#despite being scared of how permanent it is

[ponderingmoonlight]

kny men being "forced" to kiss you

Pairings: Sanemi x reader; Rengoku x reader; Tengen x reader

Word Count: 2,4k

Warnings: here I serve you fluff and spice everyone 😇

Shinazugawa Sanemi 

You cross your arms, glaring up at Sanemi, who’s leaning against the wall with his broad frame, his expression etched with irritation. His scowl seems almost permanent, especially during your frequent arguments, and today is no exception. The two of you are bickering over something trivial - the exact details lost in the heat of the moment as usual - when Mitsuri, ever the oh so innocent meddler, decides to step in.

“Oh, come on, you two!” Mitsuri chirps, her voice light and full of enthusiasm.

“You’re always arguing! Why not make up with a kiss? That would be so romantic!”

She clasps her hands together, her cheeks glowing with excitement.

The room goes silent for a beat, tension crackling in the air like a lightning storm. Sanemi’s scowl deepens, and his sharp eyes flick to Mitsuri, then back to you.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me. Like hell I’m doing that,” he growls.

Mitsuri pouts, tilting her head with a playful smile. That girl…You can’t help but glare at her in sheer disbelief, only the thought of Sanemi’s lips pressed against yours sounding so ridiculous in your own mind. She might be the love hashira, but this goes way too far. After all, kissing can’t solve the fact that Sanemi’s a jerk, right?

“Oh, don’t be so grumpy, Sanemi! It’ll be fun! Who knows? You might even like it!”

Her teasing tone only seems to fuel the fire of his irritation. But on the other hand…Her annoying the hell out of him does seem like a pleasing opportunity you should use to get on hiss nerves.

You smirk to yourself. Yeah, let’s do this.

“What, scared you’ll like it?”

His eyes narrow dangerously, his expression a mixture of incredulity and defiance.

“You wish,” he spits, pushing himself off the wall and closing the distance between you with a few purposeful steps.

“Then prove it,” you challenge, tilting your chin up to meet his intense gaze.

Despite your audacity, your heart pounds like a drum in your chest, each beat louder than the last. You aren’t sure if this is courage or madness, but you refuse to back down now. Not when his eyes are set on you like that, not when he’s that close to you.

Sanemi’s jaw tightens, his frustration evident in the tick of his clenched teeth. With a low growl, he reaches out, his hands cupping your face. You brace yourself for something rough, something impulsive, but his touch surprises you. Despite his brash demeanor, his hands are warm and steady, cradling your face with a care you hadn’t expected.

Then, without another word, he leans in and presses his lips to yours.

You forget how to exist.

The kiss isn’t gentle, but not harsh either. It’s firm, purposeful, and filled with the same fiery intensity that defines Sanemi himself. It isn’t just a kiss - it’s a challenge, a battle, a dare he’d never pass on when you provoke him like that. The world seems to fade away, the argument, Mitsuri, everything – gone in the wind as your senses narrow to the warmth of his lips and the faint, smoky scent that clings to him.

You never thought he’d feel like that. Hot but at the same time cold, rough but gentle all in once. Out of instinct, you wrap your arms around his neck while he pulls you by the waist with his free hand, deepening the kiss even further.

Are you dreaming? And if so, is this a dream or a nightmare? Since you first laid eyes on him, you hated the heck out of this man. This man, who’s now holding you with a passion you’ve never felt before. This man, who insulted you only moments ago with that mouth.

That force of a man…

Just as quickly as it begins, it ends. Sanemi pulls back, his breathing slightly heavier than before. His cheeks, usually a pale color, are now flushed with a hint of pink that makes him look uncharacteristically boyish. But still, his glare remains as fierce as ever, his hand lingering on your chin as if debating whether to let go.

“You’re insufferable,” he mutters, his voice low and hoarse, laced with annoyance.

For a moment, you can only stare at him, too stunned to form a coherent reply. Then, as the reality of what just happened sinks in, a sly grin creeps across your face.

“Admit it. That wasn’t so bad.”

His eyes darken, and his hands finally drop to his sides as if your arrogance physically revolts him.

“Shut up,” he snaps, though the lack of venom in his voice betrays him.

He turns abruptly, running a hand through his spiky hair in a frustrated motion.

“Damn meddling idiots,” he mutters under his breath, though his gaze flickers back to you for a split second before he begins walking away.

“You’re blushing,” you call after him, unable to resist the urge to poke at his pride a little more.

“I’m not blushing!” he barks, his voice louder than necessary, echoing slightly in the quiet room.

His shoulders stiffen, and he quickens his pace, his curses growing less coherent the farther he gets.

You stand there for a moment, a soft laugh escaping your lips. As infuriating as Sanemi can be, you can’t help but find his flustered retreat strangely endearing. And though he’ll never admit it, you catch the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth before he disappears from view.

Rengoku Kyojuro 

The streets are unusually quiet as you and Rengoku move through the narrow alleyways, your hearts pounding in synch. The mission is straightforward: infiltrate a gathering of suspected demon sympathizers and collect information. But now, things have taken a sudden, unexpected turn.

The moonlight filters through cracks in the rooftops above, casting fleeting shadows on his determined face. Rengoku glances back at you, his golden eyes steady but tinged with urgency. There’s no doubt in the fact that this mission is dangerous enough for not one, but two hashira to complete. You feel them in every corner, in every house surrounding you. Demons as far as the eye can see, moving freely along with people who support them.

"Stay close," he whispers, his voice low but firm.

You nod, gripping the fabric of his haori tightly as he leads the way. The only good thing about this mission is definitely working together with Kyojuro.

Everything is going smoothly until a pair of guards emerges from the corner ahead, their faces sharp with suspicion. They’ve seen you. Fuck, all of them look at you with suspicion gleaming in their narrowed eyes. Panic surges in your chest as one of them calls out.

“Hey! You two, stop right there!”

Rengoku halts abruptly, pulling you into the shadows. His broad shoulders block the view of the guards for a moment as he turns to you. His expression softens, but his tone is resolute.

“We have to blend in,” he murmurs, the weight of the situation heavy in his words.

“What do we do?” you whisper back, your pulse racing.

He glances at the approaching guards, then back at you. His voice drops even lower.

“We’ll pretend to be a couple. If they think we’re just two lovers out for the night, they might let us go.”

Before you can fully process his words, he steps closer, his warmth enveloping you.

 “Forgive me for this,” he mumbles softly, his breath brushing against your cheek.

Then, without hesitation, he cups your face gently, tilting your chin up as his lips press against yours.

Time seems to freeze. His kiss is firm yet careful, his movements deliberate as if shielding you from the weight of the moment. You’re hyperaware of everything - the faint smell of ash and sandalwood clinging to him, the heat radiating from his skin, the way his hair brushes against your forehead. Your heart feels like it’s about to burst, your mind going blank.

It’s just you and him. You and the man you’ve had your eye on since joining the demon slayer corps. You and none other than Rengoku Kyojuro.

Footsteps echo closer, and you can hear the guards murmuring to each other. Rengoku deepens the kiss just slightly, his hand slipping to your waist to pull you closer. The world narrows to the two of you, every nerve in your body alight.

Then, as quickly as it began, it’s over. Rengoku pulls back, his golden eyes searching yours for a moment before he shifts his focus to the guards. His arm stays around your waist, holding you close as he addresses them.

“Is there a problem?” he asks, his voice steady and calm, though his grip on you is firm enough to keep you anchored.

The guards hesitate, glancing at each other. One of them clears his throat.

“No, no problem. Just doing our rounds.”

He gestures vaguely.

“Carry on.”

You can barely believe it when they turn and walk away. Only when their footsteps fade into the distance does Rengoku relax slightly, though his arm remains around you. He looks down at you, his expression a mix of apology and relief.

“I…” you start, but words fail you.

He offers a small, reassuring smile.

“Are you all right?”

You nod, though your heart is still racing for reasons beyond the close call.

“I… yeah. I’m fine.”

“Good. We should keep moving. We can’t afford to linger.”

Flashbacks of those big hands holding you tight haunt you down without any mercy, your mind betraying you with imagining that kiss filled with passion over and over again while Kyojuro stays focused on the mission.

You can’t believe that happened, still not able to process this. Did none other than Rengoku Kyojuro just kiss you?

“Kyojuro!”

You blurt out his name  before you’re able to stop yourself, suddenly coming to a halt in the middle of a busy street.

“Can we…Do this again?”

He narrows his eyes ever so slightly in confusion until a sudden beam of realization seems to wash over him.

“We…To be honest, I wanted to do this for a long time, (y/n). I would be honored to kiss you again!”, he beams back.

And before you fully process the meaning of his words, you find yourself devoured by his arms again.

Tengen Uzui 

The marketplace is bustling with activity as you twist through the crowd, trying to keep pace with none other than the sound hashira himself, Tengen Uzui. His flamboyant demeanor and towering height make him stand out like a lighthouse, and you’re grateful for the distraction he provides, allowing you to slip through unnoticed.

Even though this wasn’t exactly planned.

“Stay close, my dear apprentice,” he calls back to you, his voice teasing but mingled with authority.

You roll your eyes while quickening your steps, dodging a vendor carrying a precarious stack of baskets. If there’s one thing you definitely don’t need on a mission like this, it’s a partner like him. What was the rest thinking, sending him along with you?

The plan is simple enough: follow the suspect discreetly and gather information. But Tengen’s idea of “discreet” seems vastly different from yours. He beams confidently, drawing attention as if he’s the star of a show, while you try to melt into the background.

You’re lucky if you make it out of here without picking up a fight.

Suddenly, someone pushes you from behind, and you can’t help but stumble forward at full-speed. Tengen turns just in time, his reflexes sharp as ever, and reaches out to steady you. But the momentum is too strong, and before you can stop it, you crash into his chest.

“Careful now,” he jeers, smirking down at you.

You barely have time to register his words before someone in the crowd stumbles into him, pushing him further off balance.

The world tilts as you both fall, and the next thing you know, your lips collide with his in a clumsy, unexpected kiss.

Your mind goes blank. His lips are warm and surprisingly soft, and for a moment, neither of you moves. The noise of the market fades into the background, replaced by the pounding of your heart. Tengen’s eyes widen slightly, his usual cocky expression replaced by genuine surprise.

Your lips are resting against his.

His. Uzui Tengen, to be exact.

Is this really happening? Are you dreaming? Why aren’t you pulling away instinctively?

He pulls back first, his hand still gripping your arm to keep you steady. For once, he seems at a loss for words, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for something to say.

You beat him to it, not able to endure the awkward silence.

“That… was an accident,” you blurt out, your cheeks burning.

He blinks, then throws his head back with a booming laugh that turns more than a few heads.

 “An accident, she says! How unflashy of us.”

His grin returns, brighter than ever, though there’s a faint flush on his cheeks that he can’t quite hide.

“Maybe next time, we shouldn’t do this by accident. Don’t you think, (y/n)?”

“You… You didn’t have to laugh that loud,” you mumble, trying to pull away from him, but he holds on, his grip firm but not unwelcome.

Fuck, you never felt this idiotic before. He’ll definitely tease the hell out of you for at least five years. And what if he tells the others about it?

“Relax,” he interferes with your train of thoughts, his voice dropping to a more serious tone.

“No harm done. Though I must say, if we’re going to make a habit of this, we should work on our form.”

He winks, his usual swagger fully restored while you stand there like a fool.

You groan, covering your face with your hands as he chuckles.

“Let’s just focus on the mission, okay?”

“As you wish,” he replies, his voice light but carrying an edge of something unreadable.

He releases your arm, but his gaze lingers on you for a moment longer than necessary before he turns back to the task at hand.

The mission continues, but you can’t shake the warmth of his lips or the way his laughter echoed in your chest. And from the way he keeps glancing back at you, you’re not sure he can either.

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine @vrystalius @sanemifucker @blunderland

[sepublic]

I cannot imagine being Camila Noceda because so much of her arc starts around her being scared for her child, wanting her to do well and succeed and being afraid she’ll get hurt. And then right under her nose, her daughter has disappeared on some adventure in another world but at least she seems fine, right?

But you still let yourself break and you end up saying things you might regret. And then it’s only when you begin to worry about her that she comes back and she is scarred. She’s hurt. There’s a cut on her eyebrow and you realize it will never heal. It always reminds you of how you weren’t there for her, you couldn’t protect your daughter from those who hurt her, and if you’d been enough for Luz then maybe she wouldn’t have needed to come to the isles to begin with and be injured. You see how she’s begun to loathe and hate herself, because of things and people entirely outside of her control, and you couldn’t have been there to comfort her when she needed it. So now it’s built up for Luz into this horrific trauma that she hasn’t even yet begun to unpack.

