#prepositions are hard

[beedragony]

I think the most unrealistic thing about TSC and TGR is Jean NOT ONCE mixing the prepositions in, on and at

[natequarter]

why does there exist a stereotype of western european esl speakers forgetting articles on words? is it because xenophobic anglophones forget that german and russian are actually quite different languages? spanish has articles, guys. i promise you that that's not the bit of english that they're frequently getting wrong

[seithr]

is he like that on purpose

[sunboki]

⎯ for eternity longer. ⟡ featuring christopher bahng

🍼 : Christopher Bahng x implied! fem. reader

TROPE. pregnancy! au, dad! channie au, overall so so fluffy, comfort, slighttt angst if you squint

WORD COUNT. 6.4k words ☆ 30 minute read

WARNINGS. worry about delivery complications, cursing (??), anxiety, implied intercourse, regards to gender

AUG'S NOTES. i think channie would be an amazing dad :) just a thought i decided to place to paper (in this case, digitally). thank you for waiting so patiently!! please enjoy <3

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. Christopher Bahng had intentions upon one day being a father, but when the news of a little one on the way becomes the forefront of a life he’d initially spent with one world, you, he’s quickly introduced to the second world he’ll come to adore, a baby.

or alternatively :

Blossoming beginnings, and the bump.

“Channie, baby,”

His name is whispered between sleepy breaths, brows knitted where your eyes attempt at focusing amidst a slumbering haze.

The meager vision granted from a candle paves view to your husband, currently resting his cheek against the soft bump of your belly, pressing the occasional kiss there.

“It’s so cute,” He mumbles, tracing shapes along the skin, eyes crinkling into the dimpled-smile you’ve come to adore.

“‘S late.”

Offering the remark, you smooth a thumb along his jaw, dipping down to trace his bottom lip and earning a small peck against the digit in reply, chocolate irises flickering up to your face with so much love you fear you’re melting.

“I know,” Chris whispers where his lips press to your thumb, voice muffled. “I’m sorry just—“

One chaste kiss to your belly later and he cracks a smile.

“Just love it.” 

Another kiss, then another.

“Love you, love this. I’m so happy.” 

You are my world, he professes wordlessly, and you scorn the heaviness of your eyes in shielding him from view, the inability for your vocal cords to utter those same three words as you drift back to sleep.

And this is my second world, Chris thinks to himself, fighting slumber to gaze at you just a moment longer, savor. 

Because he couldn’t explain how lucky he is, and how beautiful you are, and how warm he feels, his head fuzzy and jumbled into mushy bliss.

A baby, and the thought alone makes him want to squeal.

Chris had yet to ever be hit by a tsunami (thank goodness for that), but he thinks he’s found an equivalent to the feeling.

That equivalent being a particular call while in the studio, an unsettlingly studious Han Jisung seated behind him on the couch while Changbin stands in the recording room, pointing out things in need of fine tuning.

So when you call, he’s led to believe it could be regarding dinner, maybe a date preposition away from his busied schedule.

Yet, upon hearing a sniffle, his eyes round to the size of saucers, index aptly missing where he’d click his mouse, drawing the attention of his fellow producers, their eyes narrowed in mild concern.

“Chris.. baby, I know this is so.. so sudden but,” Between your hiccups and his heart racing, he reruns everything that could’ve gone amiss. He knew you were running late when it came to your period thanks to the cycle-tracking app on his phone, but then again, usually it’d miraculously show up.

Maybe he’d said something? Forgotten something?

Birthday, anniversary, a family member passing?

His head fills with a plethora of possibilities, too many to pinpoint.

“Baby I,” You pause, and Chris rises up to slip to the corner of the room, shushing you gently.

“Hey, hey honey, ‘need you to take deep breaths, okay? It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay. Tell me whenever you’re ready.” He consoles, shifting from foot to foot in a futile attempt at warding the nerves.

A sharp inhale and then-

“We’re having a baby, Chris. I’m pregnant.”

It’s hard for you to even believe, and Chris swears his stomach jumped to his throat for a moment, making hurried eye contact with an evidently confused Han and Changbin from across the studio.

Pregnant.

Immediately abandoning his work, he grants the two a hurried nod they simply wave in response to, fervently racing from the building and somehow managing to avoid a ticket on his 20-mile-over-the-speed-limit drive home, rushing through the doorway to scoop you up into his arms and hold you close, let you cry as much as you need.

Hell, he’s not the one carrying the baby anyway. You’re the one in need of all the fretting.

As if he didn’t fret over you anyway.

Tender fingers ease back the strands of hair from your face, pressing kiss after kiss to your sniffling frame.

If you want to keep the baby, if you need time to think, time to be alone, he’s ready for that. All of it. 

Though contraceptives were always in play when it came to the bedroom, it seemed some things would remain out of control.

“I’m.. hic.. I’m keeping it, okay?”

And he’s okay with that, okay with anything his beloved decides upon, thumbing the tears from your pretty face to place a slow kiss to your lips.

On this presumably routine Thursday of his, Chris finds out he’s going to be a Dad.

If there was an acute title to cover the months of your pregnancy, it would be: Ways Christopher Bahng Has Lost His Mind, A Saga. 

Plus the bump, of course.

As for today, at a darling twelve weeks, Chris’s cup of coffee grows cold the longer he entertains a call from Jisung—currently being berated for failing to give them even the slightest clue what was going on until dropping the news.

..In which ensues a screaming Hyunjin in the background, Minho’s snide jokes, Changbin’s silent shock, and the evident awe of the surrounding members leering by the phone where the friend group went for drinks.

Minus the dad-to-be.

”So.. Daddy-O, how’s the father thing going for you?” Jisung offers after a moment, his snickering followed by Chris’s bemused scoff. 

“A dream,” He replies, running a hand through curly brown strands wound into charming coils from earlier steam, having stepped from the shower moments ago.

It was true, every bit.

To think that you, his love he’s worried more about than anyone, spent countless nights awake thinking of has now granted him the greatest gift of a lifetime leaves him elated. 

Trust, the first ultrasound he cried as if he was the baby.

Of course, failing to give their leader a second of reprieve, his remark earns a cacophony of swooning and cringing in response to the sappiness.

Nonetheless, since the announcement he’s organized an update in schedule. More work from home, more paychecks cashed into maternity magazines and things he learns with time in order to support your pregnancy, and tagging along to each and every checkup.

With you already sleeping and him returning late from the studio, the night is slow, quiet. 

Well, after he hangs up.

”Hey sweetness, ‘sorry for waking you.”

Watching your face crinkle up as the bed dips beneath his weight, he reaches a hand forward, sweeping the hair from your face as your husband spoons you close to his back, exhaling a heavy sigh of relief.

Your smell, your warmth, touch.

He’s far too smitten to be healthy.

But then again, is there any remedy to adoration?

“Busy at the studio?” You murmur from your curled up spot, only just beginning to get used to sleeping on your side.

Of the many adjustments.

“Mm,” A nod nudges at your back, his fingertips—oh so careful as they roam—settling on your stomach, holding the skin with reverence you can’t help but hum in response to.

“I cannot believe you,” Begun with a bemused scoff, you earn your husbands grunt of confusion and yet another laugh on your end.

“There’s barely a bump and they’ve got you wrapped around their finger already.”

This, predictably, results in Chris’s boyish whine. 

“‘S not my fault,” He groans like a petulant teenager, nosing at the nape of your neck. 

“Just love you.” 

His voice is a mere utterance amidst the fan overhead, and you have to crane to hear him.

“And I’m going to be learning to love someone else soon.”

A soft squeeze to your belly.

“How exciting.” 

Twenty weeks, and your big journey comes in the form of grocery shopping, something you insisted upon doing alone (much to Chris’s fretting).

Although he tries his best in not being a mother hen, it’s beyond difficult without his instinctive worry butting in, so nervous for a reason he himself can’t even pinpoint.

Is he worried about you? Is he excited about the baby? 

Endless questions swim in his mind, dappling a world he once knew as black and white into shades of pastel, with charming rubber duckies and pacifiers to boot.

It’s a new world, one full of unfamiliar things and little surprises along the way. 

But he’s made his promise to lay off the stressing as much as he can, knowing you need time for you most of all before becoming new parents.

Crouched over the tiny home studio he’s procured, your husband arduously searches through files—sending the majority over to Jisung and Changbin for revisions back at the main studio.

From the corner or his vision does he see you and—

Ah.

There you stand, clad in a sweater of yours tucked into a long, flower-patterned skirt—just enough to show off the bump, and he swears he’s looking at you with heart-eyes.

Gorgeous.

If not more.

Yet another reason why Chris has lost his mind.

You’re more beautiful than anyone he's ever seen, and he doubts that factor will change for the rest of his life. Even when you’re emotional and begin growing insecure, when your feet hurt or when your cravings grow too volatile, he adores.

Too much sometimes he fears his heart will beat from his chest. 

“Hi, sweetness.” 

The words are a bit hoarse, spoken as if he were uttering the endearment through a tube. 

“Hi, Channie.”

Shoot him.

Joking.

Kind of.

You’re too cute. He’s going to have a heart attack. 

Looking like that, cupid has his job cut out for him.

“You headed out?”

Reaching for your bag does Chris rise from his chair, padding over to gather your face in his hands and press a slow kiss to your lips you soak up, your own hands winding into curly strands he groans in response to.

“Mm,” He begins after a moment, kiss after kiss pressed to your jaw, down your neck, by your earlobe his teeth nip at. “I’m getting déjà vu on how the baby got here, hm?”

Spurring your laughter and a light smack to his shoulder in response, his warm hands slip down to cradle your belly, a final touch followed by one last kiss before you’re off.

It’s much too easy to fall in love with this man over and over again.

.

.

.

Of many surprises throughout your pregnancy, Lee Minho knowing about babies happened to be yet another. That, and seeing him at the grocery store in the first place.

The baby food aisle is more than daunting, and while the determined part of you crooned about “making it yourself” and taking the time to mash up each and every carrot and apple slice, the sensible part knew the moment you were discharged from the hospital after delivery, there was no chance you’d take on such a task.

“This one’s good.”

Having been greeted with a small wave of his hand and quieted footsteps approaching close, the dancer peers into your cart, brows lifted in silent acquisition where he points to a brand of mashed banana purée. 

How he knows this baby food is good is beyond you. 

Then again, Minho has always been peculiar.

“Hm? Any other recommendations?” You ponder, deciding to entertain his conversation and gaining plenty of recommendations whilst roaming about in the process.

Though, that’s before a frivolous little boy comes blindly tottering along, his clumsy limbs aimed straight for you prior to Minho’s careful step shielding you, the panicked mother steering the toddler away with endless apologies.

About to thank him, he seems to beat you to it.

“Mm? Need to sit down?” Observant eyes flitting over your form, he places an assuring hand to the middle of your back you can’t help but feel appreciative of.

It’s not that Minho isn’t kind, he’s usually just.. more subtle about it. Putting extra food a member likes on their plate without them noticing, making sure everyone feels included during dinners.

So for him to be a bit more upfront about it is.. sweet.

Well, until a wry smile tugs at his lips in amusement.

“‘Think you can handle that? A toddler like that?”

And.. there’s the Minho you’re used to.

“I think..” The thought comes to you as you venture, his hand remaining where it lingers upon your sweater-clad back as you make for the checkout line.

“The baby will look more like Chris.”

This beckons a cocked brow, evident mischief on his face.

“What, balding at twenty-six?”

You were thinking cute, with Chris’s curls and big brown eyes but— yeah, that too apparently. Your husband would both burst out laughing and burst into tears if he were here, the mental image bringing a smile to your lips.

Nevertheless, you spend your time with the feline-like companion cracking not-so-funny jokes and snide but playful remarks, a silent “thank you” mouthed when he lifts the grocery bags from your hands to carry to the car.

“Say, what’re you doing over here anyway?” 

“Mmh?” He perks up, fluffy bangs fringing beneath a bucket hat upon his head, the slow gust of an occasional breeze announcing Winter’s gradual departure, moseying on to Spring.

“Ah,” Bunny-like teeth peek from his upper lip when his lips part, hoisting a single bag of his own upward. “Food for the kitties.” 

Of course.

The corner of your lips quirk into a grin.

Though, before you’re given the chance to slip into the front seat, he points again, regarding your bump this time.

“Should stop by sometime,” He starts, pausing before glancing down to your feet. “Or I can come to you two if you’re not up to it.” 

