#just have like little collections of short stories :)

[sailorrhansol]

Baby | Teaser | ksy (m)

Pairing: Soongyoung x f. reader

Summary: Soonyoung had been in your life for as long as you can remember. You haven’t spoken since your wedding to someone who isn’t him, but when you uncover your husband’s plans to turn against your family, you don’t know who else to call.  

Teaser Word Count: 478

Genre: Mafia, Cyberpunk, Childhood Friends/Exes to Lovers

Type: Smut, Heavy Angst

Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

Teaser Warnings: Very mild angst but mostly just affection :)

A/N: I want to emphasize that in this fic, everyone is associated with criminal behavior and deeply ingrained in a Syndicate culture in which illegal activity, violence and drug use is the norm. If you cannot handle that - especially because I make no attempt to moralize their behavior - this isn’t the fic for you. Additionally, there are violent scenes. It is a violent story. That’s okay if this isn’t for you, just skip this one. I don't lean into gore and I keep it short and specific as possible.

A/N 2:  I have been working on this specific fic for months - I really hope you like it. It is dark in a lot of places but it's also deeply emotional and touching as well. I think this will be one of my favorite works I've done in recent years, so I hope at least someone enjoys it!

Coming January 1, 2025

Main Masterlist | The Syndicates Collection | Join the Tag List | Ask | Playlist

“I don’t feel like a person sometimes,” he whispers. “It’s like the ability for me to feel anything died forever ago. Like I killed it so that I didn’t ever have to hurt again. Now I only ever feel when-”

He cuts himself off and sinks into you a little more. You bear his weight, willing to carry any burden for him. You don’t think he realizes that he could ask you to jump and you’d say how high. You’ve always been willing to jump for him, always willing to do whatever he wants, whatever he needs. 

Gently, you ask, “You only ever feel when what? You can tell me if you want. Whatever you need.” 

“I feel when I’m with you.” Soonyoung whispers it like it’s a secret he doesn’t want you to hear. You feel the words hit your skin where he speaks them, a shiver slithering through you. His grip on you tightens a little with the admission, like now that he’s said it, he can’t let go. Won’t. “I feel most like a person when I’m with you.”

Pressing the flat of your hand to his back, you begin to stroke up and down slowly, touch following the careful ridges of his spine. He sighs, shivering in your hold. You want nothing more than to take the pain or whatever he’s feeling away, to rip it from him and to destroy it. 

The fierceness of your love for him is hard to tamp down. A fiery admission of your feelings for him isn’t what he needs right now. You know Soonyoung like the inside of your own soul, everything that makes him tick, every habit he’s picked up over the years. You can sense him standing lost at sea, needing an anchor. Needing you. 

“Okay,” you say softly. “So stay with me. Be a person with me.”

“I’m not made for you.”

“Yes you are.” Your nails dig into his back through his shirt, pressing sharply. The desire to covet him is so intense it overtakes you. “If I make you a person, then how could we be made for anyone but one another?” 

Silence greets your logic. You stay holding him like that, desperate to keep him there, terrified he’ll shrug you off and get up. He’s done it before, shucking off your affection like something to be disposed of. And still you give it to him freely, begging him to take it. 

He doesn’t shy away from you. Instead you feel him nod, mouth brushing tenderly across your throat in the ghost of a kiss. “If I stay right now, you will never get me to leave. Do you understand? I won’t… I will be incapable of ever letting you go. Ever. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

You hug him tighter. “Try to leave me at your own peril, Kwon Soonyoung.” 

Main Masterlist | The Syndicates Collection | Join the Tag List | Ask

-

Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

[applestorms]

@jessaerys ok shit this took a while but WHATEVER. wammy's lore collection here we go :3c less analysis this time, this is mostly just to archive the main known details we have in canon about the house, and also the people from there more generally. however much you wanna accept all this/take it at face value is up to You, Dear Reader (and tbh y'all should just read all these if ur curious since they're all pretty short + have Interesting narrators. i'll include links to free versions). do whatever you want forever etc. etc. also, SPOILERS. obviously.

LABB: (listen here)

no this book isn't written by ohba. yes i'm including it. shush. anyways, most of the lore in this comes from mello's vague comments about beyond's backstory, but there's a Lot of interesting things established in this, so. here's a bunch of notable quotes. if you're not already familiar, please keep in mind that the narrator of this novel is mello, writing at some point shortly before his death.

"L. The century's greatest detective. In light of his staggering mental abilities, L died an unjust and untimely death. In the public record alone he solved over 3,500 difficult crimes, and sent three times that number of degenerates to prison. He wielded incredible power, was able to mobilize every investigative bureau in the entire world, and was applauded generously for his efforts. And during it all, he never showed his face." (pg. 10)

"So, what you're reading now are my notes about L. It's a dying message, not from me, and not directed at the world. The person who will most likely read this first will probably be that big-headed twit Near. But if that's the case, I will not tell him to shred or burn these pages. If it causes him pain to discover that I knew things about L that he did not, then that's fine." (pg. 10-11)

"I am one of the few people who ever met L as L. When and how I met him...this is the single most valuable memory I have, and I will not write it here, but on that occasion L related to me three stories of his exploits, and the episode involving Beyond Birthday was one of these." (pg. 11)

"Obviously, it never came to light that L--and more importantly, Wammy's House, which raised me until I was fifteen--was deeply connected to the matter, but in fact, they were. L, on principle, never got involved in a case unless there were more than ten victims or a million dollars at stake, and this is the real reason why he belatedly, but aggressively, involved himself in this little case, which only ever had three or four victims. I will explain further in the pages that follow, but for this reason, the case of the Los Angeles BB murders is a watershed event for L, for me, and even for Kira. It was a monumental event for all of us. Why? Because this is the case where L first introduced himself as Ryuzaki." (pg. 11)

"For any one else but those two [Near and Kira], my identity may be of no interest, but I am the old world's runner-up, the best dresser that died like a dog, Mihael Keehl. I once called myself Mello and was addressed by that name, but that was a long time ago. Good memories and nightmares." (pg. 12)

"She [Naomi Misora] briefly considered the idea that Raye Penber, or someone else, was playing a practical joke on her, but she found it hard to believe that anyone would be so bold to sign their name as such. L never revealed himself in public or in private, but Misora had heard several horror stories about what happened to detectives who tried passing themselves off as L. It was safe to say that no one would dare use his name, even in jest." (pg. 18)

"This was L, so he was undoubtedly solving several other difficult cases all at once. Cases all over the world. For him, this case was just one of many parallel investigations. How else could he maintain his reputation as the world's greatest detective? The century's greatest detective, L. The detective with no clients." (pg. 35)

"L had earned a certain degree of hostility from other detectives, and the jealous ones called him a hermit detective, or a computer detective, but neither of these is a particularly accurate representation of the truth. Naomi Misora had also tended to think of L as an armchair detective, but in fact, L was quite the opposite, a very active, aggressive individual. [swoon.] While he had absolutely no interest in social connections, he was certainly not the kind of detective to shut himself up in a dark room with the shades drawn and refuse to come out. It is now common knowledge that the three great post war detectives, L, Eraldo Coil and Danuve were all actually the same person. Certainly, anyone reading these notes is almost certain to know...though they may not know that L engaged in a war with the real Eraldo Coil, and the real Danuve, and emerged victorious, claiming their detective codes. The details of this detective war I will save for another occasion, but in addition to those three names, L possessed many other detective codes. I have no idea how many, but there were at least three digits' worth. And quite a number of those were fairly public detectives--just like, as anyone reading these notes must know, he appeared before Kira, calling himself Ryuzaki or Ryuga Hideki. Of course, Naomi Misora had no way of knowing this, but in my opinion, the name L was, for him, just one of many. He never had any direct connection to that identity, he never thought of himself as L--it was just the most famous and most powerful of the many detective codes he used during his life. The name had its uses, but lacked obscurity. L had a real name that nobody knew, and nobody will ever know, but a name which only he knew never defined him. I sometimes wonder if L himself ever knew exactly which name was written in the Death Note, which name it was that killed him. I wonder." (pg. 43-44)

