#auntie fortune

[comicwaren]

From Nightcrawlers #001, “Voices of Fire”

Art by Paco Medina and Jay David Ramos

Written by Si Spurrier

[thebuhonerodazorrow]

Nightcrawlers #3 (2023)

The sacred heart

Marvel

[one-half-guy]

Auntie Gold is over with Blaze... and Lilac takes one look before nyooming over to go play with Blaze's fluffy tail XD

Poor Gold hahaha, she does her best to take care of Lilac, to make sure she's being the best auntie around and it's just never enough 😂 First her chest fur is not as fluffy as Silver's, now her tail is not as long and fluffy as Blaze's 😔 she and her heart are shattering in the background by now 🥲 is Blaze that better as an auntie than her?

Blaze meanwhile can only let out the most awkward laugh she's ever had, because in a hand the little Chao trying to catch her tail is adorable, in a another she does not want to have her tail grabbed but doesn't know how to stop Lilac without making her sad 😖 Silver stop drooling and thinking this situation and come to stop your chao 😤

Fortunately Espio soon comes to intervene and make Lilac stop as well as assures Gold having Lilac's full attention it's not as good as she thinks: Lilac adores to suddenly grab his horn and takes a long while to let it go and also every day she gets grumpier around her naps times because she just wants to sleep on Silver's fur and that is quite troublesome and headache inducing at times as Silver can't deny and Blaze couldn't agree more.

Silver by his time assures it doesn't mean Lilac likes her any less, she's just a little Chao curious about her surroundings.

Not it makes her feel that much better though 😔

Lilac later playing with her quills would, though, she would melt like butter.

[justinefrischmanngf]

do you know what i just need to chill out i need to drink ridiculous amounts of water and chill out and try get to bed early tonight and tell my mum that i love her and be okay with the fact that i feel incredibly suffocated when i'm around my family i just need to stop myself from spiralling and i need to not self martyr but also not feel like i'm the world's biggest cunt for not wanting to spend time with my family i need to take a deep breath and remember that i'm very lucky because in two weeks i'll be back in my uni city and i'll be able to be free again i need to roll all my emotions back and take care of myself while also being there for my family and grow the fuck up BASICALLY !!!!!!!!!

[aemoonie]

little women is so intense but so unserious at the same time

[parameddic]

[ grasshopper ] what / who would they dress up as for halloween?

I don't remember when or where this meme was and I don't have anything more than a sentence's answer for you but: as a kid, TK was a firefighter five years in a row 💯 And the October immediately after 9/11, TK did not go.

[scribblesofagoonerr]

— travel sickness | cookie monster saga

pairings: steph catley x reader

summary: reader experiences her first flight and unforuntately, the travel sickness that comes with it.

"Look, Mama. Look!" You excitedly point out the window, wriggling around in your seat which makes it incredibely difficult to buckle you into your seat, ahead of the plane taking off, "I can see everyone else gettin' on the plane!"

Your mama, Steph, chuckled at your own brimming excitement over seeing other people get on the plane, "I can see that sweetie, but sit still a minute, so I can buckle you in, okay?" She told you, gently.

"I'm excited, Mama!" You still continued to giggle uncontrolably, but allow your Mama to safely buckle you into your seat as you try and look out of the window, "We see the 'roos soon?" You questioned, excitedly.

"We will soon enough when we're in Australia," Steph laughed, settling back in her seat once she made sure you were content with your iPad set up to watch the latest episodes of Bluey, "Are you excited to see your aunties? I know they're all lookin' forward to seeing you," She wondered.

"Yeah, I want to see Kyra and Charli!" You squealed in excitement, you couldn't wait to see the two of them, and of course the rest of the Matildas' that you had previously met.

"Of course you want to see them pair," Steph rolled her eyes in amusement and shook her head, "I'm sure that they'll be looking forward to seeing you as well. Are you ready for the plane to take off soon?" She questioned.

"Yeah! Will it be bumpy though, Mama?" You asked, worriedly as your not sure what to expect on your first time flying.

"It will be when we take off, but it won't last that long," Steph told you honestly, "And don't worry, I'll hold your hand the whole time," She added, gently taking hold of your hand.

"Promise?" You questioned, wearily.

"When have I ever broke a promise to you," Steph joked as she brushed the hair out of your eyes, "I promise that Mama will be here the whole time," She told you.

"Mama, I feel scared!" You quivered in fear as you felt scared when you feel the sudden turbulence of the plane taking off the runway. 

"Hey, its' okay, sweetie. Remember what I said? Mamas' right here," Steph replied, pulling you into her arms the best she can do with the restriction of the seatbelt as she ran her hand gently through your hair.

"M... Mama," You continued to whimper when you feel the plane begin to pick up the speed.

"It's alright, I'm here. Just keep holding on Mama's hand, okay?" Steph told you, trying to keep you calm even though she could see the clear panic in your eyes.

"I... I'm scared! Wan' off!" You cried out, thrashing around in her arms as you feel the plane tilting in a different direction, "I don' like it, Mama! I don' like it!" You cried even harder.

Steph's heart ached seeing you distressed when she couldn't do much to help, "I know sweetie, I know. It won't be longer," She reassured you, feeling more than grateful when you were up high enough in the sky and the seatbelt sun finally disappeared, "Come here sweetie," She was quick to pull you onto her lap and rock you to calm you down.

You buried your face in your Mamas' chest as your sobs slowly subsided, "M... Mama, that were scary!" You sniffled with your voice muffled against her shirt.

"I know sweetie," Steph replied, kissing the top of your head, "Look, can you see the clouds now?" She changed the topic, motioning to out of the plane window to try and take your mind of your initial fear.

Your hesistantly lifted your head and peered out of the window, "Whoa, clouds-- They look like fluffy marsh 'ellows!" You exlciamed, shifting of your Mamas' lap to press your face up against the glass and stare at them in amazement.

"They do, don't they?" Steph chuckled, grateful that your attention has been turned away from your fear of turbulence.

Fortunately for your Mama, the flight to Singapore wasn't completely terrible and you were able to settle in your seat, occupied with much promised cookies & several episodes of Bluey to keep you entertained.

However, the same can't be said for the connected flight to Australia, with the tears spilling down your cheeks in fear once more when the flight took off the ground once again, but it was only intesified with a feeling of nausea shaking your body as well.

"Mama, I... I don' feel good," You whimpered, clutching a hold of your stomach while your face paled and your eyes widened in discomfort.

Steph turned to look at you in concern, "It's alright, sweetie. Lets' try and take in some deep breaths, hm?" She suggested, trying to keep you calm and hope that you don't get sick, "Can you follow what Mamas' doing? Just copy me, okay?" She told you, gently.

You nodded weakily and attempt to follow her advice, but the movement of the plane made it impossible for you to feel better, "Mama... It's bumpy, I... I don' like it!" You cried out, the fear of the plane partnered with the nausea overwhelming you.

Without any further warning for your Mama, you can't hold back the nausea any longer before you end up being sick, "M... Mama," You whimpered, upset about it.

"Oh sweetie," Steph gasped in shock and was quick to grab the nearest sick bag before she held it out in front of you in case you needed it again, "It's okay, just let it all out. Yeah? You're okay," She reassured you.

"Mama," You repeated quietly, the tears streamed down your face as you feel upset about it.

"You're okay, its' alright. Things like this happen," Steph told you, keeping the bag out in front of you as her other hand rubbed your back comfortingly as she looked to find the nearest member of staff on the plane, "Hi, would it possible to get some water, please?" She questioned, kindly.

"Of course," A nearby member of staff agreed and went to get the water as needed.

"It's okay sweetie, the nice ladys' just gone to grab us a bottle of water and then we'll get you cleaned up afterwards," Steph told you gently, continuing to rub your back in comfort.

"I feel icky, Mama," You trembled in fear, not liking the feeling of sick being on you at all.

"Here's your water," The member of cabin crew brought the water back and handed it over to Steph before asking if there was anything else that she could help you with.

"Thank you. Would you mind pointing me in the direction of the bathroom?" Steph wondered, wanting to get you cleaned up quickly as possible.

"Of course, its' right over there," The lady motioned in the direction of where the bathroom before Steph thanked her and she made her way in the other opposite way of the plane.

"Come on sweetie, lets' go and get you changed out of them clothes, hm?" Steph lifted you into her arms and carried you to the bathroom, making feeling grateful that she thought ahead to pack a spare pair of clothes for you just in case, "I know you feel icky right now, but it won't last too long and you'll feel better soon," She reassured you, gently.

"Don' like it Mama," You whined in protest, although your Mama was quick to help your face and change your clothes, placing the old clothes in a plastic bag and putting them in the bottom of the backpack to be washed when she next had the chance.

"There we go, is that better?" Steph questioned, carrying you back to the seats where she cracked open the bottle of water and poured it into the sippy cup that she'd also brought along in the backpack, "Take some small sips, sweetie," She encouraged, hopeful that the water may help.

"Better, Mama," You let a yawn slip out of your mouth as the overall exhaustion takes over your small body, "I'm tired now, Mama. How much longer until we 'dere?" You mumbled, snuggling your face against your Mamas' chest.

"Not for a while yet," Steph chuckled, wrapping your blanket around you to keep you cosy as you lounge against her chest, "Why don't you have a little nap? By the time that you wake up, we'll be in Australia," She suggested.

"Otay then, Mama, and we can see Kyra too? And Charli?" Your eyelids were heavy with exhaustion, but you are still excited to see the two of them.

"Yes, we will see them in a few hours," Steph answered amusedly, brushing a strand of hair out of your eyes, "Close your eyes and try sleep for a bit. I'll wake you up when we're there,"

You nodded tiredly, not having much energy to speak as your eyelids' begin to flutter shut, "Kay' Mama, night night," You murmered, allowing sleep take over your body.

"Night night sweetie. Have a good nap," Steph whispered, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head as she leaned back in her seat while she kept a protective arm around you while you slept in her arms.

© scribblesofagoonerr

[xiao-come-home]

Genshin + HSR men as dads;

┏━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┓

✰ Characters:

↳ Genshin: Ayato, Itto, Alhaitham, Kaveh, Zhongli, Xiao.

↳ HSR: Blade, Jing Yuan, Luocha.

✰ Words: 3,5k.

✰ SFW ; afab!reader, because pregnancy mentions. fluff.

Warnings: established relationship, the characters are reader's husbands, mentions of pregnancy, babies, ayato always ends up kinda horknee????? slight spoilers about blades past, not beta read THERES NO TIME FOR THAT

A/N: this is my first time writing for hsr and kaveh, but I tried my best </3 also I have work in 2h and I haven't slept yet. this is more important. pog also give me feedback if you like hsr pieces ;q;

┗━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┛

Ayato Kamisato:

he's such a girl AND boy dad you can't convince me otherwise. i just can't get that out of my head: imagine just chilling with your husband, you two enjoying some tea or coffee, while watching your children happily yell and play outside; ayato plays with your palm slightly, switching between rubbing it with his fingers and interlocking it, giving you occasional glances and tiny smiles.

ayato's definitely a strict parent, but wants his children to feel freedom - he does not force them to practice something they don't like, but teaches them necessary stuff they need to know if they are to be the future of the Kamisato clan.

he DEFINITELY had a boy first. and his son DEFINITELY looks like a perfect mixture of you two - he has ayato's eyes and hair type, but your hair color and smile.

your daughter, on the other hand, is exactly like ayato's copy, except with your personality - and he's extremely whipped for her. his little girl wanted to practice a new hairstyle with multiple pink hair clips? oh well, looks like he goes like this to his important meeting.

though, your son is just as mischievous as his father, if not worse - has probably trolled Itto more than once by the shy age of just three. he's also definitely interested in ayato and ayaka's battle styles, like hello??? HOW DO YOU JUST DISAPPEAR LIKE THAT??? AND TURN INTO SNOW??????

even though some fights between his children happen, as it's a thing you can't avoid - the big brother is very protective of his little sister and would do anything to make her happy! even if it means princess tea time. it reminds ayato of his, though not as fortunate, childhood memories with ayaka before she grew up to be the strongest woman and best auntie we know.

ayato probably teases you about wanting a third one, so they look like you this time. "say, darling, how about we get another little one?" feeling his smile, ayato whispers into your ear, "think about it, love," he wraps his arms around your waist from behind, "you just look so perfect I can't resist you."