There it is, the tiny shred of consideration you treasure, one so swift you may miss it if you aren’t listening closely that warms your heart effortlessly.

“The kitties would knead your belly,” Mumbled quieter than the rest, a giggle stirs from his chest, wishing you off after a few moments the same way he greeted you: a wave and a small, awkward, tight-lipped smile.

And on your ride home, you decide upon giving Chris a call.

“Do you think the baby will start balding early?”

A chaste silence and some crackling from the other side of the line and then- 

“What.”

“‘M outside the studio, baby.”

“You’re what?”

A second “what”, after the balding question those few weeks ago.

Chris wants to think tricks are being played on him after having pleaded for you to stay home and wait to be pampered when he returns, but it seemed the leader—with his own stubborn tirade of seven—had forgotten his wife was equally as stubborn, and that if you were adamant on something, there’s no chance you’d budge.

And so, as the ultimate pushover(which he’ll admit himself) of a husband, he simply sighs, awaiting your precious, slightly-waddling figure making towards them from the elevator.

Ah, right. 

The waddle.

Oh if it doesn’t make his heart soar.

You’re almost surreal, with your soft, rounded frame and sweet, sweet eyes making him simply want to keep you in a hug forever.

From beside him, Hyunjin starts into a sing-song cacophony of: “The Mrs.’s is here” in tandem with your entrance, resulting in Chris’s light smack to his friend’s shoulder and the reddening of his ears as he both tries (and fails) to focus on new tracks.

So now, in occupying the couch behind him with Han on one side and Felix on your other, you spend your time giggling over videos on the freckled blond’s phone, chowing down on a bag of potato chips placed between you and Han, entertaining light conversation with Changbin, and sharing those momentary glances with your husband.

Quiet looks, with his face drained from the workload not failing to light up where he meets your eyes, your own warming happily. 

“Come home,” does your eyes speak.

“Just a little longer,” he replies without words.

 As the day stretches it’s exhaustion, waning a warm hue into evening sunset, Chris pads over, slow and wary where your sleepy form props upon the couch, fuzzy-sock-clad feet elevated on a pillow courtesy of Hyunjin’s matter-a-fact scolding to lower the swelling.

“I’m letting the little one listen,” He whispers, this squeaky, cheery giggle leaving his lips where he places the headphones once in hand overtop your belly, the low hum of their newest, unreleased track faintly resounding against the skin you can’t help but grin at.

It’s a scary thing, you think for a moment.

And then, just happy.

So you’ll cling to that happiness, no matter how fleeting. 

And a tiny nudge against the skin, a kick, tells you someone else is clinging to that happiness as well.

“Yah.. even if it’s almost spring, there’s still some breeze! Stay warm! Don’t try being a spring chicken!” Clicking his tongue in softened contempt, Han claps his hands resolutely, face scrunched up in conviction as the ever-adorable maknae, Jeongin, eases his jacket over your shoulders.

Resulting in the group’s ace’s squeal of affection and a harsh smack to Minho’s thigh, the older of the two fixes him with a glare Han fails to notice through his cooing, too busy admiring the bump peeking through the jacket.

It seems Chris isn’t the only one growing into a worried mess, and your trip home from the studio you press to take alone is filled with their hollering and well-wishes, the group having opted out for drinks knowing you’d be the odd one out with your mug of water relative to the bubbling of a beer, a matter you find heart-warming.

No less, you spend your night anticipating the arrival of a very sleepy Chris, busying yourself trying to follow a recipe without gagging at the most random of things.

Feebly managing through placing the tray in the oven, you deflate as a pair of long-awaited, warm arms come wrapping around you.

A mere lift from his hands, holding the weight of a nearly 30-week bump feels heavenly, and you simply groan, head lolling back against his shoulder, welcoming the kisses pressed to your cheek, neck.

Because as much as his own nerves are afire, Chris knows more than anything it’s pivotal for you to be taken care of as well. Making breakfast before heading out in the mornings, sending you little texts to remind you to stay hydrated.

Tiny things you hold close to your being, even if he isn’t aware.

Thank you, spoken amidst his subtle care.

I know, I love you, answered upon joining you in your nightly skincare.

“Ah? Really?”

Chatter after chatter fills the small bathroom, your spare bedroom already ransacked of its contents in making room for a nursery.

As for the conversation at hand, Chris fills you in on his dango pudding obsession while you busy yourself in applying moisturizer to his skin, a silly, matching headband to yours pulling back the hair from his face.

“Jisung got me hooked on it,” He grumbles, lashes fluttering down to fondly watch where you press a kiss to his lips before applying vaseline there, his fingers instinctively reaching for your pajamas like a clingy child.

You don’t mind.

“How’re you feeling?” He murmurs after a moment, head tipped quizzically, the slight knit of his brows in concern you wish to scowl at.

Sometimes it’s harder not swooning when it comes to your husband.

“You know me,” You start, scorning your ability to hear each thump of your heart in your chest within the quietness of the room. “I’m okay, yeah? The fatigue is just a pain, that’s all.”

His arms finding purchase on either side of the bathroom counter where he cages you in, you’re quickly reminded how this pregnancy came to be the longer you stare at his biceps, the veins littering upwards from his hands.

Not fair.

“You tell me, hm? If you need me to work from home more days, yeah? I will, you know that, honey.”

And of course he’s like some sort of forbidden fruit, so sweetly wholesome, sweet generally, when he looks so good. 

Too good.

For a time again, not fair.

“Chris.”

Screw it. You’re pregnant, and rightfully hot and bothered.

A little thing about pregnancy that no one had bothered to let you in on? There’s never been a greater time in your life that you’ve felt this horny.

Plus, an okay from the doctor is an okay to you. 

The other okay is his arms, and the utterly obscene things running through your head just looking at them as your hand finds his jaw to hold.

“I’d cry from how good you are to me if it weren’t for the fact I’m unbelievably worked up right now.”

Slowly do your arms loop around his shoulders, pulling him closer where a smile tugs at your lips, watching his own lips part in a shaky exhale, pupils dilating tenfold as your words sink in.

And it’s Chris’ turn in reminding himself how the pregnancy came to be.

“So let’s do something about it, hm?”

The press of his nose into your neck causes your lashes to flutter, cursing the streaks of sunlight peering through the blinds muddling already bleary vision. A warm grip beckons you closer snuggled against his bare chest, hands instinctively coming to soothe over your belly.

Habitual touch, comfort.

A dream, last night had been. As for now, you bathe in the afterglow, his scent enveloping you like an embrace you can’t bring yourself to pull away from.

“Think I’ll be a good dad?”

And then comes the quiet conversation. Soft and nearly inaudible, his breath tickling your shoulder.

“I know you will,” Comes your own reply, muffled against the pillow, a kiss pressing to your shoulder in appreciation.

“I just-“

He takes a breath, weighing the thought. 

It’s a coarse silence, one you know not to interrupt. He considers his words like this, a characteristic you’ve come to adore over the years. The blinking fast, the hesitant humming.

“You know how much I look up to my Dad, and I worry I just- I won’t live up to tha—“

Now it’s your turn to step in, before he goes over his head and blames himself again and again for a matter never his responsibility. The selfless one, who you remind must take care of himself too. 

Amid simple kisses or compliments scribbled on sticky notes, you find love between the lines.

“Chris. Chris, baby, listen to me. This baby loves you, I hope you know that. And I hope you know that I love you, and whatever happens next happens next.”

Inhaling slowly, you roll over to face your husband.

Covers drawn up to see only his eyes, it’s near foolish the smile you let on.

“You said it yourself, we’re in this together, okay? If we change, we change together. We move? We move together.”

His fervent nod, dearest eyes gleaming all watery make your heart clench.

“This is our first time being parents, you can’t expect to be perfect, yeah? All we can do is try,”

Careful hands come to cup his face, kissing his lips through the fabric of the bedsheets.

“And you’re trying so hard, so thank you. I don’t feel like I praise you enough for all that you do for me, hm?”

He’s quiet before soft, heart wrenching sniffles are heard, swiping at his eyes with the back of his hand and grumbling to himself like a toddler.

“I feel like.. such an idiot.. crying when you’re the one carrying the baby.. hic.. Plus ‘s my.. my job to take care of you, yeah? ‘M your husband..”

Gently smoothing along his waterline in hushed reassurance does the man pull himself upward, slow to climb atop your form, littering your face in feverish pecks you can’t help but laugh at while the heels of your palms gently push at his jaw in playful aversion.

“I’m gonna make some breakfast,” He noses at your chin, the only sound between the both of you slow breaths and the occasional sniffle, the heat of his skin burning through you like wildfire. 

Chris has become a warm blanket for your cold winter, even more so during the pregnancy.

“And you are going to eat eggs.”

In which earns your groan, regarding the food scornfully for its rude manner of sparking nausea. Of the many things nauseating you these days. Volatile in manner.

“‘S good for the baby. ‘Just a bite.”

Another groan, swatting lightly at his shoulder in retaliation.

Prior to an ingenious idea breaching the forefront of your mind.

A tiny detail you’d been holding in, with your lack of fondness for an extravagant baby shower or a gender reveal, you’d planned a morning-in to be the perfect timing for an announcement.

Now coming to be this morning.

Because while Chris had been running to the car, you’d been in the thick of a sonogram all those weeks back, a dirty little secret having been told that the nurse swore to keep quiet.

“Chris.”

Eyebrows lifting in gentle curiosity, you want to hate the way your mischievous streak is melting, the stubbornness fading into your own glossy eyes and trembling lips, and a whole rush of distress and concern washes overtop the man above you like a bucket of ice cold water.

“It’s a girl.”

A sharp gasp, a choked sniffle.

“We’re having a baby girl.”

To say Chris cried like a baby for an additional time that morning would be a mass understatement.

Cried and cried and cried endlessly, before calling his parents first and crying more, then Hannah, then the guys.

Face all puffy and happy, you spent your day waltzing around the kitchen to the low buzz of the radio seated upon the far corner of your counter, sharing kisses he can’t seem to get enough of and too much smiling it made your cheeks ache.

.

.

.

Currently thirty-six weeks and perilously close to the awaited due date, the faint clatter in your periphery earns a startled huff of air, once-napping eyes flickering open, lids heavy from past slumbering.

A common occurrence, the constant sleeping, fatigue overboard. Although morning sickness has graciously subsided, the sleepiness is endless in her torrents.

As for now, each slow lull of the rocking chair the guys had assembled a few minutes prior continues her magic in beckoning you sleepy and sleepier.

“Shh dumbass— you’re gonna wake her up!”

And… beckons whisper-screaming from the group who had insisted upon helping set up the nursery. 

“Don’t curse in front of the baby!”

Han and Felix’s grumbled argument is returned with a scolding “Shh!” from Seungmin, inducing yet another—however brisk—silence, the faint hint of a chortle from your husband falling upon near deafened ears while drifting in and out of consciousness.

Nonetheless, the group continues to build, having now moved onto assembling furniture after the room’s paint had been finished. A mellow pink, not too muted nor saturated, highlighted when the room grows aglow with drifting rays of sunlight.

Hitched just to the right of the window, the crib’s being assembled, Changbin arduously working to follow directions, Minho taking a break on one of the couch cushions with a popsicle lodged between his lips.

Surprising, considering the slow shift in temperature. Autumn makes its entrance, summer waving a goodbye hand in the now-shorter days and a subtle breeze detected in early mornings. 

A September baby, it seems.

“Corner guards? Do we have corner guards?”

An ever organized (and rather caffeine-frenzied) Hyunjin reviews the list once more, having spent his night prior holed up in the studio for recording, obstinate in participating in the nursery despite the ushers to get some sleep instead.

“I have to be here, it’s my duty as an Uncle”, were his exact words, haughtily prancing about as if some entitled interior designer.

And yet he brought alive an enthusiasm like no other. So the guys let him stay without dragging him back home.

In the distance, a low strum of a guitar echoes, Seungmin’s soulful cadence recognizable amidst any crowd.

A lullaby for the baby, but you had yet to know of that just yet.

“Alright… curtains.. ‘gotcha…” Felix mumbles after taking a break from the crib-squabble between Han, his brows furrowed in concentration where Jeongin aids in lifting the canopy portion planning to hang above the crib, Chris organizing the small things. 

A baby mobile with stars and little planets, a crescent moon rug.

