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meiieiri · 2 months

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𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫 [toji fushiguro]

synopsis: so she tells him not to cry over the injustice of a life cut too short for at the end of all this, she’ll only be a dream.

pairing: ex-husband!toji fushiguro x terminally ill wife!reader | song inspo: soon you’ll get better, cancer

warnings: heavy angst, terminal illness (primary bone cancer, stroke and MS), mentions of divorce/past infidelity, allegories to cheating, major character death. please read at your own risk. | a/n: this was so heavy for me to write, i started writing at 2 in the morning, and it’s 6:34 now.

word count. 3k~

“Why can’t you do anything right?”

Toji should have noticed, he laments as he takes a sip of his cognac. He should have sensed that something was wrong sooner, maybe that way, he wouldn’t be begging to borrow some more time to make things right. Your fingers were trembling that day — the first time you ever ruined his morning coffee — your hands shaking uncontrollably as you washed the mug with a sorrowful look on your face, your eyes glossy with the tears you were desperately trying to hold back.

He shouldn’t have been so harsh, he realizes that now. Breakfast had been burnt to a crisp and ruined, sure, but nothing could compare to how he constantly ruins the one beautiful thing that has ever happened to him, who haphazardly spilled her smoothie on him when they first bumped into each other in Shinjuku just after he finally cashed in enough money with Shiu to get his laundry done.

Toji, whose senses have now been honed to pick up on the slightest of your sluggish movements and your pained and suppressed hisses, hears the bedsheets rustling and he instantly gets up before you could even force yourself out of bed. “Hey, hey, easy now.” He catches you before you could fall backwards onto the mattress, your skin appears cold and clammy, your thinning muscles stiff as a board — you must be having one of your episodes again. “What do you need?” he asks, his voice heartbreakingly gentle for the first time in months.

“Water.”

Your husband nods, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed, hurriedly making his way to the dining table which was now kept in your bedroom so you aren’t forced to move around too much. The sound of water splashing into the glass fills the air and you feel another stabbing pain coarse through your joints.

Toji gingerly brings the glass of water to your lips and you sighed, an exasperated yet amused smile on your face. “I can do it, babe. Don’t worry.” Why did that sound like you were trying to convince not just Toji but yourself? You bring your bony hands to grip the glass and it takes everything out of your husband not to break into a fit of sobs when he sees your hand violently shaking with effort just to keep the glass steady.

His larger hands close around your defeated one. “I-I…I can do it, I did it yesterday. Y-you saw me.”

“Shhh, I know, it’s okay.”

You bite your lip to distract yourself from the anguish of realizing the truth behind the doctor’s words. Everything you feared was finally becoming your and Toji’s bleak reality.

“It’ll be a painful decline.”

Funny how you’re the one fighting to extend your life but Toji feels like he’s already gone ahead and passed on. Just a few minutes earlier, you were overjoyed to see him again. You didn’t think he’d see your text thinking that his new girlfriend must have asked him to block your number, and you most certainly didn’t expect him to arrive when you asked for him via a brief phone call to drive you to the hospital for your monthly checkup since he took the car with him when you separated. He made up a bullshit excuse when Yuko asked where he was going in such a hurry and he makes it to your old shared apartment to see you sitting on the driveway looking thinner and sicklier than ever — your eyes were sunken, and your cheeks were hollow.

Yet in spite of that, you gave him the brightest of smiles, waving shyly to him as he steps out of the driver’s seat. “Happy morning!” you smiled, greeting him with your signature good morning tagline which he used to happily wake up to everyday. There wasn’t a scintilla of resentfulness in your demeanor, and you genuinely looked so happy to see him for the first time since he moved out.

“How long?” Toji asked the doctor, his heart twisted into knots when he hears you happily humming in the MRI room as you put your clothes back on, oblivious to the solemn mood in the other room. You already knew what was going on, but you’ll just continue pretending that everything’s alright and that this is nothing more but a case of fatigue so as not to inconvenience Toji.

“A year, maybe even less.”

“And…you’re saying it’s best if she simply…doesn’t get the treatment?”

The doctor sighs heavily. She’s seen many cases like this before, but none as utterly hopeless as yours. Even if you did start the treatment, the lesions in your spinal cord have already entered the most severe stage, you were already exhibiting signs of autonomic nervous system distress — the tremors, the uncontrollable stuttering of your words, the growing loss of balance — and as if that wasn’t enough, the doctor also discovers that you were suffering from primary osteosarcoma.

There was no way to cure you now that it’s too late.

“I suggest we just focus on keeping her comfortable. The only thing left for us to do now is to bring her home. I’m so sorry.”

“You’re so fucking embarrassing. I can’t bring you anywhere.”

By some miracle, you and Toji went out one night around four months before the divorce proceedings. He went home that day, exhausted beyond all belief from another mission, but he was in a good mood. Yuko was out working late tonight, so, he decides to take you out to your and his favorite izakaya for some yakitori.

Some time during the night, after downing three full bottles of sake together, you excuse yourself to use the restroom. “I’ll be right back,” you told Toji, tipsily kissing him on the cheek as you hop off the bar stool in the direction of the women’s room.

You couldn’t tell if you were staggering from the copious amounts of alcohol you ingested, but your legs were beginning to feel heavy, and for some ominous reason, you were slowly losing all sensation in your left leg. You try to hold onto one of the izakaya’s shōji panel decor pieces to regain your balance, but it was a futile effort in the end. Your knees suddenly buckle, and a sickening crack tears through your tibia as you fall to the ground.

“Are you alright?!”

Toji picks up on the commotion instantly and he sees the izakaya patrons crowding around the hallway leading to the restroom. He quickly makes his way over and a look of disgust appears on his features when he sees you crumpled on the ground and the mortifying sight of you having relieved yourself on the floor, tears of embarrassment staining your cheeks at the thought of your body suddenly malfunctioning like this.

Muttering out an ignorant apology for his seemingly drunk wife, he roughly picks you up, growing increasingly infuriated with you when one izakaya employee offers him a damp cloth to dry out your urine with. It was funny how quickly other people came to your aid — people whose names you don’t even know — while your own husband seems very reluctant to even touch you right now. He doesn’t speak to you on the way home even as you apologize while he’s loading you into the car, grimacing when the leather seat gets wet. “Toji, I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened—“

“—Save it.”

What he should have said was: “Are you okay?”, “It’s alright.” or better yet, “I still love you.”.

At present, Toji decides on a whim to take you to Yokohama’s famed bayside today. It’s only a two hour drive from your place in Tokyo and Toji figures you must miss going on road trips by now with you cooped up at home all the time. “Toji, are you sure this is a good idea?” you murmured nervously as the car pulls to a stop by the bayside promenade. What happens if you can’t control yourself again? There doesn’t look to be a lot of public restrooms nearby.

Toji plants a reassuring kiss to your nose. “Babe, you remember what the doctor said, spending some time outdoors can do wonders for your health. Besides, didn’t you always love the coast?” He brings your hand to his scarred lips, rubbing his thumb against the soft skin before stepping out of the car to retrieve your wheelchair from the trunk.

“I know but what if I have another accident?” you said worriedly, rolling down the car windows so he could hear you. “What if I embarrass you again?”

“There’s nothing embarrassing about you.”

You’ve lost all control of your lower extremities three months ago, rendering you unable to walk and feel when you need to relieve yourself. Toji struggles with the wheelchair for a bit and a flash of sadness fills your heart when you see him take a few deep breaths to calm himself down. He wasn’t angry, he was devastated. He looks wistfully at the boardwalk, a distant gaze trained on the sea. He remembers when you used to walk down this very lane, his hand protectively around your waist as you happily take selfies. He could still hear your fond giggles the last time the two of you went here.

“Why don’t you ever smile when I take pictures of you?”

Toji shoos away a pigeon from stealing a bite of his ice cream sandwich. He feigns an unamused look when you try to take another picture of him on your phone.

“Come on, I’ve been trying to get a shot of you all day! You still have to take pictures of me so I can post it on my Instagram feed!”

Your ever moody husband pinches off a small piece of bread and feeds it to the nosy pigeon. “You and your precious feed,” he bemoans jokingly.

“Please? Just one picture!“ you playfully nudged him. Truthfully, you just wanted to see him smile for once, a genuine one and not one of those lopsided smirks he usually gives you when he’s teasing you. “Please?” you pout knowing he can never say no to that adorable face you make when you really want him to do something or worse, buy something for you.

Sighing, he turns to look at your phone’s camera lens and you blush when a smile slowly illuminates his usually stoic face. Your thumb hovers over the stop recording function, not realizing you’re taking a video, but you can’t seem to press it. “What’s taking so long?” he holds the smile like he’s some cartoon character and you snap out of it.

“Oh shoot, it’s a video!” you laughed, and you begin to run down the boardwalk, eagerly getting away from Toji who demands that you delete it immediately. Of course, you’re no match for his borderline inhuman speed attributed to his athletic physique and he catches you by the waist, playfully swinging you over his shoulder like you’re a sack of potatoes.

Now, your giggles have gone silent.

Toji realizes now he should have indulged you more over the course of your relationship and subsequent marriage. Had he known that you won’t even make it to your third wedding anniversary, he would have allowed you to take as many pictures and videos of him as you’d like, he’d swallow his pride and he’d give you the brightest of smiles so you could happily post him on your social media accounts with a heartwarming caption about him being your “smiley hubby”.

More than that though, he should have taken more photos of you, mostly stolen candid shots, of course. You can’t catch him being all soft on you now. He still has a reputation to live up to after all. But more than that, had he known that your illness was intent on stealing every scrap of you from him, he should have made more effort in preserving all these memories. He should have kept everything from those toll tickets on your late night drives together when the two of you just needed a quick escape from the world, to receipts from your trip to Tokyo Disney Sea on your first wedding anniversary, and even simple convenience store receipts.

Toji should have kept everything down to the smallest of memories knowing one day, that’s all he’ll have to remember you by.

He opens the passenger seat’s door and he effortlessly gathers you into his arms, being extra careful with your fragile form as he sits you down on the wheelchair. He opens the backseat and he pulls out two different colored blankets, one sea-foam green and the other, rose pink. “Take your pick,” he smiles at you and you chuckled softly, pointing to the rose pink one. He happily covers your legs with it to keep you warm, stroking your cheek when you whisper a bashful ‘thank you’.