"If we must discuss why L so adamantly refused to reveal himself, we can explain it very simply: doing so was dangerous. Very dangerous. While the world leaders should make efforts to ensure the safety of all the finest minds, not only for detectives, the fact is that the current societal systems do not allow for this, and L believed he had no choice but to protect his mind under his own power. By simple arithmetic, L's ability in 2002 was the equivalent of five ordinary investigative bureaus, and seven intelligence agencies (and by the time he faced off against Kira, those numbers had leapt upward several more notches). This is easy to think of as a reason to respect and admire someone, but let me say this as clearly as possible: that much ability in one human is extremely dangerous. Modern danger management techniques rely heavily on defusing risk, but his very existence was the exact opposite. In other words, if someone was planning to commit a crime, they would greatly increase their chances of getting away with it by simply killing L before they began. That was why L hid his identity. Not because he was shy, or because he never left the house. To ensure his own safety. For a detective of L's ability, self-preservation and the preservation of world peace were one and the same, and it would not be correct to describe his actions as cowardly or self-centered." (pg. 69 nice)

"So whenever L was working, he would usually have someone else as his public face--and in this particular case, the FBI agent Naomi Misora was filling that role." (pg. 70)

"Beyond Birthday had the eyes of a shinigami congenitally. It was not particularly difficult for him to track down people with the initials B.B. or find people who were fated to die on a certain day at a certain time." (pg. 94)

"Normally contact with a shinigami was a prerequisite for acquisition, but Beyond Birthday had traded nothing--he had seen through those eyes since before he could remember. He knew your name before you said it. He knew the time of death of every person he met." (pg. 94)

"You might think [the eyes] would hardly be useful without a Death Note, but that is simply not the case. The ability to see someone's remaining life is the ability to see death. Death, death, death. Beyond Birthday lived his life unceasingly reminded that all humans would eventually die. From the time he was born he knew the day his father would be attacked by a thug and die, knew the day his mother would die in a train crash. He had these eyes before he was born, which is why he called himself Beyond Birthday. Which is why a child as strange as he was taken in by our home, sweet home--Wammy's House. He was B. The second child in Wammy's House." (pg. 94-95)

"The competition between L and B. L and B's puzzle. 'If L's a genius, then B's an extreme genius. If L's a freak, then B's an extreme freak. Now it's time to get ready. There are things I must do before B can surpass L. Henh henh henh henh.' This thought was the only thing that made him laugh without needing to think about it. And those that know will recognize the laugh of the shinigami. Still grinning to himself, he faced the mirror, brushed his hair, and began applying his makeup. The reflection of himself in the mirror. Himself. As always, he could not see his own time of death. No more than he could see the death of the world." (pg. 96)

"We were raised at Wammy's House in England, in Winchester, as L's successors, as L's alternatives, but that does not mean we knew anything more about L than anyone else. Including myself, only a few of us ever met L as L, and even I knew nothing about L before he met Watari--Quillish Wammy, the genius inventor who founded Wammy's House. Nobody knows what's going on in L's head. But even so, I know how Watari felt. Looking at L's incredible talents from the perspective of an inventor--of course he wanted to make a copy, of course he wanted to create a backup. Anyone would feel the same. As I have already explained, L never appeared in public. L knew that his own death would increase the crime rate all over the world by a few dozen percentage points. But what if they could copy him? What if they could make a backup? That was us. L's children, gathered from all corners of the world.

"But even for a genius like Watari, creating a fake L was easier said than done. Even for Near and I, who were said to be the closest to L...the more we tried to be like him, the closer we got, the father away he was, like chasing a mirage. So I hardly need to tell you what it was like when Wammy's House was first founded, when he was still experimenting. The first child, A, was unable to handle the pressure of living up to L and took his own life, and the second child, Beyond Birthday, was brilliant and deviant. B stood for Backup.

"But B tried to surpass L, not become him...no, that might not be right. I have no way of knowing the inner workings of his mind. He...their generation was not like the fourth generation, with Near and I, all the children bound only to the code with the serial L. They were prototypes, never even given the L code, expected to fail. I prefer to refrain from idle speculation based on my own experiences, but, well, Beyond Birthday may have thought something like this: As long as there was L, B would never be L. As long as the original existed, the copy was always a copy." (pg. 104-105)

"The Los Angeles BB Murder Cases. L.A.B.B.--L is After Beyond Birthday. This reading is why I think this name is so much closer to the killer's intentions than the Wara Ningyo Murders, or the Los Angeles Serial Locked Room Killings. I wasn't talking about the names on a purely stylistic basis. Whether Beyond Birthday had put that much thought into it I have no idea, but if he had a specific reason for choosing to commit his murders in L.A., then that is probably why. I am sure he had a much more personal obsession with L as an individual than Near or I ever did. I can understand why someone would become a criminal in order to fight against a detective, which is why I can write something like this, but even so. What did he hope to accomplish by killing unrelated people? Or perhaps B simply wanted to meet L. Then he could use the eyes of the shinigami he'd been born with and see L's real name, see when L would die. He would be able to figure out who L was. Beyond Birthday had never told anyone that he had the eyes of a shinigami, and it would not surprise me at all if he believed himself to be some kind of shinigami." (pg. 105-106)

"Beyond Birthday challenged L. And L accepted the challenge. To put it bluntly, the Los Angeles BB Murder Cases were nothing but an internal struggle, a civil war within our home, sweet home-- Wammy's House. Unfortunate for the victims that got mixed up in it, but even if Beyond Birthday had not killed them, all those victims were fated to die that day, at that time, for some other reason, so logically and morally, their deaths were unavoidable. So in the strictest sense of the word, the only one who really got mixed up in their war was Naomi Misora." (pg. 106)

"L was said to never move on a case unless there were more than ten victims or a million dollars at stake. The only exceptions to this were cases at difficulty level L (extremely fitting), or when L had personal reasons compelling him to get involved. The Los Angeles BB Murders were both of these. I hardly need to point out the difficulty by this stage of the story, and L was essentially fighting his own dead copy. [harsh, dude.] The current head of Wammy's House had told Quillish Wammy/Watari, who had told L about B's disappearance in May, and ever since L had been looking for him even as he solved other cases. Wammy's House only knew him as B--they did not know his real name, Beyond Birthday, so this search was near impossible, but L knew who the killer was. He had not been looking for a killer so much as he was looking for a case. L had been waiting, expecting Beyond Birthday to do something to challenge him. L could move any policeman in the world, but in this case, he could not ask anyone for help except Naomi Misora...more than likely, for this reason. I don't think L really put that much stock in honor, but everyone is embarrassed by their own sins, and nobody wants those missteps to become public knowledge. L was the goal of everyone in Wammy's House. Every one of us wanted to surpass him. To step over him. To step on him. M did, N did, and B did. M as a challenger, N as a successor. B as a criminal." (pg. 116-117)

"No matter what she did, she had no way of knowing. That this killer, Beyond Birthday, could tell someone's name and time of death just by looking at their face, that he had been born with the eyes of a shinigami--she had no way of knowing that fake names were useless with him, completely and utterly pointless. How could she have known? Even Beyond Birthday himself could not explain how he had been born with the eyes of the shinigami, how he could use them with no payment, with no arrangement. Neither Misora nor L knew why, and, obviously, neither do I. The closest thing to an explanation I can offer is that there are shinigami stupid enough to drop their notebooks in our world, so there might well be shinigami stupid enough to drop their eyes." (pg. 193-140)

"'So, Naomi Misora...' said L, wrapping up. But Misora hastily stammered, 'Um, er, L...' but then she hesitated, not sure if she should ask this or not. 'You...know the killer, right?' 'Yes, as I said. He is B.' 'I don't mean like that...I mean, he's someone you know personally?' On the 16th, L had said that he had known the killer was B, and she had sort of known ever since, but two days before, L had said something that changed her guess to conviction. Whatever you do, please catch the killer. The century's greatest detective, L, would never say that about some ordinary indiscriminate serial killer. And the way his letter was just one letter long... 'Yes,' the synthetic voice agreed." (pg. 144-145)