Camila is stronger than everyone because if I’d seen my kid come back like that, I’d have broken apart asking what happened, are you okay, etc. But instead she remains strong because she can see that Luz and her kids are scared and they really need an adult who can be strong for them. Camila probably thought about what happened in Yesterday’s Lie afterwards, and come to regret her outburst; She must’ve guessed how it hurt Luz and made her feel terrible and alas she was right! So she vowed not to make that same mistake again and be even stronger next time, and she was!!!

But man that must’ve been so scary and helpless and painful, seeing what happened under your watch. Being unable to provide a fix in getting her back home, so of course Camila goes along to the Demon Realm once she gets that opportunity, because this all started because she wasn’t there for her daughter when she needed her most. Of course she supports her in coming out, as well as in staying in the isles; She won't blame Eda for giving Luz what she wanted and needed, as Eda herself couldn't be a hypocrite by telling Luz to stay with her mom. Camila won’t let Luz face this stuff alone like last time, not when she knows and Luz feels better about trusting her (or had to, anyway) and it’s what saves Luz!!! Because when Luz relapses after failing against Kikimora, it’s Camila who’s there to pick her back up and tell her everything she needs, which leads to Luz’s palisman String Bean finally emerging!!!

But then Luz dies and just. That scar must’ve reminded Camila that she wasn’t there to protect her daughter from anyone that might hurt her. And despite helping a little against Kikimora, it still happened again. Permanently. Man I wish Camila had a “GET AWAY FROM HER YOU BITCH” moment to get back at Belos for all she did her to child. But Camila had to keep going because after Yesterday’s Lie, she knew she still had other kids to look after. She was strong for Vee during Yesterday’s Lie, only to let herself drop right afterwards in front of Luz. But not again. No time for self pity, you just have to move on after a death and keep living, just as you did with Manny. And in the end, Luz IS all right, and she’s better than she’s ever been and there’s some huge relief.

Just augh Camila Noceda. Luz went on an isekai adventure, but maybe so did her mother? And I don’t mean with the Boiling Isles, I mean with the U.S. Camila might have been an immigrant, and not just the child/descendant of one. And even if she wasn’t, she still moved to Gravesfield. So in general so much of her life has been about going to another world and trying to survive and feel comfortable in it. As it was for Luz, too; But they survived along the way and found what fellow “weirdoes” they could, with Camila meeting Manny, who could’ve also related to her as a fellow Dominican American. And now she’s found others who can relate to Camila in other ways, as Manny also related to her as a huge nerd.

[yanderemystic]

sofia falcone yandere headcanons pretty pls????

— Sofia’s traits: Manipulative, paranoid, possessive.

Sofia has suffered so much. Damaged bits sticking to her skin—biting anyone who deemed too close, except for you. Somehow, you were able to get her collected. Snuck into her heart when she needed someone the most; when trust was given the most, and now she can’t let go of you.

For a potential relationship with her, she uses those around you as a springboard. Everything is terrible all of a sudden; even if everything was great before, you and Sofia became even closer.

Sofia points out every mistreatment. Anything in the past to the current issues. The changes in behavior, canceled dates, and sudden constant avoidance. Sofia reassures you that it isn’t your fault. It’s them. You can’t trust them, at least not anymore. The two of you belong to each other savagely, requiring each other in more ways than them. 

Her favorite thing in the entire world is hearing you talk. Even in a room full of people, she could recognize yours best. When eating out, she hums toward you—acknowledging what you’re saying, but she ends up lost anyway. She enjoys your conversations, even if she isn’t very knowledgeable about the topic. Focusing on how your tongue moves, teeth whistling, and how your voice croons between sentences.

Opening about her past is gut-wrenching—the constant betrayals and the terrifying fear of abandonment scare her. But she works on it for you. Allowing you to visit her therapy sessions, she slowly opens up about her scars and how each one has a thick memory connected to it. Her eyes watch you closely when you touch them, fingers dragging along the rugged edges. She expects pain but gains an addicted love for your soft touch.

She is constantly touching you. Despite her private demeanor, she's very clingy. Constantly having her arm interlocked with yours, keeping you skin-close. Her lips are always chasing yours, droning you in if you are too slow for her liking. Hands interlocked with an iron grasp, and deep hugs that are met with inhaled neck kisses. Her nails endlessly drag against your skin, chuckling when you get goosebumps. 

Loyalty is very important to her. Sofia expects you to keep her updated on your day, change of schedule, or your list of friends. Call her after work and before bed. Tell her all about the dates and what you did during the time she’s gone. If she suspects lies, a sense of breaching trust, she becomes demented.

She hates being violently jealous, but she needs you to realize strangers are parasites. If she senses they are a threat, she acts on it. Despises when people are too close to you, make you smile, or even laugh. The enormity of her possessiveness is dangerous. Sofia will test limits, leaving thick blotches of lipstick to show others, and if that isn’t enough, possibly a dead body will be shown of how crazy she is for you.

But, assuming time will only tell, it’s better to keep her distracted and collected—helping her with the urged warnings. Reassuring her and keeping promises. Nosing the area between your neck and shoulder, relishing your weighted body on top of hers. Your heart is what she craves. The sound of your lub-dub is a lullaby, keeping her very grounded. 

Once embarking as her romantic partner, Sofia will be sleeping with you permanently. Your apartment is now both yours, and sometimes you'll wake up with her beside you; originally going to bed without her. She sticks to your flesh—cold hands interlocking each other around your lower stomach, nails intending your flesh, squeezing when she feels you slightly move. She keeps you in bed with fleeting kisses until you have to absolutely leave.

Sofia adores how you smell. An odd adoration, but she can’t help it. Your smell helps her more than anything. Constantly complimenting you that you smell wonderful, even if you hadn’t showered. She’s not sure why she loves your scent so much, but it’s like an addiction. Your t-shirts, hoodies, even bras are shared—constantly pulling up your shirts, and inhaling. Goosebumps crawling underneath her skin, thrusting her heart faster, and just edging her to near ecstasy. Makes her nerves clench close, and bones go numb. 

So sorry this request came out late, I had some family emergency. Although, I had fun writing this! Requests are still open ♡

[angellic4l]

ordinary things - s.r

in which: season2!spencer and sunshine!bau! reader get coffee on their way into work

content: fluff!! idiots in love ofc, reader loveees autumn, no warnings, gn!reader i’m prettyyy sure, barely any dialogue because i’m far too scared of writing something cringy.

a/n: this is my first fic, i’m being BRAVE posting this ‘cause i am SCARED. i hope whoever reads it enjoys it. i’m also aware it is WINTER, but i felt autumn was more fitting, idk. kisses 💋

Autumn, despite the cold, bitter air and dark mornings it brings to Virginia, is beautiful. In your opinion, anyway. That’s why your face lights up at the first pile of leaves you see outside of your usual coffee shop, the red and orange hues bringing a smile to your face. An even bigger smile than the one you so naturally sport, usually wearing it like a tattoo, almost permanent.

You lightly nudge Spencer’s coat clad arm with your own, pointing at the fiery coloured foliage on the floor, like a child who’s just seen snow for the very first time. Of course, it isn’t your first time seeing autumn leaves, but it excites you the same way nevertheless.

“Oh, Spence, look how pretty they are!” You gush about the leaves, your eyes never leaving the pile on the floor beside the coffee shop door. If they did, you’d have seen that Spencer was already looking at you, your light nudge rendered unnecessary to gain his attention. It was yours the whole time.

A faint chuckle sounds in your ears, soft and breathy, delivered to them by Spencer’s lips.

“Pretty, yeah,” he agrees, his eyes trained on you the whole time, never once dipping to the leaves that you’re so captivated by.

Finally turning your head, gaze diverting from the leaves, to look at Spencer, you see the soft smile adorning his face. With a soft nod of his head towards the door, you both finally enter the coffeehouse, Spencer holding the door for you.

The second you walk in, the warmth from the coffee shop envelops you, a nice contrast from the bitter weather outside, and the smell of freshly ground coffee beans fills your nostrils. Oak tables scatter the small shop, red brick walls complimenting them nicely, and small fairy lights hung to complete the warm atmosphere. It’s like walking into a hug; soothing, pleasant, and warm.

Side by side, you and Spencer stroll over to the counter to order your drinks, pleasantries being exchanged between you and the barista because you frequent the shop almost every morning. Once ordered, the two of you stroll over to the side of the counter to wait patiently for your drinks.

—

Coffee in hand, coat and scarf keeping you warm, and a pep in your step, the pair of you walk side by side over to the FBI building. Cars go past as morning commuters make their way to work, the noise a soothing backdrop to a walk to work with your friend while mid conversation.

“I think autumn’s just so beautiful; the leaves and flowers, how even when they’re dying, parting from their vessel of life, are still so beautiful, y’know?” You ramble, walking in step with Spencer to the BAU.

Another soft chuckle elicits from Spencer’s lip, a similar one to his last chuckle outside of the coffee shop. He doesn’t agree with you this time, though. Turning your head to look at him, a nervous giggle escapes your lips when you see him still laughing.

“What?“

“You have the ability to see beauty in the most ordinary things. It’s endearing.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

Warmth flushes your face, despite the bitter air outside and you quickly avert your gaze to the pavement in front of you instead. Spencer always has the ability to say the most profound things and every single time, they make you blush.

He blushes slightly too, when you look away. Maybe it’s the weight of his words setting in, or maybe it’s how pretty you look with your face tinted pink because of him.

Either way, the rest of the walk is continued in silence, save for the city’s background noise.

[aphroditelovesu]

Can I request yandere Other Mother platonic headcanons? ❤️

❝ 🕸 — lady l: I remember I used to be scared of the Other Mother when I was a kid lmao. Hope you like it and I'm sorry for any mistakes! ❤️

❝tw: technically kidnapping, manipulation, obsessive behavior and possible soul theft (?).

❝🕸pairing: platonic yandere!other mother/beldam x gender neutral!child reader.

The Beldam quickly became attached to you, though she tried to deny it at first. The Other Mother had shown obsessive behavior early on, albeit in a more subtle way but still present. She had spent so many years alone and starving for Coraline that the Beldam, though an ancient being and devoid of certain emotions, found herself yearning for companionship and food. She wanted a child to love and, ultimately, steal their soul. That was her original plan when you first moved into the Pink Palace, until she met you.

You were like a breath of fresh air to her: a naive child she could manipulate and eventually steal your soul from. The Beldam initially only wanted to lure you in and feed off of you, but the Other Mother found herself liking you and your company, and her plans to steal your soul were shelved. How could she steal your soul if she loved you so much?

Beldam soon found herself luring you into her web, with treats, gifts, and anything you could possibly want and desire, while at the same time manipulating your parents into neglecting and ignoring you so that you would be completely dependent on her.

With her, you will feel welcomed and understood, appreciated and deeply loved. Beldam wants you to be happy with her, to be her child forever, and so I see her wanting you to let her sew the buttons on your eyes, because that way, you would be stuck in your child form forever. Wouldn't that be amazing?

She is extremely manipulative and will do anything to make you want to live with her in the Other World voluntarily. Beldam will try to be as kind as possible, gentle and spoil you beyond measure. Eventually, the Other Mother will suggest putting the buttons in your eyes, but she will respect your choice if you say no at first.

Beldam is a very loving mother, always wanting to hug you and shower you with kisses. The Other Mother will cook whatever you desire and will fulfill any wishes you may have, although it is all just an illusion. There is no doubt that you will feel safe with her, loved and adored.

You will be living with her in the Other World permanently, regardless of whether you let her sew the buttons on you or not, there is no way she will let you return to your old life. Why would you hurt your own mother like that? You have everything you want with her, with a mother who truly loves you, so why go back?

She knows exactly what to say to dispel your doubts, and every time you express a desire to return to your original world, she responds with a mixture of calculated sadness and disappointment. "Why do you want to go back to that cold, uncaring place?" She whispers, her eyes filled with a pain that almost seems genuine. "Here, you have everything you want. I am your real mother, the one who will always take care of you. Your real parents never cared as much as I did."

Despite all her care, there are times when the Other Mother reveals brief glimpses of her true nature. When you frustrate her or try to defy her rules, her body is tense, and her sweetness evaporates for a moment. These glimpses, which require a little more attention, can be enough to make you question the sincerity of her love. However, before you can think too much about it, she returns to being the perfect mother, enveloping you with more promises of comfort and happiness.