Suddenly, the wind picks up and your hair-clip that’s holding your locks in a low bun comes loose, and your head turns in the direction of where it flew off to. Toji is quick to take out his phone and he snaps a quick burst shot of you, your hair blowing in the wind, under the coastal spring weather. You turn to look at him and your face falls when you see him burying his phone in his pocket. Since you fell ill, you’ve become insecure of your appearance, banning your husband from taking pictures and videos of you altogether. “Toji, I thought I said no pictures.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The next day, you serendipitously find your photo on your Instagram handle with the caption: “Y/N — Yokohama, Spring, 2024” and when you swipe left, another picture, well to be more accurate, a screenshot of the video clip you accidentally took of him captioned: “Toji — Yokohama, Summer, 2022”.

“You don’t have to stick around for me. Please just go, I’m sure Yuko must be looking for you right now.”

Yuko, his new fiancé, had been blowing up his phone the entire day with texts demanding to know where he is and if he’s going to make it to their date that night. It’s 7 PM now, and Toji still hasn’t shown up to confirm their restaurant reservations. The damn witch will surely cuss him out when they see each other again, but for some reason, even if he tries, he simply cannot bring himself to give a flying fuck. Your immunologist and oncologist stepped out for a bit to allow you two a brief moment of privacy which had now stretched to an expanse of five hours since your results came in.

The air in the room is thick and heavy, not a single sound can be heard. Inside however, underneath this tough exterior he was projecting, Toji is throwing a fit, screaming at the sky like those broken men in those shitty Netflix romance tragedies he used to callously make fun of.

“Why didn’t you call me sooner? You knew, didn’t you?”

Toji’s bites his cheek trying to keep a lid on his emotions. He knows the answer. He just wants to hear you say it out loud. You hated him. You wanted nothing to do with him after he cheated on you with some girl he met at a bar in uptown Shibuya. That’s why you didn’t tell him, he didn’t deserve to know. “Shit,” he whispers harshly, crumpling the medical abstract in his hands. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick? Was it because you hated me? Is that it? You didn’t think I’d worry about you?”

You screwed your eyes shut, shaking your head. You didn’t hate him, not even when you have every reason to. He abandoned you, left you to waste away and to die and yet, even now, you can’t bring yourself to resent him for the simple reason that he is the literal love of your life, the reason behind your smiles, your happy mornings and passionate midnight hours. “At first, I thought I was fine, maybe just fatigued or something.”

“Don’t lie. You knew something was going on and that something in your body was seriously fucked up.”

“And we weren’t married anymore so, I didn’t think it was right to tell you…I wanted to though, but I didn’t want to intrude on you and Yuko,” you said meekly. Even in your greatest hour of need, you were still thinking of him, putting him first even when he doesn’t deserve it. “I-I…I don’t hate you enough to worry you, to make you feel that you could have done something to prevent this. Because I’m telling you right now, regardless if you were faithful or not, I was bound to get sick anyway. You couldn’t have done anything to change that.”

“But I could have been there. I should have noticed. I shouldn’t have downplayed everything.” He says this as if he wants to shake this noble, self-sacrificing bullshit attitude out of your system. “I’m your husband. I should have been there.”

You flash him a heartbroken smile at his little slip-up, so, even now, he was still referring to himself as your husband, not your ex-husband. “To see me waste away? Babe, I don’t want you to see that.”

You begin to feel tears streaming down your face, the emotions you were experiencing now flowing like a free river after an entire dam is destroyed. Toji watches you unravel before his eyes and his bottom lip begins to tremble. What has he done? Dear god, what has he done to his poor, poor wife?

“I want you to remember me healthy, I want you to remember me as myself not this…sickly pitiful woman you’re unlucky to call your ex-wife…besides, after all this, I’ll only be a dream.” A mere passing second in his life. “And believe me, my life wasn’t so bad.”

He loses it at that.

“Just stop this, Y/N! Stop acting like you’re not scared shitless of dying, like you’re not gonna have regrets once all this is over! Stop pretending that things are gonna be alright one day because it won’t! Not when I’m now being forced to accept that you won’t get better, not when I’ve wasted so much time putting you through hell and back instead of taking care of you like a proper husband should, and certainly not when I’m suddenly supposed to learn to say goodbye and to live without you! Because fuck that, Y/N!”

You are left speechless at that.

Toji was never one to lose his cool, even during your worst arguments, he may slide a few snarky remarks here and there but Toji Fushiguro…never yells, and he doesn’t sob either.

You hesitantly stand up and walk over to him, crouching down in front of him as he covers his tear-stained eyes with his right hand while the other is crumpled around your medical abstract. Taking his left hand, you gently remove the medical abstract from his grip, and for the first time in so many months, you feel one another’s warm skin against each other. You press your forehead to his hand as you wept with him.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be a dream. I want you to be real.”

“Can’t you be bothered to clean up in here?!”

You wake up from your nap, you’ve been battling muscle and joint pain the entire day, the slightest of movement causing you to double over in agony and because of that, you weren’t able to clean the apartment today. You slowly get up from the couch, being extra cautious not to make any sudden movements. “Well?” Toji presses, his lips curled into a scowl.

“I’m sorry, I was feeling a little tired,” you sighed heavily, picking up a broom to sweep the living room floor despite the excruciating pain you were in. Toji rolls his eyes, handing you a Manila envelope. “What’s this?” you asked softly, peering inside.

“Divorce papers,” he shrugs nonchalantly. Everything stops, even the very rise and fall of your chest halts into an uneasy stasis. “I already signed them. I just need your signature then, I’ll move out by tomorrow.”

You must be dreaming. That’s the only logical explanation to all this. You’re asleep, in a deep REM sleep, utterly oblivious to the world. This wasn’t happening. But you could feel the rough surface of the brown envelope, and you could still feel the agonizing stabs of white hot pain throughout your body. Glancing at Toji, you see him texting someone with an eager look on his face that screams: “I’m free.”.

Instantly, it dawns on you.

“Will she make you happy?” you asked, putting down the broom to look around for a pen but Toji pulls one he stole from the law firm office out of his pocket.

“She will,” he answers simply.

And you are indeed grateful that he is completely upfront about finding another while the two of you are married. It would have hurt much more, you silently remind yourself, if he had just upped and left without another word leaving you to wonder what went wrong between the two of you. This was Toji’s final act of mercy in your marriage, and he’s not opposed to honesty and truthfulness either. Not once did he try to change his phone’s lock-screen passcode, nor did he try to conceal the identity of the woman who was texting him every night while you slept fitfully next to him. It was almost as if he wanted you to find out, like he wanted you to know so you could back off yourself.

But if there’s one thing Toji loves about you, it’s your unending faithfulness to your promises, to your marriage vows, and your willingness to endure anything he threw at you. You never checked his phone, you never brought up his affair, you never got angry with him. You just kept silent, simply content with giving and giving…and giving while he milked you dry by taking, and taking and taking, tearing you to pieces bit by bit without hearing a single complaint fall from your lips.

You were a devoted wife, through and through.

And it bored the hell out of him, on top of your recent mishaps, he was done. Done with everything, and done with you.

“Okay.”

Come morning, he takes everything he owns with him and promptly proposes to the girl he’s been seeing for the past year. Two weeks later, your divorce is received by the Tokyo Family Court and is summarily approved and finalized. From that moment on, you and Toji went on your separate ways never to look back, you were each other’s yesterdays, and the love that existed between the two of you was nullified in favor of acquaintanceship…or so you thought.

“Y/N, I’m home!” Toji calls into the house as he comes back from your neighborhood’s pharmacy. You look up from the book you were reading, smiling ever so slightly at your husband who seemed to have a wonderful sparkle in his eyes. “Hey, kid,” he kisses the top of your head when he reaches your wheelchair.

“You seem happy,” you remarked positively.

“Well, for one, they replenished their stocks today and I managed to get you your steroids and painkillers so you’ll be able to sleep easy tonight,” Toji smiles, taking out the items from the pharmacy’s paper bag. “And I got you this neat memory foam cushion for your wheelchair.” He fluffs it up as a form of demonstration before placing it behind your back.

When he sees you smile, a sense of relief washes over Toji. You reach towards him, and he pulls you into an embrace. “Thank you,” you said, pure sincerity dripping from your voice. “For everything you do.”

“Anything for you.” He suddenly moves back and reaches into the tote bag you lended him. “Oh, and wait, before I forget, I have another surprise.”

You laughed airily. “Another surprise? Now, you’re just spoiling me!”

He pulls out a piece of paper from the tote bag and he places it in your hands as your eyes quickly scan over the document. Your breath hitches in your throat when you realize what it is. Did Toji really—? You couldn’t believe it. “A marriage pre-registration,” you said in awe. You read it again just in case to make sure that this wasn’t a figment of your sick body’s imagination, that this was real, that Toji genuinely wants to make everything right again. Your fingers skim over your typewritten names. “It has our names…we’re really—“ You can’t even finish your sentence without bursting into happy tears. “Are we—?”

Toji nods, gazing into your eyes, and as emerald and (E/C) clash for what seems to be an eternity lost in one another, he plants a kiss to your temple, coming up to embrace you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“We are. The Tokyo Family Court, as far as I know, will approve our remarriage once we file this. So, you have to get stronger, okay?” He’s begging you at this point, despite your rapidly deteriorating condition. “Strong enough to see me fix everything. Strong enough to be there on our second wedding, strong enough to say our vows again.”

Your hand comes up to stroke his cheek from behind, and he nuzzles into your neck at your tender touch.

“I will. I promise.”

But you never really get to say your vows. Not comprehensibly anyway.

“Babe, can you say that again?”

Toji crouches by your bedside as you look at him apologetically. You were causing him trouble and pain again which is the last thing that you want to give him especially when’s fought and worked so hard to care for you, to keep prolonging this borrowed time you’re on. “To-ji. Toji.” You gaze at him apprehensibly, not really believing you can do it without crumbling.