And a tiny feature you take note of while awakening more and more, the little stars painted on the ceiling, like this miniature galaxy. 

It’s so…Chris.

It’s perfect.

The thought makes your lips tug upward, a certain fondness blossoming there.

His world, he’d called the baby.

Fitting, isn’t it?

One week to the due date with the autumn equinox around the corner, your days slip together in a melody of fluffy jackets and fuzzy socks, warm cider Chris ushers instead of coffee—“for the baby”, he says, but begrudgingly fixes you a menial cup after the cocked brow you fix him with. 

A baby-bag is packed up for the awaited day of your delivery, and this journey of yours drawing to a close leads to an even more frazzled husband of yours.

Constantly peeking in on you, his lips parted without a question needing to be asked until the bathroom door is slammed in his face after peering in worriedly for a fourth time, earning a squeaky: “sorry!” in reply.

You love him, yes, but not enough to allow a spectator during your bowel movements.

The gesture is appreciated, trust.

Nevertheless, with a now-evident waddle you despise that Chris utterly fawns over, you head to the downtown bakery, motivated by your relentless craving for a cinnamon roll and the feeble determination in battling the dropping temperatures, Seoul’s seasonal shifts as intermittent as your mood swings.

“Two?” You mumble, index extended to the steaming cinnamon rolls in thought, currently using the coat-clad Chris behind you as support, his warm hands steadying your hips, gentle thumbs tracing circles along your sides over his jacket you’d donned.

Nodding into your hair, the man weighs his chin atop your head, granting the kind older woman working the register a small smile, her eyes flickering to the prominent bump fondly prior to fetching the highly-anticipated cinnamon rolls and inquiring how many weeks you were.

“Thirty-nine weeks,” Came the reply, giggling like children on the way home, cheeks flushed pink from bitter winds, sniffling in with each bite of the napkin-held pastry.

“Yah! I should’ve said I wasn’t pregnant and acted all offended, shoot!”

The words followed by a feigned tantrum, Chris has to hold in his laughter, snorting futilely.

“You’re cruel, y’know that?” Scoffing his exasperation does your husband continue to crack even crueler jokes than that of yours on the walk home, acting as an anchor to your aching bones and tirelessly pained back until the sink of the couch cushions beneath your frame serve as the perfect solace.

It’d been the blueprint for an ideal night in. Cinnamon roll long-since digested, a to-die-for massage provided by your husband, and the expectation of doing purely nothing for the remainder of your night.

Until the blueprint went awry upon brushing your teeth.

Curse that damn toothbrush.

Kidding.

“Channie.”

Between Chris, Channie, and terms of endearment, your husband could be an ex-convict with so many names.

Yet he responds to every and all, and at this very moment you’re more grateful than ever for that.

This time, his peeking-in is greatly appreciated.

“I either peed myself or my water just broke.”

It was meant to hopefully lighten the atmosphere, but your efforts prove feeble watching the color drain from his face, white as a sheet.

And just like that, the journey came to its close, in a finale neither of you were expecting, but one your husband confronted head on, trying his hardest in keeping both himself and you calm while loading up all the prepared things.

Baby bag, your printed out birth-plan discussed all those weeks ago while sharing a bath, extra clothes, nursing bras, all the required cards, and a billion other things Chris doesn’t even bother to search for in helping you into the car, reminding himself he could ask someone else to drop by or pick it up after.

Right now, you would remain his sole focus.

That, and the little one who’s decided to make her grand entrance a week from his birthday.

An early present, it seems.

Everything’s too fast, too hurried. The beeping of machinery, hurrying nurses in their scrubs, the nauseating scent of antiseptic overwhelming the hospital. 

You and the baby, you and the baby, you and the baby.

Those four words run rampant in his mind, like some sadistic form of tunnel vision.

Luckily swift in their efforts, you’d been wheeled off to the nicest room available, your husband blind to the price of anything at the moment where he follows you back, guiding each sharp gasp while you work through hellish contractions, squeezing his hand like a vice he vows to never let go of.

Though initially as smooth as a delivery could go, the process is seemingly endless, and Chris curses the exhaustion wracking his frame after the eighth hour stretches on, menial complications requiring moments longer to the already strain-inducing process. 

And of course, to the words he’d never heard you utter before.

“You FUCKER!”

In which earns your jittery-husbands wobbly smile, smoothing strands of hair where they stick to a sweaty forehead, whispering praises on autopilot.

At this rate, he can’t even tell who you’re referring to, but that thought lies in the very back of his mind.

“When I- shit- get out of here I expect to be- FUCK!— worshiped- ‘cause this hurts like a bitch!”

This earns the midwives equally exhausted smiles, working tirelessly with each push. 

By the ninth hour, you shakily assure him to go get a drink, take a walk, a matter he curses beneath his breath yet follows through with no less, legs like jelly, hand aching from your crushing-hold where your husband slumps into the chair opposite to the vending machine, caught in a weary daze. 

Then a hand finds itself on his shoulder he has to stave back the reflex to flinch from, and an out-of-breath Minho stands there—unfamiliar in the utter seriousness of his expression, the lack of teasing usually exhibited—alternatively familiar faces of his friends jogging after the second eldest. 

His first surprise of the night.

Of two, but the second surprise had yet to occur.

“We took the closest taxi,” Jisung manages, out of breath. “You.. You said there was complicat-“

Like a deer in headlights, the shrill wail of a baby rings out, gathering his full attention in split seconds. 

And somehow, he knows that’s his.

Yours, together.

Chris’s second surprise.

His heart stops.

In all his life, Christopher Bahng doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone so pretty.

With seven curious faces peeping in from the doorway behind him, he takes slow steps in approaching you, ethereal with your breathlessly proud smile and the tiny, swaddled thing to your frame, comfy and cozy in their mother’s scent.

Pink blankets. 

And although he already knew it was a girl, the way he chokes up without a word being spoken earns both yours and the nurse’s laughter, tainting his ears a reddened shade of embarrassment.

“I’m so proud of you,” He murmurs, wiping tenderly at tear streaks littering those darling cheeks of yours. “So, so proud.”

An angel, he swears, pressing a long, slow kiss to your lips, then a small peck to your forehead. It appears the wailing fit had subsided, and as for now, this precious little one curls up to your chest.

His baby.

A sob wracks his chest, and in the distance a giggle (likely Minho) is faintly audible that Chris doesn’t even bother scolding, each and every feeling imaginable snuffed to nothing when those eyes pinch open.

Chocolate brown, just like her daddy’s. That perfect, so, so perfect honeyed hue.

Precious.

“She’s.. hic.. so beautiful..”

It’s downright pitiful the manner he cries, like a child, trembling hands reaching for her after your whispered assent, assurance, cradling the baby to his chest.

And remarkably enough, she smiles.

This gummy, delighted smile.

Right then and there, the gravity of the moment punctures his chest, and a silent vow is made that with everything in his being, he will protect her. His daughter.

“Your Daddy loves you.”

Barely heard yet understood all the same, an oh so careful kiss is pressed to those unruly curls, unbelievable in their resemblance to her father’s.

A splitting image, with your charming nose and his puffy lips.

You were right. That time at the grocery store.

Oh to adore.

His second world, who he’ll clap for all cheerfully upon her first steps, her first words, all of it. Through the good and the bad times and everything in between.

His second world, with a father who already loves her, unconditionally. 

And who knows he will for the rest of his life.

Ensuring you’re cared for those four days before discharge, Chris spends his time easing you through each painful endeavor, helping you through the saddened and elated moments, those private moments where all you wish for is to be held.

He holds you, for as long as you need.

Despite the challenges and hardships to come, the man can’t help but think of just how beautiful you are. With your stretch marks, the baby weight, the things you hate, the things he loves. Reflecting how hard you worked, bringing this precious baby girl into the world.

It’s impossible for you to be anything but breathtaking.

His wife, he mumbles into your hair, a habit of his, whilst swaying you from side to side in slow rhythm, the little one fast asleep in her bassinet.

The first night home with the baby, Minho’s already taken to the kitchen, preparing dinner regardless of your sleepy beckoning for him to head home where you stand by the doorway, awakened by the unusual silence where your little girl’s normal squeals would be ricocheting off the walls. 

It seems the Uncles are already smitten.

Fuzzy sock-clad feet thump to your next destination: the nursery.

And there lies your greatest loves, with Chris’s steps weighing side to side just as he’d always do when dancing with you, a bottle in hand held to her lips where she sleepily suckles, a smile of adoration tugging at his lips opposing the circles beneath his eyes.

You don’t think you’ve ever been so enamored before.

And just as that evening in building the nursery, Seungmin’s quietly composed lullaby drifts from the speaker on the changing table, its lyrics like that of the sweetest hymn.

‘My little girl, will you ever know how much I love you?’

‘As much as the stars in the sky, and the grains of sand on the beach.’

‘You are my universe, and I shall love you.’

‘Love, love, love.’

‘For eternity longer.’

sunboki, may 2022 ©

FIC TAGLIST. @manuosorioh @captainchrisstan @bowsnbang @sh1ny4lex @alisonyus @certifiedchangbinlover

[homophonesinthewild]

too/to/two

Too can mean also (We're coming, too!) or an intensifier (too much; too expensive; Turn off that light, it's too bright.)

To is a preposition, with the sense of towards. (Give that to Fred. We're going to the store. )

Two is just the number 2 spelled out.

Two is really straightforward, and is rarely used incorrectly, but to and too get mixed up with each other a lot.

[86espresso]

quinn hughes x drunk!gf!reader

sum ; you’re horny and drunk and sad and quinn won’t let you kidnap a stray animal

warnings ; no proper title because i suck, slightly suggestive but no smut, kissing (yay), casually brining up kids bc we’re locked in like that, distracted driving! gawd please don’t do that

a/n ; they should invent a quinn that is real

w/c ; 783

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

“Please. I’ll give you road head.”

Quinn laughed.

“Tempting. But still, no.”

You pout, turn away from him, and stare out the window. Watching the blurred lights flash in front of you made you dizzy, so you shut your eyes.

Quinn saying ‘no’ to you was a rarity, and you told yourself not to get used to it, but he’s always treated you like such a princess, it was hard not to. In this case, it was an alley cat you found and quickly made friends with after leaving the club and calling Quinn to come and pick you up. He had to pry you away from the poor cat and he tried to explain to you that you can’t just take a random cat off the streets, but you weren’t having any of it.

He also made sure that all of your friends had their safe rides home, ever the charge-taker, and you thought that that was very sexy of him. You would’ve jumped his bones right then if you weren’t so upset about the cat.

“C’mon, baby, don’t be upset,” he says, softly, putting his hand back on your thigh after you brushed it off. “What if he belonged to someone else?”

“It was a she. I checked.” You huff again, arms crossing half because you were cold and half because you wanted to show Quinn how upset you were. He notices the movement out of his periphery and turns the heat up.

“That’s gross.”

“You’re gross. Quinny, I really want that cat.”

He sighed. “Sweetheart, a cat is also a responsibility, don’t you think? And plus, it would take your attention off of me. Can’t have that.”

Quinn was joking but it flew over your head.

“That’s ridiculous, what will you do when we have kids?” You let his hand stay on your thigh this time, and it feels nice.

“Baby, that’s different and you know it.”

His car slows to a stop in the driveway of your home before you even notice that you’re there. He unbuckles his seatbelt and turns to you fully.

“Tell you what, we’ll go to the store tomorrow and buy you one, yeah?” He reaches forward and places a hand on your cheek, which you gratefully nuzzle into. “You cool with that, sweet girl?” The use of ‘sweet girl’ brings your attention to his preposition. You pretend to think for a second before grinning at him.

“Yeah.” You turn your head to kiss his hand. “I’m cool with that.”

Quinn’s heart warms at the action before he notices the look in your eye. The one where you wanted—needed—a kiss desperately. He always waited for you to ask, though.

“Anything else you want, sweet girl?”

“Kiss me?”

And he complied immediately, not wanting to keep you away from anything else that you wanted. His lips met yours in a soft, closed mouthed kiss that sent you reeling for more.

His hand drops from your face and down your shoulders to your waist. Your hands cup his face, feeling the texture of his stubble under your fingertips, and it feels wonderful.

Your lips open slightly to ask Quinn to deepen the kiss and he does, his tongue slipping into your mouth and caressing your gently. One of your hands slips down to his shirt to grip it while you move to climb on his lap. You giggle and pull away when you realize that Quinn was pulling you into his lap at the same time and it caused you both to knock heads together. Quinn smiled at the sound. Luckily, neither of you were hurt.