Arataki Itto:

i do nOT care, his child is just as hyper as him. they're his absolute best buddy, partners in crime, you name it. but there's a plot twist - thank god your child thinks more often than their father AND stops him sometimes.

listen. absolute boy dad. his son is his pride and joy,he bragged so much about his boy to the point that Raiden Shogun herself heard about him.

so, remember itto being severely allergic to beans as an oni? his son absolutely loves beans and could eat them with no side effects. but itto being itto, prepares him meals with beans and takes it as a challenge. he just might cry, or throw up at worst. but hey, everything for his little sunshine.

^^your son absolutely cheers when he's making him dinner and suffering like?? "go dad! you're so awesome!" "yummy!" and itto's screaming back with tears dripping down his cheeks, "yes, YES!! THE BEST COOK OF INAZUMA, ARATAKI ITTO!"

itto prides himself in creating the most perfect small person to ever exist. your son inherited itto's golden heart and your brains (thank god). he's truly a ball of sunshine, and possibly the happiest and polite boy in Inazuma. with a pair of red horns just like his dad, red streaks in his hair and markings, itto's pupils and your eye color.

hear me out: total best pals with ayato's son. they love playing board games and battle onikabuto with each other, and much to itto's delight, his son is usually the winner, but the boys always politely thank each other for the game and move on.

your son is actually such a smooth talker to ayato's daughter to the point that he considers giving them a blessing and suffering being in-laws with itto.

he's also (great)grandma oni's favorite child now... he loves baking, cooking and sewing with her, and showing her his favorite onikabuto that you and itto let him keep as a pet!

itto's actually VERY down to have a few more kiddos if your pregnancy went well. he'd love a little girl to spoil his long hair, or maybe two. and two more sons so he wouldn't be lonely..

that time itto caught ushi sound asleep with his ball of sunshine next to him was the day he'll never forget. with tears in his eyes, he covered them in a warm blanket and let them snooze for a little more before bedtime.

Alhaitham:

literally no one, not even one soul knew that alhaitham has a child until they saw him walking a three-year-old. and the said child is probably the most behaved child that has ever been born.

seriously, your son is probably the smartest child ever. alhaitham, despite some worries, did and still does very well as a father - he began teaching him to talk earlier, he also seemed to have taken a liking to some instruments when he got older. the scribe's little one also enjoys it when his dad reads with him! be it alhaitham's books or fantasy ones, they have a special routine just for reading.

your son absolutely looks up to his father. when he sees him drafting some documents, his eyes shine with curiosity and adoration. alhaitham, can't help but smile slightly when he isn't looking.

nahida promoted alhaitham as the Acting Grand Sage. he promoted her as his babysitter.

^^but in a more serious tone, I genuinely think Nahida would be somewhat interested in your child - not in a negative light in any way, but.. it does make her wonder how a small child could be so smart. though his son has a long way to go and grow up, each year he manages to surprise her.

when his son is too bothered by the attention of other people, alhaitham gives him his noise-canceling headphones; they're a bit too big on him, but he appreciates it anyway.

alhaitham makes sure your son remembers his late grandmother, despite having not met her. even if the scribe does not consider himself a very emotional person, he wants the memory of her to live on.

he encourages his child to make his own decisions, too - just like he had that choice as well; if his son wants to break the ice and become more outgoing - alhaitham will not stand in his way. he wants him to grow up as the person he truly wants to be.

he definitely explained some god-tier science to his toddler son while holding him in his arms, receiving only some confusing "blah blag bwwwug" in return, watching him bite his tiny hand in happiness. he continued.

if there's something that alhaitham shares with his son, it's his love for naps. sometimes you all sleep together, and when it's time to wake up - both of them whine and your son snuggles up to his dad, to which your husband responds by getting his arm over the little one and giving you a small chuckle with one eye open, shortly before falling back asleep.

kaveh is your child's godfather. no, it wasn't his choice.

after a bit of hesitation and a lot of thoughts, he wouldn't mind to have another one; genders don't matter to him by any means, but I see him with yet another son :)

Kaveh:

kaveh and his twins could rival itto and his son's enthusiasm - it's what kaveh wants his kids to always remember - he wants them to enjoy every single bit of life, even if it's something simple.

the famous architect has decided to work hard to provide for you and the baby when you told him about the pregnancy- or, rather, about his future children; some of his work truly shone and got him quite a bit of attention, and therefore - a bunch of well-paid commissions.

kaveh has fought his empathy many times and tried not to overly spend money, which resulted in him being able to create and build your house that you share together; each of the twins has their own room, decorated according to their tastes.

your children have great emotional intelligence, just like your husband; if there's ever any conflict, they rather talk about it, than pout for hours, similar with you two. kaveh teaches them to always be honest, especially to themselves. they're also talented, but in different ways - your daughter seems to be fascinated by the role of the architect as well, but your son, regardless of what he's doing - he always makes sure it's perfect and polished as much as possible.

you cannot tell me this man doesn't do some kind of weekly family time - kaveh loves his family to the bone and would risk his life to protect you and your children with no hesitation. he's very involved in his children's lives and wants to be considered as their friend as well, not just a father; kaveh wants to know what they are interested in the moment, who they had their last beef with and who their crush is. he just really wants to gossip with them lol.

contrary to what a lot of people think, the twins and alhaitham's child(ren?) get along very well, and are aware they're just mirrors of each other. they can't however, understand how they managed to live together under one roof for so long... they never complain if they visit uncle alhaitham though, as he lets them search through his library so they can find out more about their interests.

in revenge, alhaitham is the godfather of the twins, just so you know.

Zhongli:

not only did he fall in love with you, but after hearing the cry of his little girl after she took her first-ever breath - zhongli fell in love once again.

he's so, so overprotective of his baby, regardless of her age. he's swooned by her - how tiny her fingers are compared to his when she finally grips them for the first time, how every month she looks even prettier than last one - he's always by her side, making sure she's the happiest she could possibly be.

since he has to sleep only once for a few days, he's willing to spend every second with her, especially after birth - zhongli also wants you to rest as much as you can, so you can both create memories together.

he most certainly takes her on a lot of walks with you when she gets older; not only around liyue harbor, but places dear to him and her only, if they discover one.

when your daughter grows up and begins to show interest in zhongli's hobbies, he smiles at her gently and sits her in his lap, only to start explaining it and feeding her curiosity; sometimes he has to stop himself for a moment to admire her twinkling eyes.

oh he DEFINITELY does her hair every morning. he's practiced on you before, having learned many new hairstyles to later on perform on your daughter; he carefully strokes her hazel hair with golden tips with a brush, feeling as he's almost watching his own in a mirror. sometimes, he adorns her hair with his own hairpin.

xiao was definitely the first person to know about your daughter. knowing that archon blood runs in her veins, he's less worried about being around her, therefore always more willing to spend time with her. both grow from this interaction - the little one knows how to protect herself (or to call uncle xiao when she's in trouble), and xiao understands small humans just a bit better.

zhongli's thrilled to know what her favorites are - no matter if it's tea, food or fabric, he has to know! perhaps they share the same favorites?

with the help of kamera, he's now able to immortalize the sight of you and your daughter. each birthday, he takes a picture and cherishes the young years of your baby, knowing they won't last long; erosion be damned, as long as he has the pictures - he'll always remember.

Xiao:

xiao was clueless. clueless and frightened. he wasn't supposed to have a child - with a mortal on top; albeit he tries to stay calm for your and baby's sake, he wants both of you to heal well.

it took quite a bit of time for xiao to fully embrace that he's a parent - and he adapted very well, having you by his side; the only worry that hasn't gone away is the thought of harming his daughter with his karmic debt.

but so far, the little one hasn't shown any signs of it, which makes xiao more than happy. she's yet another reason to warm his cold heart up, which he always compares to being engulfed by comfy scarf in the winter.

he automatically turns his head around whenever he hears her tiny little "tap taps" with her feet; not only does he find it adorable, but he knows she once again managed to lose her slippers and socks.

listen. she inherited the same diamond mark on her forehead - and he finally understands why you always insisted you liked kissing it for no reason.

he always. ALWAYS shares his almond tofu with his baby girl.. and she always makes a mess while eating it.. but it's worth it.

your daughter seemed to have taken a liking to watching finches from a distance; they always look for a nice spot in liyue plains, make a small picnic and feed the leftover bread to the birds. she finds them so adorable to the point that xiao was looking for a finch plushie for WEEKS. that made her good friends with qiqi, whom she tries to remember as "the finch friend."

Zhongli never says it out loud, but thinks of Xiao as his son. therefore, he finally earned a title of a grandpa (though unofficial). he's very proud to see Xiao stand up in a role of not only a protector of liyue, but the ones closest to him.

yes, your daughter actually calls morax himself, grandpa. (he doesn't correct her. ever)

imagine xiao with baby carrier. now you don't have to imagine it anymore.

。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°

Blade:

don't even say he isn't a girl dad. HE IS.

he thinks he's a mere blade whose humanity has been lost hundreds of years ago - it's nothing more but a delusion in his mind. if that was the truth, why would he stay near his daughter's crib and watch her sleep peacefully, flinching when he saw her stir in her sleep?

she's absolutely not afraid of his cold, death stare, in fact - she looks at him back, waiting him to break first. just imagine a tiny baby eating a rice waffle, blade next to her and he just.. stares at her. but she stares at him back and eats the waffle like it's nothing.

your baby girl inherited blade's hair- or rather, yingxing's pearly white hair. he often pats her head gently and goes his hand through her hair, his eyes holding a tinge of bitterness and anger; not at her, however, but at the one he's after.

since blade spends most of his time on various missions with the stellaron hunters, he tries to make it up to your daughter by giving her gifts; hairpins, stickers (ekhem, silver wolf), coloring books, you name it. he slowly warms up to the idea of spending more quality time with her - after so many missions and the thought of his family waiting for him at home, his heart longs to see you again.

sometimes.. you can catch a faint smile on his lips when he plays with her. it's a sad smile - a smile yearning for it to happen back in simpler times, before getting reduced to a weapon, or perhaps in another lifetime.

he never admits it out loud, but he gets used to the new routine a bit too comfortably. before, when it was just you - in contrast to now, when he barely closes the front door and hears his daughter sprinting to him and clinging to his leg; he picks her up and feels her squishing her cheek against his while grinning. "welcome home, daddy!" are the first words he hears - and hopes to hear until it's his time to leave.

at times, blade becomes genuinely terrified - terrified of no longer craving death and wanting to stay. it sends him in so much emotional turmoil he starts to shake; how else do you process this? after so many years of attempting to look for that one thing that finally stops your breath, only to get swarmed by the thoughts of not wanting to leave your daughter behind? what if something happens to her and there's no one to help her?

there's a thing that I can't stop thinking about: I want to leave it up to you how you name your daughter, but I feel like blade would truly like the name Mari.

he lets her decorate him with stickers. it was silver wolf's idea.