"'I have nothing to do with him,' L said. 'To be completely accurate, I do not even know B. He is simply someone I am aware of. But none of this affects my judgement. Certainly, I was interested in this case, and began to investigate it because I knew who the killer was. But that did not alter the way I investigated it, or the manner in which my investigation proceeded. Naomi Misora, I cannot overlook evil. I cannot forgive it. It does not matter if I know the person who commits evil or not. I am only interested in justice.'" (pg. 145)

"My great and respected predecessor, the man whose actions were a strong influence on me personally, B, B.B., Beyond Birthday--obviously, I need hardly explain again that the murders themselves were not his purpose. So what was he doing? Again, I hardly need to explain--he was challenging the man he copied, the century's greatest detective L. A matter of winning or losing. A contest." (pg. 159)

"Since L could solve every case no matter how challenging, if he created a case so difficult that L as unable to solve it, B would have defeated L." (pg. 159)

"He knew that the moment he took action Wammy's House and Watari would alert L, so he did not even bother trying to stop them. He could only guess at which stage of his plan L would start to come after him, so he prepared things carefully, ready for L's entrance at any point." (pg. 159)

"B approached Naomi Misora, calling himself Rue Ryuzaki. Rue Ryuzaki--L.L. For anyone from Wammy's House, there could be no higher goal than identifying yourself with that letter--and Beyond Birthday seized this case as his chance. even Naomi Misora knew what had happened to detectives falsely identifying themselves as L, and B was from Wammy's House, so he knew this better than anyone--so this choice suggests the strength of his decision. He never once intended to survive--had had made up his mind. He was ready." (pg. 160) [trans. note: the name "Rue" in Japanese, ルエ (ru-e), is an anagram of エル (e-ru), which is how L is pronounced.]

"Naturally, his face and fingerprints would burn as well--he had always disguised himself with heavy makeup while he was with Misora, and he never left a picture behind, so even if someone directly affiliated with Wammy's House inspected the body, they would have no idea that Rue Ryuzaki/Beyond Birthday was B from Wammy's House. He had left nothing to connect Beyond Birthday to B." (pg. 162)

"B was presenting the Los Angeles BB Murder Cases to L as a case that could never be solved. That L could never solve. In other words, he had never prepared any clear solution to it--since the killer had committed suicide, disguised as the fourth victim, there was no longer a killer to catch, and no clues left to catch him with." (pg. 163)

"My poor, poor predecessor. Not only was he utterly and completely defeated, but he survived, driving home his embarrassment...he must have longed for death. Accept my condolences, B." (pg. 169-170)

"If I had space left over I had intended to carry right on into the other two stories I heard from L: the story of the detective war between the three greatest detectives, all solving that infamous bio-terror case, with guest appearances by the last of the alphabet, the first X to the first Z from Wammy's House; and the story of how the world's greatest inventor, Quillish Wammy, aka Watari, had first met L, then about eight year's old--the case that gave birth to the century's greatest detective, the Winchester Mad Bombings that occurred just after the third World War. But however objectively I look at things, I do not have the space or the time. Oh well." (pg. 170)

"She had spoken to L only once after the killer was arrested. He thanked her for helping to solve the case, and told her just a little about the background of the case. That B had been a candidate to succeed L, and that the pressure of that had driven him off track." (pg. 171)

"And a few years after his arrest, on January 21st, 2004, serving a life sentence in a California prison, Beyond Birthday died of a mysterious heart attack." (pg. 173)

C-KIRA: (read here)

near grief :pensive: pretty sure this was animated in the anime movie thing?? tbh i still need to watch that. Very interesting as some of the most recent post-main story lore we get about wammy's imo. less quotes now + more summarizing since these are just comics

near has apparently only "talked" to L once (in quotes since he didn't actually say anything, just sat in the back of the room doing a puzzle the entire time. real asf girl)

during this "conversation," roger or one of the orphanage heads set up the usual L screen + a camera/mic so that L could see all the kids and answer their questions.

notably, mello & near didn't ask any questions, just lurked in the back watching L with a "nasty look in [their] eyes," which near assumes is what made him pick them to be his top successors, considering the fact that he didn't actually look at any of their data. (somewhat seems to imply that L didn't actually give a shit about grades or anything like that when picking his main successors?)

while answering questions, near is caught off guard by one of L's answers. to transcribe it all directly here--

NEAR (NARRATING): At the time, I didn't think L would put it so bluntly. L: It's not a sense of justice. L: Figuring out difficult cases is my hobby. If you measured good and evil deeds by current laws, I would be responsible for many crimes. L: The same way you all like to solve mysteries and riddles, or clear video games more quickly... For me too, its simply prolonging something I enjoy doing. L: That's why I only take on cases that pique my interest. It's not justice at all. And if it means being able to clear a case, I don't play fair, I'm a dishonest, cheating human being, who hates losing...

not quite the monster speech, but fascinating all the same. near seems to imply that this answer sent some kids into a despair spiral, but it actually caused him to like L more and more, feeling that he was, "exactly the kind of person who wanted to achieve his own goals." kinda goes against the HTR13 ohba comment? shrug

The Wammy's House/L's One Day: (read here)

honestly i interpret these comics as like. canon crack fic. but anyways, here's the established L lore included in these two.

L was taken into wammy's as a nameless orphan at an unknown but likely quite young age

very soon after arriving he beats up all the other kids he meets--

he is "utterly incompatible," with all the other kids and monopolizes all the things he likes simply cause he's stronger than them and presumably could fight them for it-- naturally, he ends up usually just playing by himself

notably, this all establishes that L isn't the first kid at wammy's, that there was already at least one generation of older kids living there before he got there (and could eventually turn it into an L successor creating machine)

once watari realizes that L has some outstanding mental abilities, he gives him his own private room and a computer. afterwards, L spends most of his time sitting in front of the puter by himself

L requests that watari buy 1 million pounds with Japanese yen and tells him which stocks to buy, causing his assets to reach "almost 20,000 times the original amount," in two years. visually this is depicted as happening when L is still quite young

several years later, L stumbles across a serial murder case in the news, which is the first he solves, starting his new career path

-

L can stay awake for 100+ hours and then gets over it by sleeping for like 17 hours. pictures also may imply that he doesn't actually sleep in a bed, but just lies down sideways in his chair. RIP yotsuba light's perfectly designed sleep schedule

L also shits/pisses in the same position he usually sits in (frog-pose), facing the tank south park style

he is a big fan of cleanliness!! human washing machine etc. etc. honestly i think this is just another way for him to hold that same crouched position

text says he always has, "ten or so identical sets of clothes prepared for him," since he's picky about it, but the art itself shows way more than ten. also rare shirtless L moment?? (watari helps)

L does in fact go outside!! he likes roller coasters/theme parks, swinging, art galleries, live music, etc. though most of the time he just sits in his room thinking thru shit n solving cases.

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Slenderman with a creative writing s/o who leaves little drabbles for him. Very dramatic ones. When they're upset they write about the world ending, when they're happy they write a lot of fluffy nonsense... Better when they're in a gossiping mood they'll write about the drama and make him guess who it's about before telling him the real deal. Just something cute where they'll even leave little notes around for him to find, including slipping some into his work when he's too busy to see them 🙏🙏

He loves it. This man fully adores you so much, and this truly just really adds to that on so many levels. Slender has always been a reader, so even if your stories could be incredibly short, or unusually long, he's always looking forward to finding the next one to read. He can't always be by your side due to the mountains of work he has to do on a regular basis, so it brings him very great joy to know you have a hobby you can keep up with, especially when it allows you to express yourself and vent your emotions in such a healthy way. I will say though, he did NOT get it at first, that you were leaving them specifically for him.