Beldam is quite possessive of you. She wants to be the center of your world, for you to love only her and trust her completely, after all, she is your mother. The Other Mother is not jealous because there are only the two of you in the Other World, but she is possessive and wants you only for herself. Mother and child should never be separated, right? To her, the relationship between mother and child is sacred and unbreakable. In the Other World, she makes sure that you depend completely on her. There is no room for other influences, other people or even strong memories from your previous life.

She will punish you at times, like putting you behind a mirror and isolating you until you beg her for forgiveness, but in the end, Beldam will always pamper you and make sure that you are cultivating your love and devotion to her. And you will listen, right? Mother always knows best.

The Other Mother tries to be good to you in her own way, but her web of manipulation will only grow tighter and tighter and soon you won't remember who you used to be before you met her, everything will be forgotten and you will only remember her, your only mother. All the effort will be worth it in the end when you let her sew the buttons on your eyes and in that way, you will be stuck with her forever.

[selinay-in-wonderland]

ART THE CLOWN X FEMALE READER (CHRISTMAS EVE) 🎄🍪

—————————————————————————-

It was a quiet Christmas Eve. The kind you liked most. The warmth of your little home contrasted with the snow falling gently outside. You’d just finished putting away the small decorations, the soft glow of twinkling lights reflecting off the windows. Your modest tree stood by the corner, decked with ornaments you’d collected over the years—nothing extravagant, just little pieces that made you smile.

You hadn’t planned on having company. You rarely did. Between your shyness and social anxiety, you preferred the quiet of your home, where things were predictable, where you didn’t have to worry about what people thought of you.

You curled up on the couch, your oversized sweater enveloping you like a cozy hug, and sipped from your mug of hot chocolate. It was the perfect night—a small, peaceful Christmas Eve all to yourself.

But then, you heard it.

A soft creak. The sound of footsteps, almost imperceptible but there.

You sat up, your heart skipping a beat. It wasn’t the wind, and you knew it wasn’t the creaky old floorboards. You hadn’t left the door unlocked… had you?

Before you could fully process the thought, the footsteps grew louder, closer. Your pulse quickened as you stood, holding your mug like a fragile shield.

Then, out of the shadows of the dimly lit hallway, he appeared.

A man—no, a clown—stepped into your living room, dressed in a stained, tattered Santa Claus suit. The fur lining of his costume was yellowed with age, and the red fabric was smudged with dark stains you didn’t want to examine too closely. His white, painted face was frozen in a grotesque grin, black eyes gleaming as they locked onto yours.

You gasped, dropping your mug, the hot chocolate spilling onto the floor, but you were too stunned to care. Your mind raced—Who was this? How did he get in? But your body froze, your usual response to confrontation kicking in. It wasn’t that you weren’t scared—you were—but fear for you often manifested as being trapped, unable to react.

Art the Clown stood there, perfectly still, his head tilted to one side, his black lips stretched into that eerie, permanent smile. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. He just watched you, as if waiting to see what you would do.

You swallowed hard, your mouth dry. This had to be some kind of prank, right? Someone dressed as a clown for Christmas? Maybe one of your neighbors playing a joke?

But as your eyes met his, you realized there was something off about him—something much darker. There was no mischief in his eyes, no playful spark. Just emptiness. And yet, despite the eerie stillness of his body, you sensed that he was studying you, just as confused by your reaction as you were by his presence.

Your instinct told you to run, to scream, but instead, you took a step back, your voice barely a whisper. “Who… are you?”

Art didn’t respond. Of course, he wouldn’t. His silence was his trademark. Instead, he raised one gloved hand slowly, mimicking a wave—mocking, almost theatrical. His smile stretched wider as if to say, Look, I’m friendly.

Your heart pounded in your chest, but instead of running, you stood there, frozen by a strange combination of fear and curiosity. You had always seen the good in people. Always. Even when it didn’t make sense. It wasn’t that you were naïve—you just believed that there was always something redeemable in everyone. Maybe this person, dressed up like Santa, had some kind of reason for being here. Maybe it was a misunderstanding.

“I-I don’t know who you are,” you said quietly, your voice trembling. “But… if you need something, I can help.”

That’s when Art’s grin faltered ever so slightly, his eyes narrowing in confusion. He took a step closer, his movements eerily graceful, like a predator assessing its prey. But there was no malice in his expression—just that unsettling, twisted amusement, tinged with curiosity. He was intrigued by you, by your calmness, your lack of panic.

You took another step back, your breath shaky. “It’s… Christmas Eve,” you added, feeling ridiculous for trying to explain something so obvious. “Are you lost?”

Art mimicked a deep, exaggerated frown, his shoulders slumping dramatically as if he were the one in need. His gloved hands fluttered to his chest in mock despair, his entire body language shifting to exaggerate the sadness you had suggested.

You blinked, unsure whether to laugh or cry. Was this really happening? A murderous-looking clown was in your living room, dressed as Santa, miming some bizarre performance in response to your kindness.

Your kind nature kicked in again—the part of you that wanted to see the best in people, that always assumed there was a reason behind even the strangest behavior. He was miming like a performer, sure, but maybe he didn’t mean any harm. Maybe he just needed help, attention, or… you didn’t even know anymore.

“I-I have cookies,” you stammered, not sure what else to say. “If… if you’re hungry?”

Art’s eyes gleamed at the offer, and he straightened up, his smile returning in full force. He gave you an enthusiastic thumbs-up, his head nodding vigorously. You couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of relief wash over you. Was he seriously accepting your offer of cookies?

You moved slowly toward the kitchen, your body tense as you kept an eye on him. He followed, his movements completely silent, gliding almost like a shadow behind you. The only sound was the faint jingle of the bells on his Santa hat.

Your hands trembled as you reached for the plate of Christmas cookies you had baked earlier. You set them down on the kitchen counter, your heart racing as you tried to process what was happening.

Art leaned forward, inspecting the cookies with exaggerated interest. He picked one up, held it to his ear, and gave a comical nod of approval before pretending to take a huge bite out of it. His body convulsed in an exaggerated chewing motion, as if savoring the flavor, though he didn’t actually eat it.

A nervous laugh escaped you, surprising even yourself. Despite the fear gnawing at your insides, there was something about his antics that almost made you forget the danger. Almost.

He pointed to the cookies, then back to you, giving you a thumbs-up. You nodded, unsure of what else to do. “Y-You’re welcome,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Then, without warning, Art’s eyes narrowed, his smile twisting into something more mischievous. He reached into the sack slung over his shoulder and pulled out a small, wrapped present. He held it out to you, wiggling it slightly in his hand, as if daring you to take it.

You hesitated. The wrapping paper was torn and stained, and something about the way he presented it made you uneasy. But then again, everything about this situation made you uneasy.

With shaky hands, you reached out and took the gift. It was light, almost weightless, and you had no idea what could be inside. You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest as you carefully peeled back the paper.

Inside was a small, cracked snow globe. The glass was chipped, and the tiny house inside was barely visible through the clumps of fake snow stuck to the bottom. It was… sad, really. Broken.

You stared at it for a moment, then looked up at Art, unsure of how to respond. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Art’s eyes flickered with something you hadn’t seen before—confusion. He wasn’t used to this. To someone accepting his strange gestures with such sincerity, such gratitude. His smile faltered for just a second, as if he didn’t quite know what to make of you.

Then, in a swift motion, he straightened up, his grin returning in full force. He mimed tipping a hat to you, his body language exaggerated and theatrical, before turning on his heel and gliding back toward the door.

You stood there, clutching the snow globe, your mind racing. What had just happened? Who was this man—this clown? And why hadn’t he hurt you? He could have easily… but he hadn’t.

As Art reached the door, he paused, turning back to look at you one last time. His eyes lingered on you, and for a brief moment, you saw something beneath the eerie exterior. Confusion. Curiosity. Maybe even a flicker of… respect?

Without another sound, he disappeared into the night, the door closing softly behind him.

You stood there for a long time, staring at the spot where he had been. Your heart was still racing, but the fear had faded into something else—something more complex. You had no idea who he was or why he had come to your house, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between you.

As you sat in the soft glow of your living room, your gaze drifted back to the broken snow globe resting on the mantle. It seemed almost magical, despite its fractured state. Intrigued, you picked it up again, cradling it in your hands and feeling the weight of its history. The delicate glass felt cool against your skin, and the world within it was still, waiting for your curiosity to stir it to life.

You tilted the globe gently, watching the tiny flakes of faux snow swirl around. With a soft shake, you let it settle again, and that’s when you noticed it. Nestled among the miniature decorations of a quaint little house was a small figure, partially obscured by the swirling snow.

You leaned closer, your heart quickening as you focused on the little scene within. As the snow began to settle, the figure came into full view, and you gasped, your breath hitching in your throat.

Inside the globe stood a miniature version of Art the Clown, perfectly crafted in exquisite detail. He wore a tiny Santa suit, complete with bright red fabric adorned with fluffy white trim. The suit hugged his small frame, the colors vibrant against the stark white of the snow. His face was painted in the signature stark white, with exaggerated black eyebrows arched in a playful expression. His lips curled into a wide, almost mischievous grin, revealing sharp little teeth, which only added to the character’s charm rather than fright.

A tiny Santa hat was perched atop his head, tilted to one side, and it danced slightly as the globe settled. His eyes were bright and lively, capturing the essence of the man you had just encountered—curious yet playful, a mix of innocence and mischief. It was almost as if he was beckoning you to join in on some festive fun, despite the bizarre nature of his presence.

Around him, the miniature landscape was adorned with tiny gifts, faux snowflakes, and even a small, decorated Christmas tree. The entire scene felt alive, imbued with a strange magic that made your heart swell. You could almost hear the jingle of distant bells, feel the warmth of Christmas spirit that enveloped the globe.

Then, without warning, a chill swept through the room, causing you to shiver slightly.

Suddenly, the glass of the globe cracked, sending a shockwave through the room. You gasped and dropped it, but instead of shattering, the globe exploded in a burst of shimmering mist that filled the air, swirling like smoke.

Out of the mist, a shadow emerged, and your breath caught in your throat as Art materialized before you, stepping out from the darkness, his expression eerily calm. He was right there, in your living room, just as he had been before—but somehow more solid, more real.

His eyes locked onto yours, an intense gaze that spoke volumes, and yet he remained silent. The room felt charged with tension, the air thick with a mix of fear and something you couldn’t quite identify. He took a slow step closer, and your heart raced, caught between terror and an inexplicable attraction to his dark presence.

As he approached, you couldn’t look away. His costume was slightly tattered, his face painted with the same twisted smile, but now it felt oddly intimate in the closeness of the moment. You felt drawn to him, despite everything that screamed to run away.

But then you noticed something—your heartbeat echoed in your ears, and for a split second, you thought you saw vulnerability flash in his eyes. Was it possible? Could there be more to him than the monster you feared?

The lights flickered again, casting a warm glow that softened the edges of his terrifying appearance. In that moment, it felt as though time stood still. You could either embrace the fear or take a step forward, drawn by an unexplainable connection.

And just like that, as if sensing your hesitation, he reached out a gloved hand, palm up, inviting you to choose. The gesture was both terrifying and strangely comforting.

You took a deep breath, knowing you were standing at a crossroads—one path leading back to safety and the other into the darkness, where the lines of fear and fascination blurred.

You reached out, hesitantly placing your hand in his, feeling the coolness of his touch. A rush of emotions surged between you, as if the moment had the power to change everything. In that shared silence, you realized that despite the horror, you felt more alive than you had in a long time.

As you held his hand, the atmosphere shifted. The air thickened with unspoken promises, and Art's eyes glimmered with a dark intensity that sent shivers down your spine. He leaned closer, and without a word, he began to move, guiding you into a slow, hesitant dance.

Your heart raced, a mix of fear and thrill coursing through your veins. The world outside faded, leaving only the soft flickering of Christmas lights and the haunting melody of a distant carol. Art twirled you gently, his grip firm yet surprisingly tender. It felt surreal, as if you were trapped in a dream where the lines between danger and desire blurred into an intoxicating haze.

You moved in sync, the dance a strange blend of elegance and unease. Every step felt like a delicate negotiation—a silent agreement between you two. You couldn’t help but wonder if this was what it felt like to make a deal with the devil: exhilarating, terrifying, and utterly captivating.

As he spun you around, the shadows danced along the walls, elongating and twisting in the soft light. You found yourself laughing softly, the sound escaping your lips before you could stop it. Art paused, his head tilting slightly, as if confused by the sound. You were surprised by your own reaction—how could you be laughing when you were dancing with a killer?

But then, you looked into his eyes, and something shifted. In that moment, the darkness around him seemed to melt away, revealing a glimmer of humanity beneath the surface. There was a vulnerability in his gaze that resonated with you, a reminder that even the most monstrous of beings could yearn for connection.

