started shaking. For the first time in a long while, your anger was doused. You looked between your tattoo and his matching glow and realized just how powerless you were without your vision and within this dragon’s clutches.

Despite all his flaws, after all your years together, Neuvillette knew how to read you. He immediately stilled, a look of panic contorting his handsome features. The ethereal glow around him faded, and the rain began to subside into a dull mist.

He wrapped you in his arms, squeezing you with desperate abandon. “My love, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me—please, forgive me.” Another shiver wracked your form, which prompted him to hold you tighter and bury his nose into your hair, exhaling deeply. “I have made a grave transgression by frightening you so dearly, but I pledge to never lose my temper in such a manner again.”

Neuvillette caressed your cheek and tilted your chin up to gaze longingly into your eyes. “You are my entire world, and I just couldn’t stand the thought of losing you.” He swiftly picked you up bridal style, placing a chaste kiss on your forehead. “Come. I’ll draw you a warm bath with fresh sea salts. I believe we’re done here for tonight.”

Wordlessly, you let him take you home. You can’t argue with a dragon.

[bamsara]

Finally finished this wip that I actually started last year. I'm not entirely happy with how it came out, but I kept getting frustrated with it. The plan was also to make the Y/N customizable too which I sorta did even though I ran out of energy/motivation to do all the parts planned

But yeah! The Y/N here is (somewhat) customizable, and I plan on fixing stuff and adding more options later like glasses, body types, ect. Patrons can download the Photoshop file to make Y/N combinations. That being said, this is not a piccrew. Please don't repost it and only use for personal use.

Some Y/N combos. They're very basic but they are a start.

[idyllcy]

cherry red pies, pretty pink skies

word count: 1.5k || pt2 of sparkling green eyes, dazzling green lines

summary: Damian's sweet baby has her first ballet recital

"Dami, can you—"

"Don't worry." He hums, showing you the pamphlet he had picked up earlier. 

You never thought you'd be worried over ballet lessons. His sweet daughter was having her first recital, and he had cancelled a whole day's worth of plans in order to make sure that everything would go smoothly. You found it cute, though you were no less worried than he was. You could just never quite know what would go wrong in Gotham. The possibilities were endless... even with private security around the vicinity of the theatre.

You wonder if it's possible to be even more anxious than Damian.

"We'll be safe." He hums, hand reaching for yours as he runs his thumb over your knuckles, and you exhale.

"We'll be fine." You mumble. "We'll be fine."

"And if not then I get to shoot at Drake once."

"WHAT." 

Damian doesn't elaborate more on it, but when you catch a blur of orange in the dark, you get the general idea.

Well, at the very least, you feel a little more at peace knowing that someone is taking care of security. You wonder if Tim's out on the roof only to hack the cameras, though.

"Is he?" 

"No." Damian shakes his head, showing security the ticket. "Not this time."

You wonder just how worried Damian is over this entire situation, then.

"Are you worried that she'll mess up on stage at all?" You follow him to the center seats in the middle row, sitting down as he helps you down first.

"She's our blood. She's perfect even if she somehow does mess up. In that case, it would be improv, which we both know is something only the most talented can dream of doing."

You hold back at laugh at Damian's words. 

"Besides. We've both seen her practicing. She'll be alright." His hand covers yours, tapping gently at your fingers.

"I think she'll be fine." Cass hums as she slides next to the two of you, small bouquet in her arms, Bruce following shortly after.

"She's going to do the best out of all her peers." Damian rolls his eyes. 

You can only laugh.

In a way, Damian isn't wrong. Out of all those in her age group on stage, only your daughter somehow manages to remember the routine from start to finish, and when it's the end, you can barely contain your excitement to greet her. Damian follows after you with the flowers he had put in the trunk, small bouquet of congratulatory flowers in his arms as you pick up your precious baby girl and spin her around.

"You were great, baby." You grin, bouncing her in your arms.

"Thank you, mama." She mumbles. "Hi daddy."

"Hi, princess." Damian imitates a light curtsey, offering her the flowers. "Well done on your performance."

"Thank you, baba." She mumbles, cheeks flushed as she takes the flowers from her dad. "I didn't mess up."

"I know." He hums, holding her hand. "We're proud of you."

Your moment is interrupted when she spots Cass, eyes lighting up as she reaches from your arms for her. You hand her over with a gentle roll of your eyes, and Damian watches as she babbles nonsensical things that Cass entertains, flowers handed to her as she continues, thanking her in the same breath, going back to speaking.

"She takes after me for all that talking." You grin, patting Damian's hand as he rests it on your elbow.