“Come on, babe, you can do it. Say my name, please…Toji. I’m Toji.”

“Toooji-“ you slurred sadly. At this point, your Multiple Sclerosis has reached its end stage and has taken…everything from you: your ability to walk, your ability to control your muscle spasms and other bodily functions…and now, coupled with an unexpected stroke, your ability to speak. And you and Toji know that time is almost up, with you having come to accept it, while your husband still held onto hope. Your fingers gently graze over his face as best as your spasms and tremors allow you, starting from his forehead to his eyes, his nose, his cheek and finally, his lips, as if you’re memorizing it one last time. “Lo-ove you-“

Toji sniffles, and your fingers instinctively catch his warm tears. “I love you,” he whispers brokenly. “I do. I love you.”

You feel yourself tearing up as you’re forced to watch your beloved cry. And the worst part? You can’t do a thing about it. “D-oon’t c-cry—‘m okaay. Promi-miise…e’everyything ‘ill be okaaay.”

“Y-yeah,” he chuckles, trying to crack a joke even as hope dwindles. “You’ve been nothing but a fucking champ this entire time, you know? I’m so proud of you. So…so…proud that you’re still here.” He strokes your hair as you tread between the realms of the conscious and the unconscious. “Do you wanna go out today? The weather’s shit though. You’ll probably catch your death out there.” At the mention of the word ‘death’, Toji stops, falling into an uncomfortable silence.

You smile weakly at him. “Tiiredd—“

“You’re no fun,” Toji gently flicks your nose and you scrunch it up in displeasure. “Sorry,” he chuckles, holding back an entire waterfall of tears. He knows it’s today. It has to be. You woke up today without your usual ‘happy morning’ greeting, and you refused to drink anything, much less eat anything. “You tired? Any pain?”

You shake your head. You’re as comfortable as you can be for the first time in months. Hospice nurses say humans are built to live the same way they are built to die, no person in this world has ever had the uncanny privilege of being able to look up ‘How to die?’ on a quick Google search and actually find a Wikihow on the morbid subject matter, nor is there anyone else who can teach another how it’s done. It’s just something humans know how to do without a manual, deeply ingrained in the very fabric of human existence is the fear of death, the fear of what comes after, the fear of a nothingness that could follow after living such a vibrant life. Your life was short, barely spanning thirty years, but you lived well: you fell in love, you got hurt, but you fell together again. Now it all has to come to an end, Toji will just have to take care of the rest.

And you weren’t scared.

Or at least you can’t look scared, if you were to be more accurate, you have to look strong and ready to accept the cards you’ve been dealt with for Toji’s sake. When he feels your hand start to slacken, Toji intakes a sharp, shaky breath of sheer panic. “Not yet, Y/N. Please. Not yet.”

He climbs into bed with you, bringing you closer to this desperate man you call yours. There was no getting better anymore, there was no miracle he could hang onto, no deity he could beg for death to spare you, no pill bottle he could pray to. He knew that from the start. But what he witnessed these past months, you’ve been the braver one between the two of you, you knew how to make the most of the rhythm this cruel world gave you and you graciously took him along to dance to the last song of the evening with you.

“There’s still hope. Just keep your eyes open. Just keep them open.” He presses his lips to your forehead, his delusion getting the better of him. “We’ll just keep trying…you can’t leave. You have to stay. You have to.”

“Thaank yoou—“ you softly told your Toji, your voice shrinking in decibels as you become a little drowsy, sinking into the warmth of the requiem of a life well spent.

Toji listens to you, his lips pursed, intent on making this final act of love — a love that is strong enough to say goodbye — a memorable one. And should the afterlife exist, he wishes to send you off with a smile, with the reassurance that he’ll be alright even if that was far from happening.

“Toji.”

“I want you to be real. And I don’t care if we’ll live on borrowed time. Another extra second with you…is enough to last me my entire lifetime.”

2K notes · View notes

thedensworld · 4 months

Text

What a Fate | Y.Jh

Pairing: Jeonghan x Reader

Genre: humor, suggestive, smut

Words Count: 3k

Summary: Who would have thought your next meeting after having a one-night stand would be this unexpected?

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Jeonghan's frustration lingered from the recent board meeting where his cousin, Seungcheol, secured the position of vice president in their grandfather's company. Despite Jeonghan's tireless efforts for the company's 60th anniversary celebration, his ambitions were shattered due to a scandal that befell him just weeks before the crucial vote.

As the CEO of their food and beverage company, Jeonghan has been diligently working towards the success of the family business. However, a sudden scandal arose when a former secretary from four years ago accused him of verbal bullying during their professional association. The accusation, given his prominent familial ties, tarnished the company's image.

Jeonghan, disheartened by the false accusations, found himself grappling with the fallout of the scandal. The situation escalated as the woman, who had once served as his secretary, admitted to fabricating the allegations. It was revealed that she had been nursing an unrequited love for Jeonghan, leading her to concoct the damaging story.

The relief of the truth emerging was accompanied by the bitter taste of betrayal. Jeonghan couldn't help but feel the weight of the injustice that had cost him the chance to inherit the family business. The emotional toll of the scandal, compounded by the familial dynamics at play, cast a shadow over what should have been a moment of celebration for Jeonghan and the company.

Jeonghan, guided by Joshua's advice, surrendered to the allure of the night and found himself embracing the spontaneity that the club offered. In the dimly lit space, fueled by the rhythm of the music, he discovered a fleeting connection with you. The chemistry between them escalated, and in the heat of the moment, they succumbed to the passion of a one-night stand.

The club's pulsating beats seemed to echo the heartbeat of the impulsive decision, and for a brief moment, Jeonghan let go of the burdens that had weighed him down. The physical connection became a temporary escape, a way to numb the lingering frustrations and disappointments.

As dawn approached, reality set in. The night, once filled with liberation, now carried the weight of consequences. Jeonghan, caught between the thrill of the moment and the complexities of his personal and professional life, grappled with the aftermath of the impulsive choice.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Jeonghan muttered, the weight of realization hitting him as he hastily gathered his clothes. The consequences of the alcohol-fueled night began to sink in, and regret cast a shadow over him.

A sudden groan from you interrupted his frantic activity, causing Jeonghan to freeze. Relief washed over him as he realized you were still blissfully unaware, providing a temporary shield from the aftermath of their impulsive actions.

Stepping out of the hotel room, Jeonghan's first instinct was to call Joshua for a quick escape. The clock stubbornly displayed 2 a.m., an hour that should have deterred most people. However, Joshua, known for his penchant for late-night revelry, was the chosen confidant in this moment of crisis.

"My friend!" Joshua's voice, brimming with excitement, greeted Jeonghan as he opened the car door. In the midst of his own turmoil, Jeonghan found himself trapped with an exuberant Joshua. After directing Joshua's driver to head towards his home, Jeonghan couldn't escape the barrage of questions.

"I was looking for you, Jeonghan. Where have you been?" Joshua's enthusiasm clashed with Jeonghan's drained energy. Rolling his eyes, Jeonghan turned away, seeking a reprieve from the relentless inquiries.

"That's mean!" Joshua's protest echoed before giving way to the unexpected sounds of snoring. A chuckle escaped Jeonghan as he realized Joshua had succumbed to sleep, leaving the impending conversation for a more conscious moment.

The car ride became a surreal blend of exhaustion and Joshua's snores. Jeonghan, lost in his thoughts, braced himself for the inevitable talk he would have with Joshua once the overly-energetic friend returned to full consciousness. The night's events had left Jeonghan grappling with a mix of emotions, from regret to amusement at the unpredictable turns his life had taken.

The shrill ring of Jeonghan's phone pierced through the haze of his extended slumber, rousing him from a deep sleep. His body, oddly resistant to the routine of heading to work, had lingered in the realm of dreams, perhaps still grappling with the disappointment from the previous day's board meeting.

"Hm..." Jeonghan's response was a simple murmur, his voice carrying the remnants of a dizzy head after indulging in an unusually prolonged sleep—almost 12 hours of it.

As he reluctantly confronted the reality of the waking world, his secretary's voice permeated through the fog. Apologies were offered before the revelation struck like a sudden storm. "Your nephew, Mingyu, got into a fight and is now in a detention center."

Jeonghan's eyes snapped wide open, the abrupt news shattering the remnants of his grogginess. "What?!" The word escaped his lips, a mix of shock and frustration evident in his tone.

"He was bullied and made a defensive move, but they were captured by the cops as they fought behind a convenience store building," the secretary explained, weaving a narrative that only added to Jeonghan's growing list of familial challenges. Mingyu, his sister's son, seemed to have an uncanny ability to find trouble at the most inconvenient times, leaving Jeonghan to grapple with the repercussions once again. The responsibility he shouldered for his nephew intensified, adding another layer of complexity to an already tumultuous day.

A curse escaped Jeonghan's lips, a frustrated response to the recurrent challenges posed by his nephew, Kim Mingyu. The young troublemaker seemed to have a knack for causing chaos at the most inconvenient moments, leaving Jeonghan to bear the consequences.

Reflecting on recent incidents, Jeonghan's frustration intensified. Two weeks prior, he found himself reluctantly purchasing an expensive painting after Mingyu 'innocently' sneezed in front of it. A month ago, an expensive plate was shattered at a family gathering, forcing Jeonghan into the heart-wrenching position of apologizing to his grandfather for Mingyu's actions.

Sighing deeply, Jeonghan ended the call after obtaining the address of the police station where Mingyu was detained. The weight of responsibility settled on his shoulders once again. Determined to impart a lesson, Jeonghan knew he had to handle the situation personally.

A decade had passed since the tragic accident that claimed Jeonghan's sister and her husband, thrusting him into the role of responsibility for their son, Mingyu. Initially, the burden was shared with his parents, a delicate balancing act of familial obligations. However, as Mingyu navigated through his teenage years, his penchant for trouble escalated, prompting Jeonghan to shoulder the responsibility more exclusively.

Considering the high schooler's propensity for getting into mischief, Jeonghan made a conscious decision not to burden his aging parents further. He chose to bear the weight of guardianship alone, shielding his elderly parents from the additional stress.