He pulled you closer, the warmth of his body contrasting with the chill that had initially filled the room. It was as if the dance was a ritual, sealing the unspoken bond that had formed between you. The world outside was forgotten; all that mattered was this moment.

With each step, you felt your fears dissipate, replaced by an unexpected thrill. The gentle sway of your bodies, the rhythm of your hearts—it was intoxicating. This was no longer just a dance; it felt like a pact. You were choosing to embrace the darkness, to see past the clownish façade and into the depths of his enigmatic soul.

Then, just as you thought you were losing yourself completely, Art’s expression shifted. His grin widened, revealing a playful glint in his eyes. With a sudden burst of energy, he spun you out, your body twirling in a flourish. Laughter bubbled up again, this time more freely, filled with exhilaration and delight.

He drew you back in, and the moment was electric. You could feel the weight of the world pressing against you, the realization that this was a moment you’d never forget. In the quiet chaos of the dance, you found a kind of freedom—one that defied the boundaries of fear and embraced the beauty of the unknown.

And then, as the music faded into the background, you locked eyes with Art, the reality of the moment crashing down around you. You both stood on the precipice of something dangerous, something that could change you forever.

With a breathless smile, you knew that the dance was more than just movement; it was a shared understanding that you were both caught in this dark world together.

In that instant, you realized you weren’t just dancing with a monster—you were dancing with a soul that craved connection, just as you did.

The shadows flickered around you as you continued to sway in silence, knowing that, in this moment, you had forged a bond that was both thrilling and terrifying—an unbreakable contract made in the stillness of Christmas Eve.

[a-aexotic]

HEYYYY! So like every other mf on the planet right now I am in my hunger games era!!

Please could you write a Finnick x Reader where she is selected for the quarter quell (Maybe in her games she was lethal and killed like 10+ people?)

And when Katniss shoots the arena in catching fire she gets taken by the capitol (Like Peeta) and they torture her and shit? Then Finnick and her get there reunion she’s all like battered and bruided and it’s dead sad? Not sure if this made sense because i’m half asleep and dyselxic but let me know😭🤣

Maybe he says “It’s okay baby i got you” ??? x

hey of course i can! i hope u enjoy it babe <3 its a tiny bit long! my apologizes

cw's: angst, mentions of killing/dying, typical thg stuff, torture, ptsd, lmk if i missed anything

You were one of the youngest victors alongside Finnick, being only 15 and having won your games. You were also from District 4. You won the 68th Hunger Games, a few years after Finnick.

When you were reaped, Finnick and Mags were your mentors. Finnick came off as self absorbed and arrogant but once you started talking to him, the more you realized that was total bullshit. He wasn't how the Capitol portrayed him, he was much more caring and compassionate. He was very sympathetic to your situation, having gone through the same things.

During your time in the arena, you were one of the most ruthless tributes of all time. In the beginning, you were easily overlooked. The tributes weren't thinking that you were going to be much of a challenge because of your size and the way you carried yourself.

But that was exactly how you wanted to be portrayed. You tricked the Careers into thinking you were some naïve little girl, stabbing them in the back (literally) the first chance you got. The Capitol loved the turn of events, cheering you on.

When you had come back home, you had finally understood the intensity of what you had done. You had killed a whole group of people, ending their lives permanently. Those people had lives and family who loved them, and now they're gone because of you.

You suffered through months and months from never ending nightmares. Even getting consoled by your mother didn't help anymore; she doesn't understand. You didn't even feel worthy of food anymore.

You closed off Mags and Finnick when you had come home, driving yourself into isolation and depression. You rarely went out anymore, eating one meal a day and slept more than 80% of the day. Even sleeping couldn't mend the eternal tiredness you had, the void that filled your body.

Finnick had felt more than responsible for your pain. He gave you time before he realized he was just adding to your pain. Even when you didn't communicate back to him, Finnick visited you every day. He gave you advice and told you what he had went through after the Games as well. Eventually you opened up more to Finnick, and slowly, he had become your best friend.

He had told you that numbing it wasn't going to make it go away. He reminded you that you had him and Mags to help you with this process, and that you weren't alone despite of how you felt.

He helped you regain your sense of purpose again, your self image again. Finnick had singlehandedly helped you rebuilt your sense of self again.

He saw a part of you in him, that scared 14 year old boy who was trying to go back home to his parents. He never wanted anyone to feel that, especially you.

He promised you that he would never let anything bad ever happen to you again.

During your Victor's tour, Snow had suddenly deemed you desirable by the Capitol, wanting to sell you as he did with Finnick. Finnick couldn't risk getting involved, wanting to protect his family.

Every night in the Capitol, you were always consoled by Finnick. Every time you had to do a favor, you remember walking to Finnick's room to sleep, not baring the thought of having to sleep alone in the cold bed. He was always there, holding your hand comfortingly as you both slept.

The Capitol adored you both, nicknaming you the princess and prince of Panem. The more time you spent with Finnick, the more the media had speculated a relationship between the young victors.

You and Finnick had connected in many ways. Both having the same trauma, it was easy to talk to him and for him to understand how hard it was.

You and Finnick eventually got together a few years later, then getting married (in secret, of course) almost right after. You were both deeply in love.

Finnick found solace in the thought of always having you by his side, remembering that no one could tear you apart. That was until the Quarter Quell was announced.

You and Finnick were sitting at the edge of the couch, listening to Caesar's words carefully as he explained that this year's Hunger Games was going to be very different.

When it was announced that there will be only be Victors in this year's games, you heard dropped. You looked over at Finnick and he shared the same terrified look on his face.

--

When Annie's name had been called, you without any second thought, put up your hand. "I volunteer as tribute."

The crowd gasped and you looked over at Annie and you could tell she was a bit relived but still scared nonetheless. You immediately embraced her tightly, letting her let out a small sob. "It's okay, you're okay."

Mags looked just as terrified and you took her hand. When Finnick's name was called, you felt your stomach drop. Not only were you back in the arena, but you were with Finnick.

You looked over at Finnick and he looked prepared to fight. You both stood up and he grabbed your hand, raising it up in union.

The trainride to the Capitol was pretty uneventful. Finnick had wanted some time to think about the plan and so did you. A part of you knew what he was planning; he kill everyone else in the arena and then eventually himself, all for you.

As you sat on the bed, you felt the sadness and anger turn into numbness. No amount of crying was going to stop the Quater Quell and you had to be smart.

You didn't want to survive without Finnick. You were either winning with him or dying with him. Life would be meaningless without him.

Finnick knocked on your door slightly, before walking in. You looked up at him and he gave you a small smile. He took a seat next to and took your hand.

"I have a plan."

"Finnick, I know what you're thinking, and no. You're not killing yourself for me."

Finnick looked defeated. "One of us has to survive, Y/N. For Annie. For Mags."

You look a deep inhale, looking away from Finnick. "I don't want to life without you, everything would lose all it's meaning without you."

Finnick felt his heart burst into two pieces as he squeezed your hand. You felt your eyes watering again and you couldn't help but let out another quiet cry as Finnick pulled your head in, as he embraced you tightly.

"Shh, it's okay. I promise, I won't... I won't leave you."

--

It had all happened so fast, you couldn't even comprehend what had just happened. One moment, you were with Finnick trying to find Johanna and Katniss and suddenly there was big loud boom. You were relieved for a moment; Plutarch's plan had worked. Until you realized how far away you were from the others.

You were wandering, trying to find anyone until you heard people behind you. You turned and then you saw some unfamiliar faces; suddenly, your vision went black.

Then, you woke up in a white room. You felt like your stomach had dropped out of your body once the realization hit you; the Capitol captured you.

You were strapped down to a bed and you couldn't move or shake it off. The severity of the situation had hit you; even if by some miracle you did escape, where would you go? How would you find your way to 13 and back to Finnick?

You knew how ruthless the Capitol was to everyone who disobeyed them. Your worst fears had come true and there was no getting out of here.

You heard the door open and you saw some Peacekeepers come in and then you saw the person you dreaded to see most; Snow. You felt like your whole had come crashing down, how could this nightmare become any worse?

"Hello, Y/N."

You didn't respond, resorting to stare at the wall in front of you instead.

He tutted disappointedly. "Out of all the tributes, you were the one I expected least to be involved in this mess. You are the Princess of Panem... What a shame."

You still hadn't replied and you hadn't dared to look at Snow. Months and months you spent trying to heal the trauma he had caused you, you were sure if you had to look at him now, you would break.

"I want to take mercy on you, dear Y/N. If you tell me everything you know about the rebellion, I will make sure the Peacekeepers are gentle with you."

You shook your head. "No."

He let out a small chuckle. "Sorry, I couldn't hear you. What?"

"No." You said again, louder.

He hummed in disapproval. "Okay then, you leave me no choice. You are going to regret this."

He nodded to the Peacekeepers and walked out of the room. You were then met with Peacekeepers, loosening the straps then taking you to another room.

If Snow knew one thing about you, it was that being only physical with you wouldn't hurt you enough. He had to hit you were it hurt most.

They threw you in the seemingly vacant room and immediately locking it. You were confused until you heard it.

"Y/N, help me!" Finnick's voice screamed. "Please, help me! Get up and do something, they're killing me! Please."

You looked everywhere in the dark room, trying to find the source. It kept going.

"Y/N, please! Help! What the hell are you doing, just sitting there? You are such a disappointment!" The voice started shouting. "We should've just left you to died in the arena! You are useless!"

Now this was something new. Your body was filled with panic and fear and even though you knew it was fake, you felt like you were going to throw up from all the noise.

Suddenly, Annie's voice came in as well. Then Johanna's. Then your mother's. There was nonstop noise filled with screams for help, shouting with disapproving messages. Your body couldn't handle it; it was so overwhelmed with fear that you started shaking on the ground, putting your hands on your ears but that did little to nothing.

You wanted it to stop. It was too much, you were trembling. It felt like days, just sitting there in that room listening to all those demeaning voices of your loved ones. You couldn't even think straight anymore.

It was so bad you had started to pound your head on the ground, screaming and crying. You had have enough. And then, it all stopped. Silence was foreign for you; your ears were ringing.

You were sitting on the ground, almost lifeless as the Peacekeepers took you away. Your eyes hurt from the tears, your body sore, your ears ringing and your head was pounding.

But you knew that was just the beginning.

--

You were asleep in bed and you were awakened by the door opening, you instantly jolted up. You looked over to see a group of masked men in front of you and you had started to tremble again, silent tears rolling down your face, thinking that the Peacekeepers had come again.

"No, no, no." You started to mumble to yourself.

A man came up to your and took your bruised hand slowly, rubbing it gently in silent empathy. That was the first soft touch you'd felt in a few weeks and it almost stung.

"It's okay, you're safe now. You're going to 13 now."

You had to blink a couple times, trying to process what he said. Was this a dream? You went to pinch yourself but it was real life.

He then helped you up but you couldn't help but stumble; your legs were weak, you couldn't remember the last time the Peacekeepers let you walk for this long.

As you got into the hovercraft, you saw Annie. Your eyes widened as you both ran up to each other, embracing each other. She had started to cry a little bit and so did you.

That was when it hit you. You were going to see Finnick. You were going home. You started crying into Annie's shoulder as she held you. "We're safe now, we're safe."

You had seen Johanna as well but she didn't seem too responsive. Neither did Peeta. You fell asleep on Annie's shoulder on the ride back and for the first time, you actually felt yourself drifting off calmly.

--

There were lots of doctors and nurses looking at you and asking you all sorts of questions and you tried your best to answer them. You were still in shock; you were safe. They couldn't hurt you anymore.

"Y/N?" You turned around to see Finnick. You immediately got up from the examiner's table and ran into his arms, your eyes starting to water up again.

"Finnick," you sighed slowly. You pulled away, putting your hands on his face and touched him as if he wasn't real.

"Are you.. Are you really here?"

"Yes, I'm really here." Finnick looked at you and suddenly his voice transported you back into the dark room. You quickly twisted out of his embrace and his expression changed.

His voice was back and you heard all of the nasty things he had to you. You back away, stumbling into the examiner's table and your breathing became heavy. "No, no, no, please-please go away. No."

You slid down to the floor and you closed your eyes, putting your hands on your ears and rocking back and forth trying to get that voice to stop.

Finnick ran up to you and put his hands on your knees, trying to get you to look at him. His heart broke in half; he didn't know what the Capitol had done to you but now he knows it has something to do with him.

Of course the Capitol would try to ruin him. His eyes started to tear up at the sight of you, in so much pain and panic.