Jing Yuan:

he was blessed with a daughter, as well. and then again. and then... again.

he absolutely adores his three little girls, hellO?!?!? but if you think about it, it makes sense - almost all of them took after his personality.

there is a mandatory nap for him and his girls that no one can disturb, unless the planet is on fire or someone got you mad. they all snore quietly while cuddling their dad, one of them on his chest, second on his stomach, and last one has her face somewhere next to his hair. makes you wonder how they got in these places, considering they started sleeping beneath a pink blanket decorated with lions.

speaking of lions, mimi claims your daughters as her cubs and does not let jing yuan take them away. she loves being pet and getting small kisses from them, there's no way she gives him that amount of attention back.

jing yuan loves your daughters to death and spoils them with absolutely EVERYTHING. new plushie? will be here in a few hours. a damned rock that's stupidly expensive, holds no value but one of them liked it? he'll take five. hell, he might even buy them a dog or another lion and hope for easy consequences from you.

he's slightly scared of how fast his oldest got so good at chess.

the girls get very upset when someone mentions they have no older brother - after all, how could they forget about yanqing?

there is a high chance of him losing one of them at home. they're walking, he turns around and.. suddenly the math doesn't add up..

if it's princess tea time, it is princess tea time. fu xuan either becomes a princess or comes back later.

even though they sometimes bring a lot of trouble, jing yuan always tells them to appreciate you - when it's mother's day, they all sit down and prepare a gift for you, same for your birthday; your special days will never go unnoticed.

probably wouldn't mind having another child, but is fully prepared for another girl lol.

Luocha:

he fathered a beautiful boy and girl a few years after. none of them were planned, but very welcome by both of you.

he's.. such a doting father. he always takes care of his children well, shows them affection - especially as small babies, he can't get over their chubby cheeks and peppers them with kisses, so he could hear them giggle.

in general, I think he just. can't get enough of them when they're toddlers or even younger. he loves holding them. he loves seeing his tiny babies get curious when he prepares medicine. he loves when they extend their hand to him for seemingly no reason, so he has an opportunity to give it a kiss. ARGH

he's thrilled to share his medical knowledge with his kids, if one shows interest in it!

luocha's definitely the one to style his babies' hair, I mean have you seen this man's gorgeous locks???? he's also the one to cut it if they don't like it long.

this isn't really about the children themselves, but.. he's just so grateful that you brought them into this world?? and he makes sure you know it every day, be it through actions or words. when you gave birth to your daughter, he held her in her hands and approached you from behind, leaning down and planting a chaste kiss on your cheek. "love, she's so wonderful, thank you for your hard work. I can't stop looking at her, and I wouldn't have that opportunity if I didn't meet you. I've never been more happy to meet such a person like you."

just like kaveh, he wants to be very involved in their lives. he always asks them about their day in school, if they made any friends. luocha also tries to be stern and has only one expectation as a father - he wants them to have a good, comfortable life, in which he'll assist in achieving as long as they need.

your son is very, very talkative with his dad and they could converse for hours. like for real. he's so smart, luocha is more than happy to broad his horizons, even in topics of lesser importance.

[saiidahyunie]

i wonder everything about us

minatozaki sana x f!reader || last part from ballroom extravaganza and pt.1

synopsis: your composure is starting to break, and it lands you in front of the very person that started it all. 

warnings: fluff ; angst ; cursing ; alcohol ; arguing ; reader is a dumbass/conflicted ; misscommunication ; 127 doyoung and g-idle miyeon appear! ; dahyun, minju, and somi also have a small cameo ; tzushu and seuirene ship ; almost cheating sorta? ; kinda proofread

a/n: wrapping up the sha rich story here. enjoy! :)

there’s been more situations worse than this one. break the eggs and someone’s gotta make the omelet. 

“who was that?” 

you’re sitting on the couch while mina paces in front of you, arms crossed over with your chest in a self-soothing gesture. sana was sent back to your room, but you can’t help but wish that she was right here and next to you—it would make you feel braver than she was. 

“well?” mina demands. “who?” 

“my…she’s my girlfriend.” the lie you just spat tastes like ash in your mouth. 

“she’s older.” 

“not by much,” you protest. “only eight years.” 

“eight—? y/n, you’re almost twenty-two. what are you doing with a woman nearly in her thirties?” 

“i’m turning twenty-three in a month or so. don’t insult me.” 

“i just don’t know what a twenty-nine year old woman would want with a college kid.” 

“kid?” you scoff. “geez, that’s so rich coming from you. how old is your business associate again?” 

“this isn’t about me, smartass. it’s about you getting involved with someone whose intentions are a big fat question mark!”

“so what?! why would it matter if i’m graduating next semester with my life ahead of me. stop treating me like how auntie was with you!” 

mina stares at you, silently, and her lack of reaction only serves to piss you off even more. so you keep going: 

“and sana doesn’t have any shitty intentions with me! she’s my—my girlfriend and she’s good to me! she treats me well and she likes me. she texts me everyday and she comes over all the time and—!” 

“does she help with expenses?” 

you’re stopped dead in your tracks. “what?” 

“does she give you money? you haven’t complained about finances recently.” 

“i never complain about fiances, mina.” 

“i know, but i can always tell when you’re stressed about them and you haven’t been. so let me ask again: does sana give you money?” 

“i—” you stammer with the words. you can see the deeper question in mina’s eyes, probing you. forcing you to be truthful. “she…” 

“i think if you’re gonna ask y/n about her finances, it’s probably safest to talk to me.” 

the both of you whirl around to look at sana. she has her arms folded, foot bent as she leans against the wall. her expression is polite but her gaze is flat, angry. the simultaneous relief and anxiety that swells within you is strong enough to make you unsteady, and you’re grasping at the arm of the couch.

mina, fortunately, is ignorant to this.

“what did you say?” 

“i said if you’re asking about whether i give your cousin any money, your best bet is to come directly to me instead of interrogating her.” 

“you’ve got a lot of nerve to say that shit to me when this was happening behind my back.” 

sana just shrugs. “i just don’t appreciate what you’re implying.” 

“and what exactly am i implying?”

“that i have shady intentions towards y/n, which i don’t.” 

your heart in chest thuds, staring down at your trembling fingers, clenching them over your lap. mina’s eyes flicker towards sana’s richard mille. “that’s a nice watch. you make money?” 

“mina.” you hiss. 

“i make a comfortable living.” 

mina scoffs and rolls her eyes, muttering something under her breath. “rich people bullshit,” you can faintly hear her say. sana doesn’t reply, face remaining placid. her and mina have a loaded exchange of looks, before your cousin falters, gaze flickering to you.

“you want dinner?” mina inquires. 

you blink. “i’m…why?” 

“answer the question.” 

“i guess im hungry?” 

“wonderful.” mina snaps her stare back to sana, voice hard. “what about you?” 

sana’s tone is emotionless. “i could eat something.” 

“great,” mina says, zipping up her puffer. “let’s go get some thanksgiving dinner then.” 

—

you all pack into mina’s car to drive to some restaurant of her choosing, the silence tense enough to cut. when she parks alongside the street, she orders you out of the car, telling to secure a table. 

stumbling out, your characteristic grace rendered to nothing due to your anxiety. you step inside the small, hole-in-the-wall pizza restaurant, and ask the hose for a three person table booth. seeing that sana and your cousin aren’t behind you, you allow the host to lead to the table that’s in a corner to the far end of the entrance. after three excruciating minutes, you see the pair walk inside. sana’s expression is blank, and mina’s is unreadable. this does absolutely nothing to calm your nerves. 

they sit down, mina across from you and sana at your side. she places her warm hand over your trembling knee, thumb stroking your skin to calm you, grasping it, intertwining fingers. sana squeezes back for comfort. 

“so,” you begin shakily. “um—” 

“you lied to me,” mina interrupts firmly, eyes hard, reducing you to a feeble child. it angers you. “why did you lie to me?” 

“because i knew you would do this. because i knew you were gonna say something about it to auntie sometime later.” 

“about what?” 

“my decisions. my life. the way i choose to live my life. it’s why you do shit like this.” 

mina narrows her eyes, offended. “care to elaborate more?” 

“come here under the guise of checking up on me. interrogate me.” 

“i only came because i knew you were lying to me.”

“and i lied because i know how controlling you are just like auntie!” 

mina’s expression sours. “i’m not controlling like her.” 

“yes, you are.” you snap. “you’re either controlling or completely detached. you either forget to call me for two months because you’re busy or you do random check-ins with me everyday for a week. i’m twenty-two years old and you still treat me like this only because auntie’s health hasn’t been well.” 

“i don’t have any other choice.” she says tightly. “i don’t know how much auntie has left with time, but—” mina catches herself off, jaw clenching, and looks away from you. you and sana. “we may not be related by blood, but i still consider you my family. i’m sorry if i came off as cold or unmoving, but you’re all i have left.” 

sana shifts beside you. “maybe i should—” 

“no, it’s fine.” mina says, and glances back up. brown eyes meet yours, a mirror image. “i was just about to leave anyway.” 

“what?” you gasp out. 

“you shouldn’t.” sana interjects. 

mina waves a dismissive hand. “i’ve said everything i wanted to say. to both of you.” 

“don’t go if you’re gonna regret it later, mina,” sana warns. mina barks a laugh, tightening her jacket. “if you wanna be apart of our family, sana, learn the way we operate. y.n and i don’t carry regrets.” 

she pointedly glances at you and you respond with shaking your head, mouthing a silent no. without any further ceremony, mina shoulders her handbag, moving to step forward. however, she hesitates and looks back at you, stopping in place. 

“if you want me to be convinced you can hold out on your one, then act like it. stop giving so much of a shit about what i have to say. i spout just as much crap as everyone else. it’s up to you if you want to ignore me if you want.” 

speechless, your mouth is parted, but mina was already on her way out of the restaurant by the time you can think of any words. when you see the black streak of her car driving way, you sigh, burying your face in your hands. 

“i’m such a bitch.” 

“don’t talk about yourself like that,” sana says, voice firm but touch soft, stroking down the line of your back. “she told me in the car she was gonna leave.” 

“why?” 

“same reason she just gave just now. she said everything she wanted to say to both of us.” 

“and what did she say to you?” 

“a better question is what i did say to her.” 

you can’t help with the rush of cold fear that grips you. “what did you say?”

“what i felt about you. what you are to me.” 

and it’s not the truth because it can’t be the truth—mina would’ve throttled sana otherwise—but the tenderness in her voice implores you to look up from your hands at her, to believe her. she reaches over to brush your hair out of your face, eyes sweet like liquid candy, mouth curling to smile. you crumble, falling into her. 

“i’m sorry. i’m sorry you had to put up with that.” 

“it’s fine, sweetheart.” 

“no, it’s not. it’s awful and it’s unhealthy and i’m dumping my baggage onto you.” 

“i don’t care. i want to know everything about you.” you flush, and sana adds, “also, if you think that’s bad you should meet my family. i’ve grown up with struggles of not being up to par with my relatives and being the laughing stock because of my lack of success. it’s half the reason i’m calling out of thanksgiving tomorrow. that and the fact that i’m working.” 

“what?” you gasp, sitting up. “you’re working tomorrow?” 

sana toys with a lock of your hair. “people get injured everyday unfortunately.” 

“we should do something.” 

“you don’t want to eat here?” 

“i get one dollar pizza with irene at least once a week. we should do something special.” 

a grin cracks sana’s face in half, radiant. “what if i made us dinner?” 

“you can cook?” 

“of course i can. i even have a special bacon mac and cheese recipe.” 

“but i don’t have bacon.” 

“we can take the subway to the grocery store and then take it back to your house when i can cook. c’mon, it’ll be fun.” 

you bite your lip to suppress a smile. sana kisses it free. when she pulls back, you lean into her palm, lashes fluttering against the skin of it.

“okay, you lead the way then.” 