No, this poor man, he thought you were forgetting or losing your pieces of writing, and so he was just collecting and storing them for a little bit whenever he found them, before handing them back to you. "My dearest, it seems you've been improperly storing your writing. I have found them and cared for them for you, and so I'd like to return them to you." Cut to you standing there in confusion, an amused smile spreading on your face, before explaining to him that you had been leaving them out for him, and were wondering why he never mentioned his thoughts on them to you. He's a little flustered by the understanding, but then he proceeds to excitedly sit down and read through every single one, giving you his thoughts on all of them to make up for lost time. Following that moment, he starts collecting them again when he finds them, but he keeps them for himself (including the originals he tried to return to you), and he stores them in a folder so he can always look back on them and read them again. It really warms his heart, having a way to remember you and think of you when you're apart, and he fondly looks forward to the next ones. He does think it's a little silly where you end up hiding them sometimes.

He goes to make his morning coffee before the sun has even risen, and he finds a neatly folded story in his favorite mug. He goes to get dressed some mornings and finds them tucked away in shirt, jacket, or pants pockets, crinkling as he moves, chuckles leaving him as he already knows what they are before he removes them from his pockets. He adores everything you write, but he does also check in with you regularly depending on the contents. If he finds a particularly dark, depressing one on your sadder days he's quick to set aside his work and check in on you, visiting you and making sure you're alright, always reminding you that you can rely on him for everything. He cares so much for you, and he's learned to pick out little things in your writing that, even if not obvious to those who wouldn't know you as well, point to how you're feeling when writing. Although, much as he is loathe to admit it, he does love your gossipy ones. Especially when he's been having a rough day at work, and after signing another document he moves it to the side to find a piece of paper on it with a particularly juicy story scrawled across it. He's always down for tea, and you provide it so willingly for him, even if he'll never admit to being a gossiper. He also loves finding soft, fluffy stories the same way, though. If you notice he's the one having a rough time, leaving him little loving stories, filled with how much you love him, or reminding him of your favorite memories with him, slipped between his papers for the day. It does a lot to boost his mental health, and he appreciates it more than he can express. Eventually, he'll take after you, in turn leaving you his own stories and little notes hidden around for you to find. You'll both sit side by side with a warm drink at the end of the day, discussing your thoughts about the writings (and gossiping excitedly), and it makes him so unbelievably joyous to be able to have a lover who he can bond with like this.

[the-100-days-of-junkan]

Day 89

SURPRISE! Days 79 and 85 were secretly the same AU all along! And by that I mean- wait before I get into that. Time for a headsup.

So tomorrow is Day 90. And as you know I try to do something special for those, which of course can lead to my little ramble sessions to go on for much longer than normal. And while I won’t guarantee it, this is more than likely going to be the longest one of the whole project, more than likely even longer than Day 100 which will be the post marking the end of the project.

Just to give you an idea of what kind of scale we’re talking about here, Day 90 took me a total of 3 Months, starting its creation on May 8th, and finishing on August 1st.

Alright! Now that you’re tense and speculating what in the merciful name of all that’s good is gonna happen tomorrow, let’s start talking about TODAY's art!~

Anyway, so when I made Day 85 I was trying to really think of what I could even do with an AU where the entire basis is “Oh, they’re kids.” And that reminded me! I had the same issue with the Adult AU, even if that had a bit more ground to stand on with them being adoptive parents to the Warriors of Hope.

Then it hit me! Why not combine the two of them? And thus was born the Childhood Friends AU! Though you could also just call this The No Talent AU because hey, you remember during Danganronpa WLWeek when I drew Junkan for the Talentless prompt? That’s right! It was secretly a tease for this art! Now if only I drew something for them during their college days I could have fully planted the seeds for this whole pic in your collective minds. 

Anyway, core idea of this AU is the timeline is slightly shifted so Junko and Mikan (along with the whole of the DR Cast) are born slightly earlier, while the Warriors of Hope are born at the usual point they would have in the timeline, solely because this allows our two favorite lovebirds to adopt them. Hope’s Peak doesn’t exist, nor do the ultimate talents of course (Though obviously for some characters like Mikan they’re still partial to those talents. It’s just that they don’t reach the absurd levels of skill that they do in main canon). And finally, Junko and Mikan were positioned in such a way that the two were childhood friends. I feel like I worded that in a way far too complicated and excessive for something that was pretty damn obvious, but hey I like to ramble.

Anyway, I can’t remember but I think I said that with the Fantasy AU it was the only other AU aside from Vampire that I would want to make a proper Fanfic for. If I did say that, I was either wrong or lying, because eventually I wouldn’t mind telling some kind of story of this version of the characters. More than likely just from their child and highschool years, but I’m sure eventually I’d get more ideas for them in college and as adults. 

The obvious dynamic here is that Junko since becoming friends with Mikan has been protecting her from bullies and not realizing that Mikan is very desperately pining for her (Don’t worry! They get together before the end of Highschool!). Also Mukuro is there! She’s got a stick.

I’m envisioning that up till they were entering middle school Junko would call her Bandaid Girl, because as kids Mikan was the kid who always had Bandaids (both in terms of wearing them and just carrying some around on her person all the time).

And look! Mukuro is in fact there, and not just that but a shit ton of other characters! I think I was really starting to crack and lose self control at this point in the project. So I decided to also make this a mini story of Mukuro getting together with Sayaka and Ibuki! Who both generally go down the same path they normally would, though eventually Sayaka becomes an Idol Manager after a short career as a proper idol, and Ibuki of course is a semi-popular musician. Mukuro has acted as a bodyguard for both of them before and will continue to do so when asked. 

And of course, by the time they’re adults Junko and Mikan decide to adopt the Warriors of Hope, very legally, and they definitely didn’t hide any bodies (I don’t even know how much I’m joking about that here). Fun fact! I almost forgot to draw Masaru! Don’t ask me how that happened, I have no idea. I will admit when it comes to the Warriors of Hope and Junkan most of my interest is mostly in their dynamics with Kotoko and Monaca. Not to write off the other three, Jataro especially, but I just think that’s what hooks me more immediately. 

I really tried to load today’s piece with as much as I could, because even if I didn’t know how long it’d take, I knew for a fact that finishing Day 90 would take a very, very long time.

As always, Reblogs, Comments, and Little Notes in the Tags are appreciated!~ They always make my day!~

[the-busy-ghost]

Me normally: Let people love what they love

Me, after a Test Match Special commentator expresses their belief that the new All Creatures Great and Small is somehow "better" than the 1978 version: This is pure insanity and TMS can no longer be trusted on anything, how can they even be trusted to know about cricket, do they have no TASTE

[astrxealis]

okay rambles but i started creatively writing in like ... 5th grade? and. oh god just a little encouragement to anyone looking to get into writing or insecure or whatnot, but HELLS, maybe it's to he expected with my (obviously) very young age and inexperience with writing then, but my writing was really. yeah. Yeah. but then i'm what... a lot older now, obviously, and my writing has gotten leagues better. i'm probably not a good example for this bcs childhood years development stuff are different etc etc BUT practicing writing more and whatnot really does go a long way :]

[altruistic-meme]

me, an author: i would literally burst into tears on the spot if someone bound a physical copy of one of my fics!

every post i’ve seen where someone has bound a fanfic: *the author is praising it and so overjoyed*

posts i’ve seen by other authors: man it would be so cool if someone bound my fic into a book!!

still me anyway, thinking about asking an author if they are ok with me binding their fic into a book: what if its creepy what if they hate the idea what if it makes them uncomfortable what if-

[milf-harrington]

not to brag but i just wrote a whole section of my reincarnation fic, it's not well written, but it's written which means at some point in the future there will be something there for me to edit

[planet4546b]

thinking about doing like. a reverse oc-tober where im just gonna spend october collecting various prompts so when i get to nano ill be ready to go

[cruelsister-moved2]

we need to outlaw including novellas in short story collections. punishable by death. 