As he prepared to confront Mingyu's latest misadventure at the police station, Jeonghan couldn't help but ponder the alternate scenario. Imagining what would happen if his father received this distressing information brought a shiver down his spine. The elderly patriarch, already burdened with the weight of years, would likely find the news overwhelming.

Jeonghan entered the police station, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he spotted Mingyu in the detention room, anxiously calling out his name. However, his heartbeat skipped a fraction when his eyes fell upon you, seated in front of the officer. The stark contrast in your attire from the previous night caught him off guard, and confusion clouded his features. The officer introduced you as Mingyu's homeroom teacher, and Jeonghan's mind raced to piece together the unfolding situation.

Jeonghan, torn between frustration and the need to understand the circumstances, addressed the officer, "I'm Jeonghan, Mingyu's guardian. What's going on?"

The officer explained the situation, detailing the fight and emphasizing the need for the guardian's presence before Mingyu could be released. Jeonghan's gaze shifted between you and Mingyu, sensing an air of complexity in the dynamics at play.

Other students had already been released and gone home, but Mingyu remained in captivity. You, as the homeroom teacher, withheld the crucial signature needed for his release until Mingyu's guardian arrived.

"Do you have time to talk after this, sir?" Your polite inquiry caught Jeonghan off guard as you both made your way to the parking lot. His eyes briefly flickered at Mingyu, who observed the peculiar atmosphere between his uncle and his homeroom teacher.

Jeonghan, his curiosity piqued, nodded in agreement, and motioned for Mingyu to wait in the car. As Mingyu stepped out of earshot, Jeonghan's heart raced in anticipation. What could you possibly want to discuss? Was it about the events of last night? Did you remember him as vividly as he remembered you?

The memory of the night played in Jeonghan's mind like a vivid reel. Your tight black dress accentuating every curve, flawless makeup adorned with a bold red lipstick, had captivated him. Yet, it was the sweet and unexpectedly addictive scent of caramel popcorn from your cologne that lingered in his thoughts. What a twisted charm you have.

Standing before him in your teaching attire—a baby blue blouse paired with white wide pants—your natural beauty surpassed Jeonghan's expectations. The sudden shift in his breath caught him off guard as he momentarily lost himself in the understated grace you exuded.

"Mr. Yoon?" Your voice broke through his reverie, bringing him back to the present moment.

"I'm so sorry to cause you trouble. I know Mingyu's family is very busy, but your presence was rather important for him and also for me as his homeroom teacher," you explained, and Jeonghan couldn't help but feel a sense of confusion lingering. The events of last night loomed in the background, and he wondered if they would be addressed.

As he waited for an explanation, you continued, "If you have time tomorrow morning, I would like to have a discussion about Mingyu's future education and career. Here's my contact information: Just in case you couldn't be present tomorrow, please inform me."

Jeonghan found himself in the counseling room of Mingyu's high school, bewildered by an inexplicable impulse that led him to cancel a crucial meeting. Outside, he waited with a strange mix of patience and nervous anticipation, uncertain of the forthcoming conversation. The memory of the recent hotel encounter lingered—an unspoken chapter between you two.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Yoon. I just finished a class. Thank you for coming. Do you need anything? Tea? Coffee?" Your unexpected presence disrupted Jeonghan's thoughts, prompting him to swiftly adjust his posture as he graciously declined your offer.

Seated across from him, technically in front of the table that acted as a silent mediator, you handed Jeonghan Mingyu's academic report. As he immersed himself in its contents, a narrative of Mingyu's scholastic journey unfolded, a canvas painted with both struggles and untapped potential.

The room held tension, an unspoken dialogue brewing beneath the surface. Jeonghan's eyes moved meticulously over the report, absorbing the nuances of Mingyu's academic challenges juxtaposed with his aspirations.

"As you can discern, Mingyu faces academic challenges. However, he stands as our school's basketball captain with tremendous potential for a professional career," you began, extending another paper containing Mingyu's career aspirations.

The weight of Mingyu's familial background as a businessperson hung in the air. "But, Mr. Yoon, Mingyu himself expressed zero interest in the business industry; his heart is set on pursuing a career in sports."

Jeonghan gently placed the report on the table, his hand following suit. His eyes, now directed at you, betrayed a mix of surprise and realization. "I never knew about this," he confessed, the admission carrying a layer of contemplation.

Jeonghan's mouth grew dry as he spoke, gratitude laced in his words. "Thank you so much for telling me this. Mingyu and I never really had a conversation about his school or his hobby."

You nodded empathetically, acknowledging the complexities of understanding a high schooler. "I understand, Mr. Yoon. Mingyu might seem like a very happy teenager, but we never truly know what's inside his head. I recommend you have a talk with him regarding his future; it'll be a good approach in case you two have different perspectives, and I believe both perspectives are important."

Jeonghan, appreciating the advice, nodded in agreement. "Thank you so much for the suggestion. Ms...?"

You gasped, covering your mouth, in a moment of realization. "Oh my goodness, I haven't introduced myself. Y/n, Ji Y/n. I'm a Korean teacher and also Mingyu's homeroom teacher."

As Jeonghan smiled, he expressed gratitude for Mingyu having a kind and attentive teacher. The mention of considering private school after the last incident hinted at the complexities of Mingyu's situation. "Ms. Ji, I am glad to know that Mingyu has a very kind and attentive teacher in his school. My family has considered sending him to a private school since the last incident. But I don't think we have to."

Jeonghan swore he noticed a faint blush on your cheeks as a soft chuckle escaped you. "It was such a big compliment for a teacher like me, Mr. Yoon," you responded, your tone carrying a modest grace. The unexpected exchange left a subtle warmth in the air, a departure from the serious tone of their earlier conversation.

As the discussion concluded, both of you walked out of the counseling room. Jeonghan nodded appreciatively as you motioned the way to the school entrance, a tacit agreement to walk together. The rhythmic tap of your shoes against the hallway floor echoed the unspoken tension lingering between you two.

Upon reaching the entrance, Jeonghan felt an itch to address the elephant in the room. Did you recognize him from the recent one-night stand just two days ago? "Ms. Ji..." he began, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

You turned to him, your attention fully on him, a smile gracing your face. Jeonghan, in that moment, found himself captivated by your smile, his gaze unconsciously drawn to your lips. Memories of the recent encounter flickered in his mind, an unexpected longing surfacing.

"Perhaps..." Jeonghan hesitated, his mind wrestling with the question he was about to pose. "Have we ever met before?"

He shook his head hastily, answering his own question before you had the chance. "No," he said, the denial leaving a lingering tension in the air.

"Perhaps you remember me?"

Your eyes widened at his inquiry, and the sudden realization flickered in your gaze. Jeonghan's unspoken question had found its answer.

Your walls were clenching as Jeonghan thrust into you passionately. The way you moan around the room made Jeonghan's head go dizzy. You whisperedly asked him to speed up the pace before your lips met each other, craving the moistness caused by lust.

"You're so tight, baby." Jeonghan's sigh escaped from his mouth as his pelvis moved harder than before, earning your climax. He swore that the way you clenched him had sent him into heaven. Your sinful moans are Beethoven's masterpiece. The way your lips flushed, your cheeks stained red, and your hair stuck to your forehead were magical sights for him.

His left hand roamed your body. Praise them like you are such a goddess of beauty. His finger has met your nerves, and playing it has made your walls clench him even more, making it harder to thrust.

A moan slipped out of his mouth as he could feel your walls tighten and you hit your climax. The thrust became slopier, and it was the moment he felt that he was ready to burst because of you.

"Where do you want it, baby?" Jeonghan whispered in your ear. Thrusting you harder is a sign for you to answer him immediately, or he might burst inside you.

"My mouth, my mouth, please."

Shit, you'll be the death of him.

"Argh.."

Jeonghan's eyes are wide open. He just cummed on his bed while sleeping. Jeonghan blinked, his surroundings shifting from the intimate scene to the familiar sight of his bedroom. The remnants of the dream lingered, leaving him disoriented. He sighed, realizing it was all just a vivid fantasy playing in his subconscious mind. The sensations, the passion—all evaporated as he woke up to the reality of his empty room.

Jeonghan shook his head, trying to dispel the lingering heat of the dream. The intensity of the emotions felt so real, yet he was alone in his bed, his body untouched by the events that had unfolded in his mind.

Jeonghan, dressed in his work attire, couldn't help but notice Mingyu having breakfast at the table. Reflecting on yourr conversation from the previous day, he decided to break his usual routine and take a seat across from his nephew. It had been quite some time since Jeonghan had the chance to grab a morning meal.

As Mingyu chewed his food, his uncle's unexpected presence halted the motion of his jaw. The helper, accustomed to preparing breakfast for Mingyu alone, observed the unusual scene with curiosity. Confusion knitted Mingyu's brow as he wondered about Jeonghan's sudden change in behavior.

Jeonghan broke the silence, "How's school, Mingyu?" Mingyu, caught off guard, stammered a bit before replying, "Great, I have a lot of fun in this school."

Jeonghan nodded, deciding to share his own surprise. He casually mentioned that he had visited Mingyu's school the day before. Mingyu's reaction was unexpected, a slight protest evident on his face. Jeonghan, raising an amused eyebrow, asked, "Why are you so worked up?"

Mingyu confessed, "I don't want to be transferred to another school. What happened last time was a mistake of mine; I failed to control myself." He dropped his head, a mix of guilt and apprehension clouding his expression.

Jeonghan's brow rose, and he clarified, "Who said you're going to be transferred?" Mingyu, bewildered, tried to explain, "I heard that—"

Cutting him off, Jeonghan interjected, "I met your homeroom teacher. She told me you're a really good basketball player in school. Is that true?" A hint of pride and curiosity danced in Jeonghan's eyes, dispelling any misunderstanding that Mingyu might have had.

Mingyu's cheeks colored with embarrassment as he shrugged, "I don't know. She's praising me so much by saying that to you."

Jeonghan chuckled softly, a playful glint in his eyes. "Do you want to go to a sports school in the future?" he asked, curious about Mingyu's aspirations, although he already had a good idea of the answer.

Mingyu shrugged back, asking tentatively, "Would you let me?"

Mirroring Mingyu's movement, Jeonghan replied, "Of course, why not?"