—

grocery shopping with sana is efficient. 

she doesn’t linger in aisles to windowshop. sana simply grabs what she wants and goes, one hand gripping a pack of bacon and a box of mac and cheese, the other hand clasped with your own. they’re in and out within five minutes. 

the subway ride is almost as quick but fun, which is a strange thing to have on the g-train but it’s true. sana crowds you against the pole, shielding you from the other passengers as she whispers her judgment of them in your ears, speculating that the married couple standing across from them is miserable, will always be miserable, because they can’t ever feel what you and sana do. 

the game is mean-spirited, you know, but sana’s ridiculousness makes you laugh. makes your stomach bubbly and your body light, fizzy like you’re made of crisp champagne. as sana kisses the curve of your ear, you think that you quite like the idea of being in on an inside joke with her. 

you’re stumbling into the apartment within the hour, teeth chattering from the cold. sana removes your coat and scarf, hanging them on your rack before taking the grocery bag and hurrying into the kitchen. she looks excited, her lips spread wide in a near-permanent grin. you settle onto one of the high chairs, watching sana waltz around your kitchen like it’s familiar to her. it must be at this point. 

“so. bacon mac and cheese.” 

“a family recipe,” sana says, pulling a pot from the bottom cabinet. “my grandma used to make it for my mom when she was a kid. growing up pretty poor so she says this was basically a delicacy to her.” 

“i can relate. when i was little, my favorite thing to eat was those cup ramen noodles that mina and auntie used to throw bits of beef and chicken in.” 

“cup ramen is always good.” 

sana fills the pot with water, placing it over the stove top and setting the heat on high. she then walks to your fridge to pull out a bottle of prosecco. “this is fancy.” 

“hardly,” you snort. “i got it for fifteen bucks.” 

“all wine target the same whether it’s five or fifty dollars. take it from someone who drinks the fancy shit at parties,” sana says, popping the cork off. she grabs two glasses and files them halfway before passing one to you.

sana raises it. “cheers.” 

“happy thanksgiving.” 

so you and sana drink. relishing in the sweet, crisp burn of the prosecco as it goes down, the alcohol warming you instantly. sana’s eyes on you are equally warm and dangerously fond. you take another sip to swallow down the mutinous rise of hope. 

soon enough, the water starts boiling and sana pours the macaroni in, stirring it. you like it. you like the look of sana in your kitchen, her ease. the domesticity implied. you basically want to sink into it. 

you get off your chair to slowly approach sana from behind, sliding your arms around her middle and leaning your cheek against the curve of her shoulder. sana leans into you, and you rise up to your toes, pressing lips to her cheek, kissing sana softly. when she sighs, head tilting down, you kiss sana again. again and again. wanting a tattoo of your affection to be left behind. 

dropping back to your heels, and sana’s gaze finds yours, soft as silk. she curls her hand into your hair and brings you close, mouth against your forehead, nose in your hairline, breathing in. 

“go sit down,” sana murmurs. “finish your drink.” 

you step away from sana, chest hollow like you’re leaving something behind.

—

sana feeds you bites of mac and cheese that tastes a bit burnt. 

“a capricorn mars?” sana asks, lips around the same fork. she dips it back into the bowl to fish for more macaroni. “what the fuck is that?!”

“okay so, everyone has planet placements—asteroids too but that’s more specific—and each of the planets has a specific meaning. i already explained that your sun sign—”

“capricorn.” 

“capricorn, right—was the core of your personality. your moon sign is your private face, or your emotional center. mercury is communication. venus is romance and aesthetics—which might be an additional for you. and mars is aggression and sexuality.” 

“and mine is in capricorn?” 

“yeah, and capricorn is the domicile of mars.” 

“it means that capricorn and virgo are already ruled by mars. the placement feels natural.” 

“ah.” sana’s arms tighten around you, setting you higher up on her lap. “so that means i’m naturally aggressive and sexual?” 

“no,” you laugh. “it means that it’s just an easier fit. that there isn’t any friction between the planet and sign. like, capricorns are very expressive in their confidence and humility. grounded with their words and they don’t sugarcoat what they say, they mean it.” you say, tapping sana’s chin, tugging on it with your thumb. “and they do it straightforwardly. mars suits it.” 

sana nips at your thumb. “like you aren’t.” 

“i’m a gemini,” you say. “a dynamic sign. two sides to show to the world.” 

sana grins, and you move your hand up pushing her hair back. “how do you know all this stuff anyway?” 

“i had a light…astrology phase in high school.” 

“astrology?” 

“yeah. my stuff might be off, but that’s to the best of my memory. but i dabbled with oujia birds. summoning, that kind of shit.” 

“summoning?” 

“i never actually summoned anything,” you mutter, flashing. “none of the spells worked.” 

sana laughs, which earns your glare. you shiver when she reaches up and traces the curve of your ear. 

“this explains the bit of eye bags to sell the dark look i’m getting out here.” 

“pfft,” you stifle a laugh, turning your head off to the side. “the eye bags were from an insomnia phase i had during my first year of college. i didn’t know how to function at times, and my roommate was genuinely concerned when i brought up my terrible last two years of high school. i think i might’ve scared her.” 

“really?” 

“that’s another story for later, but let’s just say that it wasn’t pretty if you saw me like that.” 

“wow,” sana says, impressed with your growth and resilience. “i was totally normal during high school.” 

“i see and believe that.” 

the only warning before sana flips you over and pins you on the couch is a flash of teeth, a mean smile. you cry, “the macaroni!” but sana already has it safely on the ground, her other hand moving to tickle your ribs. you’re shrieking, jerking in her hold. 

“don’t!” 

“what?” sana asks, laying over you, fingers sliding up your waist. “you’re ticklish?” 

“no.” 

“i think you are.” 

“i’ll kick you.” 

“no, you won’t,” sana says, but traps your thighs between her knees anyway. she lowers her head, mouth warm against your neck. “you’re too sweet.” 

“sana—” 

she offers you no mercy. with a simple crook of her fingers, she’s tickling you, trapping you against teh couch as you squirm and giggle beneath her. sana’s hands dip past your shirt to find your bare skin, relentless. while you writhe, sana shoves her face into your neck and hums. 

“y-you’re–sana, you’re gonna kill me!” 

“no, i’m not.”

“i can’t—” you erput into another laughing fit, tears in your eyes. “i can’t breathe!”

“you’re such a baby,” sana says, but slides her hands away to rest them on either side of your head. once you’ve recovered, you wrap your arms around sana’s neck and secure her to you. sana kisses the ridge of your jaw, sinking into you with a deep exhale. as if expelling a weight inside you. 

“do you want to watch a movie?” you ask, fingers toying with the ends of her hair.

“sure. something nice.”

“like what? a rom-com?”

“yeah. i like those.” 

you laugh. “do you really? i was expecting you to be more of a different answer than that.” 

“were you expecting action movies?” 

“but you prefer romance?” 

“if they’re good.” when you look at sana disbelievingly, defensiveness enters her tone. “what?” 

“i don’t know. a lot of people didn’t like them because it set unrealistic standards. or, at least that’s what my ex said.” 

“well, your ex was a fucking idiot,” sana says heatedly. “there’s nothing unrealistic about it.” 

there’s nothing unrealistic about grand, sweeping gestures and spotanoeulsy confessing your undying love in the middle of an airport?” 

sana raises her head from your chest to look at you. “not unless if you’re a coward.” 

you snort, a slow start to what would eventually become a full belly laugh. sana’s expression sours with every giggle, but when you throw your head back and knock it against the arm of the couch, sana reaches out to cradle it. while you recover, sana chooses a move, fingers soothing the bump. 

—

by the time the credits of the second movie roll, sana rises from her position on your chest to sit up. she rubs her palms over her face, yawning. 

“i have to go,” sana says with some regret, her eyes half-lidded. “i have work in the morning.” 

you want to protest but feel ridiculously for it, childishly selfish. instead, you give sana a tight smile and follow her to the door, grabbing her coat from the rack to help her in it. you then take her scarf, pretty purple and wooly in your hands, holding out to her. sana smiles and drapes it over her neck. the open door behind her lets in an icy chill, and she binds you against her, broad palms cupping your face. 

you love sana’s eyes. it strikes you suddenly as she tugs you closer, dazzling brown swallowing your vision. you wish the whole world could be that color. it could be that beautiful. 

“i’ll call you tomorrow,” sana says. 

your voice is soft, too small in your throat. “okay.” 

sana smiles and ducks down to kiss you, lips warm and sweet and awfully chaste. you surge closer to meet her, trying to deepen it, but she doesn’t let you. she simply pecks the swell of your bottom lip again and leans back to look at you. the overwhelming affection on her face sends a bolt through you, sends a shiver up your spine that she mistakes for chill. concern flares in her eyes as she takes the scarf from her neck. 

“are you cold?” sana asks, already pulling it off, settling it over your shoulders. “is it because the door is open?” 

“i—” you can’t speak over the wool that covers your mouth. sana sloppily wraps it around you, her own body heat bleeding into you, nestling sweetly like hot chocolate beneath your skin. after she’s thrown the tail over your head, she tucks the scarf under your chin and asks, “is that better?” 

“yes,” you manage to croak out. 

sana smiles again and kisses you for the last time. when she steps back, the distance hurts. “i’ll see you later.” 

“see you soon,” you whisper out to her, hand lingering out. the last thing you see before sana locks the door behind her is her smile. 

it almost hurts not to follow. 

—

“y/n!” 

you pause, just steps outside of the auditorium. turning to see doyoung, your thesis editor and a TA for the psychology and ethics class. you smile as he approaches you, adjusting your coat against the chill. “hi.”

“hey,” doyoung says, grinning. “you just watched the lecture, right?” 

“yeah. it was great. i didn’t know you were gonna attend.” 

“i didn’t know you would attend either,” he says. “if i did, i would’ve asked if you wanted to sit together.” 

smiling, close-mouthed, unsure of how to respond to that. doyoung barrels on before you can settle on anything. “do you want to meet her?” 

“who? the lecturer?” 

“mrs. cho, yeah.” 

suspended in time for a second, you blink. “you know her?” 

“yeah! i was one of her research assistants about a year and a half ago. she’s great. do you wanna meet her?” 

“uh—sure, i would love to,” you say, a bit mystified, trailing after him when he starts to walk back into the auditorium. 

doyoung leads you towards the stage where a woman who appeared to be around your height stands, chatting amiably with one of your professors. when doyoung calls her name, she looks over to you, sending a broad grin. 

“kim doyoung?” she asks. is that you?” 

“yes, ma’am,” he says, climbing onto the stage, reaching back to help you up. “it’s really nice to see you again.” 

“it’s great to see you! how are things?” 

“great!” 

“and you’re almost done right? got not long now before you’ll be on the way out into the real world.” 

“yeah, i’ve got most of the things done before applying for graduation. i even do some editing for other students on the side. speaking of.” doyoung reaches back, setting his hand on your back to gesture you forward. “this is one of the students i edit for.” 

mrs. cho shifts her attention towards you. noticing how remarkably pretty she was up close compared to sitting a few rows back. she has bright red hair that was noticeable from far, fair skin with rosy cheeks that encapsulate a bubbly personality when she spoke to the class. for some reason her laugh and mannerisms were similar to a familiar person. you couldn’t put your thumb to it, but the fact that her occupation was also in the medical field should’ve sent the alarms ringing. 

“and who this might be?” she asks. 

“y/n l/n. she’s a bachelors student in the pipeline for the masters program.” 

“y/n–” her eyes shot up. you’re startled by the intense reaction of you, the way her jaw drops like the two biggest dots were just connected. “y/n l/n? are you actually y/n l/n?” 

“uh.” you’re glancing at doyoung who seems confused as you were. “y-yes, that’s me.” 

mrs. cho covers her mouth with both of her hands, hiding her smile. “my goodness that’s amazing! do you know sana?” 