[roadkilledretard]

god i fucking love. this one oc. hes an ancient forest spirit whos fed up with all the supernatural chaos being enacted upon the non magical world, so hes working against the othet supernatural creatures. however, when the humans (the main characters) get upset at him he turns into this petty bitch like "well no, you left so until you rejoin me im gonna be like them. its not like anyone can even find the town right now" like omgggg hes so self motivated <333 when he was human he probably had a crazy addiction to something idk what (probably alc tbh)

[louisa-gc]

how to start reading again

from someone who was a voracious reader until high school and is now getting back into it in her twenties.

start with an old favourite. even though it felt a little silly, i re-read the harry potter series one christmas and it wiped away my worry that i wasn't capable of reading anymore. they are long books, but i was still able to get completely immersed and to read just as fast as i had years and years ago.

don't be afraid of "easier" books. before high school i was reading the french existentialists, but when getting back into reading, i picked up lucinda riley and sally rooney. not my favourite authors by far, but easier to read while not being totally terrible. i needed to remind myself that only choosing classics would not make me a better or smarter person. if a book requires a slower pace of reading to be understood, it's easier to just drop it, which is exactly what i wanted to avoid at first.

go for essays and short stories. no need to explain this one: the shorter the whole, the less daunting it is. i definitely avoided all books over 350 pages at first and stuck to essay collections until i suddenly devoured donna tartt's goldfinch.

remember it's okay not to finish. i was one of those people who finished every book they started, but not anymore! if i pick up a book at the library and after a few chapters realise i'd rather not read it, i just return it. (another good reason to use your local library! no money spent on books you might end up disliking.)

analyse — or don't. some people enjoy reading more when they take notes or really stop to think about the contents. for me, at first, it was more important to build the habit of reading, and the thought of analysing what i read felt daunting. once i let go of that expectation, i realised i naturally analyse and process what i read anyway.

read when you would usually use your phone. just as i did when i was a child, i try to read when eating, in the bathroom, on public transport, right before sleeping. i even read when i walk, because that's normally a time i stare at my screen anyway. those few pages you read when you brush your teeth and wait for a friend very quickly stack up.

finish the chapter. if you have time, try to finish the part you're reading before closing the book. usually i find i actually don't want to stop reading once i get to the end of a chapter — and if i do, it feels like a good place to pick up again later.

try different languages. i was quickly approaching a reading slump towards the end of my exchange year, until i realised i had only had access to books in english and that, despite my fluency, i was tired of the language. so as soon as i got back home i started picking up books in my native tongue, which made reading feel much easier and more fun again! after some nine months, i'm starting to read in english again without it feeling like a huge task.

forget what's popular. i thought social media would be a fun way to find interesting books to read, but i quickly grew frustrated after hating every single book i picked up on some influencer's recommendation. it's certainly more time-consuming to find new books on your own, but this way i don't despise every novel i pick up.

remember it isn't about quantity. the online book community's endless posts about reading 150 books each year or 6 books in a single day easily make us feel like we're slow, bad readers, but here's the thing: it does not matter at all how many books you read or what your reading pace is. we all lead different lives, just be proud of yourself for reading at all!

stop stressing about it. we all know why reading is important, and since the pandemic reading has become an even more popular hobby than it was before (which is wonderful!). however, there's no need to force yourself to be "a reader". pick up a book every now and then and keep reading if you enjoy it, but not reading regularly doesn't make you any less of a good person. i find the pressure to become "a person who reads" or to rediscover my inner bookworm only distances me from the very act of reading.

[ourhees]

NIGHT OUT ⟡ HYUNG LINE

PREC𝓲S ｡｡ 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗉𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗒 𝖽𝗎𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍

형라인 ／⠀ female reader ── fluff + non idol au ｡｡ something sweet >< i love dad hyung line !! . . . more

YOU STOOD IN THE MIRROR, adjusting your top as heeseung lounged on the bed behind you. his eyes never once left you, a small smile tugging onto his face.

“so pretty..” he murmurs from behind, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you closer to him. “where are you going looking this good?” heeseung places his chin onto your shoulder.

“just out with some friends for an hour or two, nothing too crazy.” you smiled, leaning into his warm embrace.

“mhm..” heeseung hummed, pressing a soft kiss onto your sensitive neck. “not for me? i don’t wanna let you go looking this good.”

you laugh softly, turning around to face him. your hands meet his chest. “you’ll be fine with her right? she’s been extra fussy today.”

heeseung nods, giving you a soft get reassuring smile. “i’ve got it covered princess don’t worry. you go have fun.” he gives you your purse, sliding in an extra hundred dollars for your night.

you kiss him quickly, gathering your things to leave. “i won’t be out too long hee..”

“i’ll be waiting.” he called out after you, his voice dropping soft as you walked out the door.

YOU WERE FINISHING UP your makeup in front of the mirror when jake walked into the room, leaning against the doorframe with a grin.

“wow.. you look stunning tonight. what’s the occasion again?” he teased, crossing the room to stand behind you, getting a better view of your short dress.

“remember it’s yunjin’s birthday.. she invited me out for drinks.” you replied, finishing your final touches of your makeup.

“ah i see.. sure you aren’t looking all dolled up for me?” jake laughed, his arms wrapping around your waist.

you placed your makeup brush down to face him, laughing softly. “could be.. don’t get too used to it— you’re on daddy duties tonight.”

“i’ve got this..” he says confidently, with his usual confident voice. “but what if it’s a blowout..? jake looks at you nervously, known for running away anytime there was a blowout situation.

“you’re on your own.” you smile, giving him a quick kiss before you grab your purse. “make sure she’s not up late watching cartoons.. i know you and her like the dancing fruit a little too much.”

“don’t worry mamas, she’ll be asleep.. however, i’ll be awake waiting for you.” jake chuckled, sitting down as he watched you leave.

AS YOU SLIPPED INTO YOUR DRESS jay watched you from the doorway. “looking like you’re about to break some hearts tonight..” he teased, a playful smirk on his face as he sat on the bed.

you turned to him, rolling your eyes playfully. “just a small night out, nothing too serious.”

jay sat up from the bed, walking over to you and placing his hands on your hips. his eyes wandered all over your silky dress, admiring every angle and curve. “if so ‘small’ why do you look this good? i may not survive tonight without you.”

you laughed softly as you placed your golden watch onto your wrist. “ i’m sure you’ll survive tonight, it’s only a few hours without me.”

“survive, yeah, but i’ll miss you.” he says, pulling you closer. “you left me in charge of bedtime so wish me luck.”

“you got this, honey.” you give jay an encouraging smile. “she was a handful today but she’ll listen to her daddy.”

jay sighs dramatically, though there was a grin plastered across his face. “i’ll read her a story .. maybe sing her a song. think that’ll work?”

you looked at him, one eyebrow raised in amusement. “sing huh?.. it may work.”

you give jay a final kiss before leaving. “i’ll be back in a few hours.” you kiss his lips softly, his lips collecting some of your lipgloss. “i’ll be waiting.. don’t make me wait too long, honey.” jay chuckles lightly, scrolling through the television for a show to watch.

YOU WERE SLIPPING ON YOUR HEELS when sunghoon walked into the room, his hands tucked into his pockets as he leaned against the closed closet, watching you quietly.

“you look amazing.” sunghoon says, admiring every piece of your outfit from head to toe. “almost too amazing for a night out.”

you smirk, standing up to smooth out any wrinkles in your dress. “just a casual night..”

sunghoon walks over, his hands reaching for your hips, his fingers padding onto your delicate skin. “well if you’re trying to impress someone tonight, it’s working.”

you laughed, leaning into his touch slightly. “impressing you wasn’t on my plans tonight..but if it works then i’ll take it.”

sunghoon’s lips quirked into a smile, he then pressed a gentle kiss to your head. “i’m in charge of bedtime tonight huh?”

you nod your head. “yes, can you handle it?” sunghoon looks at you, more confident than he’s ever been. “i believe i can.. a few stories will instantly put her to sleep.”

you smile. “good, just don’t stay up too late okay? you heard him giggle quietly amongst himself “you better not stay out late either.”

you grab your purse and make sure you have all your belongings. “i’ll be back before you miss me.” you opened the front door, the cool night breeze hitting your body.

“i already miss you.” sunghoon mutters as he watches you leave, prepared for a night with his little girl.

💌 : posting this before i go to sleep >< goodnight !!