You opened your eyes, Finnick in front of you. You started to cry some more before Finnick slowly went up to you, wrapping his arms around you.

When he had started wrapping your arms around you, your instinct was to push him away but his warmth was welcoming and safe and you started to focus on his touch. The voices slowly drifted away, the sounds of your silent sobs only being heard.

You then gave into Finnick's touch, falling into him and putting your head in his chest as he caressed your back gently, shushing you.

"It's okay baby, I got you. You're safe now, they can't hurt you."

[ssahotchnerr]

Hey love, could you pretty please do an Aaron x reader where it’s there wedding day and she starts getting real bad anxiety about marrying him. Not because she doesn’t want to but because she feels like he is surrounded by so many amazing people who uplift him that she could never compare. Just in the mood for fluffy comfort Aaron 🥹

enough

cw; fem!reader, a LOT of angst but it's comforting??, heavy 5x9 references (i'm sobbing actually), anxiety descriptions, aaron cries 😭, comfort and a happy ending don't worry!!!! wc; 2.4k

"nervous jitters?"

"you could say that." you replied - while staring off into space, while bouncing your crossed leg, while kicking your slipper on and off your heel. your head moved downward as your fingers clutched onto the seat of the chair you were sat in, harshly enough for your knuckles to turn white.

jj pulled the curling wand away from your face an inch, "careful, try not to move."

"sorry."

yet another wave of guilt rippled through you, as this wasn't how you should feel on your wedding day.

last night, you were surrounded by the people you now consider family, celebrating a new chapter. or rather, a beginning. aaron's permanent grin was engraved in your mind; you've never seen him so carefree, happily conversing with his colleagues, gazing at you as if he'd won the lottery (to him, he had). you were positive there wasn't a second where his arms hadn't been wrapped around you.

before parting ways for the night, he had pulled you to the side, to a more secluded area. he gave you long, sweet, deep kisses, holding your body close to his, as you weren't going to see each other until the two of you officially, and finally, became one.

just as him, you had been on a similar high, more than ready for this next adventure, in pure disbelief that in less than twenty-four hours, you'd be a hotchner. so now, whatever this was, had quite literally come out of absolutely nowhere.

when you awoke this morning, rather than the excitement you had expected, you were greeted with an empty, terrifying pit in your stomach.

as the day carried on, pre-wedding activities in full motion, it followed, and the void within only grew and grew. it was gravely unsettling; you were more fidgety, on edge, you hadn't been your usual talkative self. and despite being surrounded by your newfound family - jj, penelope, and emily more specifically - you couldn't help but choose to remain alone in your thoughts.

jj studied your face through the mirror, before securing your hairpiece in place. "there." her hands found your shoulders, giving them a comforting squeeze. "sit tight, i'll be right back."

you nodded, blinking your eyes to prevent the budding tears from slipping - and to not ruin penelope's handiwork, mascara sure to stain your cheeks. she left, leaving you alone.

but as promised jj returned no more than five minutes later, only she remained at the doorway, her head peeking in. "someone's here to see you."

after giving you a consoling smile, as if she knew - profilers - she vanished, leaving door slightly ajar.

your hand had only just touched the knob when the door moved a centimeter back, slight pressure holding it still to refrain from opening fully.

"don't open it all the way."

"aaron?" at the sound of his voice, you fought the instant urge to sob. but the utmost amount of comfort filled you too. it took a second, but you found your voice, "you're not supposed to be here."

"well technically, i just can't see you."

"still." you insisted. your tone was flat, rather than being full of giddiness due to your future husband sneakily paying you a forbidden visit - like it should've. "they're going to be looking for you."

"then let them." aaron answered simply, not concerned about that in the slightest. "are you alright?"

you immediately fell silent, and aaron patiently waited a minute, but still - nothing. the extended period of quietness, scared him, given the day's event.

please, not cold feet.

and given the current circumstances, there was only so much he could do. aaron dropped his hand to his side, weaving through the small gap. "here, give me your hand."

your hand quickly found his, the promptness allowing aaron to breathe. the familiar weight felt like home; your hand always fitting perfectly within his. your hands always cold, his warm. yours soft, his rough.

his thumb drew circles on the back of your hand, an invitation to open up. "what's on your mind?"

you bit your lip in thought, taking a heavy enough breath aaron could hear it without straining his ears.

"honey?"

"first, i want to preface this that i do want to marry you. i don't want you thinking otherwise." your voice was firm, meaning every word.

"okay..." here was a brief hesitancy in his voice despite your promise; a tinge of worry, some question. however, he managed to keep his voice steady, for the most part. you, however, still recognized the waver of uncertainty.

"just," you released a breath, your voice small. "i envy you."

aaron was quiet for a moment, and when he did speak, the confusion was obvious in his voice. "you envy me?"

"you have," you took a breath, gripping onto his hand. "so many wonderful amazing people around you... i don't even know where to start. they've been with you, stuck with you, for far longer than i have. how do i compare to that? god, dave's practically paying for this whole thing. because of you, for you. no matter who you would've married, he would've done exactly the same. i'm not special."

"sweethear-"

"i want to be enough for you." tears pinched at your eyes, your hold on his hand lessening - which frighteningly felt like you were letting go completely. "you deserve," you took another breath, and this one rattled through you. "everything. and i'm afraid i never will be."

aaron only clutched onto your hand tighter, refusing to part. his eyes squeezed shut for a moment, taking a silent, deep breath. "are you wearing your dress yet?"

after all that, you weren't too sure of how he would respond, but you certainly hadn't expected that. "no? once-"

aaron released your hand. and after looking in both directions of the hall to be certain he was in the clear, he swiftly entered, the door clicking shut behind him.

"aaron." you stared at him, your eyes wide in alarm. you barely had the time to process him in his tuxedo, or have the thought to push him out. "you can't be-"

"enough?" aaron looked at you, baffled. exasperation, pain, and love all present in his eyes. "how can you say that?"

"i-"

"you... are everything. my everything." he moved to your left, pacing away for a moment, quickly internalizing a way to get it across solidly, so you wouldn't dare question otherwise again. he blurted out the first thing that came to mind, "did i ever tell you, what haley told me before she died?"

you blinked in surprise, but shook your head. while you knew the story, offered reassurances after nightmares and the topic of haley had never been off limits, aaron had never gone into detail over... the final moments. you never pushed, never asked - if it was something he chose to keep to himself, to have that part of haley close to him and only him - of course you respected that. they were vulnerable, painful memories, not easy to relive.

he sobered, his posture and expression changing before you, alight with a ghost of the past. a tender, solemn fondness was in his tone as he recalled the line. "'love is the most important thing.'"

your eyes studied his face, silently urging him to continue.

"and while our relationship had it's hardships, she wanted jack to believe in it - love - and had me promise her that i'd show him."

"aaron..."

"he believes, because of you."

"i-"

"i believe," his eyes found yours, full of a sincereness you've never seen from him. "because of you."

you opened your mouth to speak again, but no words came out.

"haley was right." he chuckled softly, with a small shake of his head, "honestly, and while i understand why now, for a long time i was furious she made me promise that. because i wouldn't be able to keep my word. before that... day, i'd already given up. lost hope that i could find it again, that it was even possible, or whether i deserved it. haley and i were together for a long time, you know that. being with her was all i knew, what i was used to, and part of me thought maybe someday, we'd manage to work things out. and suddenly, she was gone. it was too late - i was too late. i failed her, and i'd continue to fail her."

"and then you came into my life, and turned my world around completely. never did i think i would love again, let alone get on one knee and ask someone to marry me. but here we are. here you are."

aaron took your face into his hands, as delicately as he possibly could - as if he feared he would break you.

"because of you, i kept my promise to haley. jack knows, he sees the love i have for you every day. and although he 'ew's' at the sight of us kissing here and there, he'll grow up understanding. he'll know the importance, as promised."

"and you saved me. you saved from a looming downward spiral. i saw it happen to gideon, it's happened to countless others within the bureau, and i could've been the next. i told someone once; it's consuming, this job will eat you up if you let it. but instead of letting it, instead of ruining my relationship with jack, you managed to pull me from that impending darkness i was headed toward."

tears were continuously trickling down your cheeks, utterly speechless.

"you're enough. god you're more than enough. and if that doesn't... i'll prove it to you everyday if i have to. if you'll let me." a broken exhale left his lips, choked up. "i promise."

still unable to find the words, and actions speaking louder, your fingers grabbed onto his tux, pulling his body to yours and wrapping your arms around his middle, burying your face into his chest. in the back of your mind, you made a mental apology to penelope, and hoped you weren't soiling aaron's dress shirt too badly.

aaron's shoulders dropped at the contact, in relief. he pressed his lips to the top of your head, his arms wrapping around your shoulders and holding you close. next, he's the one who took a shaky breath.

"so, i'm the one who should be afraid."

"what?" your voice cracked, peering up at him, your chin on his torso.

"baggage." aaron sighed, tearing his eyes away from yours, his hands running along your back soothingly - or rather, to soothe himself. "i'm the widowed father. i'm the one who's never around. i'm the one who's scarred, in more ways than one. i don't want to limit you, to keep you from a life you've always imagined for yourself. like i did with haley."

"don't say that."

"every day, i wonder why i'm the one you chose to be with. wonder why you love me. i think that it's too good to be true, that i'll wake up. or someday, you will."

"aaron."

he sighed, tears sliding down his cheek.

"you are not scarred, aaron hotchner." you cupped his face and angled him so he was looking at you, wiping the droplets away with the pads of your thumb. "far from it. the life i imagine, is with you. this is it." you found it in you to let out a small laugh, refreshing after the morning you've had. "that's why i was so worried."

he also couldn't help but laugh gently through his tears. "you shouldn't be."

your hand slid to the back of his neck, winding your fingers through the nape of his hair. "you've, very unfairly, dealt with the unfathomable. the unimaginable. but that doesn't make you broken. i find it admirable actually, and it's one of the things i love about you. you're strong aaron. to go through something like that, and come out on the other side of it, both the tragedy and the recovery part of it. a lot of people wouldn't be able to do the same."

aaron looked at you, listening, his head tilting as he leaned into your touch.

"despite what you think, you're a good father. i adore you with jack. and with the horrors you see, every day, you still come home with a calm face. you never fail to give us your all - your sweet loving self. you're always present, even if you're physically aren't here. because you're out there making this world a safer place for so many others. for jack, for me. you really don't give yourself enough credit."

aaron remained silent, his gaze beginning to tear away from yours. but you stopped him, with a finger under his chin to direct his focus back to you.

"you may have scars, but they aren't you. they may contribute, but they aren't you."

"are you sure?" his voice fell to a whisper, eyes desperately searching yours, his own dampened.

you nodded earnestly, your bottom lip quivering a small amount. "i've never been more sure of anything. i promise."

and with that, aaron's lips found yours, kissing you even more deeply than he had the previous night. from the urgency that soon developed, it was clear just how needed this conversation was, on both ends. providing closure, clarity. the kiss sent a buzz right through you, instantaneously making up for the all the lost time you had spent brooding.

you forced yourself to pull away - only when air was needed, and to simply stop. you would've gladly kissed him longer, and aaron likewise, but the two of you were on a schedule.

his forehead fell against yours, a rather boyish, adorable smile on his face. "so, are we good?"

you nodded, your lips pulling into a smile as well, the giddiness you've been missing finally present. you reached up, gently blotting away any lingering tears of his. "we've always been."

"wedding still on?"

you rolled your eyes, gently smacking his chest and making him laugh. "duh."

"okay." he grinned, pecking your lips gently. "i better go. if someone catches me in here-"

"-you'll be in trouble."

"big trouble." he grinned, pulling your hands forward to bring you in for yet another kiss. "i love you. you never saw me."

you chased his lips - just one more. "never did."

aaron laughed, his brown eyes just sparkling. "i'll see you soon. you know where to find me, i'll be waiting."

[keepingitformyself]

older (and wiser): ii

A/N: second chapter! i don’t know when the next time will be that i update. i start uni in a few days and i also am working through a personal issue i have to deal with. anyway— every place that’s mentioned like coffee shops, restaurants, etc..are real so if you’re ever interested in looking into those you can! cus they’re real! ALSO in case anyone hasn’t noticed the face claim for paul is paul mescal. please also keep in mind that this is based off of “past lives” meaning it will follow SOME key moments in the film. not all, just SOME. so if you haven’t seen it i’d recommend it, it’s a great film!

synopsis: you and wanda meet for coffee.

pairings: wanda maximoff x reader

genre: angst, some fluff

warnings: oh gee

part i

please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.

you don’t know what to make of it when you hang up the call.

walking back into the living room, phone in hand, you gulp down your feelings, trying to process the aftermath of what had just happened.

paul looks up from the book in his lap, already closing it and setting it aside as you come into view. his eyes immediately catch the scrunch of your brows.