“sana?” your heart swells, stomach sinking as the realization slaps across you ten-fold. how could’ve you been so blind? one of sana’s closest friends, miyeon. miyeon. sana’s shown the pictures of her on that one hangout they had when they were in medschool, dressing up like boys with dad hats backwards and nerdy glasses that looked surprisingly cute and wished sana looked like that for you. 

“no way.” you breathe out. 

“oh my god!” miyeon echoes. “this is crazy!” 

“who is sana?” doyoung asks, reminding you abruptly of his presence. 

“my best friend,” miyeon eagerly replies, gaze unwaveringly on her face. “this is incredible.” 

“you know me? or at least about me?” you ask, reeling. “sana…she’s told you about me?” 

“of course she has! she talks about you all the time. she even mentioned that you were a psychology student, but i didn’t know that you studied at this university.” 

your lips quick. “what a small world.” 

“it definitely is. so tell me more about your degree. sana said that it had something to do with kids?” 

“well, yeah. i’m studying child’s psychology with a cognitive-behavioral focus. doyoung’s helping me with my thesis right now actually.” 

well, you might’ve just embarrassed yourself. doyoung already mentioned that to her. 

“interesting, but cognitive-behavioral?” miyeon playfully raises her brows. “what are you doing attending the lecture of an exponential researcher?” 

“i find it to broaden my avenues, besides being well-rounded.” 

miyeon laughs, delighted. “that it does, my dear. sana said that you were bright in studies.” 

your cheeks flush, the natural instinct to ask for what else, what else has she said, forming. that is, until doyoung says, “sorry. i’m a little lost. how do you know sana, y/n?” 

speechless for a moment, you’re transported back to the soft golden lights and the shine of her oxford shoes, the taste of lemon drop martinis on your tongue. the four seasons and five hundred dollars in your purse, completely unexplainable much like sana is, because there are no words to describe her. 

there are, however, words to describe you. 

“y/n,” miyeon says, leaning forward to take your chin on her fingers, startling you. “is the greatest gift sana ever had the pleasure of finding.” 

and all at once your excitement dashes into nothing, letting dread sink into you, curling around your body like a vice, tigeting around your neck. suddenly, miyeon’s enthusiasm takes a different meaning, another shape. it’s not friendly but sordid. not curious but propositional. maybe, it might’ve been, if sana ever offered to share. 

it’s the thought that makes your heart crack open. just a few days ago, she was in your house, laying over you, kissing you with enough affection that you could drown in it. you thought—you’re not even entirely sure why anymore but you thought—it was real. it could’ve been real. the hope was there. 

“wow,” doyoung says, laughing awkwardly, but the sound barely registers over the roaring din in your ear canals. “i didn’t know you had a girlfriend.” 

she’s not my fucking girlfriend, you’re saying to yourself visioulxy, spiterully. with sorrow. sana’s not your fucking girlfirned and she never was. you were just her gift. a thing to fuck around with. 

“i’m sorry,” you say, blinking fast, speaking through the lump in your throat. “i really have to go.” 

“oh.” miyeon looks genuinely disappointed, but you can’t be sure. perhaps it’s because she was hoping you’d offer a more nicer regard than what just transpired now. you wonder about the stories sana’s told, if she’s shown miyeon your pictures. “well, it was nice meeting you. i hope we’ll see each other again.” 

you nod once, a jerky motion, and a spin of the heel to race out of the auditorium. by the time you reach to the chill outdoors, you’re crying, hot tears streaming down your face, heartbreak nearly forcing you to the knees. 

wiping them away roughly, shame makes you red-faced. once you tended to the other cheek, fingers tugging the scarf around your neck, it feels like a collar to a degree–and you’re choking on another sob. 

a terrible tragedy it seems, to be owned.

—

avoiding contact, you’re fielding sana’s calls for the next week or so. 

you can’t claim that you don’t mean to because you do. every text asking is everything okay? something wrong? gets a yes, of course. every text asking are you okay, are you mad at me? gets a no. no, of course not. why would i be? 

how amusing that you have a chock-full of little excuse, but the end result still stands: you don’t want to talk to sana. 

this also means that you're miserable. 

the tried-and-true method of compartmentalizing your feelings ceases to work when your sorrow over sana bleeds into everything. you can’t focus enough to do your assignments, be mindful enough to smile at work, to write when doyoung says that you should. to eat, even, because it’s hard to stomach anything when you’re angry at her and it’s hard to exist and not speak to her. over the course of three months, sana’s embedded herself into every facet of your life. function without her now is like forgetting how to breathe. 

you could say that you’re taking the misery right on the chin, pushing through it like the grown woman you’ve claimed to be, at least proficient enough to hid from everyone else not involved. tzuyu notices this, she notices everything, and she makes it her mission to know about everything. 

which is why you’re not surprised when she randomly bursts into your room on a saturday night, phone still buzzing from when she tried to call you. 

“get up!” tzuyu snaps, marching over to yank your covers off; you’re curling over the pillow. “come on, get up! you’ve been ignoring my calls for, like, a week and i’m sick and tired of your wallowing.” 

voice muffled into the sheets. “‘m not wallowing.” 

“yes, you are,” she says and throws open your blinds, exposing the stained brickwall on the other side. “irene told me you didn’t go to class with her this week, which i know means that you were holed up in here crying or something. which, i might add, you never informed me of, so not only are you sad but you’re keeping secrets from me. bad friend behavior, y/n.” 

“it’s not bad friend behavior. i just didn’t feel like talking about it.” 

“well if you’re not gonna talk about it, you’re gonna do something else.” you hear your closet doors open and perch your head up to see tzuyu rifling through your clothes. after a moment, she makes some pleased sound and toesses a white dress onto your boed, one that sana had bought you a few weeks ago. the memory is blanched just by looking. 

“we’re going out tonight,” tzuyu announces. “i have shuhua waiting in the car and i made plans to meet up with irene and a few friends of mine at a club in manhattan. i’m not leaving till you get dressed.” 

“i’m not going.”

“yes, you are.”

“no.” 

“you are.” 

“tzuyu,” you say, with a note of pleading. “i really don’t want to go.” 

“and i don’t care! you’re going.” 

“no,” you repeat firmly, drawing your knees up to cocoon yourself. “i don’t want to go. i don’t want to drink or go to manhattan—” 

“does sana live in manhattan? 

“i don’t want to talk about sana.” 

“well, it seems like you don’t wanna do fucking anything!” tzuyu throws her hands up, lovely face twisted up with exasperation. she nudges the dress closer. “and like i said, i really don’t care. if you’re not gonna talk about your feelings then do something equally as unproductive and distract yourself from them instead of crying. you’re being ridiculous.” 

“no, you are,” you retort acidically, and it seems as though your outrage needed an outlet, because you can’t stop yourself from spitting the vitriol that spills forth. “and you know what? you are ridiculous. in general, you are fucking ridiculous. you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth and you act like it. me signing up for that stupid app was your idea. me meeting sana was because of you. and sana—” calling me her gift, reducing me to something that’s owned, tainting the concept of belonging— “i-it’s your fault. everything is your fault. it’s your fucking fault!” 

tzuyu’s face is unchanged, perfect and placid as it always is. finally, while you heave, restraining another fit of tears, tzuyu exhales deeply and tilts her head, expression softening. “are you good now?” 

“no,” you mumble. “i’m angry.” 

“good.” tzuyu sits down on the edge of your bed and tugs you close, resting your head on her shoulder. “be angry with me. just don’t hole yourself up in your room alone. you’ve done enough of that.” 

you sag into tzuyu. “i’m sorry for yelling at you. what happened isn’t your fault.” 

“it kind of is.” 

“no, it isn't. maybe giving the idea was, but everything i did was because it was a choice i mad. even being hurt now is my fault. i always knew what i was to her.” 

“so? it’s kind of difficult to have sex with anything for three months and not get attached to it. i get weepy when i have to throw away my vibrators.” 

you snort, pushing tzuyu away. met with a smile of hers with your own, “are you ready to go out now or do i actually have to respect your wishes this time.” 

debating, eyes flicking to the dress by your foot. you know how it looks on you, how the fabric shimmers under a certain light and the fit clings to your body. you know it’s effect on sana, even, how her eyes darkend when she first saw it on you, how she raced to get it off. the faded memory stings as the thought of sana always does now, like a sharpened blade, but tzuyu is right. it isn’t healthy to sustain this level of feeling for days on end. maybe it needs a change of pace. 

“fine,” you say, looking at tzuyu. “help me get ready.” 

tzuyu squeals before grabbing your face to let her kiss your cheek. 

—

you and tzuyu greet shuhua by the car just half an hour later, who rolls down the window to wolf-whistle you as they approach. tzuyu opens her coat and grabs you by the hand to spin you around.

“you look hot!” shuhua says. “i’ll be surprised if you don’t go home with somebody tonight.” 

cheeks flushing after the compliment. “oh, uh, i’m not really—” 

“honey, don’t scandalize y/n so early in the evening,” tzuyu says, popping a kiss to her mouth as she gets in the car. “you know y/n doesn’t talk about ex–say in polite company.” 

“since when am i polite company?” 

“hi, shua,” you mumble, sliding into the backseat.

“hey, babe. are you excited?” shuhua turs around. both her and tzuyu stare at you expectantly from the front seats, making you feel strangely like a child on their first day of school. 

“...yes…” 

tzuyu sends shuhua a firm look. “start the car.” 

it’s saturday night, the drive from queens to manhattan takes about forty minutes. you’re spending the majority of the ride staring out the window, willing yourself not to think of the familiar surroundings, of the shops along the street that have developed new meaning. luckily, before you can get lost in your budding melancholy, shuhua parks the car along the side of the street and unlocks the door. with a sigh, you step out. 

there’s a long line leading into the club that tzuyu bypasses with ease, simply flashing her ID at the bouncer before he allows you three inside. the club is ritzy but stereotypical. brith, multicolored flashing lights threaten to blind you and the pumping music that makes your ears ring. hand in hand, tzuyu directs through the throng of gyrating bodies to a VIP lounge near the back, where you can see a round table filled with people. 

irene notices you first, and she jumps out of her seat to rush toward you, bee-lining for you specifically, enveloping a hug that you gratefully sink into. 

“you look so pretty!” irene yells when she steps back. “i was worried you wouldn’t come!”

“i did!” 

“thank god! come say hi to everybody!” 

following her to the table. irene slides back into the booth to nestle beneath the arm of a handsome black-haired man that you recognize immediately, much to your delight. “seulgi!” 

she cracks a smile. “sup.”

“i didn’t know you’d be here.” or really, that their relationship had progressed so well. perhaps you might have if you kept in touch more proactively, which suddenly makes you feel like a very shitty friend. 

“how are you?” you ask, sitting down next to the pair. 

“i’m good. you?” 

“i’m…well.” 

“uh-oh.” seulgi pushes a drink towards you. “be grateful i can’t cut you off tonight then.” 

not thinking of a reply, uncomfortable at having been perceived so clearly, you raise the straw to your lips. 

“hey tzuyu! we’re here!” 

the three of you look over to see three people ambling towards you, a shorter woman in front, two slightly taller behind her. up close, you can see that she has dark, long hair. she’s wearing a black leather jacket with a handbag to her side. when she catches your eye, she smiles. 

tzuyu leaps up from her seat to hug the woman, extricating herself quickly to hug the other two women tagging behind. her voice is a squeal when she screams, “dahyun!” 

gesturing to them to sit down next to her, and as they all scoot into the booth, dahyun’s attention flickers towards you, down to your dress. 

“y/n! y/n, this is my friend dahyun! she has a brother that works on the same racing team as him!”

“hey.” dahyun says, leaning forward, extending her hand, and you shake it. when you pull away, she wraps her arm around the brunette beside her. 

“this is minju,” dahyun says, and points to the blonde at the end of the booth. “and that’s somi.” 