A wide smile lit up Mingyu's face upon hearing his uncle's supportive words. His laughter bubbled with excitement as he processed what had just transpired. "No way! Is Ms. Ji behind this?" Mingyu shook his head in disbelief. "Woah, Ms. Ji... Woah! I can't believe this."

Jeonghan observed his nephew's elation with amusement, his mind already brewing with a mischievous idea. "With one condition," he added, immediately causing Mingyu's smile to drop.

"What is it?" Mingyu asked impatiently.

Jeonghan rose from his seat, finishing his breakfast and preparing to leave for work. Just as he was about to go, he turned his head toward Mingyu and dropped a bombshell, "Set me up with Ms. Ji."

He walked away, leaving Mingyu stunned and taken aback by his uncle's unexpected request. The air hung with a mix of surprise and anticipation as Mingyu processed the playful twist his uncle had added to the morning conversation.

#densworld🌼#seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #seventeen angst #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagine #seventeen series #seventeen fic #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #svt smut #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan smut #jeonghan x reader

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damianwaynesbelovedsposts · 6 months

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jon: damian, you’re fine just be yourself.

damian: be myself? jon, i have one day to win over y/n parents. how long did it take for you guys to start liking me?.

y/n: couple weeks.

jason: six months.

tim: jury’s still out.

damian: see, jon? “be myself” what kinda of garbage advice is that?

requests are open!

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long-live-astronerd-ghost-king · 10 months

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DP x DC prompt. ~“Unstable connection”~ Dead on main.

Part 1. J: I met you in the comments under the fanfic with our ship. Decent story to tell the kids, right?

D: Dani already knows. And she is gonna tell the whole Ghost Zone. There's no point in lying.

~~~~

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7.

Part 8. Part 9. New: Part 9.1. Part 9.2. Part 9.3.

Part 10. Part 11. Part 12. Meme break №1. Part 13.

~~~~

On one occasion, two picky readers met on the AO3.

Jason, who has not forgotten his roots as a bookworm, is going to fight injustice using fanfics. Who says public opinion is hard to control?

And since he doesn’t want to be the laughing stock of his family for the rest of eternity, he decides to explore the part of the fan house that ships him with an unknown hero.

Well, they will never meet in person, will they? So it’s okay to use it for a good cause. Plus, his "assistant" is a cute guy.

#dpxdc #dpxdc prompts #dp x dc #dead on main #Danny x Jason #red hood x danny phantom #tw rap3 #tw rape

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happyhauntt · 24 days

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la vie en rose — sirius black.

writing masterlist | askbox

─── summary: it's just a regular tuesday in july until an escaped convict appears in your kitchen. oh, and he happens to be your ex.

─── pairing: sirius black x reader.

─── warnings: set in prisoner of azkaban. mentions of death (canon characters.) swearing. there will probably be a part 2 at some point.

─── word count: 1.8k.

IT IS THE SECOND TUESDAY IN THE MONTH OF JULY, and you have a bad feeling.

It comes with no warning, not heralded by a black mood or a grey, rainy sky, no creeping sensation lingering like a ghost at your back, causing the hair on your neck to stand on end.

The sun is shining high in the sky. Residents of the little village huddle together at tables in the beer garden, tucked beneath huge umbrellas charmed to prevent sunburn. The summer holidays started a week ago, so there are no students milling about; only families you have known since birth, grizzled faces and smiling ones, long beards tied back in the heat, witches who have swapped out their usual pointed hats for wide-brimmed ones.

It is hot and bright, someone has set the communal barbecue to work grilling burgers; there are drinks to be had, someone is calling for a round of firewhiskey shots, and all-in-all, it is the sort of day you dream of when you think of summer at the Three Broomsticks.

There is no reason at all to have a bad feeling, and yet...

It came over you like a wave the moment you woke up. Your room had already been almost unbearably warm, light spilling through the crack in the curtains, and a distant, suspicious buzzing that you suspected must be a bug that had come in through the open window in the night, but you'd had no time to dwell on it.

The feeling had crashed into you, dark and sickly. It had stayed, even through a chilly shower and a round of French toast for breakfast, settling over you like a blanket made of stone. It was heavy, and you hated it.

You hadn't felt this way in years.

Aunt Ros had noted it the moment you got into work, sneaking through the back door with a face like thunder. If there is anything anyone knows about you, it is this ━ you have a concerningly happy disposition. In spite of everything you endured in your youth, or perhaps because of it, you’ve been known to flutter about the pub as if you’re living on a cloud, able to draw a smile out of even the grumpiest patron.

Your past is a bleak stain on your life, and it is something you know you’ll never be able to scrub clean. Nor would you want to. No matter the sins of the people you once loved, or the graves where you’ve laid the remains of your heart, you cannot erase them. It would be such an injustice.

The world is a shitty enough place, anyway, but that doesn’t mean you have to be.

Today, though, it seems the world has got its grubby hands all over you, because it feels utterly impossible to shift this mood. Aunt Ros had frowned at you the moment you stepped into the back room. She’d tutted before you’d even had the chance to hang your bag on the hook, squinting over the thick frame of her glasses.

“Did a gnome manage to get into your greenhouse again, or is somebody dead?”

You’d huffed at her. “Neither.” You hadn’t had a stray gnome in your greenhouse for two years, and the perimeter spell you’d put on it would fry the little bastards if they dared to try. And as far as you’re aware, nobody is dead. Nobody new, anyway.

Your heart had twinged a little, the way it always does when you think of your old friends.

“Haven’t read the paper this morning, yet, then?” Aunt Ros had looked away from you, her voice taking on a peculiarly high pitch. She’d begun to fuss with a stack of unwashed glasses from the night before, drawing out her wand to cast a spell to start the washing-up.

You’d paused. Alarm bells began to ring in your mind. “What’s happened, Aunt Ros?”

“Better see for yourself, love.”

You’d skirted around her and headed into the office. A copy of today’s Daily Prophet had laid open on her desk. The usual mess of paperwork had been shoved aside, and the headline had glared up at you in stark black and white.

SIRIUS BLACK ESCAPES AZKABAN!

The floor had suddenly felt horribly unsteady beneath your feet. Your hand darted out to grip the edge of the desk, and you’d found yourself thanking every deity you could name that you’d come into the pub through the back door today.

You’re certain every single one of the patrons huddled in the next room wouldn’t hesitate to stare at you. Or worse, want to talk about it.

As if you have anything left to say that hasn’t already been said a hundred times over.

Your ex-fiance’s mugshot graces the front page. It’s a recent one, clearly, and you’d swallow back the bile that rises in your throat at the sight of him.

“You should go home, love.” Aunt Ros had followed you into the office. “Take the day off.”

There’d been little point in arguing. Madam Rosmerta’s stubbornness is unrivalled, she’d been the landlady of the Three Broomsticks for at least a decade now, and besides, there’s very little to say. Her gaze had been dark and filled with pity, but an edge of vitriol had crept in when she glanced at Sirius Black’s picture.

Her feelings about your ex are clear. Exceedingly so. You’re the only one who ever believed his innocence, and everyone knows that.

So you’d folded up the newspaper and tucked it beneath your arm, retrieved your bag from the hook and retreated through the back door without argument. Now you keep your head down as you weave through Hogsmeade’s narrow streets on the way back to your little cottage. The sun beats down against the back of your neck. You swear you can hear people whispering as you pass by.

The sight of your garden, with its neat little rows of marigolds and pink roses and tufts of lavender waving in the warm breeze, offers more relief than you thought was possible.

Flowers have always had that effect on you. Even during the darkest days of the war, even when the aftermath of it had seemed so impossibly bleak, sinking your hands into cool pots of soil had eased your aching soul.

There’s just something about the life of it all. How, even in the depths of winter, you know that spring will come again. You know the buds will bloom anew. You know that, every year, dead things come back to life.

Upon reaching the garden gate, with its ever-creaking hinge and rusting iron handle, you cannot help but pause. The front door catches your eye, but for once it isn’t the pretty blue paint you notice, or the bright hanging baskets of geraniums on either side of the door.

The door is hanging slightly ajar. The paint is chipped around the broken lock, which was certainly not broken when you left for work an hour ago.

Not again.

You thought you’d experienced the last of the break-ins years ago. They used to be a regular thing, back when the war first ended. So-called friends of the Potters wielding their righteousness like a blade, even though you’d barely spoken two words to these people at school. Even though not a single one of them could name Lily’s favourite colour, or recalled the name of James’ owl.

Hypocrites, all of them. Drunk on power and freedom, the freedom that your friends had sacrificed themselves to gain.

They would break in and curse you, hating you for defending Sirius so staunchly, but how could you not? How could you ever live with yourself if you hadn’t?

You’d known him. Known Sirius as well as your own mind. Trusted him with your life, your heart, and how could anyone claim he’d done it? How could anyone believe it?

The aurors had been no help at all. You were an irritation to them, with your constant campaigning for more evidence, for a fair trial, for anything. You were lucky to get them even to file a report about the break-ins, let alone investigate. That’s part of why you had to move, at least in the beginning.

Living in the shadow of the school hadn’t done you any good, either. All those memories.

All those ghosts.

You draw your wand and push the door open, stepping cautiously over the threshold. You’d been a lot softer back then, sweeter than honey and freshly-bruised by the world.

That sweetness is still inside you. In every smile and chiming laugh, in the way you carry yourself, in the petals pressed against your fingers and the love you hold for the people you’ve lost. It’s still there, undeniably.

But these days, you’ve got a little more sting, too.

“If you’re not supposed to be here, I’m going to give you five seconds to leave through the back door!” Your warning carries through the corridors of your seemingly empty house, and as the seconds pass, the tension in your shoulders starts to ease, but then━

A scuffling noise at the back of the house. Near the kitchen, you think. A clattering sound, as if somebody dropped something.

You don’t hesitate for a moment longer.

Wand held tight in your grip, you charge through to the kitchen, a jinx settled on the tip of your tongue as you round the corner, but the sight you find causes your feet to come screeching to a halt in the doorway.

There’s a man in the middle of your kitchen.