His heart burst at the sight of you in front of him, drunk and giggly, snug and perfect in his lap. You lean in to connect your lips again and you slowly make out for a minute. You feel yourself getting needier at his warm hands on your back and in your hair and his intoxicating lips, so you grind down on him to get some sort of relief.

“This,” he pulls away abruptly and holds your hips in place so you stop moving them, “is what we’re not going to do tonight.”

“I can’t have anything,” you grumble, your brows furrowing at him rejecting you twice.

He laughs, his lips moving to the apple of your cheek.

“You’re drunk, baby,” kiss. “My girl,” his kisses trail to the tip of your nose, “will get everything she wants,” kiss to your cheek, “when she’s all fresh and sober,” kisses on your jaw and back to your lips.

You hold out your pinkie indignantly and he laughs, connecting his with yours and bringing your hand up to kiss the back of it

[melodyofmbaku]

Signed in Crayon, Sealed in Cash (Smoke Moore x Annie x Stack Moore)

Preview: "Ain’t nothing to stress about mama. We done did this before.” he said while zipping up the back of her dress. 

Warning ⚠️: They're a Trio Word Count: 1.6k A/N Something less heavy but hopefully no less enjoyable. I really appreciate your comments/reblogs, it's what keeps me writing. Can't wait to hear what ya'll think! 😘 My Masterlist ___

The Moore’s had a problem. She was about 3 ft. tall and 5 years old. And a perfect combination of their unit. 

They really didn’t know what they were expecting. With their personalities it was no surprise that Ari turned out the way that she did. 

Smart, fearless, and most of all spoiled. 

That’s how the three found themselves in their bedroom discussing just how they got here.  

“You be telling her stuff Annie. Playing both sides against each other when it suits you.” Stack accused. He was looking at her through the mirror as he did up his shirt. 

Annie shrugged and admitted while lotioning her legs as she sat on the stool of her vanity.

“Just evening the playing field. It’s been ya’ll vs. me for so long. Lord saw it fit I get some backup. Ain’t a crime.” She huffed. 

“It’d be easier if your brother didn’t train her to be a master negotiator.” She looked at Smoke pointedly. 

The man sat on the bed and struggled to do up his cufflinks. He liked when Ari was able to make a good case. Prepositions and negotiations. He was setting her up for her future. 

Ari believed everything could be discussed. That made things particularly difficult when her parents wanted her to do simple things like eat her breakfast or take a bath. 

He shrugged. “That ain’t a bad thing. She’s our firstborn, she gon’ have responsibilities one day.” 

Still fiddling with the link he continued.

“It’s Stack’s “Whatever Ari wants Ari gets” mindset that’s the issue.” he said. 

“Oh I’m wrong?” The younger twin responded. 

“You want our baby to be out there — wanting? When she got not 1 but 2 able bodied daddies and a mama to boot? The hell she will.”

“Ari gets what Ari wants. And that’s law.” The man huffed before stalking over to do up his brother’s cufflinks. 

“Well that law is why we gotta put on this big ol’ party. Mind you— it’s for the dang dog.” Annie deadpanned. 

“You love that dog.” Stack replied over his shoulder... “It’s your dog!” 

“Not the point.” She replied singsongingly. 

But it was true — Ari had them getting all dressed up to throw a birthday party for their rottweiler — Peony — named after Annie's favourite flower.  She had had them invite the neighbors and everything. 

It was a sight to see Smoke standing uncomfortably at their neighbours door inviting them over for a party over the weekend. He thought about bailing but when he looked down at the small hand that held his on those doorsteps — how could he not do everything she wanted? 

At first the trio thought she'd forget about it. Let things die down, she was a kid. How hard would it be? But not their Ari, she was steady counting down the days. 

Smoke recalled knocking on her bedroom door earlier in the week to get her up and downstairs for breakfast. Annie had sent him up and little did he know he’d come down with a tot and a task.

He had barely got her into the kitchen before the girl started her campaign.

“It’s bout’ 4 days for Peony’s party, daddy. I’m gon’ need a new dress.” She said while scooting into her chair at the table.

Smoke grimaced. Earlier that week Annie had whispered sweet things into his ear and looked at him with them eyes and he found himself signing a cheque to add a plethora of new crystals to her collection — it was witchcraft if you asked him.  

Ari wasn’t big on things like that but she was big on looking pretty. If he’d have to blame anyone for that it’d be Stack - she def got that from him.

Annie—still tugging her robe belt into a hurried knot—arched a brow. Ten seconds earlier she’d been pinned between Stack and the corner cabinets, with hands greedily exploring her body and lips full of flour-dusted promises. The moment little footsteps hit the stairs, Stack sprang back, palms in the air like a boy caught in the pantry.

Now he leaned against the counter, trying for nonchalance.

“Thought Peony was happy just turnin’ six with extra gravy,” Annie said, smoothing her collar.

“Peony’s a lady, Mama. Mr. Whitlock’s taking a picture, and I gotta look fancy standing next to her.”

Stack stifled a grin and leaned on the counter. “Girl’s got priorities. Told Whitlock I’d give ’im fifty cents to set up the backdrop.”

Smoke crouched to put slippers on her feet, hiding the faint tremor in his wrist. “Pictures cost money. I best hear a counter-offer, Miss Moore.”

Ari pulled a folded paper from her dress pocket —crayoned swirls titled Daddy & Me. She slid it into his hands like a lawyer presenting evidence.

Stack gave a low whistle. Annie’s mouth twitched.

Smoke shot them a look.

He felt his chest thud a slow, traitorous beat. She knew how to pull on his heart strings. He smoothed the paper. “Fine draftsmanship,” he murmured. “But a good proposition needs terms.”

She lifted 3 little fingers.

“I’ll take my bath every night ’til the party— with no sassin’.”

“Well praise be.” Annie muttered. 

“I’ll eat all my breakfast, even when there ain’t peaches.” She looked at Stack pointedly. 

The girl was obsessed with peaches. She’d have em’ on the side of every breakfast if she could. On days she couldn't, she rarely cleared her plate.

Stack scoffed. He had a tendency to fuss when she didn’t eat enough, it looked like she knew exactly what it’d do to him. 

“Mama gets a dress too, ’cause she works hardest.” Her third and final term. 

Annie grinned. ““That’s my girl.”

Peony’s tail thumped beneath the table as if seconding the motion.

The man looked from Ari’s earnest face to Annie’s surprised smile, then back. He blew out a breath. How could he say no to his girls?

“Reckon that’s a respectable bargain,” he said, tapping the paper once. “But keep every promise, else that dress stays at the shop. Your mama will take you on Friday.”

Ari grinned wide before rewarding him with a smooch on his cheek. “Yes, sir!” She grabbed her piece of toast and scurried back up to her bedroom. No doubt to scheme and celebrate some more.

Stack muttered, “Dog’s birthday gonna bankrupt us,” but the pride in his voice gave him away.

Peony barked once—deal sealed and Mr. Whitlock’s fifty cents practically spent.

The girl had won. Again.

Smoke glanced at Annie— lips kiss bruised, robe belt in a crooked knot—and at Stack, who tried to look serious while hiding a proud grin. For half a second Smoke thought we’re raising a tiny Stack in ribbons and lace. The idea was terrifying.

Smoke shook his head before he tucked the drawing into his pocket, half-amused, half-resigned. Four days, he’d thought. Girl’s gonna hold us to every word.

Four dawns later, the house hummed with party nerves as they continued to get dressed.

Back in the master bedroom Smoke buttoned a starched collar, Stack tugged suspenders into place, and Annie—in a half-fastened dress—did up the clasp of her bracelet while side-eyeing the men.

Stack continued on.  “Never seen a dog rack up so many charges.”

Annie scoffed. “Dog didn’t do it—your daughter did.” She smoothed her bodice, thinking how Ari had spent the last three evenings taking her baths without sass and gulping every crumb of breakfast down without peaches.

“I’ll fry up the catfish around 6. That time everyone would had come round’ — Sun would be lower. ” she said to herself, almost a reminder. 

Stack looked up from his brothers cufflinks before crossing over to his wife. He took her hand and pulled her up from her vanity to assess her, brushing some lint off her dress.

He wasn't ignorant to the fact that Annie wanted the party to be perfect for her baby, regardless of the occasion.

“Ain’t nothing to stress about mama. We done did this before.” he said while zipping up the back of her dress. 

He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “You a good mother. She loves you so much. We talk bout’ spoiling her, but we’d have it no other way. Just a couple hours now.”

She took a breath, and looked up at her man before responding, softer. “After the party, she’ll be asleep in five minutes.”

Smoke confirmed from across the room. “Whole house will.”

Stack stopped them. “Nah, then it’s grown-folk time.” Smiling wickedly. 

Smoke’s mouth curved— “Let’s get through the day before we talk grown-folk plans.”

Stack snagged the tin of pomade, Smoke pocketed the bow for Ari's hair, and Annie gathered her skirt. Together—three parents in harmony—they headed down to the yard, ready to celebrate the most elaborate Rottweiler birthday rural Mississippi had ever seen.

It wasn’t long before the party was in full swing. The backyard bloomed with bustle: neighbors laughing over lemonade jars, kids darting after bubbles, and Mr. Whitlock adjusting his big box camera beside the barn wall.

Peony—ribbon tied, coat brushed—sat on a low crate like a queen in waiting. Ari, face bright with excitement, raced over the grass toward her parents.

“Picture time!” she squealed, tugging Annie’s hand first, then Smoke’s sleeve, then Stack’s trouser leg for good measure.

Annie knelt, smoothing Ari’s dress. “Where you want us, Sugar?”

Ari pointed—one finger left, one right—no words needed. Smoke took his place to Peony’s left; Stack claimed the right. Annie settled between the dog and her daughter, fitting just so.

Whitlock ducked under the dark cloth, shouted, “Hold still… three… two—”

Click.

For a second, everything held: Ari’s proud grin, Peony’s patient pant, Annie’s soft exhale, the boys steady hands resting atop Annie’s back.

The moment printed itself on more than just film.

The party rolled on—getting funner as the night progressed, children chasing chickens, Peony gnawing a birthday bone bigger than her head. The trio moved through it together—not flawless, but whole—while Mr. Whitlock’s camera cooled in the shade, holding proof that love, once negotiated, can still develop clear.

__

A/N Thought I'd give ya'll some sugar after what I put you though in Touch of a Woman 🤭 For those curious about how we got here... you'd enjoy Late, but Loved.

I am still working on the fic with Annie soft-domming Smoke. This has been one of the most challenging works I've written. I've got to get the dynamic just right. But it will come!

Always eager to hear your thoughts and encouragement it keeps me writing. Can't wait to hear what ya'll think 🥰

____

My other works can be found in My Masterlist. Thanks for reading!

___

All Fic Taglist - Interested in my future works? Let me know if you'd like me to add you to my tag list. @chaneajoyyy @pyraomen @browngirldominion @sarcastic-sunshines @rolemodelshit @bbymuthaaa @boonoonoonus @joysofmyworld @twistedsistas-stuff @blackctrl

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[maririna]

✧˚ · .Cat Got Your Tongue?

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ Dr. Ratio x Reader

> In which you bring home a stray.

Word Count: 1.7k

Mari's Note: So I had this dream with him and a cat and I felt compelled to write something with it lol. Surprisingly, it came out sorta cute than I thought <3

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

"No. Absolutely not, I would not agree to such a proposal."

"Aww, why not?" You raise its paw waving it as if saying hello towards a certain grumpy lover while you support the feline with your free hand, keeping it close to your chest. "I think it'll be beneficial to keep it."

Minutes prior to your arrival, you had overheard high pitched whines directing from a secluded alleyway that was surrounded by stagnant puddles as a result of the dreary rain that just occurred.

Discovering the source, you were met with a surprising sight of a cat in a box, finding solace in the warmth of a battered newspaper, eyes wide and seemingly clueless from the situation it was in. You ofcourse had fallen in love and before you came to your senses, you were already in front of the door with said cat. 

It's rather unusual for you to make a grandiose request to Veritas, being satisfied with what you have and had been given, you are never used to asking for anything more. Perhaps it was intuition that struck you and you decided to stick with it.

"What a preposterous idea. I do not need some creature's mouth to feed." Veritas sighs, his hand rubbing his forehead. "Such a despicable thing would have the potential to create chaos and disruption to my work and research."