“it’s nice to meet you all,” you say.

“it’s great to meet you. you’re y/n, right?” 

“yeah.” 

“cool!” dahyun’s mouth curls, more a smirk than a smile. “tzuyu has told me all about you.”

“has she?” 

“yep. she thinks you’ve hung the fucking moon or something. is it true you volunteered at a women’s shelter for fun?” 

you blush at the question. “i wouldn’t say for fun. i just…got along with the kids there really well.”

“a saint is what you are, according to tzuyu.” 

“oh, i wouldn’t—”

dahyun surprises you when she stands up and slides over chaeyoung and somi to sit next to you, smelling the rich perfume she put on. your fingers bunch up the dress when she throws her arm over the back of your seat. 

“so,” dahyuns starts again, sinking into the vinyl seat, too comfortable. “what else do you do aside from rescuing cats from trees?” 

“i’m not a firefighter. never done anything like that.”

“it was a joke, lovely.” your flush depends, and dahyun adds, “but i’m serious. what do you do?” 

“i’m a waitress currently, but i’m working towards my bachelors in child’s psychology. masters after, but i’m sure you knew that already.”

“yep.”

“and you?” you ask, taking a sip of your drink, beer bottle sweating around your fingers. “tzuyu mentioned you work with your mom?” 

“yeah, just a normal front-desk job. pretty nice until all of the calls get backed up.” 

“yikes. sorry to hear that.” 

dahyun’s mouth quirks, and you swallow a squeak when she reaches over to ruffle your hair, startled by her familiarity. she keeps her hand there.

“you’re sweet, you know that?”

your face is burning red hot, stomach churning. you can’t think of anything to say but get off. “um—”

“but fuck the job conversation,” dahyun says, leaning closer to you, eyes flashing with mischief. “you wanna get fucked up?” 

—

to your better judgement—along with the credit, this is something that you don’t really do on a weekend basis—getting fucked up. 

it takes a few beers and sojus to get loose enough to smile freely. you’ve lost the count from five shots onwards to keep you laughing, swimmy. dahyun leads you to the bar to take more shots together—your idea—that’s immediately chased down with lime juice, shoved into your mouth by dahyun’s fingers. the burst of citrus in your mouth. 

there’s no food to sober up with, so you decide to get that stored energy on the dance floor, sweating profusely. you switch between the different groups—first spinning around in a mid circle with shuhua and tzuyu, then joining irene and seulgi as they move together. you’re being dragged in between, irene laughing against your neck, head being thrown back into seulgi’s shoulder, the light’s over-bright above you, a shimmering multicolor. you’re laughing, and laughing, and laughing, even when a flash of green against the ceiling makes you want to cry. 

it’s so easy to stop thinking.

which is exactly the case when dahyun finds her way onto the dance floor, swaggering. selugi spins you towards her embrace and she catches you, hands securing the waist, fingers sliding down to your hips. her voice rumbles from her chest and into your ears when she speaks, mouth skimming the curve orf it. “you know, tzuyu really wanted me to meet you.” 

you wrap your arms around her neck. “she did?”

“yeah, she did. said you needed to meet someone new.” 

“oh. i didn’t know.” dahyun leads you into a dance, slipping their knee between your legs. something cold curdles up in the pit of your stomach, but the warmth of the alcohol makes it easy to ignore. have fun, you remind yourself. 

“yeah, thank god she did,” dahyun says.

the music, booming club/house hit, robs most of your hearing, but when you sway your hips and she follows the motion of it, moving with you, you can hear the dark rumble of her groan, can feel it when dahyun says, “fuck, you’re so hot. you wanna get out of here?”

that cold pit in the base of your stomach explodes, icy panic flooding your insides. dahyun’s eyes widen with shock as you push her away from you, and when she tries to tug you close again, you bat her away, snapping, “no.” 

you stumble to the end of the club, shoving on your coat as you rush out into the cold weather. you tremble more from the alarm than the chill when you pull out your phone and scroll through the contact list.

sana answers before the end of the first ring. “y/n?”

“i’m coming to your house,” you announce, waving widely as you try to flag down a taxi.

“is something wrong? your voice sounds weird. do you want me to pick you up?”

“i’m coming,” you repeat. “to your house. so tell your doorman to let me in.” 

“baby, are you sure you don’t want me to pick you up?” 

the pet name stings. as does your persistent loyalty to her. wouldn’t have been so freeing to make her hurt? “no.”

“y/n—” 

“i’ll see you now.” 

you hang up just as a taxi stops beside you. opening the door and climbing into the car, slurring out sana’s address. given that her apartment complex is close, the drive takes under fifteen minutes. you had to swipe your card at least three separate times for the payment to go through. you nearly trip when stepping out, knees shaking and coltish, but right yourself quickly to march into the building. the red-headed doorman gives you a sour look that you meet with a scowl. thankfully, though, he lets you in without a word. 

the journey to sana’s apartment is a blur. recognizing the soft elevator music and the ding as it opens. your heels click against the marble floors when you stumble down the hall, hands aligning against the wall to keep your balance. when you find sana’s door, you knock on it hard, speaking into the peephole. “it’s y/n. let me in!” 

door swung open instantly; sana must’ve been waiting for you. heart throbbing when you see her, brown hair around her shoulder, barefoot and not-entirely relaxed, but she herds you in before you can get emotional, following you to the living room. 

“are you okay?” sana asks.

“no.” you throw your purse down and wrestle to get your coat off. sana steps forward to help you but you shake your head, scoffing at her injured look. 

“you’re drunk,” sana observes with disapproval., “why are you drunk?” 

“i went out with tzuyu.” 

“are you okay?” sana asks again.

“no. i’m drunk.” 

sana’s expression shifts, wavering between panic and concern. you wonder what she has to be worried about, if she carries the past week with her the way that you did. but of course not, you think bitterly. why would she care at all? 

“do you need water?” 

you don’t reply, still struggling to take your coat off, suddenly overheated. sana watches you, making a frustrated sound deep in her throat. she runs her hand through her hair. “i don’t know what you wnat me to do then, baby.” 

“i want you to stop calling me baby.”

“what?” 

you whirl around. “i want you to stop with the pet names. i want you to stop with the gifts. i want you to stop sending me money. i-i want you to stop—talking to me like you care about me. it’s cruel, sana.” 

“y/n, what are you talking about? of course i fucking care about you.” sana’s eyes widening. “did you take any drugs?” 

“no!” you yell. “and no, i didn’t take any drugs!”

“then what the fuck is your problem?” 

“my problem,” you spit, narrowing your eyes, speaking through your teeth. “is that i don’t want to be your damn sugar baby anymore!”

“what?!” 

“yeah! your sugar baby, sana. does it make you feel bad when i say it? because it makes me fel fucking worse.” your voice cracking, shaking your head. “and i take it anymore.” 

sana grasps the side of her hair. “take what? take what anymore? what the fuck are you talking about?” 

“this!” you gesture between you and sana. “i can’t— i can’t keep pretending that i’m okay with this. that you can go to my house, fuck me, and then venmo me some money after like it’s okay. like i’m your—at first i thought it would be fine. it hurt me, made me feel sick, but i thought….i guess i thought that things would change but they haven’t. they haven’t and it really fucking hurts.” 

“y/n, sweetheart, my love—” you flinch—”i’m really gonna need you to start making sense before i lose my fucking mind.” 

“what doesn’t make any sense to you? my feelings? did you really expect that you could get to fuck me fore three months and i wound’t feel anything? am i that much of a fucking doll to you?” 

“wha—?” 

“you know, tonight i met this girl that was really into me,” you say, and giddily watch sana freeze. “tzuyu introduced me to her. she thought we’d be good together. she wanted me.” 

sana’s face goes flat, hands stalling in the air between them. your pulse skips at the sudden coldness that grips her, the way her eyes darken, like the brief seconds of peace that precede the explosion of a volcano.

“what?” she asks quietly. “what did you say?” 

“but i didn’t want her!” you cry. a jolt of panic runs through you, as fierce as your heartbreak. “i didn’t! she said she wanted to sleep with me and i said no! because of you, sana! because i like you! i really, really, really like you and i have feelings for you, and—” 

“are you saying you could have cheated on me!” sana yells. “did you just admit to my fucking face expect me to thank you?!”

“cheat on what? you’re not my girlfriend, you’re my sugar mommy! thats’ what this whole argument is about!” 

“i’m not your damn sugar mommy! i told you from day-fucking-one that i hated that shit! i think it’s disgusting! i told you that! if it were up to me, park jihyo would be dead in the fucking ground!” 

“oh.” stumbling back. the shock crashing over in waves, realization threatening to wash over you. “i–oh, fuck. god.” 

because sana was right. she did tell you that, just twenty minutes into the first meeting. her giving money to you after the first date misled you, given the impression that this was something sordid, but sana never acted that way. not once. she only ever treated you like…

you cradle your face when sana paces in front of you, muscles tense with rage. her fists shake by her sides, knuckles white, and you have the sudden urge to throw yourself down at her feet and kiss them, to beg for her forgiveness. 

“i’m sorry. sana, i’m so sorry.” you gaps. “i didn’t—i misinterpreted everything, and i—” 

sana stops in place to look at you, blazing eyes rooting you to the ground. your breath twists in your lungs as the words melt on your tongue, leaving you with nothing. because you have nothing. there’s nothing to say. 

and sana takes you in, the trembling and tears, you being desperate for forgiveness. she runs a hand over your face, sighing heavily. “you’re way too drunk to be having this conversation.” 

“i’m not.” you’re not lying. if you were a tad bit less sober, the doubt would be hurting just as much.

“yes, you are.” 

“sana, i won’t be able to sleep unless we talk this through.” 

“i don’t give a shit. you’re going to bed.” 

you whimper as she marches past you, stumbling after her to follow. she stops when you reach the bedroom and open the door for you to head inside. you do, slowly, like you expect to face some form of punishment or further scolding, but sana only walks to her drawers and fishes for a t-shirt, holding it out to you. 

as you take it, she leaves the room, giving you privacy to change. you sniffle quietly as you shove your dress down and off around your feet, and slip the shirt on. just as you bend to take off your shoe, sana comes back into the room, carrying a glass of water. she watches you struggle for a beta before sighing and placing the glass down on her nightstand. you nearly weep when you watch sana kneeled down in front of you, her hands going to your ankles. “sana, i—” 

“not now,” she says, looking up at you, eyes still hard and angry, but her fingers gentle, thumb tapping your bone, “we can talk about it tomorrow.” 

when sana’s done, she steps back, lining upr your heels against the wall. 

“get in bed,” sana orders

“sana, i-i can sleep on the couch,” you say weakly. “i really don’t need to take your bed. i’ve had enough trouble already. ‘

“i don’t care. get in.”

“really, it’s—” 

“get. in.” 

her tone leaves no room for debate, and you clamber up to slip beneath the covers. you stare up at sana, hoping she’ll offer to climb in next to you, but she pushes the water towards you, instead. 

“drink.” 

“i’m not thirsty.” 

“it’s not for your thirst. it’s so you have enough wits about you in the morning. and, also, for right now. i’m not exactly trusting your judgment.” 

sana drops three ibuprofen tablet into your palm. while she watches, you dutifully swallow each one, gilt hollowing out your stomach. you open your mouth to speak, but she nudges the glass up, silently demand you drink. she doesnt’ stop until you’ve downed the whole thing. once it’s empty, sana nods with satisfaction and steps back. 

“we’ll talk in the morning. for now, please go to sleep.”

“sana.”