Now this alone wouldn’t be so alarming, if you had a brother or a boyfriend or if, perhaps, Remus had bothered to reply to any of your letters in the last decade-or-so. but none of those things are true.

And this man, this man you recognise.

The years have changed him. He’s more than a decade older than last you saw him, though aged immeasurably by his time in captivity, with dark hair hanging in limp, bedraggled strands just above his shoulders. Ragged prison garb sits loosely on his frame, torn at the edges and smeared with dirt in places.

There’s a manic look in his eye. Bright and stormy and mad, which is so familiar that your heart stumbles inside your chest the way it did when you were young. He looks just like he did at seventeen and McGonagall would catch them in the kitchens after curfew.

That boyish innocence paired with the haunted look in his eyes is like a punch to the gut.

A dish lies in shattered pieces on your kitchen floor, and it takes longer than you’d like for your brain to kick back into gear, but when it does, all you can manage is a peculiar, choked sound.

There is an escaped convict in your kitchen, after all. Even if he happens to be your ex.

“Sirius? What the fuck?”

#sirius black x reader #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fanfiction #marauders era fanfic #marauders imagine #sirius black imagine #* chapter update.

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clementinegreye · 26 days

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the sweetest sin of all || part 2

aaron hotchner x fem!bau!reader ||

summary: part two! in the midst of investigating a serial killer who chooses victims based on the seven deadly sins, aaron hotchner finds himself entangled in more than just the case (inspired by hozier's song 'too sweet') - read part one here

word count: 2.6k

warnings: obesession, kissing, crossing professional boundaries and general talks of CM violence and murder (nothing graphic):

a/n: hi! in a surprise turn of events my friend requested a sequel. so here she is!

Sunlight bathed the office in warmth, casting long shadows across the room. The brightness of the new day offered a similar newness to what Aaron was feeling in his chest. A glow from within, matching the sky of optimism. How was it that after finally giving into sin he was being rewarded with such virtue?

With newfound clarity, Aaron saw the remaining sins in a new light, no longer as abstract concepts, but as human desires that ran deep within all of us. He thought of envy - the yearning for what someone else had, wrath - the uncontrollable fury born out of injustice, and lust - the overwhelming desire for another. He understood, perhaps for the first time, the power these emotions held, and the destruction they could bring when left unchecked.

He found himself drawn to the memory of lust - the overwhelming desire for another. It was a sin he'd experienced first-hand, a sin that had changed him irrevocably, a wickedness he had no intention of seeking redemption for.

He allowed himself to be drawn to the unholy memory of the night before, eyes falling closed. It felt as though he’d never left the office. The bullpen outside his internal windows began to buzz and hum with the life of his colleagues arriving freshly rested and ready to reface the case.

Surrounded by the remnants of the night, he let out a deep breath, his mind wandering back to the sweet taste of her lips, the feel of her body against his, and the soft whispers of their shared passion still echoing in the room. This was their shared iniquity, their secret temptation, a dance of desire they had surrendered to.

He could still smell the faint hint of her perfume in the air, the lingering scent of her dancing around his office. He was surrounded by the remnants of their night. He sighed deeply, flooding his senses with everything that had transpired over the last 24 hours. There was a watermark ring imprinted on his desk from their shared glass, subtle reminders of their hidden transgression.

His heart hammered in his chest at the thought of her, a sweet symphony of debauchery and his personal surrender. He traced the watermark with his finger, the texture grounding him, reminding him that it wasn't a dream. This was their secret, a clandestine dance only they knew the steps to. The memory of her gentle touch still lingering on his skin, he felt a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

He was pulled from his thoughts by Morgan, his firm knock at the door reminding him that he had work to do and that there was still a killer that he should be focused on. Noticing Hotch’s unusually dreamy expression, Morgan eyed him suspiciously. The ability to read body language was a profiler’s best weapon, and Morgan was looking at him with knives in his gaze.

‘What’s going on?’ His voice was firm but even. Aaron felt like it could lead to an interrogation if he didn’t pull himself together, but with her scent in his head and the memory of her on his lips, it was harder than he would like to admit.

Before a response could leave his lips, his gaze was drawn to the sight of her walking into the bullpen, the memory of their shared secret making his heart race anew. He quickly composed himself, turning back to Morgan with a steely gaze, ready to face the day and with newfound confidence ready to catch the son of a bitch before he could take another sin as victim.

Taking a deep breath, he nodded curtly at Morgan, his voice steady as he said, "Let's get to work." He stood from his desk, posture straight as a soldier. He moved to follow Morgan with surety towards the roundtable where the team had gathered in quiet conversation.

He traced his fingers over the corners of the files in his hands. Each one was a call to action, a reminder of the duty he owed to the victims and their families. Yet, beneath the weight of responsibility, he found a new source of strength - her. Her words echoed in his head, her tone of confidence pushing him with a passion and determination he had never known before.

As he stepped into that circle of familiar faces, he allowed himself one last lingering glance at her - she was as bright as the morning that shone through the window. With a renewed sense of purpose, he began discussing their next steps in the case, her presence and the memory of her certainty; a powerful source of inspiration.

He could feel her gaze on him as he laid out the details of the case. Her eyes traced over his features and he could swear he could feel her touch. The presence of their shared secret added a new layer to the dynamic, a furtive thrill that spurred him on. He could almost feel the anticipation in the room, the team ready to delve into the depths of the details printed in front of them.

A sense of camaraderie filled the room as they all settled into their roles, ready to tackle the challenge that lay ahead. Each member of the team settled into their familiar rhythm which made their team unique. Hotch sat in his chair, eyes glancing over the summary of the crime, he could feel the weight in the room on his shoulders.

He felt wrapped up in more than just the case. He’d settled back into his dominance and role as team leader, but he hadn’t quite shaken the thrill of letting go, and he was excited by the chance to do it again once the case was over. The memory of her touch, the echo of their whispered promises, strengthened his desire to solve the case. Hotch felt an unfamiliar lightness, a secret sweet sense he could hold close to his chest that could drive him to catch the killer.

‘Garcia still hasn't been able to uncover any kind of paper trail linking the victims together.’ Spencer spoke, his voice typically rushed but there was a twinge of frustration, he pushed his hair from his face in a flurry. There was a pause amongst the team, a collective moment of thought.

'Perhaps the Unsub is choosing victims based on personal encounters, not premeditated selections.' She added. Hotch had already been looking at her, but with the sweet sound of her voice, the rest of the team’s eyes followed where his gaze rested. Hotch’s watch flicked away from her for a moment as if scared his colleagues would see the intensity in his eyes. With the attention on her, she continued. 'I know it’s hard but maybe we should focus on potential spontaneous interactions the victims might have had.’

Amid the team's collective returned concentration to the evidence, he couldn't help but steal another glimpse at her. The soft glow of her skin, the vehemence of her gaze as she poured over the case files in front of her - she had looked at him that intensely. He couldn't dwell on it too long or his mind would be flooded with all reminders of their shared connection.

'Let's explore that possibility then,' he said, his voice steady despite the rapid beating of his heart. He could sense they were onto something, a familiar drum in his chest caused by trust.

The morning sunlight seemed to brighten and illuminate the room with a renewed sense of determination. The team worked diligently, diving headfirst into the mire of possibilities and potential leads.

‘We know he’s focusing on the seven deadly sins to guide his mission but perhaps one of them is what he focuses on to find his victims and then he assigns them another.’ JJ mused, looking over some of the victim reports. ‘I mean, look at this, two out of the four had at one time used the same hook-up site, the other two might have used a different form of online dating site.’

‘He’s focusing on lust.’ She stated factually, and Hotch’s ears burned at the tips.

‘How can you tell, honey? The victims are different genders, different physicality's and different races? There’s no distinct type. How can you tell his motive is sexual?’ Morgan quipped, curiosity in his husky tone. Pet name making Hotch’s mouth twitch.

'If all of the victims so far were active on at least one form of online dating site.' She answered, her voice steady. 'And if you consider the sin of lust, it's about a strong sexual desire. Online dating, especially sites used for hook-ups, could be where the Unsub is selecting his victims. Maybe he’s using different aliases’ on different sites, which could be why we haven’t been able to find any similar connections.' Her words hung in the air, a new avenue of investigation opening up before them.

This new lead could be the breakthrough they needed. 'Let's pursue this angle. Everyone, start digging into each victim's online footprint, especially their activities on dating platforms.' Hotch commanded his voice firm yet tinged with a hint of excitement. He stole a second to look at her, her words still echoing in his mind from the night before. He felt a sudden confidence that they would catch the Unsub, just as she had said.

The Unsub's sanity mirrored Aaron’s own, he too was thinking of lust. His eyes remained trained on her once the team were back at their desks working the new angle. But where the Unsub's actions led to destruction, his had led to connection, a bond that invigorated him. He was living within a paradox, sinning in one breath and upholding justice in the next, he wouldn't trade this newfound complexity for anything.

He was drawn from his thoughts by the muffled voices of Spencer and Morgan.

Spencer was gesticulating wildly with his hands, his eyes filled with the spark of new evidence. Morgan, ever the listener, nodded along with a thoughtful expression, calling on the other members of the team to gather around. This was their rhythm, their way of working through the intricacies of the case, they were a well-oiled machine.

‘Guys, the kid’s got something.’ Morgan’s voice was clear across the bullpen, a sense of urgency running through it as the members of the team stood from their respective desks to gather around and listen.

Spencer cleared his throat, all eyes on him as he started unravelling his newfound evidence. His words filled the silence, a new rhythm in their symphony of investigation. The rush of the new lead, another piece of the puzzle.

‘Garcia and I looked over some of the victim’s online accounts and I think we’ve found something.’ He gestured in a typically enthusiastic manner, voice hitching in animation from the breakthrough. Once the team were hooked on his words he continued his explanation.

'While on different sites we found that each victim had a private chat with a user and their IP address can be linked to multiple accounts. Each account had an avatar with hidden messages and symbols related to the seven deadly sins.' His revelation echoed through the room, pushing them one step closer to uncovering the Unsub. ‘We know where he is.’

As Spencer spoke, Aaron didn’t try to hide the glance he shared with her, their eyes meeting for a fleeting moment. She’d been right. Of course, she’d been right.