"She's much more formal than her peers." Damian scrunches his nose. "Perhaps due to my influence."

"It isn't a bad thing." You wave as you watch Tim and Jason walk in. "You guys missed the whole thing."

"Oh, no we didn't" Tim shakes the camera in his hand, popping out the SD card and tossing it to Damian. "All on video with photos."

"Much appreciated." Damian nods. 

You wonder if Damian's family adores your little girl a little too much. She greets the rest of her uncles with a grin, excitement that only a child can experience making her little body shake with excitement. At one point, Dick calls to let you all know that dinner was ready at the mansion, and you offer to take your little girl from Cass.

"I wanna stay with aunt Cass." She pouts.

"What if she's tired?"

"Baba will carry you." Damian opens his arms for her, and she leaves Cass' embrace reluctantly. "Good girl." 

"Sorry about that." You laugh. "She was excited that you watched her perform."

"Thank you for inviting me." Cass hums. "She'll be great."

"I'm sure it's because she saw that photo of you doing ballet that one time while visiting Bruce. She's been enamored with the idea ever since." 

Cass only hums, glancing to the side as she waves at your daughter — who's still looking at her.

"I'll take her off your hands tonight after dinner." Cass laughs. "I'll bring her back tomorrow."

"Well, it is her summer vacation." You sigh. "Baby, you wanna stay with Aunt Cass for the night?"

"Can I?" She blinks up at you expectantly, and you look up to Damian.

"Do you want to?"

"It would be nice..."

"Then yes." He hums. "Don't trouble her too much, alright?"

She nods, grinning at Cass as she smiles back.

You have dinner with the rest of the family, their soulmates all present, handing your daughter small gifts of celebration as she thanks everyone with a polite nod. She reminds you very much of Damian, and from what Talia had told you when he was a baby, your daughter seems to be the exact image. At the very least, you hope that she'll grow up without the trauma that Damian had to experience because of his blood. He does a great job at keeping her separate from his life in the streets of Gotham. 

You wave goodbye to the family as your daughter gives you both a small kiss goodbye, promising she'll be good for Cass for the night. You have a feeling that means she's going to stay up past her bedtime practicing ballet with Cass again, but as long as she doesn't stay up too late, she'll be fine.

"How late do you think she'll be up until?" You mumble to Damian as he holds your door open for you.

"I'd argue anywhere around 11 to midnight." He nods as he closes the door for you.

"I hope she has fun, then." You chuckle, watching as the manor's doors close once more.

"We'll have our fair share of fun."

"Ugh, I can't wait to get a glass at home."

"Would you like to look through what just arrived? Drake dropped it off before patrol to me."

"You know, for someone who claims to just tolerate him, you sure do rely on him for a lot." You turn your head to glance at him, and he sighs. 

"Siblings."

You found that Damian was highly sentimental after marriage. From the wedding invites to the clothes he wore first when he met you, he knows every moment and minor detail of you. In your room, other than the shelves of mangas he collected as a teen, he also keeps photobooks of the two of you through each year, and all six failed engagement ring attempts are framed on the wall in the living room. You are lucky, you think. Your hopelessness had paid off... or rubbed off. You hadn't known it was possible to be so enamored with someone. Maybe his brothers rubbed off on him.

"Do you want a snack with the wine?" Damian hands you a glass, lips curled upwards gently as you grin at the package.

"I'll be fine. You kept it in the delivery box?"

"You like opening boxes." He hums, settling next to you on the couch as you open the box to find a booklet.

"Oh, from our wedding?"

"These were the behind-the-scenes that Drake got." He hums. "I did not enjoy that he got to see you first on the day of the wedding, but he did give this to us... even if it is years late."

You smile, patting Damian's shoulder gently as you flip through it with him, humming as you point at certain photos, watching as Damian texts Tim to send him the digitals later. You raise brows at certain people, and he tells you each one's name, lips quirking up in amusement when you roll your eyes at some of your friends. You wonder if the development would have happened had you not taken the risk and asked him to be your plus one to the wedding so long ago.

You yawn at one point, and Damian's hand rubs circles on your back.

"Bedtime, habibti?"

You yawn more in response, nodding slowly as you cover your mouth. "Bedtime. Are you going to frame any photos from it?"

"Most likely the one in the back. We should get a family portrait sometime as well."

"Yeah?" You start getting up, pausing mid-way to yawn. Instead, Damian picks you up with ease, waiting for you to wrap your arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Thank you, Dami."

"Anytime. Rest well, habibti."

"Mm... you too, beloved."