“go to sleep,” she repeats, an edge to her voice. “if i hear anything else, i—” she stops herself. roughly shakes her head. “i can’t guarantee what i’ll do next.” 

you flinch when the door slams shut behind her, throwing yourself down onto sana’s pillow. a sob builds in your throat when her scent hits you in full force, and you inhale it greedily, chest stuttering as you curly around it, clinging to it like it can morph into her skin. 

and sleep is also unkind. it’s only gracious enough to give you any reprieve when the sun peeks over the horizon. you fall into it fruitfully. 

—

you’re awoken to a soft touch, a hand gently shaking your shoulder. “y/n. y/n, get up.” 

sana’s voice registers, at first distant and tinny, then overwhelming, a sharp spiek into your barin. you jolt up, nearly headbutting her as you scramble to face her. sana moves to sit on a chair she’s pulled up the side of her bed. she looks at you calmly, her hands folded over her knees, foot bouncing, because she can never be fully at ease. her body doesn’t let her. 

“good morning.” 

everything that you’ve been feeling the night before suddenly rises to the surface again in an overwhelming rush. you can’t even think to compose yourself. your head and heart aches too much to try. 

“i’m sorry!” i cry. “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry. i didn’t— i honestly thought—i don’t know why—no, i do know why but—i didn’t think i was cheating on you. i thought you were my s-sugar mommy and i thought our relationship was transactional. it’s why i was so nervous when you met mina because i thought she’d find out. i had no idea—” 

you huff, words croaking out into a sob, and sana moves her chair to the edge of her bed to cup your face. you lean into it, tears smearing against her skin. 

“i’m not going to say that i’m not angry, because i am. or that i’m not confused, because i really am. but i think i’m starting to understand where the confusion is.” 

“i’m sorry.” 

“is it because i gave you money?” sana asks, ignoring it. 

you nod. “yes.” 

“even after i told you that i thought that shit was gross?”

“it wasn’t then,” you say. “i didn’t go out with you with dual inteitinons. i thought it was a date.” 

“which it was.”

“i realize that now.”

“so, it was after? when i sent you—” 

“a thousand dollars, sana,” you breathe—still, even now, in disbelief. “which, you have to admit, is a little ridiculous to send someone you met when they were first trying out to be someone’s sugar baby.” 

“that’s why i sent it. i knew you needed it. i though you’d understand.” 

“i didn’t. and even if i did, can’t you admit that’s strange? or at the very least, kind of offensive?” 

“no.” sana slides her hand down, thumb tapping your chin like she did when she first kissed you. “id’ be strange if it was for anyone but you.” 

a rosy flush stains your cheeks, spreading high. “i don’t know what that means.” 

“i think you do.” she slips her hand away and leans back. her face hardens when she says, “no about that girl—” 

“we never kissed!” you say desperately. “we never kissed. she never touched me, not really. we just danced. i only said that because i wanted to provoke you.” 

“you nearly did. i swear to god, y/n. i wanted to do something about that.” 

you grab sana’s hand and lift it between you two. “i’m sorry. i was being spiteful.” 

“it’s fine. i’m not angry with you.” 

“you’re not?” 

“no. but if kim dahyun—” 

“how do you know her name?” 

“she texted you. i blocked her number—ever ends up horribly injdured and is brought to me as a patient, i’m passing the cart to the next surgeon.” 

“you’re not funny.” 

“who said i was joking?” 

“sana.” 

before you can scold her, sana wraps an arm around you and secrues you to her, heart pouding a slow righym against your ear. you feel her chin drop onto your crown, her hand sliding up your back. 

“i love you, y/n,” sana says. her hold tightens when you freeze, but she continues, undeterred. “i love you and it only took me about a week to realize it.” 

tears crowd your eyes in earnest. sana’s name comes out as a gasp, but she pulls you back to cup your face, thumbs stroking your cheeks. “i love you. this has never been transactional for me. not once.” 

“i—” 

“you got something to say to that?” 

“sana.” she stops to watch you, eyes going soft as you start to weep. she presses her lips to your forehead, then shifts so that your face falls into her neck. you cling to sana, mouth moving against the skin of her. “...’ove you.” 

“what?” 

“i said i love you.” 

“i know. i just wanted to hear you say it again.” 

sana laughs when you pinch her side, and you two settle into a comfortable silence s you sid and hold each other, sinking into bliss. that is until sana says, “does this mean you’re cool with getting married?  you know, eventually?” 

“what?” 

“i told you i wanted to marry you and you said you loved me. that wasn’t a no.” 

“you didn’t propose.”

“i thought i was implied.” 

“an implication is not a proposal, sana. that’s been our whole issue.” you say as sana frowns. “and i don’t wanna think about getting married until sometime later.” 

“so what do you want to do in the meantime, wander around like two hopeless romantics that we are?” 

“well—” you rise up to your knees, words purposefully slow as you push sana to the bed and climb over her. her hands find your waist, sliding up. you kiss the grin from her lips. 

“just stay close to me. that’s all i ask.” 

[catscraftsandcommentary]

So I had some time to think tonight at work (in between operating heavy machinery, swearing at the materials, and trying to keep the line running, fun times!) And I asked myself, "self, hypothetically, what might @inexplicifics Accidental Warlord AU look like in another generation or two - once people really get used to witchers being The Good Guys (TM) and helping out?"

And I was like "well, they'd probably get invited to social events - ooh! Who'd like which events best?!? What would that look like?"

Geralt, as we all know, detests anything too formal or Warlord-focused. He enjoys weddings and receptions, but his TRUE favorite is baby christenings. Seriously. Put him in a room with a tiny baby and he's happy as a clam. He'll happily growl away (or weaponize his puppy-dog eyes against) grannies, aunties, and other family members to hold the baby for as long as possible. He's also 90% of the reason that witchers are now rumored to be able to bless babies.

When Mouse and Treyse bring this new rumor to the council, everyone has to just sit. And process for a minute. Because what the ever-loving fuck?!? (Jaskier immediately writes the sweetest lullaby ever, "A Witcher's Blessing", and it is the ONLY song that Geralt ever sings in public, and only ever to babies and small children. Multiple women blame this for their immediate conceptions.)

Jaskier adores weddings and festivals of all types, and if a happy couple includes details of how they met and/or fell in love with their wedding invitation, there's at least a 50% chance that he'll show up to the wedding with a personalized love song, holy shit.

Ciri loves tourneys. Loves watching them, loves displaying in them, loves sneaking into competing in them (omg, heir, NO), loves WINNING them. She's a menace. She has various stealth coats of arms that she rotates between when she's not supposed to be competing, but her favorite is the battle goose. Obviously.

Eskel doesn't like crowds or being the center of attention, which are almost inevitable with public invitations, but he does enjoy being the +1 for his family. Several of his and their interests overlap, and even where they don't, he likes to see them enjoying themselves.

Yennifer becomes well-known as an extremely efficient - albeit terrifying - treaty negotiator. She'll talk to both sides, get a list of their must haves, deal-breakers, would-likes, and don't-wants (as well as - perhaps more importantly - the reason why each of those are on that particular list). Then she draws up a draft and viciously negotiates a compromise. She is genuinely surprised the first time that both sides thank her for her help.

Vesemir, with all his long years of teaching, loves visiting schools and seeing any sort of student performance or sporting event. Kindergarten to university, drama to music to dance recitals to track and field meets to football games to student symposiums to science contests to... He buys out bake sales and funds club field trips and donates several fortunes worth of antique knick knacks to various schools. He's invited as a guest lecturer, a commencement speaker, a competition judge, a referee.

Lambert and Aiden, at some point, discover bachelor's parties, call dibs, and never look back. People learn very quickly not to invite witchers to their stag nights unless they want the entire party to get horrifyingly drunk - but at least Lam and Aiden will make sure that everyone makes it home (or to the wedding) safely. Perhaps not soberly, or sans hangover, but definitely without major injury. (And if the bride asks nicely and the groom and friends weren't total jerks, Lambert can usually be counted on to make a hangover cure. He really is a softie at heart.)

Dragonfly and Serrit get tapped for the odd bachelorette party or ladies' birthday parties. Anything that falls under "I want to be able to drink and party with my friends without worrying about some strange guy hurting one of us." They are extremely protective and have both been drunkenly proposed to several times. (Livi finds this terribly amusing. Gweld just wants to know if he can watch.) Milena and Zofia sometimes go with them.

Milena loves going to wedding showers and baby showers, but outside Kaer Morhen, she has to stay in sight of Lambert or one of his brothers. Lambert's rule. (She got KIDNAPPED, okay? He's allowed to worry!) Usually she'll take Geralt (there might be babies! He's excellent protection!) or Eskel (he's very quiet and has excellent manners, and his signs are impossible to fight) for the more, ah, female-heavy events. If anyone asks, they're her brother-in-law and genuinely like spending time around kids. And very, very married.

[nanowrimo]

Pro Tips from a NaNo Coach: How to Write a Clean(ish) Fast Draft

NaNoWriMo can seem like a daunting task sometimes, for NaNo newbies and veterans alike. Fortunately, our NaNo Coaches are here to help guide you through November! Today, author Jesse Q. Sutanto is here to share her advice on how to set yourself up for noveling success:

Dear Nano-ers,

My first book took me three years to cobble together. During that time, I joined Absolute Write—a free writers forum which I completely love and recommend to all aspiring writers—and I made a friend who convinced me to try doing NaNoWriMo. I was completely unconvinced, but I am a people-pleaser and I can never say no, so I agreed to try it for my second novel.

My second novel took me less than a month to write. It was a complete mess, but it was also a revelation. Often, I felt myself falling into that writing Holy Grail—the hole which consumes you, makes you forget the rest of the world, and absorbs you completely in the world you are creating on paper. I loved the process deeply, and never looked back since. All of my subsequent books have since been written in a matter of months. 

And you know what? They were all a horrific mess. I did not learn how to do a clean and fast draft until my NINTH book, and I don’t think I would’ve ever learnt without the help of NaNoWriMo. So here are my tips on how to best tackle a sprint-a-thon like NaNo. 

1. Try to come up with a loose outline.

When I first started writing, I was a pure pantser. I had no idea what was going to happen before I sat down to write. This is a completely legit way of writing, but I have since learned that it is massively helpful to have an idea, even a vague one, of what you are trying to say with your book. What was really helpful for me was to sit down for just five minutes before writing each scene and try to envision what I wanted the scene to achieve. Once I had that in mind, the scene became much easier to write. 

2. Break down your writing time.

Ever heard of the Pomodoro technique? In order to hit 50,000 words a month, you need to write around 1,600 words a day. That is a heck of a lot of words to write! Break it down. Set 10 or 15-minute timers and use that to your advantage. Trust me, if you told me to sit down and write 1,600 words, I would be like, “Omg that’s too much!” But if you told me to just write for 15 minutes, that feels a lot more doable. 

3. Give yourself permission to write trash.

Before each writing session, I actually say out loud: “I am going to write trash.” And this gives me permission to write whatever comes to my mind without judgment. You can always edit later, but for now, focus on letting the words out on paper. 

4. Lean on others for support.

I made the mistake of thinking that writing is a lonely vocation. In fact, it is one of the most social things I could do. Social media, while a double-edged sword, has done so much for the writing community. I have found all of my close writer friends through social media, and I chat with them every day and consider them my close, lifelong friends. Don’t be afraid to reach out and make connections within the community. You are not alone. 

Jesse Q. Sutanto is the award-winning, bestselling author of Dial A for Aunties, Vera Wong’s Unsolicited Advice for Murderers, Well, That Was Unexpected, The Obsession, and Theo Tan and the Fox Spirit. The film rights to her women’s fiction, Dial A for Aunties, was bought by Netflix in a competitive bidding war, and the TV rights to Vera Wong was bought by Warner Bros, with Oprah and Mindy Kaling attached to produce. She has a master’s degree in creative writing from Oxford University, though she hasn’t found a way of saying that without sounding obnoxious.