His gaze was still on her when Morgan's voice echoed through the room, "Then let's bring him in.’ With a tilt of her head, she smiled at Hotch, a true and natural smile that made him feel like he was on fire. It was a smile that declared ‘How could you ever doubt me?’.

The room buzzed with renewed energy as everyone began to mobilize. Garcia worked her magic in the background to send the location and information they needed to their phones. This was it, the moment they had been working towards. The moment they would finally stop the killer before he took any more lives.

***

With the Unsub in custody, the team had headed back to the office, each slowly slipping away for the night, ready for a peaceful night’s rest knowing they had another success under their belt. From the security of his office, Hotch breathed a deep sigh. He was about to file away the closed case file, his back to his office door.

‘I told you.’

Her voice startled him, but it was not an unwelcome feeling. He didn't turn, he didn’t need to. He heard her heels stepping across the floor, heading to where he stood. He let her words wash over him, a sweet affirmation of their shared victory. He closed his eyes, absorbing the moment - the scent of her perfume, her voice, their shared triumph. She placed both hands on his shoulders, pulling on the right slightly so he’d turn to face her.

‘I remember.’ He spoke, low and deep. Lifting a hand to push a strand of hair from her face. She captured his hand in hers before it could fall. A strong and certain

‘Is that all you remember of last night?’ She tilted her head - intertwining her fingers with his - a smirk toying on her lips. He couldn’t think about anything other than how she tasted.

His eyes met hers, a spark igniting deeply within him. His senses were flooded with her. He didn’t think, he simply leaned in, capturing her lips with his.

Releasing the grip on his hand so he could hold her waist she moved her hands from his shoulders she tangled them in his hair, tugging lightly inciting a low moan from his throat. She was pulling him impossibly closer, their bodies sharing the same heat.

He didn't want to stop - to break the connection. But he knew they had to. He pulled back reluctantly, his breath hitching as he looked into her eyes. Darkened with the tension between them. He was lost in her, consumed by a sin that tasted so sweet.

He was a man who had always held onto his composure. But with her, he was willing to let go, a man falling, and he knew he would willingly drown in her.

He wanted her. More than he’d ever wanted anything in his life. He’d do anything to have her. He would repent, he would go to confession every Sunday and live the most virtuous existence.

‘God, save me.’ He whispered, breath fanning across her lips as they remained inches apart. More tangled together than separated.

‘Did you suddenly turn religious, Aaron?’ She giggled, hand tracing down the side of his face, mapping out his strong features. Her intoxicating laugh echoed through the empty office, a sound he wanted to become familiar with. He craved the softness, the sweet taste of her lips again, and again, and again. He’d do anything to hear the symphony of surrender he could find in her.

His response was non-verbal. he simply let his lips find hers again, their bodies pulling each other into a dance as old as the world itself, but as new and thrilling as the first time. He was used to bitter coffee, cold showers and his mind being corrupted with murder. She was new, she was all sunlight and syrupy covering his senses and submerging him in damnation.

He was a man lost, a man found - in her. Her, the sweetest sin, his only redemption. She was a vice that tasted like heaven.

Aaron Hotchner was a sinner, she would be his redemption.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner fic #hotch x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic

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night-raven-tattler · 1 month

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Silence = neutrality/complicity, and I don't want to be silent.

Recently some people have been calling out a certain creator from the twst x reader side of the fandom that has been spreading zionist posts, dangerous sentiments and a heavy load of misinformation. The creator is @/marilynfuse and I am only sharing their blog name for everyone to block and report all of their platforms. Do NOT engage with this person, and do NOT harass this person. It's clear they don't listen to whatever you say and they thrive off of your attention. Do not give them that satisfaction, just report and move on. Their blog is still active despite not showing up when looked up.

I am a writer, but before that I am a person who does not endorse any kind of hatred or neutrality in the face of injustice. With that being said, I want no type of queerphobe, racist, islamophobe, antisemite, zionist, supporter of apartheid, denier or shamer interacting with my blog.

To be perfectly clear: Palestine, Congo, Sudan, Yemen, Syria, Haiti deserve to be free.

My goal is to invite everyone on any side to do their own research and see with their own eyes who they need to support, without thinking about the misinformation that has been going around for so long. Try to see beyond the propaganda and wake up to the reality we're facing.

I am gonna do what I think is best and share some sources I've found useful for Palestine (source 1, source 2, source 3), Congo (source 1, source 2), Sudan (source 1, source 2), Yemen (source 1, source 2), Syria (source 1, source 2) and Haiti (source 1). I'm trying to be as objective as I can be, but keep in mind being objective =/= being neutral. Being neutral leaves enough space for people to perpetuate misinformation, which is something I'm not going to do.

Educate yourselves. Talk about the people in need. Don't stay silent until the genocide and the wars stop and stay loud enough that people can still hear you even after you're pushed off the stage. If you want to educate other people, share resources and correct them, and don't engage with people who don't see reason. Block, report, use that energy and anger on sharing more resources to the people who are open to change.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader

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nobody-zero3000 · 5 months

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Yandere Batfamily x Amidala! Reader

Inspired by the Yandere Damian Wayne x Alien Leader reader by your-regular-toast-enjoyer. But also because I like Padme Amidala and Star Wars. I want to use the Gotham Knights video game version of the Batboys, Batgirl, and Batman. Since Damian Wayne is not in there, I was thinking about Damian Wayne from the Injustice 2 video game but older. I'm going to change and add a few things from the Star Wars Universe and add a few new things to Amidala's character.

Warning: yandere, age-gap.

Earth heroes have encountered a different galactic system not far from Earth's solar system. The Justice League has made contact with a planet that's part of the galactic government system, also known as the Intergalactic United Republic, and has agreed to send someone to the planet to at least show that Earth and the Justice League offer peace.

In the watch tower, the heroes are having a meeting about who should go on this diplomatic mission. Some voted for Green Lantern, Martin Manhunter, or Superman, but the results show that the best candidate for this mission would be Batman.

Martian Manhunter was a bit disappointed because he had heard about her reputation through some holo-nets and was eager to meet her. As well as introduce her to his niece, Miss Martian since she is a fan of her work.

"Then it is settled: Batman shall be the one to go on this diplomatic mission and talk with the queen." Wonder Woman had declared.

The meeting is adjourned. Batman boomtubes back to Earth to discuss details with the rest of the Batfamily.

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In the Batcave, Bruce calls in Robin, Red Robin, Nightwing, Batgirl, and Red Hood.

"As you all know, I summoned you here for an important reason. I have been chosen to lead a diplomatic mission for a planet called Naboo. But I'm not planning on going alone." Bruce pulls up pictures of the planet.

"This mission has to be taken seriously and delicately. Any hostile behavior will endanger Earth along with millions of civilians. Do not show any violent or hostile behavior, and do not engage or cause any conflict that may lead to dangerous consequences. Do I make myself clear?" Giving them a stern, firm glare to each of them, especially Damian and Jason.

Jason shrugged. "Got it. No violence unless they start it first, then we consider violence."

Bruce narrows his eyes at him.

Jason puts his hands up in mocking surrender. "What? I'm kidding. No violence, don't cause trouble got it."

Tim looks at the Bat computer screen, looking through the information. He looks over to Bruce and asks, "Question. Do you have any information on the ruler of this planet? Any photos of what they look like."

Bruce pulls up photos, "These photos were taken at the Watchtower when we made contact with the planet. We are still looking into other information from J'onn and Hal's research."

It shows a female, (Y/H/C), (Y/E/C), and the areas where white makeup is not covering are your hands, which are (Y/S/C). She was sitting on a throne, dressed in royal clothes and wearing white makeup with red dots on both cheeks. She stood straight and had a blank look. But her eyes showed kindness, patience, and seriousness.

The boys and girl are taken aback by how young the female is. They were expecting someone much older. Not just that, but how beautiful you were. It was like looking at an angel. If someone were to ask about the definition of an angel, they would show them a photo of you. But for some reason, if they had a photo of you, they would not want to share it with someone else; they want to keep you to themselves.

For Bruce, it took a lot of strength and restraint to not laugh at their expression and keep a straight face. He couldn't blame them. When he first saw you, he was shocked not only to find out that someone as young as you would be ruling a planet but also by your beauty. He has seen a lot of beautiful women (Selena, Talia, Diana, Lois, etc.), but you pretty much outmatched them all as well as caught his attention and kept a hold on it.

Snapping out of it, he puts away the photo, much to the family's displeasure.

"So that's who we're all going to meet. If I had known that, I would've been more 'ready to go' for this mission." Dick grins and crosses his arms.

"She's really beautiful, and she must be very smart to rule the planet by herself," Tim said, blushing and smiling.

"Is there any more information on her?" Barbara is very curious about this young woman.

Damian finally asks, "When do we leave for this mission? Most of all, who will be watching the city while we are gone?" At this moment, he doesn't care if they leave the city unguarded, as long as they leave soon. He is curious about this alien leader.

"While we're gone, I managed to get some League members to watch the city, as well as other independent heroes to keep an eye on the crime rate. Now that is settled, all of you pack your bags. We'll be leaving in 2 hours.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Batfamily boomtubes to the Watch Tower, and from there, they enter the Javelin spacecraft (which upgraded to travel at a speed of light thanks to Hal, other Green Lanterns, and Cyborg). Once they are settled in the ship, Batman sets the coordinates for the planet Naboo, and on they go.

"Coordinates for Naboo are locked. Prepare yourselves for light speed." Everyone is strapped in. Soon the ship takes off.

After the ship comes to a stop, everyone, besides Batman who is used to space travel by now, groans from the lightspeed, some felt either really tired or sick.

Red Hood groans and hunches over. "I'm starting to regret eating that Bacon Ultra-belly combo."

"You should wait afterward, Todd. We were going to travel through space at a fast rate. What did you expect, imbecile?"

"Shut it, demon-spawn."

"Alright, that's enough, you two. We're here that's all that matters." Nightwing lightly scolded them.

Batgirl decides to get into the conversation. "Besides, what did Batman say about bad behavior."

Red Robin includes, "What part of no hostile or violent behavior are you two not getting here?"