“talk to me,” he says softly, reaching for your hand and gently pulling you to sit next to him.

you want to escape the moment, but there’s nowhere to go.

“it was wanda.” you admit, your voice laced with an uneasiness that made you feel unsure of what he might say.

paul’s lips part slightly as quiet consideration washes over him. his gaze shifts to the side, and he seems lost in thought.

after a few seconds, he finally says, “oh.”

of course, paul had previously known of who wanda maximoff was to you. it was brought up fairly early in your relationship, both of you drunk on cheap whine, over a lazy night in when it felt like it was easier to be honest than anything else.

he knew there was an ex. he knew that much. an ex that had left you with the unbearable weight of what once was and how good it could be. something in you told you he deserved to know. so you did, you told him and you ended in tears laying against his chest.

fortunately, that night did very little in scaring him off.

wanda was your first—and last—real relationship in college, and coincidentally the one that also impacted you the most.

having her at your side built you up in so many ways. she inspired you so much during your time together. creatively, emotionally, or spiritually. you felt so much around her, so much for her, and she was just as equally showing of that.

there were so many sides of her that you enjoyed experiencing, so many sides of you that had come out because of her. it was something so equal in tenderness and intensity.

to you, wanda maximoff was like a paradox of ideas you felt you could actually understand.

but it wasn’t perfect. the end of your relationship with wanda had been devastating. you were both just months away from graduating when everything began to come apart at the seams. wanda had been cast for the lead in a series that would require her to go overseas for six months, while you had been offered an internship to shadow journalists abroad. you were both doing things you loved, and maybe not together, but you knew this was needed.

and despite your insistence that you could make it work long distance, wanda wasn’t sure she could handle being so far from you. for nearly three years, the two of you had been inseparable. the idea of such a drastic change felt impossible to her.

you agreed it would just be a break—nothing permanent. you promised you’d be back together in no time. but the distance only made things harder. wanda became incredibly hard to reach, always busy, always consumed by work.

it took a toll on her, and she became emotionally unavailable in a way that left you feeling more alone than ever.

determined to salvage what was left, you decided to fly out and see her. wanda had promised to meet you, had said she’d gotten the day off just for you.

you planned a whole dinner in your hotel room, excited to finally see her again. but wanda never showed up. you waited and waited, your heart sinking with every passing hour. when you finally heard from her, she chalked it up to being busy, apologizing profusely.

but it wasn’t enough. her inability to show up had made something clear: the relationship you both claimed to have cherished wasn’t there anymore. so, you ended things for good.

“why did she call?” paul finally asks. his voice careful where you feel like your answer to his question is one he isn’t fully sure he wants to know.

you put your hand over the one that holds yours, biting your lower lip as you find the words to say what you need to. how does one say that their ex misses them? and wants to see them?

“she wanted to see how i was doing,” you start. “i told her about everything, us being engaged, she said she saw and congratulated us.” you smile faintly, recalling the words, but it falters as you contemplate your sentence. “she wants to see me. she was…pretty insistent on it.”

“and what did you say?” paul’s curiosity is evident, though his tone remains measured.

“i said yes to meeting up with her.” you admit. you grip his hand tighter, bringing his palm to your lips and kissing it, as if letting him know that he has a say in this too. “but if you don’t want me to, i wont meet with her.”

paul remains deep in thought as he stares at your entwined hands. he could say no, could ask you not to go, but he knows that’s not who he wants to be. he wouldn’t want to keep you from something that might heal a part of you you’ve never fully recovered from—especially when it’s a part so closely tied to who you are now.

looking at you through his lashes, he smiles softly. your thumb hasn’t stopped rubbing the back of his hand. he’s certain none of this could ever truly hurt what you’ve built together. not when he has you now, so wholly.

“i want you to go see her.” he says finally, his words tinged with a gentle lilt. his eyes soften, and he adds, “if there’s even a chance that it’ll give you closure, or just help you carry less weight, then i think you should. i trust you.”

your eyebrows rise in surprise at his words. “you want me to?” you repeat.

“uh…well, no. it’s not that i want you to. it’s that i wouldn’t want you not to, d’you see? does that make sense?” he pauses, running a hand through his hair.

“look we’re gettin’ married soon, and i love you. from what i’ve heard about wanda, she meant a lot to you.in a way, she led me to you. i wouldn’t want to hold you back from somethin’ that might be good for you. if seein’ wanda is that, then you have my full support.”

your eyes lock with his, a grateful smile on your face at his understanding. you lean over to kiss his cheek,

“than you,” you murmur softly.

——

wanda was the first to arrive at the café you’d picked out. you’d agreed to meet by 2:15, but wanda had been restless, unable to stay in place once she reached her hotel just hours earlier.

caffè reggio felt enigmatic in its own way. the compact space, with small tables scattered across the room, gave it an almost congested feel, but the patrons kept to themselves, creating an atmosphere of quiet solitude.

the low lighting added an intimate touch, the kind wanda found herself grateful for; a setting that made sense for seeing you after all these years. still, she hadn’t expected you to choose a place that felt so…secretive. not that she was complaining.

as soon as she sat down, a server approached her with a gentle greeting and offered to read her the menu. she listened half-heartedly, her mind preoccupied, and eventually settled on an espresso martini and a dessert she barely registered.

“will that be all?” the server asked politely.

wanda hesitated, glancing at the watch on her wrist. it read 1:57 pm.

“actually,” she said, chewing the inside of her cheek, “i’m meeting someone in about fifteen minutes. could you come back in ten and fix me a vanilla latte for them? double shot, please.”

the server nodded, jotting it down before retreating.

the minutes felt like a drag as wanda waited. each minute passing made her heart feel heavier. she’d waited in the quiet corner she’d picked for the both of you. alternating between anxiously biting her lip as she stared out the window, or checking her phone for the time.

for a second, she feels grateful no one has seemed to notice her, making it easier to revel in her own anxious energy in peace.

when you finally entered, wanda exhaled quietly, her chest tightening as everything seemed to slow. she took in the sight of you, cataloging every detail. your hair was longer, your features more defined, carrying a depth of experience that hadn’t been there before her. for a moment, wanda froze, torn between wanting to disappear completely or letting you see her as she was.

but then your eyes met hers, and you smiled. a smile that was so familiar, it sent a deep ache through her chest. she rose quickly, her arms stiff at her sides, unsure whether to offer a handshake or reach for a hug.

you decided for her, stepping closer and wrapping your arms around her shoulders. your left hand brushed slightly against her back as you said, “it’s good to see you, wands.”

wanda tries not to break into to tears immediately at having you in her arms, of seeing you, of breathing you in. it’s all overwhelming in it’s familiarity.

you pull away first, looking up at her with a soft smile until you decide to sit on the chair across from her. wanda remained standing a beat longer, awkwardly smoothing her pants before sitting down.

“how…how are you?” she asked, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap.

“i’m really good.” you replied, taking a sip of the latte she ordered for you.

“that’s good.”

the words hung in the air for a moment, and you both began speaking at the same time.

“what have—”

“it’s really good—”

you both broke into quiet laughter, the sound cutting through the nervous energy. it felt shared, familiar, like all those years ago.

“you go first,” you offered, tone light.

wanda smiled nervously, glancing down before meeting your eyes again. “i just wanted to say…it’s really nice to see you again.” her voice was soft, almost hesitant. “and…you look good.”

“thank you,” you replied sincerely. “you do too.”

there was another pause, and you leaned forward slightly, gaze steady. “how have you been?”

wanda shrugged, a faint smile playing at her lips. “working. that’s really all i know how to do.”

you frowned at the self deprecating comment, shaking your head slightly. “you know, i’ve actually kept up with your work over the years.”

her brows furrowed in surprise. “really?”

“oh yeah,” you said, grinning triumphantly. “paul and i caught an early screening of his three daughters. it was incredible. it even brought him to tears—more than me, actually.”

wanda couldn’t help but smile, though she faltered slightly at the mention of his name. “he knows about us?”

you nodded, your expression gentle. “yeah. he’s a fan too, by the way.”

“that’s…kind of strange,” she admitted with a soft chuckle. “but also really flattering.”

the moment of levity passed, and wanda hesitated before asking, her voice quieter now, “when’s the wedding?”

your smile shifted, still warm but with a hint of wistfulness. you looked away briefly, as though picturing the scene in your mind. “next september, ideally. paul’s parents have this farm in ireland. it’s got these sprawling green fields and so many goats.” you chuckled lightly, glancing back at her. “it’s beautiful that time of year.”

wanda nodded, a faint smile on her lips as she absorbed your words, though her chest felt heavier with each one. “that sounds…lovely,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“i’ll send you a postcard,” you joke, a light laugh escaping your lips. wanda forces a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. she wishes the context were different, that the distance between you wasn’t so vast, so final.

the silence lingers for a beat too long. it’s palpable, heavy with everything that’s been said—and everything that hasn’t.

you don’t why the next words come out of your mouth.

“you should come over for dinner.” you offer, your smile easy and disarming. you don’t want this to be hard for wanda. anyone could see there’s something still there. and you know wanda—you know her tells. there’s something she wants to say but can’t. this is your way of making her feel better about feeling it, regardless of if you can even help it.

“pardon?” her brows furrow. “to your place?”

you nod as casually as you can. “when do you leave?” you ask.

wanda looks away for a second, clears her throat. “i haven’t booked a returning flight yet,” she admits sheepishly. “was kinda hoping i’d find a reason to stay.”

you nod, smiling knowingly, but you don’t comment.

“come over for dinner,” you say again. “paul is an excellent cook.”

wanda almost smiles, recalling all the times you tried to cook for her but failed miserably. she was usually the one that did the cooking. it’s strange—comforting, even—to think that someone else is now treating you that way.

still, she hesitates. the idea of being in the same space as him, in the home you’ve built together, feels almost unbearable.

“only if you’re sure,” she says.

you sit up straighter in your seat. “it doesn’t have to be weird. i think you’ll like him. he’s a really good man, and i’d really love for you to meet him. and he already thinks you’re talented.”

wanda looks down at her hands, still processing your offer. “you’d really want me there?” she asks, voice above a whisper.

“of course,” you reply sincerely.

wanda shakes her head, her expression caught between hesitation and yearning. “i don’t know.” she says. “that kind of sounds like a lot… and i don’t want to make things awkward. for you or for him.”

you shake your head as if she had just said something silly. “it won’t be. paul knows about us, and he’s one of the most understanding people i’ve ever met. he’s never been anything but supportive.”

wanda let’s out a short laugh, the kind that almost cracks. you think you see tears forming, glinting faintly in the windows light.

“he sounds perfect.” she murmurs, a hint of sadness evident.

“he’s not perfect.” a soft chuckle. “no one is. but he’s perfect for me.”

wanda smiles sadly. “okay.” she nods. “only if you’re okay with it.”

“i’m more than okay with it.” you assure her.

a faint smile tugs at her lips and wanda nods. “thank you,” she says softly.

“thank you,” you reply, warm and firm. “for coming all the way to new york. for wanting to talk.”

you start to gather your things, ready to head out. “i do have to leave now,” you say with an apologetic smile. “i’ve got a meeting with an editor in half an hour.”

once you’re standing, you look directly into wanda’s eyes. “thank you for the latte. it was great seeing you.” you say, and mean it. “i’ll be in touch.”

and with that, you’re already on your way out the door.

[sttm99]

Till Death Do Us Part

Bakugo x reader

Part 2: Only Ever You and Me

Ps: I got bored and decided I hadn't posted in a while, so I did this.

Prince Bakugo, who was arranged to marry you, some princess from another kingdom, despite all his protests.

Not only did he NOT want to get married, but his heart already belonged to someone else; the little shy maid in the corner of the banquet Hall where the wedding reception was being held.

He'd met you for the first time a few months ago, and again, just some hours ago when the wedding was finally held, but he'd already decided on one thing he didn't like about you.

You were perfect.

And not in a good way.

You were perfect in such a way that it had him itching to see something wrong.

He sulked through the whole wedding when you finally arrived at the Palace because you were pretty. Too pretty. You were absolutely stunning, and it had irritation coursing through him.

He saw the way his maid lover looked at you; jealousy and sadness obvious as she saw the way you and him were paraded around the hall.