[emeritusemeritus]

George and y/n asking Fred to be the godfather of their (first) daughter

I wanted to carry this on from my Poppy HC so here we go! 🖤

Warnings: mentions of war, previous battle, Fred lives. Pregnancy/ baby.

Word count: 800

When you first started going out with George Weasley, you'd been worried that Fred would take it badly. They'd been a duo their entire life, naturally strung together through every part of their upbringing and their lives. You were in your third year of Hogwarts when you noticed George for the first time, really noticed him. He was an incredible quidditch player, funny and sweet all in one so when he noticed you looking and started looking back at you in a similar way, you were done for.

Your worries about Fred's reaction had been completely unfounded. Sure he was a prominent fixture in your life, your husbands closest friend, sibling and business partner but George had always held a very clear boundary with Fred right from the start that he was not to interfere with your relationship, or you.

Fortunately for George, You and Fred got along like a house on fire, finding that many of the good qualities of George were also held by twin.

Sure there were squabbles along the way, a few crossed words occasionally but you found pretty early on that Fred really had become something like a brother to you. Never more so than when the war was over, all of you dirty and exhausted from the battle. You'd been separated from the twins as they defended the passages and the battlements whilst you joined the rest of the order holding back the courtyard.

The second you'd walked into the Great Hall, tired and covered in mud, blood and sweat, desperate to find George, you'd spotted someone else first. Fred saw you by the doors and instantly ran to you, pulling you into his arms and holding you protectively against him until George clicked on, realising you were there, too lost in his worried thoughts.

You and George married not long after the war, no longer wanting to wait after the war had shown you how precious life was. Fred had naturally been the best man and you'd had a wonderful family wedding, surrounded by the people you loved and who loved you.

Finding out you were pregnant just two months after your wedding was slightly shocking, not having expected it to happen so quickly but you and George were elated, as were all the Weasley's.

When Poppy Weasley was born, her first visitor was her Uncle Fred, followed closely by her Granny and Grampy. Fred's beaming, proud smile was infectious and though it might have been your hormones, it brought a tear to your eye to see the three people you loved the most all huddled together, happy.

Fred visited most days, even just to chat and watch Poppy sleep for a bit or hold her whilst you showered. He'd say that it was because she had so many aunties and uncles, that he needed to bond with her to ensure he would be her favourite. You loved having him there and so held back from telling him that he would undoubtedly be the favourite on account of him looking nearly identical to her daddy.

"We have something to ask you," George says one night as you all sit around the lounge, Poppy cradled into the crook of Fred's arm, her favourite place for a snooze. He was always more than happy to oblige and took great pride in the fact he could lull her to sleep.

"We're identical mate, if you want my dna for the next one that's a bit pointless," Fred says with a grin, a devilish twinkle in his eye. "But I suppose if it's my baby you want next then it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make." He finishes his point with a wink in your direction.

You scrunch up your face in disgust at the thought and Fred laughs at the sight, receiving the reaction he'd hoped for.

"Watch it," George says with a firm look on his face, feeling that his twin was beginning to cross a line. You slip your hand onto George's knee and he grabs your hand, linking your fingers.

"We wanted to know," you begin, looking briefly at George who nods with a smile, encouraging you to carry on. "If you'd be Poppy's godfather."

"Me?" Fred says completely bewildered.

"Of course you," you reply with a smile, not imagining anybody else got the job.

Fred goes quiet for a moment and it's clear that he's feeling rather emotional at the question, his eyes secretly tearing up as he looks down as his niece, seeing her chest rising slowly up snd down, softly breathing bundled up in blankets.

"One question," Fred says a minute later, having recovered from his emotional moment.

"Anything mate," George replies, a little concerned that Fred hadn't accepted yet.

When you see the telltale smirk appear in the corner of his mouth, you know trouble will follow but you listen anyway, anticipating Fred's next joke.

"If you both die do I get to keep her?"

[thebuhonerodazorrow]

Nightcrawlers #3 (2023)

The sacred heart

Marvel

[junipers-archive]

Flower Girls

Word Count: 650

Includes: flufffff, Spencer and you renew your vows, and your daughters Daisy and Violet are the flower girls!! (@radiant-reid i wrote it!)

"Mama do I get to hold the flowers?!" It was Daisy your six year old daughter chasing around your equally excited younger daughter Violet who'd just turned four.

"Yes honey and Violet's going to help you!"

It was almost time to get them changed into their dresses, and you were happy to find they were just as excited to relive the wonderful time that was wedding day as you were.

You and Spencer had decided to renew your vows for your ten year anniversary, especially since Daisy had made it clear how unfair she thought it was she wasn't alive to see the first one.

As you check your phone you find its already 10am and you had spent too long watching the girls run around the yard.

"Daisy, Violet! Come on, we gotta go get you two dressed!"

They both chase after you like you had promised ice cream, squealing.

"I get the pink one right mommy?" Violet's still developing her idiolect and pronounciation and you smile at how her voice swoops and cuts oddly as you enter your bedroom.

"Wait a minute I thought I got the pink one mama! what am I supposed to wear now?"

Daisy has discovered attitude which you blame completely on Spencer as he was the one to cause a scene when you took the last cookie from the tin a few weeks ago.

"Baby, you both got matching pink dresses remember?" You try to console her as she puckers her lips and scrunches her cute little eyebrows, looking remarkably like her father.

It isn't until you take out the dress in front of them that she begins to giggle.

In an hour you've dressed them both and have done their hair into little buns at the top of their heads per their request.

You're done as well, all that was left to do was meet at the beach, you and Spencer had considered a more formal option but seeing as it would've cost a fortune and time you don't have to plan it all you'd gone with the simpler choice.

You'd be meeting at the beach he proposed to you on and renewing your vows over a flower arch with only your closest friends and family, then you'd all eat dinner (you'd reserved a part of the resturaunt) at the place you and Spencer had gone to after he proposed.

It was simple, and it was perfect.

You were getting in the car with your girls when Daisy gasped.

"Mama" just like her father that one, "Where are the flowers!?"

You tried hard not to laugh at her expression as you backed out of the drive way, but it really was hard not to.

"Don't worry petal we're going to give you and Violet the flowers when we get there."

And you did, or at least Spencer did.

Once you got to the beach you all saw him standing and greeting the guests. Once Daisy and Violet did too they ran to him hugging his legs before he could catch them and toppling him over successfully.

And when they finally walk down that isle as the sun begins to paint the sky a beautiful gradient of pinks, oranges and blues he thinks about how lucky he is to have not only you the love of his life but also the two beautiful smart and talented daughters you both created.

Daisy and Violet hold two wicker baskets, throwing Daisy and Violet petals which you'd agreed had to be done.

You keep your eyes on them as they grin from their seats next to their auntie Penelope.

And when you both recite the loving vows you said exactly 10 years ago you also find that both you and Spence edit it slightly to include the wonderful human beings you brought into the world.

To which they of course squeal and cheer at until the ceremony is over.

[prodbymaui]

What Goes Down

typa girl that you wanna take back to your mama's house

Maybe dragging Jaehyun with you as you paid a visit to your parents' house wasn't a good idea at all.

The supposed heartful lunch started cheerful and full of curiosities about how's everyone's doing, who's with who and some gossips such that to catch up with one another. It was peaceful not until you felt a hand touching your thigh, traveling upwards where the hem of your skirt ended.

Shooting a glance at your boyfriend, you almost clap by how great his charming smile and soft voice was concealing the dirty activity his hands were doing below the table. You made an effort to stop his fingers from feeling your core through your panties and cycling but was betrayed by your own body as it gushes out an amount of slick.

Your breath became heavy as Jaehyun put a pressure just right at your clit, circling it around in an attempt to make you moan, in which you almost did- almost, you quickly bite a mouthful of rice with some meat to prevent the sound from coming out. Jaehyun was watching, amused by how hard you were trying to hold back.

Shutting your eyes, you gripped Jaehyun's wrists as his fingers pushed the fabric barriers to the side, sliding a finger inside your wet hole. At your peripheral, you could see how Jaehyun licked his lips at the feeling of the wetness around his digit, curling them in search for your spongey spot. You'll be damned if you said that the perverted look on your boyfriend's face didn't turned you on.

Slouching on the chair, it was your effort to have the finger dig deeper into your cave, sanity slipping away from you as you focused on the pleasure rather than conversation around you. Fortunately, everyone's too caught up with the topic laid on the table because if they weren't, they would see that behind the hand you were covering your mouth with, was an O shaped lips- little whimpers escaping it as your other hand held the cutlery so tight.

Jaehyun smiled cruelly at your state, adding more fingers as his pace became quicker with a flick of his wrist. God, how he enjoyed the helpless look on your face while trying hard not to throw your head back and scream how good he was pleasuring you. Jaehyun forced himself not to scoff as watched your hips subtly-not-so-subtly grind against his palm, wanting a friction on your clit while getting his fingers deeper.

With a few rubs on your plushed clit and a curl of his fingers, you came quietly around his digits, grasping the fabric of your skirt as you leaned your head on Jaehyun's shoulder, hiding the way your eyes shut tightly and your tongue lolling out slightly due to the overwhelming pleasure.

Coming down from your high, you acted natural, not wanting any suspicions, sitting up again as you fixed everything you've touched involuntarily during the activity earlier.

Turning to look at your boyfriend, you didn't if you'll be annoyed or get more turned on by how he licked and sucked his fingers with your cum coating them, letting out a sound of satisfaction followed by, ''Oh auntie, everything you make is no doubt delicious.''

You swore Jaehyun was no way near talking about the food in front of him.

masterlist

[backonrepeat]

BG3 Villains modern corporate au

Gortash: tech bro/genius entrepreneur. His "rags to riches" story has been covered in dozens of think pieces and business profiles. Probably was on one of those 30 under 30 lists, or something, at some point. He plays the "outsider" card to great effect (terrible haircut, fancy sneakers, no tie,...) and is quite popular, despite the numerous reports on the terrible working conditions in his company and his ideas not being near as profitable as he makes them out to be (or not being entirely his at all). Despite all his wealth, he's still ultimately beholden to his VC investors, Bane Inc. (I don't want to say he's like el*n musk, because i despise that man but... He's exactly like el*n musk except more charismatic and with jason isaacs' voice)

Orin (and Durge): nepobabies. Super rich family, Succession-style, where maybe dad Bhaal was the one to make a fortune and all his kids ride on the coattails of his success, fighting amongst themselves to be the one who gets to succeed him. Durge is the heir apparent, smart, charismatic, and with a true killer instinct, until Orin leaks some scandalous info that gets them cancelled and fired from the company. (Gorion's Ward is the kid that left the family to go and be a social worker or activist)

Ketheric: old school CEO, inherited a small family company, he used to be a good boss and look out for his employees. After a bitter divorce, and a fallout with his daughter after she came out, he buried himself in his work, became obsessed with success to try and win his family back. He sold the company to a large multinational in order to run Aylin's rival company out of business, screwed over his employees (and himself), and has been unsuccessfully trying to reconcile with Isobel ever since.

Auntie Ethel: runs a very successful MLM essential oils scheme

Raphael: bastard son of star lawyer Mephistopheles, tries his best to follow in his father's footsteps, to become a cutthroat lawyer. He even starts screwing his secretary, Harleep (Mephisto's spy, of course), to emulate his father's toxic behaviour. Deep down, he dreams of Broadway (and is part of an amateur musical theatre company)

The Emperor: former activist, now part of a political large lobby, still convinced he's on the right side of things. Tries to get all his activist friends and colleagues to join the lobby, after all the pay is so much better, and is puzzled when they refuse and call him a sell-out.

Vlaakith: career politician. Has been in office for what feels like forever, there's no removing her. There are better, younger politicians in her party who have great potential, but she sabotages them in order to remain in power.