You raise your eyebrows, "Oh? Who said you'll take care of it? I'll fully take responsibility."

"Please?" You press, "The poor thing must have been starving and besides, we need a friend at home." 

"Good grief, have you even acknowledged the fact that the Felis catus species possess only an average IQ of 2?" He sighs as you shoot him a pleading gaze, the cat mewling in your arms, unaware of the doctor's insult.

With a hard look, he huffs and finally gives in. 

"Fine, only if you were to provide adequate training, necessities, complete supervision and most significantly, establish proper behavior, I may allow your preposition. However!" he halts. "If it interferes with my research and our house conditions, it's out."

You cheer, scurrying your feet to give a peck on his cheek, following with a stretch of your arms for the cat to do the same except it was met with a palm of his hand. "Oh no, no. Not the animal." 

You wont lie, having a new family to the household made things livelier, especially on the days where Veritas had been absent due to the Intelligentsia Guild. The cat had quite a calming effect, you were able to indulge into your work and daily schedule without the rush of anxiety on those same days. With dedicating your free time towards bonding and training the cat, you had also set aside its own space in your humble abode far Veritas's work desk and absolutely further from the intricate stone carvings in the shape of your lover. 

You also discovered that your new companion is a lovely and polite tom cat.

Veritas so far (and so good) did not seem to mind, letting the animal even roam around the living room frequently since it was a portion of the home that contained none of his papers and nor does he seem to mind the soft meows requesting for attention or inquiries of the food bowl being filled.

You are currently settled down on your couch with your darling joined with you. His eyes concentrate at a book on hand, the gentle sound of pages being flipped by the featherlight touches of his fingers fills the room alongside the occasional soft purrs of your feline friend who is nestled comfortably onto your lap. Its rhythmic breathing soothes you as you hum in content, nothing but peace and tranquility envelopes the space.

You were interrupted from your thoughts with the sound of Veritas’s book slam shut.

“Have you gotten accustomed to the new addition to our household? I am not one who engages nor enjoys the affection and sentimentality derived from owning a domesticated animal, however in your case, you seem to say otherwise.”

“Does it seem obvious?” 

You focus on feeling the softness of the cat’s fur as you carefully thread it with your fingers. His ears twitch from your intrusion, eyes shot open like he was not asleep just a second ago, he lets out a yawn, flexing his back into a wide stretch with a flick of a tail. He jumps from your lap to the couch, kneading it. You grin, muttering a totally unapologetic ‘sorry’.

The cat strolls over, a faint purr rumbling from his chest as he begins nuzzling against Veritas's thigh who visibly flinches. You notice his hand almost ready to raise, only to have it actually end up meeting upon the animal’s head which meows in delight, pressing his muzzle to the palm of your significant other’s hand, rubbing against it.

You see him cringe and tense up but you still credit his effort and beam at the sight. To see him be physically affectionate with the animal was unexpected, deep down you assumed he might have disliked the cat. Maybe he is still foreign with the change. 

“I guess so, the cat has been very therapeutic to me if I'm being honest,” you add.

He scoffs, "Although that is something I can never relate to," you don't see it, but his eyes soften a bit. 

A hand rests on top of your hair, "If it refines your cognitive performance and brain activity then I would have no objections and no reason not to accept the animal."

Veritas removes his hand and you almost miss the warmth. "Regardless, if he does not come aligned with my terms and conditions–"

"I know I know, geez. The cat has been nothing but a sweetheart." You cut him off and pout, "Isn't that right...?”

You pause.

“Uhm…”

Your partner raises a brow, "...are you implying you had never designated a name for him until now?"

You sweat, "...I haven't"

"Ridiculous."

"Well, it's hard to think of one!" you retort.

"Nonsense. You had already established a bond with him, although I would not necessarily care but I assumed it would have been natural to issue him a name.”

“You think of one then!” you puff your cheeks.

Veritas places his hand under his chin, absorbed in thought. Wait, Is he actually considering it?

“I would rather not. I am in no way having the slightest care over it as I deem it not crucial.”

You stick a tongue out to him, so much for having the tiniest belief from your heart in him. You can't help but deflate, feeling dejected that he doesn't fully welcome the cat as you expected.

For the next few days, you have been brainstorming, stubbornly attempting to choose a name, basking in countless research and books.

"Hmm, I don't like any of these." You groan in exasperation, rummaging through the pages of a book for a potential fit of a name, only to prove you no luck. Cursing under your breath, your face falls flat on the surface of a page.

A name is crucial for a pet, one to call out to, to get attached to, and to bond with, he deserves to have one like every other being. You have asked Veritas for any suggestions or if he can at least help but your actions bear no results.

With heavy defeat, you are forced to drag yourself towards the shelves for the cat's lunch. Geez you can't keep calling him just ‘cat’ forever, can you?

You spot the animal mewling over from the corner of your eye, trying to catch your attention to fulfill his hunger but notice something out of the ordinary.

Huh?

You see that he is wearing...a collar?

He tilts his head curiously, looking at you with doe eyes, meowing once more. You don't recall ever giving him one, only toys and cardboard boxes he seemed to like to conceal himself in all the time.

As you take a closer look, you discover something even more odd. A silver metal hanging around the edges of the leather–a name tag.

Your fingers glaze over the tag, feeling the sturdiness of the material, seeing a word engraved on it.

'Archimedes'.

You couldn't contain the smile that goes up to your face, your heart starts to race with happiness and relief. Only one person would come up with a certain name like this.

It seemed perfect for you, to think that he chose this name seems undoubtedly much like him. 

"Just so you are aware, I had scientifically engineered the collar to be a precise fit for him, including the exact millimeters alongside taking consideration of the feline's anatomy and measurements." 

Following the sound of a voice, you see the man himself, holding a piece of graph paper of what you assume is a detailed illustration of his creation as he carries himself with elegance and confidence.

"I created it to be comfortable, durable, and lightweight. In addition to that, I installed features that can accurately measure his vitals, from heartbeat to temperature with a built-in system that will notify us if there exists any malfunctions to his vitals."

As much as you are filled with joy and gratitude you couldn’t help but feel the need to go for the tease. 

"Oh? I thought you didn't want to keep him? Hm?" your tone is mischievous but playful.

You feign being in deep thought, resting a thumb underneath your chin. "Why is there a collar in him which by the way was specifically made for him by you and named him yourself if you wanted to get rid of him oh so badly?" 

"Research indicates having a feline cultivates a productive space for effective studying. I am simply experimenting with Archimedes. It would be favorable in my end to conduct my hypothesis if there is a word for him to respond to." He crosses his arms, his eyes suddenly interested in one of his many statues from the corner of the room.

"Right. Whatever floats your boat.” 

“That is known as buoyancy.”

...this man.

You lightly flick his forehead, trying to stop him from speaking any further as to save yourself from being trapped into another one of his hours-long lectures. 

“You are a dummy, y’know?” Before he could reply, you wrap your arms around him, his body relaxes, a silent invite for you to continue, feeling the tenderness and warmth of his skin. You brushed off strands of purple locks from his face, giving him a loving kiss. 

“Thank you, Veritas."

His eyes refuse to meet yours as he is rendered speechless.

"...Idiot"

"...But honestly, Veritas, you should have just opted for a normal collar."

[imaginespazzi]

can we please get a short birthday blurb of them since we basically got a hard launch with the “precious princess” AND how u wrecked us yesterday…

As always with these little blurbs, I wrote this in ~30 minutes (and somehow finished it 10 minutes before Azzi's birthday ended) and didn't edit but hopefully y'all like it and maybe everyone will finally stop yelling at me...

This is obviously fluff but there's a shit ton of underlying sexual tension + alluding to it and also since it's me obviously a warning for swearing lol.

***

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you," a soft voice sings in Azzi's ear and she can't help the soft smile it sparks on her face, "happy birthday dear my Azzi," she sleepily giggles at the possessive preposition as she feels herself being nestled into the arms of a warm body, "happy birthday to you."

"Is it midnight already?" she asks groggily, keeping her eyes shut as she breathes in the scent of all things Paige.

Honestly Azzi had tried -as she often did (and failed) the night before her birthday- staying up, had even picked a loud action movie in the hopes that the sound of it would keep her awake. But in between the feeling of her girlfriend's arms blanketed around her and the calming sound of her breathing in Azzi's ear, she'd been too comfortable to not fall asleep.

"Exactly midnight," there's a smile in Paige's voice as she presses a delicate kiss against Azzi's lips, "happy birthday baby."

Azzi finally opens her eyes to find cerulean blue eyes, gleaming with love and adoration, staring at her as Paige gently strokes her cheeks. And she's sure she'll get a thousand gifts today, from friends, from family, from Paige herself. But no present will top the one that fate itself gave her seven years ago; the girl in front of her -with her silly quirks and beautiful kindness- is Azzi's greatest treasure.

"Thank you," she whispers back, stealing another kiss.

She means to keep it chaste but Paige has other plans, pulling the younger girl flush against her body, slipping her tongue past Azzi's lips as she pushes herself on top of the brunette, grinding their hips together. Kissing Paige is all-consuming, like coming home and going on an adventure at the same time and Azzi thinks she'd be perfectly fine doing this for the whole day.

A whine escapes her lips when Paige pulls away, causing Azzi to chase her lips as she smirks, "patient baby."

"It's my birthday," Azzi pouts, "I don't have to be patient on my birthday."

Paige laughs at the childlike sulking, "you're so precious," she giggles, pinching Azzi's cheeks, "my precious princess."

"People's princess," Azzi corrects as she petulantly looks away.

Paige's eyes darken as she captures Azzi's chin between her thumb and her index finger, pulling the younger girl's face back to face her, "no, my princess."

Azzi gulps at the intensity in the older girl's eyes but she stares at Paige defiantly, "don't look at me like that if you're not going to do it."

"Look at you like what?"

"Don't look at me like you want to fuck me if you're not going to do it," they both suck in a sharp breath at the profanity.

"Silly girl," Paige shakes her head, a smug grin on her face, "of course I'm going to fuck you," she says casually ike it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Azzi's tongue darts out to lick her bottom lip and she's mesmerized by the way Paige's gaze follow the path it takes.

"What's taking you so long then?" she asks coyly, bucking her hips up slightly against the older girl's, who practically whimpers at the action and Azzi can't help but be pleased with herself. Seven years and they both still have this impact on each other; seven years later and they've become experts in known which match can start a fire between them.

And then Paige averts her gaze, facial expression morphing into something much shier as she mumbles, "wanted to give you a gift first."

Azzi raises her eyebrows, unsure why this of all things would make her girlfriend nervous. Paige has given her a plenty of gifts before and Azzi has loved all of them.

"Baby you know I'll love anything you give me right?" she says as much as she gently tries to coax Paige's face back up to meet her.

"I know," Paige says quietly, "this one just uh- it means a little more."

Azzi furrows her eyebrows as Paige slips off their bed -well really it's Paige's bed but considering Azzi sleeps in it every other night, it's basically their bed- and begins to rummage through her nightstand. The brunette sits up from her lying position when she can tell that Paige has found whatever she's looking for. She waits patiently as the blonde sucks in a deep breath before turning back towards her girlfriend.

Azzi doesn't notice the present at first, keeping her focus on giving Paige a reassuring no matter what i love you smile first. And then her gaze drifts downwards and she gasps, eyes widening at the sight of a silver infinity band in a red velvet box.

"Paige-"

"Don't freak out," Paige says in a rush, cutting off whatever Azzi was going to say, "I'm not- I'm not asking you to marry me or anything. Not that I don't want to marry you but like you know- I'm just- I'm not asking yet-"

"Paige," Azzi says again, ignoring the flutter in her stomach as she cuts the older girl's ramble off, "can I see it."

Paige nods, nervously handing over the box so Azzi can inspect it. The infinity band itself is simple, encrusted with small silver crystals and it must've cost Paige a small fortune. But its the the encryption behind it that has Azzi's eyes swelling up with tears, for the half that makes me a whole.

"Today is your birthday," Paige begins again, her voice timid and quiet, "but I think it's a little more than that. For me today's the day my other half was born. Today is the day that the person I was meant to find- the person who'd complete me- was born. And so today, is the most special in the world. Because today is the day that you were born."