He hated it. He hated the stupid, royal smile that was permanently etched on your face. He hated how you seemed so prim and proper as you smiled and greeted other nobles around him, laughing when expected, showing empathy to concerns he knew you had never experienced, and that stupid soft voice of yours as you talked about how lucky you were to be married to him.

He hated as he watched you dance around with some generals in the middle of the hall, your movements graceful and perfect, precise and correct.

He had to tear his eyes away from you before the irritation consumed him. Unironically, it had him locking eyes with his lover, his own softening in turn as he stared at her, wanting nothing more than to escape to that empty hallway they always met in.

And he was about to, already standing from his seat and turning to the exit.

But you'd quickly appeared in front of him, soft, irritating smile on your face as you stared up at him so innocently.

"Where are you going, Katsuki?" You asked softly.

"The bathroom," he quickly murmured, already trying to step around you, but you followed, quickly sidestepping so you were in front of him again.

He scowled as you blocked his path, "Oi-"

"You think I don't see you look at her?" You stepped forward, and Bakugo thought he'd heard a mistake because you still had that soft look on your face, yet your voice was suddenly so cold.

"What are you talking about?" He asked, and for the first time, his voice wasn't so aggressive.

But you just grinned at him. "Your little whore, near the drapes at the left end of the hall. You think I don't notice how you stare at her?"

Your observance makes him glare. "So?" He spits out at you, quietly so no one hears. "You think I give a fuck? This wedding is a sham and-"

"And it's the joining of our people," you say softly, practically cooing at him like he's a kid. He hates it, it makes his skin crawl. "It's our duty. I'd hardly call it a sham."

"Doesn't change the fact that I already had someone. Someone whom I loved, who was mine." He growls through gritted teeth, hands clenched by his side.

"But you're not hers," you say with a grin. This one is ugly; it's mean and a borderline sneer. "You're mine, Katsuki. My king. My husband."

"You-"

"At the end of the day, it's me you'll only ever be seen with, it's me who'll be buries next to you, and when we're dead and gone, the history books will say I was your wife."

He's frozen in his place, still trying to process your declaration. You're right. You're stupidly, annoyingly right, but it pisses him off, it scares him, this boldness and this meanness, knowing that he was going to spend the rest of his life with you.

But it excited him as well, this confidence and possessiveness, knowing that he was going to spend the rest of his life with you.

"With you and her? It's fleeting, quick passion. But you and I?" You grin, "Till death do us part."

He's still frozen in place, suddenly quiet as you step forward and link your arms together. You rest your head on his arm as his mother begins to approach you two.

"Smile, husband," you whisper softly to him. "It's our wedding."

[fangsandfeels]

Can anyone explain me what the ever-loving fuck is going on with the Qunari in Veilguard?

When I learned about Treviso occupation, I thought that was the result of Qunari officially being on the warpath. The Trespasser made it clear that the Qunari have been planning their invasion for quite a while - but chose to act covertly at first. Which makes perfect sense for Qunari, this is what they do. That would have also added some delicious moments for Taash and the Vashoth!Rook.

However, in the game we have not Qunari, but the Antaam (military). Which sounds stupid. The "it's not the nation, its it's soldiers doing it" excuse already sounds stupid if you ask me, but in the context of the Qunari lore it sounds even more stupid.

So, according to the accompanying media, Antaam...rebelled and acted without sanction. They have split into groups led by warlords who squabble between themselves and try to dig deep into the land they occupied. Which is bullshit.

The Antaam, meaning "body" in Qunlat, is the military of the Qunari led by the Arishok. Metaphorically, the Antaam are the eyes, ears, legs, arms and hands of the creature, everything that one needs to interact with the world, and so most Qunari encountered by Thedosians belong to the military

Antaam listen to the Arishok and Arishok alone. Qun is built on a system where everyone knows their place - and when they're out of place, they freak the fuck out, the massacre-the-family-because-my-tool-is-lost way. So, the probability of a large group of Qunari, an entire fucking army doing something without a command, and then digging a deeper hole for themselves by warlording is extremely low. Also, by all accounts, they're stop being seen by their kin as Qunari - they are Tal-Vashoth. Because they acted on their own volition, disobeyed the order, disobeyed the Arishok. This is not how the Qun works. No matter what they say, how they call themselves - they are Tal-Vashoth.

Like, there is a reason why Qunari are terrified of not fitting their mold - not only they have no idea of what to do when things don't go as planned, but also they are scared of losing their way and becoming permanently lost. The Iron Bull had that belief that he might lose his mind because he didn't know if he should trust himself without the guidance of Qun - him being a little more flexible due to his work as a spy as well as getting people he grew emotionally attached to helped with overcoming this barrier. But far from all Qunari are that lucky. Sten was so dejected after losing his sword that he let himself be caged - he didn't care about dying or anything anymore. He couldn't go home.

...Alright, where were we?

According to the wikipedia, Rasaan (the emissary of the Triumvirate)...took the control over Antaam? HOW? Qun is extremely rigid and allows no loopholes. For a change this massive there have to be some really, really good reasons - and I don't think the Antaam would have just accepted it. Without high enough approval, Sten only acknowledges Warden as the leader after they beat his ass in a duel.

Alright, let's say Rasaan gaslit the Antaam into believing she channels the way of the Qun and they ate it up. But why do we have warlords now?

Warlords with names, like Butcher? There are no names in the Qun. This is, once again, Tal-Vashoth behavior. But at the same time, they have access to qamek? What? How? Why? How does Par Vollen feel about their entire "body" fucking off? If they didn't sanction it, why aren't they stopping them???

It wouldn't be the first time for Bioware to twist their own lore and canon, but this one is legitimately migraine-inducing. Why not make a full-scale and sanctioned Qunari invasion, Qunari are like this! It's okay to make them the baddies, their ways are fucked up already and some positives don't make up for all the negatives! Don't just slap in a bunch of guys literally called "the army" and say "Nah, not all Qunari guys, these are just military acting on their own despite their lifestyle being all about following the system and doing your strictly established duties"

[holycowboytiger]

Callsign: KIA

Taskforce 141 grieving a fallen member who died alone on a solo mission

GN!Reader

Reader uses Callsign: Teeth

They really should've seen this coming, they should've known, should've held you closer, should've spoken to you more before the mission, should've just,,, been there, before your death.

They knew the mission was dangerous, but it was like you knew that you weren't going to make it back, in the week leading up to your departure you'd been all over them, non stop talking and encroaching in their routines, more than you usually would, smile on your face as you asked for them to settle in to watch a movie before they all turned in for the night.

Sitting with Simon as he made tea, watching Johnny as he trained, forcing your way into Kyle's room so he can sing to you,, or so he can play the guitar and you sing along with him, as horrible as you sounded, you were still there.. and offering to help price with paperwork, practically begging to be close to him, for the limited time you had left.

Truly,, you were well aware that you weren't coming home after this mission, this was the final one, the one that would be on your paperwork that would pronounce you KIA, the one mission that would wrench life from your cold grasp.

They should've known when you hugged them all tighter before getting on that plane, they never should've let you go, they shoul'dve went with you, despite commands protests, they shouldn't have left you alone.

Sent off with a bunch of rookies, lamb to the slaughter, you looked around on the plane at the faces that would soon have grieving mothers weeping, fathers wondering what they did wrong, sisters, brothers, asking why? why them..

it became even more obvious to you that death was on his was to you when the moment you touched down bullets started to fly, confirming half of your team dead before you even got a fighting chance, rushing past enemy lines and into buildings in hopes for five minutes of cover, until the door would be breached and you would have to find a quick escape before they made it into the room you were trying to grasp yourself in

you knew it was hopeless when you entered another house, another room without a window, you heard the door being kicked in and your heart dropped.

you have never feared death, you only feared what it would do to the people around you, how your team would process your permanent abscense

you wondered if there was another side, if you would go to Heaven or Hell, if God was a cruel man with an iron fist, or if he forgave sinners with a hideous soul, with blood drenched hands such as yourself, as you heard the bells of death that were the enemies footsteps ring closer, you made your last call back to base, your final message..

''This is Callsign: Teeth from taskforce 141, radioing in to report,,,, myself, KIA''

truthfully there was so much you could say, so much you kept to yourself, you wanted to tell your friends, your family how much they healed you, and how much you would miss them, and tell them, especially Price not to blame himself for sending you off, you wanted to cry and tell them how scared you were, how you didn't want to go yet, how you still had so much you wanted to see, your bucket list was still full;

You hadn't volunteered at an animal shelter yet.

You hadn't met your favourite artist

you hadn't swam with dolphins

you hadn't had enough time to do anything, you were going to die young, having lived a life unfulfilled..

But as the door of the room you were in was breached and the enemy raised their guns, you found yourself accepting the cursed fate, tears still streaming down your face as you prayed that God was a kind man.

you had once feared the ocean, it was so vast, unpredictable, so deadly, but in these moments, the cold embrace of the waves felt more welcoming that the embrace of death, maybe, in another life, you wouldn't join the military.

Maybe you'd go to college, study marine biology, and meet a grumpy professor who cared too much, constantly extending deadlines for you, have a roommate that was brooding, and intimidating , but that took care of you when you were sick, meet a jock who was strangely obsessed with fireworks,, comparing them to explosions and maybe you'd meet a music major, who wrote his own songs and who sang to you when your head was too loud with anxious thoughts..

in another life,, but not this one.

In this one your grumpy college professor was a man by the name of John Price, and he was your captain, and he was not coping well with your death.

he had turned to the bottle for answers, drowning himself in the numbness it gave him, he relived your last moments with him, and he kicked himself over and over again for approving this mission, even if his command would had fought him tooth and nail, even if he could have risked his career, you'd still be here. John finally considers retiring after your death, thinking of settling down near your hometown, and visiting the places you rambled on about, wringing the memory of you dry.

Your brooding roommate was your teammate, and his name was Simon Riley, and your death was cutting him deep.

He wasn't sleeping, or eating, he was barely functioning, he didn't speak for weeks after he heard the news, and even now he was incapable or forming full sentences. Simon had lost people before, he knew what it was like, but- something about your death brought him to his knees. He visited your grave, nightly, and that was the only time he would speak.. to you.

You were usually the one who filled the silence and Simon was the one to listen...how times change right kid?

He would scold, shout and give off at you about everything you did wrong, how you could've made it out, and by the end he was a blabbering mess of sobs and muffled cries as he begged it to be a joke, he begged you to appear infont of him and smile, hitting him over the head for being stupid before guiding him inside, and making him tea so he could finally sleep....

The firework obsessed jock, was Soap, Johnny MacTavish, your brother in arms,,, and in all senses of the words, your brother- even if not bound by blood, and he was in denial about your death, he still believed that you would walk through the doors and laugh at how sad they all are, claiming that they really ''did like you after all''... but he knew you weren't that cruel. He knew death was.

He'd never been through such a big loss, he'd lost men, teammates, but never friends,,, not his bestfriend.

Johnny brings himself to near insanity in his denial, he used the fact that you were able to send a message and that there was no body as his solid proof that you were still out there, but as he watched the life drain from the taskforce, and as he went through your room, cleaning it out for..someone else.. keeping most of your belongings to himself, he slowly started to let go of his doubt.

The final nail in the coffin was when he had to call home to let his mother know that you were no longer coming home for the holidays, and as she wept over the phone, it took everything inside him not to scream, trying not to picture you empty seat at his dinner table on Christmas.

Johnny still keeps your photo in his wallet, he wears your jacket, uses your headphones, he still keeps you around, even when your gone..

That music major, was your good friend and teammate Kyle Garrick, and he had never felt so lost in his entire life.

Kyle knew that a death like this would happen, it isn't his first time losing someone on the field, granted, the teammate was alot less close to him, but still, radioing in his death felt like a sin- a curse so could it should not grace his lips. although, nothing would beat your official KIA message, and how you had to pronounce yourself dead, nothing crushed him more than how tired and scared you sounded, knowing that death was knocking at your door.

Kyle turns to his music, he writes song after song about his grief, never having the nerve to actually preform them, knowing he'd wreck himself, knowing he couldn't get past the first verse...

He wrote one song he was able to play to its fullest, with the title being your name, and instead of it being about your death, it was about you, as a person, about your eyes, your skin, your teeth, your laugh, your warmth, your flaws, about your humanity.

The Taskforce will never function the way it did again, you, had left a gaping hole in their foundation, as the years pass, your memory fades from the barracks,, but it shines through the cracks, your favourite mug remains in the cupboads, your favourite movie was still religiously played on Sundays, hell, your favourite food was still in the fridge..

They will never get over your death, but they can learn to live with it,, its what you would've wanted.