[luveline]

JADEEEE i'd love to see an interaction between hotch and teacher!reader outside of school? maybe jack sees her first and step away from hotch for a moment to say hi, hotch gets scared when he realizes jack left but reader comes with him just a moment later because she's panicking too like 'why are you alone? where's your dad?' and jack takes her to him. is that ok??? i hope so! love you <3333

I love you ty for your request! —Hotch flirts with Jack’s favourite teacher, because he’s never as subtle as he should be. fem, 2k

Jack reads a couple of books a week now his dad is home more often. His mom used to read to him some because he loves them, but she preferred to tell her own on the fly. His dad isn’t as good a story teller, and when he does try the stories don’t end up very happy, so they read. Sometimes two or three books a night if they're short ones. 

With Jack’s library card they can borrow ten books. With his dad’s, another ten. Twenty altogether, enough to last the month if they’re careful or if dad gets called away a lot, which he usually does. 

“Can I look for Super Pup?” Jack asks his dad. 

Aaron sits on a chair a little too small for him in the kids section. “What?” he asks, looking up from the back of the large picture book Jack’s just handed him. 

“Super Pup?” 

“I’ll help, buddy.” Hotch looks like he’s going to stand, then hesitates. “In a second. Don’t go where I can’t see you, Jackers.” 

Hotch is tired. He didn’t come home until very late, but he’d woken Aunt Jess anyway and, when Jack woke, there his dad was sleeping in the beanbag by his bed. He’s sore all over now and exhausted from a restless night. Jack feels sorry, as much as he can for being six nearly seven, but he also knows that his dad doesn’t mind the hurting. It was nice to wake up together after a few days apart. 

And now he’s brought him to the library, and after that they’ll go for groceries. Jack should be quick. If they get home before dinner time his dad will ask him if he wants to nap together, which is the best. They just lay there in the big bed with the fan on and snooze until it’s too late to cook, so his dad breaks out the takeout menus, and promises he won’t do it again with a quick hug from behind. 

As though it makes him a terrible parent for feeding his kid. Jack can’t know how guilty it makes Hotch feel to do it, and Hotch doesn’t seem to notice how much Jack loves these days where his dad is exhausted and totally his. 

Jack runs around looking for Super Pup. Hotch’s phone beeps in his pocket, and he fights to keep his eyes open.

A ways away, you browse the fiction section in a crouch, knees somehow totally under your skirt, flicking aside spines of skinny books for something you can read at lunch time. Something that doesn’t require much attention, and could be read in short intervals. You used to demand a half hour to yourself when you first started teaching, but that was before the lonely kids started cropping up. Kids with no friends, or sad smiles, who want company and quiet alike. 

You reach for a pink-spined Japanese translation as a little hand pats your elbow. You’re so used to kids you say, “What’s up?” before you remember you aren’t at work. 

You turn in your crouch to look behind you. “Oh, hi, Jack! What are you doing here?” 

“Me and dad are looking for books.” 

You smile at him genuinely, happy to see your favourite student, even if you’re terrified on the inside at the prospect of his father. He’s the most gentlemanly man you’ve ever met. He’s arduous in how respectful he is, he’s understanding, and he’s tall, dark, and handsome. It is a chilling collection of traits. You stumble whenever you have to talk to him. 

But Jack is easy. You and Jack talk every day. “What sorts of books? Just for fun?” 

“I want to read Super Pup.” 

The kids love Super Pup and his magic bark. You stand promptly, suddenly much taller than Jack as you brush down your skirt. “Wait,” you say. Mr. Hotchner gets called away for work all the time, but he wouldn’t leave Jack alone, would he? “Where’s your dad? You’re not by yourself, are you?” 

Jack laughs. “No! I’m looking for Super Pup! Dad’s tired.” 

You can’t decipher exactly what those two things have to do with each other, but you can guess how panicked his dad will be to find Jack so far from the kid’s section. Fiction is the other side of the library. “How did you end up over here?” You offer your hand. “Should we go back and find your dad?” 

“I saw your skirt, Miss L/N. I like the flowers.”

He takes your hand, clumsy to your gentleness. “Thanks, honey. Let’s go find dad before he calls his scary friends and has your name on the news.” 

You get to the kids section slowly. Endearingly so, but nerve-wracking, too, because Mr. Hotchner can be intimidating. Jack likes holding your hand, you think, clinging to your fingers as he guides you across the library, past the staircase down to the first floor, and back to the kids section. 

“Jack?” Mr. Hotchner asks loudly, turned away from you both near the graphic novel selection. “Jack.” 

“Mr. Hotchner,” you say. 

“Dad!” 

He spins on his heel. His shoulders relax noticeably, but the stress in his gaze remains. 

“Jack, I said stay where I can see you,” he says, not half as scolding as he could be as Jack lets go of your hand and runs to his legs, where he stops. “Please, buddy. You gotta listen to me.” 

Jack turns between you and his dad with a smile, “But look, it’s Miss L/N.” 

“I can see,” he says softly. 

Mr. Hotchner leans down, taking Jack up into his arms with impressive ease, and begins the walk to you where you’ve stayed. 

“I hope he didn’t interrupt you,” he says. 

“Please,” you say, “he’s my favourite. Just–” You wince. “Don’t tell anybody at school I said that, Jack. Please.” 

“I think we can keep this secret,” Mr. Hotchner says. 

“He was just telling me that you’re looking for Super Pup. If you don’t find it, we have copies at the school library. And we can always order you one.” 

Mr. Hotchner gives you a small, and what you know to be rare, smile. “I don’t think he even looked.” 

“I did look!” Jack disagrees, though his disagreement barely has any attitude to it, a credit to his upbringing. 

“You clearly weren’t looking in the right place.” 

“I was too. How would you know, you were sleeping!” 

“I wasn’t sleeping,” Mr. Hotchner says to you. 

You tuck your hands behind your back. “It’s okay, Mr. Hotchner, I believe you. In my classroom we like to say we’re resting our eyes.” 

“Aaron,” he says, as he says whenever you speak to each other, and as you always forget to call him. Not a demand but a suggestion you’d swear to be bordering affectionate. 

You’ve been Jack’s teacher for two months this year, and almost the entire year previously. In the summer when they leave, you’ll find out if you’re moving up a grade with him, but until then, you’ve made the most of such a nice kid, and you aren’t shy to tell that to Aaron. You don’t mind that Jack spends his lunch time with you. He embodies all of the reasons that pushed you to become a teacher in the first place. 

And his father is a good reason to stay. He’s one of the only nice (hot) dads. 

You do worry often that he can read your expression. His lips have quirked into a bemused smile, what’s so funny? He’s terrifying. 

“Aaron,” you rush to say, and fill the silence you’ve made, “It’s nice to see you.” 

“It’s nice to see you, too. You’ll see me on Monday, so you’ll be sick of me by Tuesday.” 

You rock ever so gently on your heels. “You aren’t working.” 

“It’s Jack’s birthday.” 

You nod, pleased. “I know! I know, we already talked about what cupcakes he wants, didn’t we? Everybody’s gonna have rainbow sprinkle, and for a treat we’re going to watch a movie before lunch.” 

“Do you do that for every kid?” 

“I do.” 

“How do you afford it?” He lowers his gaze. “I just mean, it’s expensive to do that for every birthday.” 

“Luckily for me and unluckily for the kids, quite a few of them have birthdays outside of term time. Thirty students is three trays of ten, and that doesn’t usually break the bank, even if things get tight. But… I don’t know, I guess I just have to make room when it does. It’s special to feel special, and,” —you smile, exuberant and a little shy at once, clutching your elbow in your hand— “Jack always makes everybody else feel special. ” 

The boy in question turns into his fathers chest, pleased beyond words. 

Aaron gives you a long, long look. “Thank you,” he says. 

“Oh, you’re welcome.” 

You say goodbye to Aaron and Jack and wish them both a good weekend, which you spend wondering what the pressure of Aaron’s hand would be like on your shoulder, and if you should be ashamed of yourself for thinking about it at all. He seems like he’d give a good hug. You catch yourself picturing him opening a door and ban yourself from thinking of him at all. 