Azzi's quiet for a moment, letting herself be immersed in the warmth of Paige's words and the sheer sincerity in them. It's the truth, she knows, that Paige is without a doubt her other half, the person who makes her feel complete.

"I love you," she whispers, as she hands the ring back to Paige and then holds out her hand, "put it on me?"

And she thinks if she could memorize one still image of her life, it would be this one -it would be the way Paige's eyes glow brighter than the moon outside as she eagerly fits the ring onto Azzi's ring finger.

"I love you more," the older girl whispers as she brushes her lips against Azzi's knuckles.

"Not fucking possible," Azzi shakes her head as she launches herself into Paige's lap, arms wrapping around the older girl's neck as she pulls both of them back down onto the bed, "now can you fuck me?"

Paige laughs, "you say the sweetest things to me Azzi Fudd."

"I try," Azzi smirks, pressing her lips against Paige's briefly before she pulls away, the silver ring on her hand glinting in the moonlight as she caresses her girlfriend's cheek, "and just so you know, when you do ask, the answer will always be yes."

Paige grins, pulling Azzi back down to kiss her, "happy birthday baby."

[soxcietyy]

Deal

18+ Yuta x reader

You had the unfortunate luck of being assigned a seat next to your school bully. You dreaded being near him but there was no objectifying the teacher. After being stuck with you during cleaning duty in the afternoon he offered you a preposition.

You sat quietly in class hopping that you would be able to sit next to Inumaki, Panda,Maki or someone normal. For some odd reason the teacher decided to rearrange seats in the middle of class. They did this every so often which gave you panic attacks. You crossed your fingers under your desk praying that a specific name didn’t come out his mouth.

"Y/n, you’ll be sitting next too Yuta."

Your heart sank once you heard those words come out their mouth. He was the last person you wanted to sit next to. Other people would have loved to be seated next to him. He was adored by so many people you knew. When you first got here you would hear girls gossiping about him all the time. He was this mysterious yet lovable guy. He was known to be smart, athletic, kind, funny and overall popular. When you finally got to meet him it felt like everything you were told was a lie.

You could tell he didn’t like you right of the bat. The smile he wore around his friends would disappear every time you approached him. He would make you bring him stuff, make you do his homework and treated you horribly. He would tease and make fun of you whenever he saw you.

Slowly you made your way to your seat. Maki giving you a look of pity. You sat down silently next to him not daring to look at him. As the teacher continued arranging other students seats you could feel his gaze on you. It felt like his eyes were engraving themselves onto you.

You palms began to sweat as you pretended no to notice him. If he figured out that you noticed him he would start talking to you. The more seconds that past the hotter you felt. Unfortunately you couldn’t take off a layer because you had forgotten to wash your uniform. So you had to wear your button up and skirt from middle school instead. Obviously you had grown quite a bit since then so it fit you tight enough for you to deem it a faja. Not wanting to get dress coded you had to hide it by using a thick wool cardigan.

Eventually it became so hot that you had no choice but to take your school’s cardigan off.

You quickly took it off and placed it on your lap. If you pretend he wasn’t there everything should be fine right? Or would he get angry because of it? Class continued for a bit longer until the teacher made everyone partner up with the person next to them. You could hear Yuta chuckle as he sat up from his seat.

"Y/n we’re partners, do you mind doing the work though? Not feeling it today." Yuta says.

He never was feeling it apparently because he always made someone do his work.

This couldn’t continue on any longer, you had to put your foot down and do something. You couldn’t graduate knowing that you never bothered fixing the situation. Turning around to look at him you firmly tell him no.

He was slumped in his seat with his head thrown back when you said this. He snapped up with a look of shock. At first you thought it was because of your response but then you caught his eyes looking at your chest.

"What the hell are you wearing?" He grabs you by the collar to get a better look at your shirt.

He couldn’t believe you were wearing something tight like this. Was it to impress a boy? To grab people’s attention or were you just a slut? He let out a laugh but when he did he tugged on your shirt a little bit too hard. Two buttons flew off your shirt one hitting the wall behind him and the other one falling on his hand. The both of you fell silent and stared at each other. Quickly you put your cardigan on to cover up but the V neck was so low you could still see everything.

Yutas face had turned pink as he looked at you in horror. He acted fast by taking his jacket off and throwing at you. "Cover up." He tells you annoyed.

You had no other choice but to accept it no matter how much you hate the idea of wearing his clothes. Zipping the jacket up you could feel how big it was on you. Yuta put his head down facing away from you. He was surely mad that he had to help someone like you out.

You let a big sigh out as you sank into your chair. Opening your laptop you began to start on the group work. Fortunately it was something very simple that could be done in no time. As you worked the teacher called you to his desk. He had a conversation about how Yuta needed to also do the work. You explained that he wasn’t feeling well and that you were fine doing it on your own.

It didn’t matter what you said because if he didn’t do it you would also get in trouble. Sitting back down into your new seat you slowly nudge him, "Yuta, you really need to participate in the work. Or at least pretend you’re doing something.

"…"

No response.

You both ended up having cleaning duty after school. You grit your teeth as you sweep the class while he watched you. This was all his fault, if he had done something you would have been here.

The school was empty other than people who stayed behind to clean or had some after school activity’s.

As you looked for a dust pan you could feel how the jacket would pull your body down. It was so big and heavy on you that it felt like a work out to wear it. Then again why were you still wearing it? School was over anyways.

Taking it off you hand it to him. He looked taken aback until you spoke.

"You can have it back. I don’t need to be wearing the clothes of someone like you." You put it in his hands and walk away. He didn’t say anything his eyes stayed on you as if he was an animal haunting his prey.

Serching everywhere you thought about the possibility of the dust pan being inside a cabinet. The faster you finished this the better. So you bent down to look for it.

"Pink panties?" You hear his voice behind you as he flips your skirt up. You quickly turn around and tug your skirt down.

What was wrong with this idiot? Yea he’s pushed, hit, and tripped you before but this was outrageous. Wanting to say something you open your mouth but quickly bite your lip as he looked at you.

Slowly closing the gap between you both by grabbing your face. You try to turn your head away but his grip was so strong you couldn’t move. You had no choice but to look right back at him.

"What is it that your planning? Wearing such a tight shirt and a small skirt. Don’t tell me you think getting a boyfriend will stop me from messing with you." He smiles.

"No, that’s not it at all!" You try to tell him but he too busy admiring the breast that protruded in front of him.

"You’re such a whore, such a disgusting slut showing herself off like this. Arnt you embarrassed walking around like this?" His hand glids under your skirt and grabs you hem of your panties. With one swift motion he drags them down. "Move your legs," he says and you comply not wanting to make the situation worst.

When he held your panties in his hand you look away feeling so ashamed of yourself. In the corner of your eye you could see him wrap it around his wrist as if it were some kind of accessory. He looked at it for a few seconds feeling satisfied. With a stupid grin on his face.

"I’m going to wear this tomorrow and tell everyone that they’re yours."

You look at him horrified. What would people say? You would be the laughingstock of the school. Your eyes began to blur as tears formed. You didn’t want to cry in front of him and show his your weak but you could help it. Tears began to roll down as you dropped your knees feeling so embarrassed. You watched as the tears landed on your gray skirt.

Yuta bent down and picked your face back up to look at him. "Shhh, why are you crying? Don’t tell me you hate it that much." He smiles at you softly. "Let’s make a deal. I’ll stop messing with you if you grant two of my wishes."

Your tears finally came to a stop as you heard him say that. Two things and no more bullying after that? Sounded too good to be true but what if he made you do horrible things? Your bottom lip trembled at the thought of it. Maybe he’ll have some pitty on you and they won’t be so bad.

You agree to his propersition and you could see something flicker in his eyes. He grabbed you by the arm and pulled you across the classroom to the teachers desk. He sat down first on the rolling chair and then proceeded to pat his lap indicating that he wanted you there. Slowly you began to sit down on his lap but he stopped.

"Not like that, lay on my lap on your stomach."

You look at him confused but followed along.

"My first wish Is for you to lay here still." He whispered in your ear.

This was an odd wish but you tried to stay calm. Though hundreds of scenario’s played in your head none of them being good. You couldn’t help but holding your breath as you await his next move. Surely it wasn’t a good one because you felt your skirt being lifted up.

"Wait, what if someone sees?!" You try to get up but he places his right arm on your back to keep you down.

Currently you were facing the wall where the windows are in the classroom. Your behind faced the entrance of the room and the small windows that let you peek inside. If someone walked by they would see everything, literally.

"Maybe if you’re a good girl and stay quiet nobody will have to find out. Though I surely wouldn’t mind if they saw you like this." Yuta said.

You open your mouth to protest but instead of words a moan came out. You gasp hearing yourself and quickly cover your mouth. He had just shoved a finger inside of you. You look back at him knowing that sound you just made would fule whatever he had going inside his head. A bigger smile appeared on his face as he worked on you.

He could help but enjoy your quiver under him. How you squirmed and tried your best to stay quiet. It assumed him so much that he couldn’t help but think of never letting you go. You were such a lewd girl, he never thought of you this way until today.

You could feel as your juices covered you and his hand. How your heat was getting hotter and hotter. How his finger curled hitting the right spot. He would switch from fingering you to teasing your clit. Rubbing it in circles and sometimes side to side.

Then he stuck a second finger inside you could feel as your walls stretched to adjust to his fingers. Your legs shook in pleasure as he curled his digits over and over again. You’ve never felt so good and you were ashamed of yourself. How could you be enjoying something like this? You needed to hate this, you needed to hate Him.

"Stop-mh- pleease, I’m begging ah I’m begging you" You begged him to stop as you let small moans slip from your vocal cords.

"Shh, be a good girl and stay quiet." He said as he went back to rubbing your clit.

Your legs acted on their own and spread apart immediately so he could touch you more. "Such a nasty whore. Come for me, I know you want to."

Those words got to you for some reason. The way he called you a whore yet he was slowly morphing your insides to his liking. He wasn’t gentle with you at all. He shoved his fingers mercilessly into you to see you squirm. He really liked how you were this way, timid, whinny, and obedient.

He had you right under his grasp just like a wolf would have had its rabbit right under him. Toying with the poor thing until he decided to eat it.

You babble to him trying to tell him to stop. You could feel yourself getting there.

"Common girl, let’s show the luckyperson that happens to walk by how you cum. Let’s show them how much of a dirty whore you are for these fingers."

You shake your head not wanting that to happen. You try hard to prevent yourself from climaxing but the attempt was usless. The second he felt you clamping down on his digits he started going faster and harder.

You let out a loud gasp and yell out his name as you became undone. Releasing all of your juices all over his fingers. With a satisfied chuckle he brings his hand to his face and licks his fingers clean. Watching you shake under him, trying to regain your composure.

"For my next wish I think we want you to keep this up until graduation." He pulls your skirt down and forces you to stand up.

"I just cleaned you so I assume you can clean the rest of the classroom no?"

AN: found this in the back rooms

[literaryvein-reblogs]

A Writing Refresher: Basic Grammatical Terms

Adjective: A word which qualifies or modifies the meaning of a noun; as in a 'red hat' or a 'quick fox'. They can be used to complement the verbs 'to be' or 'to seem' ('Sue seems happy today'). Adjectives are sometimes formed from nouns or verbs by the addition of a suffix such as '-able' (lovable), '-ful' (heedful), '-ic' (heroic), '-ish' (foolish), '-ive' (combative), '-ous' (famous), or '-y' (needy).

Adverb: A word which qualifies or adds to the action of a verb: as in 'he ran quickly', or 'he ran fast'. Adverbs can also qualify adjectives, as in 'the grass is intensely green'. They are usually formed by adding '-ly' to an adjective: 'playfully', 'combatively', 'foolishly'. They can also sometimes be formed by the addition of '-wise' to a noun ('the hands went round clockwise).

Clause: The word is often used but very hard to define. It is a sentence or sentence-like construction included within another sentence. A main clause might be a simple noun plus verb ('I did it'). A co-ordinate clause is of equal status with the main clause: 'I did it and she did it at the same time.' A subordinate clause might be nested within a sentence using the conjunction 'that': 'he said that the world was flat.' Here 'he said' is the main clause and the subordinate clause is 'the world was flat'. Relative clauses are usually introduced by a relative pronoun: 'I read the book which was falling to pieces'; 'She spoke to the man who was standing at the bar.'