[bradshawssugarbaby]

God, Your Mama and Me (Jake Seresin x Reader)

A/N: told y'all I listened to country music and it inspired me. Inspired by and quotes God, Your Mama and Me by Florida Georgia Line. I'm not religious but that song gets me all heart-eye emoji every time.

pairing: Jake Seresin x reader (I'm 99% sure I kept reader GN the whole time with no mentions of appearance)

content/warnings: reference to God via the song (the line is "no one's ever gonna love you more than God, your mama and me"), Jake being adorable and trying his best to be romantic but he's more awkward than he wants to be bc he doesn't do PDA, brief references to potential character death (I promise no one dies)

word count: 1.6k

Jake took you by the hand, running playfully through the sand. Coronado Beach was where he’d taken you for your first date. It was where you’d met, where you spent every free weekend, where you’d meet with his friends at The Hard Deck for drinks on Friday nights and where you’d sit and watch the planes taking off from North Island as you waited for him to come home, not knowing what each day would bring but hoping and praying he’d come home to you safe and sound every time. 

For the last three years, Coronado was an integral part of your life. It was where you’d held Jake’s 35th birthday party, a spontaneous beach gathering complete with a cooler of chilled beers and a portable speaker belting out country tunes. Despite the groans from others, the music had a magical effect on the usually reserved Jake, prompting him to join in with spirited, off-key singing every time. 

It was where you and Jake had shared your first kiss, where he’d first told you he loved you - a sentence he admitted he never thought he’d say to anyone, swearing up and down he’d lead the bachelor life until he either died or retired, whichever came first. He’d always claim it was because he just “wasn’t the settlin’ type”, but his friends always saw right through it. 

“He’s just scared,” Bradley had assured you one day over a beer while Jake tossed darts effortless at the board a few feet out of earshot. 

Reading the puzzled look on your face, Natasha hummed playfully as she sipped her drink before raising an eyebrow at you. 

“He doesn’t want to settle down because he’s scared,” She and Bradley nodded in unison. 

“Yeah, doesn’t wanna leave behind a war widow kinda thing,” Bradley shrugs, “You’d think it’d be me who feels that way considering my dad died when I was literally a toddler, but no, apparently it’s Blondie who’s got the commitment issues.”

The first time Jake referred to you as his girl, the usually chatty Bradley had been rendered speechless, mouth agape while Natasha had choked and sputtered on her beer as she looked wide eyed at Bradley and back at Jake. Jake shrugged it off as if it was nothing, but everyone, even you, knew it was uncharacteristic of him. 

The following weekend after stunning his Navy buddies, he’d been called away to the first mission since you’d started dating. You weren’t expecting it, but you got a heartfelt, emotional goodbye from Jake, one that was genuine and raw, a side of him you’d never seen before. He’d hugged you tightly and kissed you slow and sweet, making it last, permanent on your mind in case he didn’t make it back. As he promised you he’d return, you could hear his normally velvety smooth Southern drawl crack as his voice caught in his throat. 

When he came home a few weeks later, you’d greeted him with a warm embrace, and he held you tighter than he ever had before, his first true public display of affection towards you. Bradley and Natasha could be heard whispering, while Bob simply looked on smiling, knowing how in love Jake really was, watching as it mirrored Bob’s own relationship with his girlfriend. 

“Jake, where are you taking me?” 

You laughed as you snapped back to the present, raising an eyebrow at him as he continued to lead you across the sand. His cargo shorts were hugging his hips perfectly, golden-tanned skin from the California sun illuminated in the light of the setting sun. His green eyes were full of a child-like excitement, his signature grin plastered on his face, looking like it couldn’t be wiped off even if you tried.

“Just trust me, ok? You trust me, don’t ya, Sugar?”

“Alright, alright, I trust you.”

“Atta girl, c’mon, almost there.”

You shook your head and shot him a playful eyeroll as he continued to guide you along the shore. Your mind flashed back to when you and Jake had first slept together - instead of the playful arrogance, overwhelming confidence and cocky egotistical attitude he gave off around his friends, he was the opposite when it came to loving you. He was gentle, caring, passionate and considerate. He checked in with you, making sure you were comfortable and enjoying it. He was selfless in the way he loved you - making sure you were taken care of in all aspects before he was, and if for whatever reason, his climax came before yours, he made a point to bring you to yours by whatever means necessary. 

When Jake asked you to move in with him, the look on your face was one of pure shock and disbelief, you were sure you were dreaming it. Your wide-eyed gaze and raised eyebrows were enough to make Jake laugh, shaking his head at you.

“Now that’s not how I thought you’d react, babe.”

“I’m sorry…I just…can you say it again?”

“Ask you again?”

“Yeah, please?”

“Ok, Sugar, you’re losin’ it, but sure, I want you to move in with me, that sound alright to ya? We both complain we don’t see each other enough, and well, I just feel like it’s time we do somethin’ ‘bout it, right?”

You nodded your head and simply threw your arms around him, letting Jake embrace you tightly as he kissed your cheek. He had his friends help you pack and by the end of that week, you were moved in with him, sharing the little house on base together. His Cowboys jersey hanging in the closet next to your Commanders one - your teams were bitter rivals, and Bradley, who had come from Virginia, your home state, was beyond shocked to see Jake allowing you to wear a Commanders jersey to their Sunday night football watch parties. Bradley, forced to wear a jersey for another team, pouted at Jake.

“How come when I wear my Commanders jersey, I get told to fuck off and stay outside?”

“You don’t look cute in Washington’s colours, Bradshaw,” Jake replied matter of factly as he kissed you on the cheek, leaving Bradley to pout once again.

Jake stopped in front of you, turning his body to face you, bringing you back to reality for another moment. His unwavering grin still on his face, smiling at you as if you were the only sight around him for miles. Your heart melted when he looked at you - it always did - the love he had for you was always evident on his face, his gaze full of admiration and affection for you.

Your eyes widened as Jake went down on one knee in front of you. The sounds of the waves crashing against the sandy coast echoing softly around you. The odd passerby gawking as they went for their stroll in the dusky glow of the beach as the sun began to set on Coronado. Jake beamed up at you from where he stood on bended knee, his eyes matching the seafoam that was pooling around you, inching closer and closer to where you stood. 

“Darlin’, remember that date I took ya on, where you made me dance with ya on the beach, after I swore I never would? That song you made me dance to, the one by Florida Georgia Line?”

“I remember,” you said, gazing at him with tear soaked eyes.

“Sugar, you know I’m not good at this kinda stuff - it’s more Bradley’s thing, being all sentimental and shit, but I’m gonna try my damnest, ok? You know how that song goes, “Baby you know my love is never gonna run dry, never gonna come up empty, now until the day I die, unconditionally,”

Jake’s cheeks blushed a soft pink as he tried his best to carry the tune, serenading you by the oceanside, “then it’s like, “You know I’m always gonna be here for ya, no one’s ever gonna love you more than God, your mama and me”? Guess that’s what I’m tryin’ to say here, no one on this earth is gonna be able to love you, or anyone else more than I do. I’m sure of it. I didn’t even think it was possible for me to love you as much as I do, but Baby, do I ever love you.”

“Jake,” you started, feeling yourself becoming breathless with excitement as he spoke.

“Babygirl, will you do me the greatest honor ever, and become Mrs. Seresin? I never thought I’d ever marry anyone, but I’d be a fool to not marry you, darlin’.” 

Speechless, you nodded your head quickly, unable to make any sound other than an excited squeal of delight as he slipped the ring onto your finger. As Jake stood upright, he wrapped his arms around you, enveloping you in a loving embrace, his lips crashing against yours as he kissed you passionately.

From behind you, you could hear familiar voices cheering - you broke the kiss and turned to see Reuben, Javy, Mickey, Bradley, Natasha and Bob standing there, all beaming at you. Bradley wiped a single tear from his eye in his usual dramatic fashion, while Bob gave a proud thumbs up to Jake. A congratulatory smile formed on Natasha’s features, while Javy, Mickey and Reuben all applauded you both. You were overcome with emotion as you shared this moment with Jake and your friends. 

“You all knew?”

“Of course we knew, Jake can’t keep a secret to save his life,” Natasha grinned, shrugging her shoulders.

“I get to be best man, right?” Bradley grinned as he clapped his hand onto Jake’s shoulder in a congratulatory substitute for a hug. 

[flowersforchoso]

—Bi-han courting you ᥫ᭡

it's hard to imagine this blizzard of a man ever falling for someone, but he does, and he falls pretty hard when it happens although it's like, an extremely rare occurrence.

it's the classic love-at-first-sight scenario. you're at the restaurant, conversing with madame bo from a distance, when you catch his attention. he likes what he sees, and like the typical man, he discreetly stares until you're out of sight

he doesn't think much about you afterwards, but the seed of attraction has already been planted and soon grows.

somehow, coincidentally, he meets you again at the same place (fate perhaps?) but this time, it's different—you're both face-to-face and introductions ensue.

since the lin kuei trio occasionally unwind at the establishment after a mission, and you're a healer who madame bo often consults, it's no surprise your paths cross

bi-han is laser focused on you as the said woman introduces you to the group, observing you like a specimen: your physicality, mannerisms, demeanour, and finds himself magnetized by your graceful aura

but he doesn't speak to you at all while pleasantries are exchanged, making him the odd one out. however, his assessment of you is positive indicating a romantic interest.

despite the brief interaction, you leave a lasting impression on him and have begun to take up permanent residence in his mind.

but it doesn't end there; he sees you quite often due to your affiliation with the old woman, and each time he does, his heart skips a beat; he's emotionally incapacitated, rendered powerless (proximity to him is the only way anything can happen tbh)

he represses this newfound emotion until he's unable to resist, ultimately surrendering to it. and believe it or not, he makes the first move. surprisingly

i know the consensus is that he's pretty much inexperienced in romantic relationships and hence wouldn't approach, but for a man of his calibre, there's no way he hasn't been in a committed relationship, even if short-lived. moreover, he goes after what he wants, romantic matters are no different; the only issue is it'll take him forever to get to it.

he has to first wrestle with himself over his feelings towards you. and once he overcomes this internal struggle, it'll take your sustained absence to propel him to finally pursue you out of fear that you might slip away from his grasp.

while he won't directly approach you, he communicates his interest via subordinates, which leads to unexpected appearances—a blue-clad ninja at your doorstep bearing gifts

you're very confused, but they explain they've been sent by their grandmaster. it is then you come to the realization that the standoffish, intimidating man you encountered at the restaurant has taken a liking to you! but wait- how does he know where you live? (he's gathered bits of information about you)

in his quest to conquer your heart and claim it as his, he first aims to impress. expect to be bombarded by gifts or flowers every fortnight. he also does this for ego reasons, to flaunt his status before eventually requesting a date—through a mouthpiece, of course.

the occasion is quite awkward, overly formal, with you doing most of the talking because he wants to know all about you like the back of his hand

if you attempt to redirect focus on him to satisfy any curiosity you may have, he basically shuts it down by saying something along the lines of, "i lead a formidable warrior clan, that is sufficient enough." you can't tell if he's just reserved or severely lacking in social skills, but if you peer hard enough, the lines are blurred.

he is actually very mindful of his words and respectful towards you. he is aware of how blunt and abrasive he can come across and doesn't want to scare you away; that would undo all his efforts and bring them to naught, and he isn't going to self-sabotage, not after coming this far

he's gentlemanly, and its obvious from his body language and actions he's infatuated with you. but being a conversationalist and showing affection aren't his strong suits, so this is where you come in. the ball is in your court to steer the budding relationship forward otherwise it'll stagnate

[violent138]

The Batfam, being some of the best detectives out there, can tell when each other is trying to sneak up on them through the most minuscule clues that random people aren't on the lookout for.

Damian has a habit of burning Bakoor, and sometimes the smell lingers on his suit. He also transfers tiny amounts of cat hairs onto places, which is how Dick always knows when he's been in the apartment. Stephanie has a very particular way of scratching locks when she opens them. Lightbulbs, LEDs, shadows, et cetera, despite Duke's best attempts, either get brighter or duller when he's around. Jason can usually tell if Dick's around because one of his knees is permanently creaky. Tim's retractable staff rattles just barely when he jumps around. Jason himself can get detected by the amount of gunpowder on him or the smallest squeaking of the leather jacket he prefers. Bruce can get by super-senses on occasion, but all his kids know when he's around immediately. He uses trackers to keep tabs on all his kids and there's usually an arms race to get around his increasingly complicated tracking tools before he can replace them.

Cass of course is impossible to catch, except by Alfred who has an ESP-like sixth sense for all of them, and is always unimpressed by attempts to scare him.