Monday morning, you stand at the door ushering your students inside, and you can’t help beaming when Jack and Aaron arrive. 

“Aw, Jack, where’s your birthday badge?” you ask, fall air nipping your nose. 

“He was feeling too shy,” Aaron says. He’s in casual dress again. Some men should be banned from half-zips, it’s inhumane. 

“You were?” You bend just a bit, hand in your pocket. “Well, I thought you might be, so I brought my badge from home. It’s super shiny, bud. What do you think?” 

You show Jack the badge, It’s My Birthday in silver against a rainbow backdrop. 

Maybe it was silly to bring, but you had a feeling he wouldn’t want to wear one, and maybe he should. He deserves for all his friends to give him some attention, and to have them fight over who gets to sit with him at lunch. 

“We have something for you,” Jack says. 

You stand straight. “You do?” 

Aaron hadn’t been expecting to be the one to give it to you, that much is obvious. He hesitates for a second before he passes you a small brown box, the top of which is made up of four leaves folded into a dome. You have an inkling of what it might me. 

“Thank you… Can I open it now?” you ask. 

“I think you should wait for lunch,” Aaron says. 

You raise your eyebrows but abide by his suggestion, murmuring another thank you as Aaron bends to give Jack a hug. “Have a good day. I’ll be here to pick you up, I promise,” he says.

It’s a great day. The kids are excited for cupcakes and overjoyed to get them before lunch. Not a crumb goes uneaten, and as they all sing for Jack with his borrowed badge, he’s actually happy for the attention. He doesn’t eat with you at lunch, which is a great thing even if you love his company. 

Alone, you fold back the leaves of your mysterious box and smile like an idiot when you confirm what’s inside. A cupcake slightly more sophisticated than rainbow sprinkle spreads icing across the brown carrier, and a business card leans against the other side. 

The front of the card is as you’d expected it to be spelling out Aaron’s contact details from work, and you combust thinking he wants you to call him, but it’s the back that you’d been meant to see. You read it as you fold down the leaves of the cupcake carrier, 

Thirty students, three trays of ten. What does that leave for you? —Aaron. 

Flirt, you think firmly, happily. He’s such a flirt. 

[melloollem]

Secrets in the family|| Bruce Wayne × Batmom reader × Batboys

Summary:Your children start an interrogation after noticing that you were hiding papers from them.

Warning: Comfort, silly story, Platonic relationship with the batboys.

(Dc masterlist)

"Aren't you old enough to leave home? What are you still doing here?" The shout from your youngest son caused your attention to wander for a moment from the papers in front of you, but not enough to stop you writing frantically.

"I lived here long before they knew you existed" Tim's reply was heard from an even closer distance, a sign that you would soon see them entering the kitchen, you began to collect the papers hoping that the heated discussion would be enough for them not to notice you.

"Yeah, you lived in my house as a favor, tell me something I don't know" Damian walked in front of Tim, being the first to enter the room. You tried to move slowly in retreat, deciding to head for the dining room, where you'd have a bit of silence.

"I didn't live on favor, I was adopted, they wanted me, you know what I mean?" Tim's cheeky reply came out quickly, taking Damian by surprise.

"Mom, did you hear that?" They both turned their heads in your direction, hindering your escape plan. Damian looked at you anxiously, waiting for you to scold his brother and Tim looked at you scared, like he'd been caught doing something wrong.

"Timothy, that's not something you say to your brother, say you're sorry" You said the sentence so quickly that it didn't even sound like a complaint, walking out of the room.

You heard a cynical laugh from Tim behind you followed by a "She doesn't care", drawing a tired sigh from you. "It's not that, I just don't have time for you acting like five-year-olds. Damian, my son, Tim doesn't live here as a favor, he's as much my son as you and Tim, darling, don't say those things to your brother, Damian was as wanted by me as you or any of your brothers. Boys, I'm busy" You made the whole speech without slowing down, heading towards the dining room. The sound of footsteps behind you made it certain that the boys were following you. You let out a tense sigh, anticipating the questioning session.

"What are you doing that's more important than us?" Damian asked in an authoritative tone unaccustomed to you involving yourself so little in their quarrel.

"What are those papers?" Tim asked from beside her, much quicker to catch up than Damian and his short frame. "Nothing important." "If it's nothing important, why did you say you were busy?" Timothy retorted quickly.

"Okay, go back to discussing it in another room and enough of this interrogation," you said at the end of your walk, ready to return to your previous activity, dropping the papers on the table. "Tell us what these papers are," Damian said, standing next to Tim in front of you.

"Are those the divorce papers?" Dick said with a humorous tone of voice, as he joined you in the room, leaving everyone confused by his sudden appearance.

"What are you doing here?" Damian was quick to ask. With all eyes glued to your eldest son, you saw the perfect opportunity to slip discreetly out of the dining room.

"I'm here to finalize some reports with - where are you going?" Dick said, drawing all attention back to you, a grunt of frustration escaping your lips, but you were determined to finish your notes, turning your back on your children, determined to find somewhere minimally quiet in the house.

"Are those Drake's and Todd's adoption papers? Are you going to burn them?" Damian asked, receiving a shove from Tim and a low laugh from Dick in response. The boys' pursuit hadn't stopped, only gained more momentum now that their eldest son was also part of it.

"What are you doing?" Cassandra asked, she was heading in the opposite direction to you, possibly to the training room, based on her clothes.

"We're chasing Mom to find out what she's hiding" replied Damian "Cool" said Cassandra, joining the group. "Mom?" "Yes, dear" Now you were climbing the stairs, heading towards the second floor of the house, you already knew where you could finish your notes in peace, away from the children's questions.

"Give me the papers, please" You let out a small laugh at the girl's request "No, but you were very polite to ask, congratulations" Even without success, Cassandra gave a small smile in response to the compliment.

"Bye, kids" You smiled as you found the door you were looking for. Before the door was completely closed, you could hear your children sigh in frustration that the chase was over, you thanked Bruce for making the office a forbidden place, now you understood the reason for this rule.

"What are you doing?" Bruce's sudden voice didn't scare you, you were used to your husband's sudden appearances. "Running away from the children," you said, sitting down in the chair opposite Bruce's desk.

You started distributing your papers on the table in an organized way so that they wouldn't get mixed up with your husband's documents and for the first time since you entered the room he looked up from the documents he was reviewing.

"What's this?" He asked, picking up one of the papers on the table. "They're really your children," Bruce ignored his comment. "Letters? For what reason?" "Yeah, I'm planning to run away and leave you with the kids" Your joke was met by a serious look from Bruce. "You're not as funny as you think" Bruce said. "Sorry, should I leave the jokes with-?" "Don't even finish that one".

"Why letters?" Bruce said, looking at you like he was being interrogated. "Why not? They're just letters, no big deal." You knew that your anxious rambling had given you away, this was not only one of the best detectives in the world, but also your husband.

"You don't want to tell me?" He was being understanding, but you knew he'd rather know. You took a deep breath before saying, "I'm just afraid of the future." "And does writing letters help?"

"I hope it helps them in the future" Bruce frowned at your answer. "Has something happened, dear?" He asked worriedly. Noticing your husband's fear, you grabbed his hand that was resting on the table "No, not at all" Your tone came out as sweet as possible "I just... I want them to have something to fall back on in the future, that's all, nothing bad has happened, it's just-" Your speech was cut off by a few knocks on the door, followed by the entrance of Alfred the butler.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, the children want to see you, Mrs. Wayne" you thanked the butler for the announcement and turned towards your husband again "I have to go, I'll need a good excuse for them to stop asking questions" You got up and left the room, mentally preparing yourself for the bombardment of questions.