Conjunction: A word used to connect words or constructions. Co-ordinating conjunctions such as 'and', and 'but' link together elements of equal importance in a sentence ('Fish and chips' are of equal importance). Subordinating conjunctions such as 'because', 'if', 'although', connect a subordinate clause to its superordinate clause ('We will do it if you insist'; 'We did it because he insisted).

Noun: A word used as the name or designation of a person or thing, such as 'duck' or 'river'. Abstract nouns denote abstract properties, such as 'invisibility', 'gentleness'. Proper nouns are nouns that designate one thing, as, for example, personal names.

Object: Usually the thing to which the action of a verb is done. More technically a substantive word, phrase, or clause, immediately dependent on, or ‘governed by’, a verb, as expressing, in the case of a verb of action, the person or thing to which the action is directed, or on which it is exerted; that which receives the action of the verb. So 'the man patted the dog', 'the woman was reading the book'. An indirect object of a verb denotes that which is indirectly affected by an action, but wihch is not the immediate product of it, as ‘Give him the book’, ‘Make me a coat’.

Participle: a word derived from a verb which functions like an adjective, as in 'let sleeping dogs lie'. More technically 'A word that partakes of the nature of a verb and an adjective; a derivative of a verb which has the function and construction of an adjective (qualifying a noun), while retaining some of those of the verb'. Present participles usually end in '-ing' and usually describe an action which is going on at the same time as the verb: so in the sentence '"Go and play on your own street," she said, kicking the ball', the saying and the kicking are simultaneous. Past participles usually end in '-ed' or '-en' ('the door was kicked in'; 'the door was broken'). They are used in two main ways: combined with the verb 'have' they form a past or 'perfect' tense (so called because it describes an action which has been completed or 'perfected'), as in 'I have smashed the plate'. Past participles can also be used in passive constructions (which describe what was done to something rather than what something did), as in 'the plate was smashed'.

Preposition: A part of speech which indicates a connection, between two other parts of speech, such as 'to', 'with', 'by' or 'from'. 'She came from China', 'He gave the chocolates to me'.

Pronoun: A part of speech which stands for a noun: 'he', 'she', 'him', 'her', 'them'. Possessive pronouns express ownership ('his', 'hers'). Reflexive pronouns are 'herself', 'himself', 'myself' and are used either for emphasis (he did it all himself'), or when an action reflects back on the agent who performs it ('he shot himself in the foot'). Relative pronouns include 'who', 'which', 'that' and are usually used in the form 'he rebuked the reader who had sung in the library'. Interrogative pronouns ask questions ('Who stole the pie?'; 'Which pie?'). Indefinite pronouns do not specify a particular person or thing: 'Anyone who studies grammar must be mad.' 'Somebody has to know about this stuff.'

Sentence: This is a term which professional linguists still find impossible to define adequately. It is usually supposed to be 'A sequence of words which makes complete sense, containing subject, object and main verb, and concluded by a full-stop'.

Subject: Usually the person or thing who is performing the action of a verb. More technically the grammatical subject is the part of a sentence of which an action is predicated: 'the man patted the dog'. It can be a single noun, or it can been a complex clause: 'the bald man who had just picked up the ball gave it to the dog.'

Syntax (Greek 'together arrangement'): a term designating the way in which words can be arranged and modified to construct sentences. Writers characteristically use syntactic sub-ordination when they aim for a highly formal effect, and syntactic co-ordination when they aim for a simpler, more straight-forward effect.

Verb: Usually a word which describes an action (such as 'he reads poems', 'she excels at cricket'). More technically 'That part of speech by which an assertion is made, or which serves to connect a subject with a predicate.' This technical definition includes the most frequent verb in the language: the verb 'to be' which can be used to connect a 'subject', such as 'he', with a 'predicate', such as 'good at hockey'. There are verbs which take an object ('he raps the desk'), which are called transitive verbs. Other verbs do not, and are termed intransitive verbs ('I sit, he lives'). Some verbs can be used either transitively or intransitively: 'I sing' is an intransitive usage; 'Paul McCartney sings "God save the Queen"' is a transitive usage. The main verb is the verb on which the structure of the sentence depends, and without which the sentence would not make any sense. In the following sentence the verb 'fell' is the main verb: 'The boy, who had run too quickly, fell'.

[mxtxfanatic]

While flipping through mdzs to verify some stray thoughts of mine, I happened to fall into a translation discrepancy that I feel really, really emphasizes how important it is to have a proper grasp on the language you are translating before translating for a public audience.

Now before we get too deep into this, I want to reiterate that I am someone who does not understand Mandarin in any form but has been reading translations (both by humans and machines) for a few years now. However, because I have been reading translations that tend to follow the Mandarin more closely in grammar and because I haven't shied away from reading machine-made or bad human translations, I have noticed some places where mistranslations from Mandarin to English are common: pronouns, verb-subject matching, negatives, prepositions, and conjunctions. For this post, we will be focusing on the latter two.

In the lead-up to the Wen invasion of Lotus Pier, we are given a scene where Madam Yu whips Wei Wuxian, and in this scene, we are given a glimpse as to Madam Yu's average punishments towards the young ward.

While Madam Yu always pelted him with hostile words, she’d never really hit him hard before—two or three lashes at most, or being made to kneel or confined indoors, and it never took Jiang Fengmian long to release him from that.

—Vol. 3, Chapt. 12: Sandu: The Three Poisons, 7seas

In the past, although Madam Yu had always come at him with harsh words, she had never truly been cruel to him. The most that he’d been through were two or three strikes and being grounded. He’d also be let out by Jiang FengMian soon later.

—Chapt. 57: Poisons, exr

Reading these back-to-back, it should be very clear that though the same section is being translated from the same exact source, these translations do not say the same thing. The official stresses that Madam Yu had never hit Wei Wuxian "that hard" before, as well as saying that his punishments were a few lashes OR being made to kneel OR being confined, three separate punishments never taken together according to this diction. The exr translation, however, states that Madam Yu had "never truly been cruel to him" (emphasis mine) and that him being whipped was in addition to being confined. The emphasis on the strength of her lashings is absent, but an emphasis on the intent behind her actions—that she never meant to be honestly cruel to her ward—is established in its stead. (While this section as translated by exr does not mention kneeling, later scenes reflecting on Wei Wuxian's childhood in Lotus Pier do.)

Both of these translations... are wrong.

If we give exr the benefit of the doubt by virtue of being the original completed English translation of mdzs, then the official 7seas release should automatically raise red flags for the ways it seems to directly contradict the narrative that has existed for a few years before the novel was licensed. It doesn't help that the official has been riddled with many mistranslations and omissions from the very first volume, lowering any credibility it would otherwise have to stand on. But if we were to examine the rest of the exr translation, then the emphasis on Madam Yu's intent also rings false given the fact that we are told over and over again in this same translation that 1) Madam Yu is, in fact, unnecessarily, illogically, and erratically mean-spirited and cruel, and 2) Wei Wuxian knows this even at this time in his life (shoutout to the Lotus Pod Seeds extra) and understands her actions as targeted cruelty. What does the actual text say, then?

Although Madam Yu always spoke ill of him before, her hand had never been this viciously cruel. At most, she whipped him two or three times and ordered him to kneel down and be confined to his room, and he would be released by Jiang Fengmian sometime later.

—@jiangwanyinscatmom (emphasis mine)

Madam Yu has never been "as cruel" as in that moment when whipping Wei Wuxian, because normally she only whips him 2-3 times. She would whip him a few times and send him to the ancestral hall to kneel and be in confinement, which matches up to the memories that Wei Wuxian reflects on in other parts of the novel. This translation gets rid of the character inconsistencies that the other two translations create. So how did we get here? Remember how I pointed out those common Mandarin-to-English translation mistakes? Well, both the exr and 7seas translations fall into the trap of confusing conjunctions and prepositions. That's how we get a list of punishments rather than an order of events for a singular punishment type. That's how we get "not truly cruel" instead of "not as cruel." That's how we get these sections contradicting what we know about Madam Yu's personality and behavior from the rest of the novel through those two translations. Unfortunately, both translation teams just happened to flub in the same area in slightly different ways, and while I'm willing to give a multi-lingual grade-school student translating in their spare time the benefit of the doubt, a paid translator with a translation team hired by a professional publishing house should have better quality control than a spare-time hobbyist.

Also, just in case anyone wants more proof on what mxtx meant for us to take away about Madam Yu's treatment of Wei Wuxian from this scene, it was also apparently so important to mxtx for readers to know that Madam Yu was truly cruel to Wei Wuxian during his childhood that the act of her routinely whipping him whenever he was in her presence was something that was added into the revised mdzs. It was not in the original unedited version of the novel.

In the past, although Lady Yu always insulted or patronized him, she never laid a hand on him. At worst, she’d make him kneel for prolonged periods of time, but he’d always get bailed out by Jiang FengMian after a while.

—Chapt. 57. Act 12: Sandu/Three Poisons, Part 2, qinghe-nie

[takenbtwind]

So I wrote a ketek for my brother's wedding

(and I’m going to make you read the whole story about it before I show it)

When my now sibling-in-law was first trying to flirt with my brother, they started reading Brandon Sanderson because it’s my brother’s favorite author (they had to read a lot of Brandon Sanderson before my brother noticed they were flirting lol)

So actually, the main reason I started reading the Stormlight Archive last year was that I was asked to officiate their wedding ceremony, and I thought I could get some good inspiration from reading my brother’s favorite book series (I acquired a new blorbo and read so much slash fic entirely as a byproduct of wedding ceremony prep. Ha.). I decided to close the ceremony with a ketek.

Writing keteks is HARD. Exploring the subtle different meanings words can have when they’re used twice in a sentence, having to use articles and prepositions sparingly because it’s hard to make them fit both ways, etc. 

But my brother and his spouse are people who a) acknowledge that relationships require a lot of effort and celebrate the work they put in, and b) talk about how they find the presence of the other very calming, which I hope I captured in the ketek. I really wanted to add more bird imagery, because they both like birds, but I couldn’t quite make it fit.

Here it is:

Home calmly alight, we will together build love for all time, all for love built together, will we alight calmly home

[sunboki]

⎯ for eternity longer. (teaser) ⟡ featuring christopher bahng

🍼 : Christopher Bahng x implied! fem. reader

TROPE. pregnancy! au, dad! channie au, overall so so fluffy, comfort, slighttt angst if you squint

WORD COUNT. estimated to be around 4-6k words

WARNINGS. worry about delivery complications, cursing (??), anxiety

AUG'S NOTES. welcome to… brainrot central, the blog YOU can visit whenever you need a daily dosage of utter brainrot from yours truly. this piece is definitely front cover because ughhh our channie as a dad has lived in my head for years, very happy to finally be bringing my ideas to life :)

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. Christopher Bahng had intentions upon one day being a father, but when the news of a little one on the way becomes the forefront of a life he’d initially spent with one world, you, he’s quickly introduced to the second world he’ll come to adore, a baby.

or alternatively :

Blossoming beginnings, and the bump.

“Channie, baby,”

His name is whispered between sleepy breaths, brows knitted where your eyes attempt at focusing amidst a slumbering haze.

The meager vision granted from a candle paves view to your husband, currently resting his cheek against the soft bump of your belly, pressing the occasional kiss there.

“It’s so cute,” He mumbles, tracing shapes along the skin, eyes crinkling into the dimpled-smile you’ve come to adore.

“‘S late.”

Offering the remark, you smooth a thumb along his jaw, dipping down to trace his bottom lip and earning a small peck against the digit in reply, chocolate irises flickering up to your face with so much love you fear you’re melting.

“I know,” Chris whispers where his lips press to your thumb, voice muffled. “I’m sorry just—“

One chaste kiss to your belly later and he cracks a smile.

“Just love it.” 

Another kiss, then another.

“Love you, love this. I’m so happy.” 

You are my world, he professes wordlessly, and you scorn the heaviness of your eyes in shielding him from view, the inability for your vocal cords to utter those same three words as you drift back to sleep.

And this is my second world, Chris thinks to himself, fighting slumber to gaze at you just a moment longer, savor. 

Because he couldn’t explain how lucky he is, and how beautiful you are, and how warm he feels, his head fuzzy and jumbled into mushy bliss.

A baby, and the thought alone makes him want to squeal.

Chris had yet to ever be hit by a tsunami (thank goodness for that), but he thinks he’s found an equivalent to the feeling.

That equivalent being a particular call while in the studio, an unsettlingly studious Han Jisung seated behind him on the couch while Changbin stands in the recording room, pointing out things in need of fine tuning.