They all start to bicker until Bruce switches to autopilot. Turns the seat around to face them. "Enough" in a firm and stern voice. Narrowing his eyes gives them his famous Batman glare.

The bickering stops, and they turn their attention to him.

"Let me make myself clear, be on your best behavior and do not start trouble. Once we land, stay close by my side. Do you understand?"

Red Robin, Nightwing, and Batgirl nod their heads. After a few moments, Red Hood and Robin show they understand by nodding their heads, too.

Batman turns back to the front window and starts to move the ship toward the planet.

Realization starts to overcome the bat family members, and they all look to the front to see the planet.

Tim and Barbara had excited expressions since they were about to visit a different planet and would meet the ruler soon. While Dick, Jason, and Damian were shocked to see the planet and about the possibility that they were about to go to a different planet.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Meanwhile in the throne room of Naboo---------------------

A guard's com beeps, he answers, and a few words are exchanged. He nods and turns to the queen.

"Your Highness, the Earth's ambassador, has arrived and is now entering our planet."

"Very well, prepare refreshments and send starfighters to guide the ship to one of the land platforms."

"Yes, Your Highness." The guard leaves.

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As the Javelin enters Naboo, they are encountered by starfighters.

Batman presses a button that allows him to speak to the Starfighters. "This is Batman, Ambassador of Earth."

"Batman, this is Captain Olie; we are ordered by Queen Amidala to escort you to Theed Royal Palace. You can just follow us."

The starfighters fly ahead but not far from the Javelin. Batman starts to follow them.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

As they fly to the palace, all of them look out their windows to look at the new environment. Tim and Barbara show excited and awe expressions. Jason and Dick are in awe too. And Damian, even though he tried not to show it, thought the planet was beautiful too and a bit excited to experience a new environment, a new planet!

Bruce had to admit it was beautiful, and it looked peaceful.

Once landing in a near landing platform, they exit the ship wearing their superhero suits. As they exit the Javelin, a handmaiden and two guards walk toward them.

"Sir Batman, Ambassador of Earth, I am here to escort you to the throne room to meet with Queen Amidala." She gestures for them to follow her.

The other bat members give each other glances. Batman just starts to walk with her as the others follow him.

They reach the throne room, and the guards open the doors for the guests. (Pretend there are more chairs.)

On the throne sat the queen of Naboo. On both sides beside her are two handmaidens in their own seats. On her left is Captain Typho.

The batboys and batgirl look at the queen in complete awe. Batman just gives a neutral expression, but on the inside, he feels different.

'She is even more beautiful in person.'

"Batman, Welcome to Naboo. I hope you managed to travel here safely with no complications."

"Queen Amidala. Thank you for inviting us to your planet and agree to meet with us."

"The Council of Naboo, Chancellor Valorum, and I have discussed and created a peace treat, but I would like to discuss it more with you."

A servant brings in a tray of refreshments. (Y/N) notices the other masked heroes.

"I see that you have brought company with you. Would all care to introduce yourselves, please?"

The others glance at each other, finally, Robin decides to introduce himself.

"Robin, I aide Batman on his missions and patrols around Gotham City. It's a great pleasure to meet you, Queen Amidala."

She nods in his direction before looking at the person next to him.

"Nightwing, protector of Bludhaven, former leader of the Teen Titans. It's very nice to meet you." He offers her a kind smile.

She nods her head and gives a small smile back, but gives a curious look. "What is a Teen Titan?"

Then shifts her gaze to the female hero.

"Batgirl, formerly known as Oracle. Thank you for inviting us here. You have a beautiful home planet!"

She gave Batgirl a grateful smile, "Thank you." Then she looked at the other male hero; he looked a bit younger than her, maybe around her age.

He shyly waves to her, "Hi, Red Robin. I also help Batman, as well as the other bat family members. Y-you have a really lovely home, you're beautiful, I-I-I mean your home is beautiful. Not saying that you're not beautiful because you are." He continues to stutter.

Robin rolls his eyes. "Smooth, Drake. Very subtle."

Queen Amidala just looks a little amused and tries not to laugh. She offers a smile and raises her hand to him, which gets to him stop. "It's alright, Red Robin. I understand, and thank you. You flattered me."

Red Robin opens his mouth but closes it and blushes.

She then looks to the last hero. He's physically well-built and has his arms crossed. She notices the blasters strapped to both sides of his legs.

"Name's Red Hood, vigilante of Gotham. And I got to say, you are way more hot in person compared to the photo that was sent to us." He complimented with a hidden smirk and gave a noticeable wink in your direction.

The handmaidens give a soft offend gasp and Captain Typho stiffens and clenches his fists.

Queen Amidala, however, is thankful the makeup covers her blush. She gave a confused look, but there was a fluttering feeling in her chest. She snaps back to reality and fixes her face into a neutral expression.

"Thank you, Red Hood. As much as I am flattered by your...compliment, we should probably go into the discussion about the treaty."

Batman, after sending a scolding glare to Red Hood (who does not show any regret about what happened but instead smugly looks to the other bat heroes who are glaring at him), looks to the queen.

"I agree; I do have a few questions and concerns."

"Of course, let us begin."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After discussing and reviewing the treaty, it was dusk. The Queen had adjourned the meeting and would talk with the Council of Naboo and Senator of Naboo tomorrow about the treat.

"I'll have some servants show you to your rooms that you will be staying in for a while. Once you have settled in, I'll have a couple of my handmaidens come to escort you to the dining room for dinner."

"Thank you, Queen Amidala." Batman gives a small bow.

Six servants show up in the throne room. Each of them escorts the heroes to the royal guest rooms. Bruce, Tim, and Barbara are neighbors; across from them are Dick, Damian, and Jason. All get comfortable with their room.

Near evening, two handmaidens come to each of their rooms to take them to the dining room, where the Queen is sitting at the end of the table waiting for them.

On the table are plates of food that seem questionable to the Batboys and Batgirls since this is their first time trying alien food. Bruce doesn't show it but even he seems to question the food but is curious to at least try some.

"Welcome, come every one, sit down. Enjoy the food."

Thinking for a moment, (Y/N) wonders if she should help them with which food is the best. After all, it is probably their first time trying food that was outside their planet.

"I would recommend the Shaak pot roast or the tip-yip but if any of you do not eat meat then I would try the Xizor salad or Aquaris Broth. Please let us know if you have any questions on the other food items."

The Batfamily sends appreciative looks toward her and starts to dish out. The servants that were about to dish out plates for them stop as they see this. They look to the queen, their expression partially asking, "What do we do?"

The queen just smiles and waves a hand to them. "It's alright. Let them dish out by themselves. It's getting late; why don't you all grab a plate and then retire for tonight or head back home to your families."

The servants smile at the queen and bow to her while both say. "Thank you, your highness."

The servants sit down and start to dish out as well.

There are different emotions running through the bat family. For all of them, there's admiration. For a few, there's surprise, confusion, and approval.

One who was most confused was Damian. It wasn't normal for the young adult to see a royal figure treating their servants like they were their equals.

His taught by his grandfather and mother that as royal figures, they are superior and therefore do not see non-royal figures, servants to be exact, as their equals.

But the more he thought of it, the more he started to admire the young ruler. This action showed that she was kind, generous, and fair. It made her even more beautiful.

They just eat their food for a while until one of the heroes decides to ask a couple of questions.

"So, what is it like being a queen? And how did you get the throne early? It just...you seem rather young...not that is a bad thing, but wouldn't your parents still be the ones running the throne?" Red Robin had asked.

Red Hood was about to scold him for asking those questions in the middle of dinner but stopped because he was curious, too. He wanted to know more about his sweetheart, about her.

The other masked vigilantes were curious as well.

(Y/N) stop mid-bite and set her spoon down in the bowl.

"Being queen can have hardships, but it can also be rewarding. I serve my people, and I do what is best for them. I've got to meet many different people and make connections and friendships with a few of them. As for how I got the throne, I wasn't born of royalty blood but rather I was elected by the people of Naboo. As for my parents, my father is an excellent builder, educator, and relief worker, while my mother voluntarily works in a variety of social services roles helping the underprivileged. I would sometimes go with my father to his relief missions to aid other people on different planets. It's what encouraged me to pursue this role."

Tim listens closely and pays full attention to her. He's actually surprised but amazed about her being elected for this role.

"Wow!...you must be very intelligent to have gotten such a role. It's amazing, and from the sound of it, you like to serve. Where did you go to school? Is there a specific school you have to go to? Different programs? It's amazing some your age could do this! I mean of course, I'm around you as well,...possibly. I mean I not old..not that I'm saying your old! Because you're not. You are young. Look young. B-beautiful, k-kind, and generous, and fair, amazing.

"Calm down there, Red Robin. I think she gets the point." Nightwing said.

"Stop. You're embarrassing yourself and us, for that matter." Robin said to him in a blank and annoyed tone.

(Y/N) just looks on in amusement and covers her mouth a little with her right hand but cannot control the small giggle that escapes past her lips. Even her servants find this amusing but manage to keep themselves from laughing at this event happening before them.

The Batmembers stop talking and freeze as they listen to her laugh. They thought it was a very nice laugh and couldn't help but smile. (Bruce and Damian gave small smiles, of course. But it is still a smile.)

Once (Y/N) got control of herself, she stopped giggling but still had a content smile on her face. She actually felt grateful for the young hero, it's been a while since she had even laughed.

"Thank you, Red Robin. You still continue to flatter me, and it's been a while since I laughed. You are one of a kind."

Red Robin couldn't stop the large grin growing on his face. He ducked his head and looked away, trying to hide his blushed face.

Unnoticed by the young queen, Nightwing, Red Hood, and Robin try but fail to hide their envious expressions. While both Batgirl and Batman look a bit amused but also a bit jealous.

"Who does he think he is, making my beloved laugh like that?"

"I could have found a way to make her laugh. I have great charm, too."

"I compliment her and get a negative reaction. But when he does it, they find it amusing and harmless. Back off, Tim."

"She has an adorable laugh. But, ugh!...serious, how does Tim do it?"

Bruce did feel a bit jealous, but he can be patient. He just needs to find the right time and place.

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