[hoshifighting]

‎‎     seungcheol + high heels fetish

— seungcheol can't help but stare every time you use those red-soled high heels

WARNINGS: +18 smut, foot fetish, cumming on feet, sub!cheol, dry humping, mastrubation, perinium slight stimulation, cheol on his knees, established!relationship, dirty talk, wet cock, mentions of louboutins collection.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

seungcheol’s always been the type to spoil you, not because he thought you needed him to, but because you deserved it. the way your eyes light up when you unwrap a gift, the small smile tugging at your lips when you realize it’s from him—it does things to him. it’s not about the money, never was. it’s about you. the sight of you wearing that bracelet he picked out, the way you tug on the hem of the dress he bought, as if testing its weight on your body—it all makes his heart race. he likes seeing you in things he gave you, like some kind of silent claim on you that no one else gets to see.

you two started this little tradition—your "girls' day," though the only girl around is you and kkuma, sitting pretty on your lap at the salon while you both get pampered. you laugh when seungcheol jokingly complains about having to sit through another round of facials, but you both know he loves it. he loves the softness of it all, the quiet moments where he gets to be just a man taking care of his girl.

but of all the things he’s bought you, the ones that have started to haunt him in ways he can’t quite explain are the louboutins. there’s something about the red soles—the way they flash when you walk, the soft click of your heels against the floor—that makes his head spin. his favorite? the hot chick ones. they make your legs look soooo good!, your stride just a little more confident, and the way the arch of your foot looks when you're walking in them… fuck, it’s a lot.

he doesn’t think about it at first, not really. it’s just an observation, right? but one morning, you’re getting dressed for a brunch, and he’s grabbing a suit from the closet. his eyes drift down to the row of heels lined up neatly, those red bottoms staring back at him, and suddenly he’s frozen. his brow furrows, teeth sinking into his lower lip as his brain short-circuits. why the hell is this getting to him so much? it’s just shoes, right? but damn, they look good on you.

you don’t notice his internal freak-out yet, too busy fussing with your hair in the mirror. he stands there, trying to shake off the thought, convincing himself it’s nothing. it’s not like he’s got some foot fetish or anything. it’s just the shoes… just the way you look in them.

“you good, babe?” your voice pulls him from his thoughts.

his eyes snap up to meet yours, a little too quickly, and he clears his throat. “yeah, yeah, just thinking about… work,” he mutters, though the lie tastes bitter.

over time, though, you catch on.

the way his eyes linger when you slip on a pair of those heels, how he seems a little more distracted whenever you wear them. and one day, you decide to tease him a bit. you slow your steps, making sure the soles flash with every movement, watching him out of the corner of your eye as he struggles to maintain composure.

“you like them?” you ask innocently, but the smirk playing on your lips tells a different story.

he swallows hard, his face giving him away even though he tries to play it cool. “they’re… nice,” he grumbles, but the way his voice dips betrays him.

you agree, turning back to give him a better view, each click of your heels against the floor making seungcheol’s fingers twitch as he loosens his tie. you sit on the edge of the bed, and from the bathroom door, he’s still watching you, practically glued to the spot. he’d told you he was going to take a bath a few minutes ago, but he hasn’t moved an inch, his eyes flicking between your legs and those damn heels. you know exactly what you’re doing to him, how easy it is to have him in the palm of your hand, and the thought makes your lips twitch.

“my legs are killing me,” you frown, squeezing your calves for emphasis. it’s not even a full lie—those heels could cramp anyone’s calves after a while.

his eyes widen in that soft, concerned way he always gets when it comes to you, and in seconds, he’s on one knee in front of you. “are you okay?” his hands immediately reach for your legs, massaging the tension in your calves with an almost desperate care.

but then… you move. you don’t even have to apply pressure; just the touch is enough. the slender point of your louboutin grazes his inner thigh.

and seungcheol moans.

it’s not even a small sound—it’s a full-on, desperate, pathetic moan that slips from his throat like he can’t stop it— “uhhhnnngg… fuck…” —so needy, it catches even you off guard for sec. his other knee gives way, and suddenly, he’s kneeling fully before you, both knees planted on the ground, like he’s ready to worship you. you can see the confusion in his eyes, something he hasn’t quite come to terms with yet.

his face drops against your bare thigh as if he could hide himself from this ''shame'', his breath hot and ragged as he presses himself against you.

you lift your leg, the sharp heel sliding further up, and he trembles as it nudges right between his legs. the shift is small, but enough for the pointed heel to brush against his clothed balls, and he lets out another shaky moan, louder this time, body folding inward like he’s being torn apart by something he doesn’t even understand.

“oh?” you hum, tilting your head in mock surprise, “seungcheol, you bought these for me, didn’t you?”

his grip tightens around your ankle, desperate. “yeah…” he gasps, voice cracking, but his body is already betraying him, hips subtly grinding against the toe of your shoe, his breath hitching at the friction.

you raise the heel just slightly, dragging it upward, and you can see it in his face—he’s losing it. his body shudders violently, his knees spreading wider, giving you more access, more control. you know exactly where to apply the pressure, the sharp point of your heel pressing right against his perineum, and it sends him spiraling. his hands cling to your ankle, fingers digging into your skin as he chokes out another pathetic whimper.

“you bought them for me, but now look at you,” you tease, voice sultry, “humping my heels like you’re some desperate little thing.”

his hips jerk, grinding harder, and you can feel the dampness growing beneath his slacks, the way his body moves involuntarily, chasing that friction, that release. he’s so sensitive, so overwhelmed, that you almost feel bad—almost. but watching seungcheol crumble like this, makes you wetter than the usual.

“such a good boy,” you murmur, dragging your heel up again, pressing it just right. he gasps, head falling back as his hips buck uncontrollably, riding the edge of it. “you look so good on your knees, baby. all for me, right?”

his response is a strangled groan, hips rutting against your foot, eyes squeezed shut as he holds onto you for dear life. “fuck… fuck… please…” he’s babbling now, and you know he’s close, his thighs trembling

you smirk down at him, fingers still threaded through his hair, watching the way his body trembles beneath you. you know he’s holding back, trying to keep some semblance of control, but the way his hips jerk against your heel tells you all you need to know.

“you wanna cum on them, baby?” you ask softly, your voice a teasing purr.

his eyes widen, his face flushing a deep, almost violent red as he shakes his head, mortified. it’s like the situation couldn’t possibly get any worse for him—like he’s already crossed some line he didn’t even know existed. but now you’re pushing him further, guiding him to a place he’s never been before.

“n-no, i…” he stammers, his voice barely above a whisper, his breath coming out in harsh, ragged gasps.

you lean forward, gently cupping his cheek, guiding his face back up to meet your gaze. his skin is hot under your palm, his lips parted as he breathes heavily. “hey,” you whisper, your thumb brushing over his cheek. “it’s okay, cheol. i’m not gonna judge you. you can do it. i want you to.”

his eyes search yours, the uncertainty still clear in his expression, but the way you’re looking at him—like he’s the only thing you want, like you’re not disgusted or weirded out by any of it—makes him melt. he lets out a shaky breath, and with trembling hands, he reaches for his cock.

when he pulls it out, it’s already dripping, slick with pre-cum that drips onto the floor between his knees. his hand wraps around the thick base, and he hesitates for a second before placing the swollen, wet head of his cock against the bare skin of your foot. the contact makes him twitch, a shudder running through his entire body.

his hand moves faster now, jerking himself off with rough, needy strokes. every time he glances at the red soles of your heels, his mouth falls open, and a pitiful whine escapes his lips. his entire body shakes with the force of it, and you can hear just how wet it sounds, how slick and messy he is as his hand moves up and down his length.

he can’t bring himself to look at you, his eyes darting to the side as if he’s ashamed of what he’s about to do. but his body betrays him, his hips jerking forward, his cock twitching against your foot as he lets out a series of broken, desperate moans.

and then it explodes—his body goes rigid, and with a choked moan, he spills himself all over your foot and the heels, the hot, sticky warmth of his release sliding over your skin and dripping down onto the red soles. his knees give out completely, and he collapses against your legs, face pressing into your knees as he trembles, too embarrassed and wrecked to say anything.

his breath is ragged, his body still shaking as he tries to recover, but when he finally looks up at you, the shame is written all over his face. he can barely meet your eyes, but when he does, he sees something that makes him freeze—he sees just how horny you’ve gotten from this. the hunger in your gaze is unmistakable, the way your pupils have blown wide, how your lips are parted as if you’re barely holding yourself back.