So when you call, he’s led to believe it could be regarding dinner, maybe a date preposition away from his busied schedule.

Yet, upon hearing a sniffle, his eyes round to the size of saucers, index aptly missing where he’d click his mouse, drawing the attention of his fellow producers, their eyes narrowed in mild concern.

“Chris.. baby, I know this is so.. so sudden but,” Between your hiccups and his heart racing, he reruns everything that could’ve gone amiss. He knew you were running late when it came to your period thanks to the cycle-tracking app on his phone, but then again, usually it’d miraculously show up.

Maybe he’d said something? Forgotten something?

Birthday, anniversary, a family member passing?

His head fills with a plethora of possibilities, too many to pinpoint.

“Baby I,” You pause, and Chris rises up to slip to the corner of the room, shushing you gently.

“Hey, hey honey, ‘need you to take deep breaths, okay? It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay. Tell me whenever you’re ready.” He consoles, shifting from foot to foot in a futile attempt at warding the nerves.

A sharp inhale and then-

“We’re having a baby, Chris. I’m pregnant.”

It’s hard for you to even believe, and Chris swears his stomach jumped to his throat for a moment, making hurried eye contact with an evidently confused Han and Changbin from across the studio.

Pregnant.

Immediately abandoning his work, he grants the two a hurried nod they simply wave in response to, fervently racing from the building and somehow managing to avoid a ticket on his 20-mile-over-the-speed-limit drive home, rushing through the doorway to scoop you up into his arms and hold you close, let you cry as much as you need.

Hell, he’s not the one carrying the baby anyway. You’re the one in need of all the fretting.

As if he didn’t fret over you anyway.

Tender fingers ease back the strands of hair from your face, pressing kiss after kiss to your sniffling frame.

If you want to keep the baby, if you need time to think, time to be alone, he’s ready for that. All of it. 

Though contraceptives were always in play when it came to the bedroom, it seemed some things would remain out of control.

“I’m.. hic.. I’m keeping it, okay?”

And he’s okay with that, okay with anything his beloved decides upon, thumbing the tears from your pretty face to place a slow kiss to your lips.

On this presumably routine Thursday of his, Chris finds out he’s going to be a Dad.

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[holybibly]

Heyy Mistress, I hope you're doing well and you're taking good care of yourself because I don't want you to be burnt out.

If Unholy Hours are open again, can you do a fic where San is your step brother and you have the most sexual tension with him etc (I am gross and disgusting for this, I'm so sorry.😖😖😖)

Oh, bunny, your Mistress has a great idea for your request. San looks like real candy, do you want to lick it?

This is something that should never happen. Never ever. You and San were family, relatively speaking, of course, and all that bound you together was your parents' promise to love each other to the end, and your lips were now sliding over his hard, thick cock, smearing a blood red shade of lipstick over his sensitive, velvety flesh.

It was only meant to be a quick kiss when you were both as drunk as you were. You bite down on his plump lower lip, turn away, and whisper softly, "Forget it.". 

The preposition was that it would never happen again, as you aggressively lick each other's lips and tongues, rolling a strawberry-flavored candy between them. San thinks it's the most delicious thing he's ever tasted, and he sincerely regrets not having tried it sooner. Panting, strands of saliva, and sticky lip gloss are pulled between your lips as the kiss ends and you separate. San sticks out his tongue with a triumphant look on his face and shows you the now tiny piece of candy he has stolen from your mouth.

It was supposed to be a disposable item when your legs are spread over his broad shoulders as you sit on the kitchen table and he sucks hard on your clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. He runs his tongue over your pussy, tasting and opening you, making you whimper and writhe in response as he looks up at you from below with his feline dark eyes. 

This should never be part of the plan.

You and San are in his bedroom now, your parents having a lovely evening meal completely unaware of what is going on behind closed doors between the two of you; he's biting the hem of his T-shirt, holding back loud moans and gasps, his jeans and underwear lying in a useless heap on the floor as you kneel between his spread legs. In the darkness of the room, your ruby red lipstick glistens ominously. You look far too seductive, far too sinful for him to deny himself the pleasure of this. Your hands run down San's strong, muscular thighs and you lean down to kiss the flushed, wet head of his cock, your eyes flickering as you see San's gorgeous, sculpted abs tense and his cock twitch with excitement.

San throws his head back, clutching his t-shirt tighter with his teeth as he feels the vibration of your soft laughter on his cock. Your small hand circles the length of it, squeezing and stroking gently a few times before your lips touch the head of his cock again, this time tracing it with your tongue. San rolls his eyes and clutches the sheets with his fingers. He's always been sensitive, and just because you're so good with his body doesn't make it any easier. Sure, he's going to return the favor later on by fucking you in the shower or licking that sweet, plump cunt of yours and making you sob and whimper with pleasure, but right now you're just going to drive him crazy. 

San is trying to stay as calm as possible. Your parents are still at home and could come into his room at any moment, and he hates this. Why the fuck should he be your brother when all he can think about is your moaning and begging, your lovely bouncing tits, and your arse screaming to be beaten and fucked? As you slowly suck him into your hot and deliciously wet mouth, his eyes are fixed on your glistening ruby-red lips. 

Maybe it was the lipstick, or maybe it was just you, but the way you tipped your head and relaxed your jaw, allowing San's thick cock to slide deeper into your throat, drawing its length along the trembling walls of your throat, made his balls tense up, and he crumpled the sheet in his hands with such force that his knuckles turned white. He swallows hard, his Adam's apple jiggling to get your attention, and you unconsciously repeat the movement, swallowing as you let his cock slide deeper and deeper, taking it almost to the base of his dick. 

San whimpers into the fabric of your t-shirt and watches as you slowly pull away, sliding your lips around the thick girth of it, leaving a trail of wet red lipstick on the velvety skin. As you release the head of his cock from your mouth with a slight 'pop', strands of saliva and pre-ejaculate dangle from your bottom lip, and you raise your wide-eyed 'innocent' gaze to him as you slowly run your tongue over your lips. 

"Like that, Sannie? This lipstick shade is called 'Orgasm'." Your hand wraps around his cock again, wet and slippery with saliva, pre-cum, and lipstick. Sun begins to thrust his hips, hoping to achieve that coveted orgasm. "Come on, baby. Fuck my mouth..." San moans in a guttural, the fabric of his t-shirt uncomfortably wet, but it muffles his loud moans, and he is grateful for it when your lips are back on the wet head of his dick and you take it into your mouth. 

He's about to come as you pull your cheeks together and run your tongue tip along his slit, your hand still stroking, squeezing, and rubbing the thick throbbing vein. You are milking his cock so well.

You open your mouth and stick out your tongue, tapping the swollen, red head of cock against the flat surface. With a soft humming sound, you pull yourself away from him and quickly run your hand over San's cock, flashing an enraptured smile at him. A beautiful shade of red lipstick is smeared all over your face. 

"I would have done it a long time ago if I had known this would turn you on so much, baby." You say this before taking the whole cock back into your mouth. Sliding it down gently and easily, the thick, wiry girth slides right down in your throat. You hold it there for longer than you should be able to, your throat muscles quivering as San begins to tremble, gasping as his quadriceps clench, and he squeezes the sheets with his fingers once more until you can hear them crack.

You pull away from the thick cock again, just enough to let out a soft moan before you move down again, not so deep this time, take San's cock in your mouth. Your hand slides over the part not in your mouth; the sound of your heavy breathing, your smoothly sliding hand over wet flesh, and San's soft, muffled whimper fill the room.

San comes within seconds, whimpering and jerking his hips, his thick cum filling your mouth, and you swallow every drop greedily, only pulling away when San's teeth loosen the fabric of his t-shirt and he leans back onto the soft mattress of the bed. 

Red stains of lipstick are smeared across your cheeks and down your chin, and your neck is wet with your own saliva and San's cum. You continue to jerk him off slowly, lazily squeezing every last drop of cum out of him and making his orgasm last longer.

"Damn, that felt so good." San says this and stands up sharply to wrap his palm around your wet neck, pulling you against him. He finally feels the ruby-red color of your lipstick on his lips with his own tongue, savoring the musky, thick taste of his own cum as he kisses you greedily and passionately.

Your teeth clash, lipstick smearing across your skin, and you stand up, still not breaking the kiss, only to push San back onto the bed and crawl on top of him. His grip on your neck tightens, his teeth biting painfully into your lower lip, and you pull away to let yourself breathe. 

"Now I can finally fuck you, can't I?" San asks, and you swallow as you hear the low, sultry tone in his voice.

"You're going to have to work hard to keep me quiet, babe."

San grins and gives you a sweet peck on the lips.

"Oh, baby, believe me, I know so many ways to shut you up."

[lolitastories]

Remember

Thomas Shelby

“Do you remember the first time we met?” He looked up, finding me with his blue eyes. I let out an exhale, my fingers gripping the files in my hand more tightly.

“Thomas,” I say with a warning tone. I walk closer taking a seat right across from him. “It's a yes or no question.” My monotone voice never seemed to faze him. Maybe it was because he was the definition of monotone. I was doing my job so I had to be professional but he knew how to pull out the other side of me. I only had one purpose coming into this room and that was to get an answer to a simple question, “Do you want to be represented by us in the future?” plain and simple.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” There it was, frustration. He has that effect on me, since the first time we met. I unfold my arms and place the file gently over my lap. I looked over making sure he could see my unamused facial expression. “It’s a yes or no question.” I divert my gaze to the side by rolling my eyes. Thomas Shelby got under my skin and he seemed to like it.

“Yes,”

6 months ago

“So you will get his statement and any questions he might have while I prepare a preposition,”

“Yes,” I say, packing up my things. “Be sure to add a summary of prospect solicitors,” My partner nods, grabbing onto his things before leaving the room. This wasn’t my first time taking a client such as Thomas Shelby. The reason why I had his name currently in all of my documents was from a past client who had the same charges just a month ago. Being one of few solicitors and not to mention a woman, was sort of a plus for men. I look above it since it paid my bills, doesn’t mean I liked it but some were gentleman enough to keep their comments quiet. I mean quiet around me, I was referred to Thomas by one of his associates while out for drinks. He was sure to come in the next day to brag about how he got me another ‘gig’. I found it endearing before he made more hard advances towards me, I guess that was a risk of him being half drunk still.

“He is in room 2”

“Thanks Eve,” I sent the secretary a smile before walking out the door myself. We weren’t a big establishment but with our current success rate, I know we would move out of this 4 room plus bathroom place. It was a short trip down the hall as I stood in front of the wooden door. “Here we go,” I whisper, grabbing onto the door knob and pushing it open. “Good Morning Mr. Shelby,” I presented myself with a big smile while he sat there only caring to meet me with his blue eyes, a nod, and then looked back into the empty wooden wall.

His stare like plenty of men before him made my blood boil. Although they knew a woman was going to be running their case, having me in front of them made it real. “Alright,” I moved past him and began setting up my file. “I am going to need your statements then after that I will ask you some questions to fill in some holes and we will finish with any questions you might have, is that alright with you Mr. Shelby?” I watch his finger twitch for something, maybe a cigarette? With a man like him I was surprised to see him abiding to silly rules like no smoking indoors, men would laugh at such things and smoke anyways. Then again maybe a man like him with his unbutton black suit and undone hair was so stressed that even all the cigarettes in the world wouldn’t help. I focused my eyes back on his features but he seemed not bothered to answer my question. I closed my eyes taking in a deep breath, with such little time with him I am sure I would have to compose myself multiple times. “Mr. Shelby?” I asked again and this time I earned a small hum in acknowledgement, great. “Can I offer you a cigarette?”

“As someone who stands for the law, you don’t abide by your own rules?” So cold, so distant, so, so fucking intolerable. All the men who have walked through the door at least turn to face me. It doesn’t matter if they defy me as capable of taking on their case as a woman or think their toothy, rotten smile can appeal to me, they have the decency to look at me. I hold back a groan turning around and pushing the office window open.

“That rule was made by a hypocritical man who wanted to appeal to the female brain,” I looked over to him. “It's his whole thing,” I can’t blame my boss for being smart and trying to use more women in this field so he can get more clients, but as a person I can still dislike him. I watch Mr. Shelby presents a simple shrug before shuffling to stand up.

“I will get back to your office with an answer,” An answer?! A fucking answer? To fucking what? How foolish he is making me look as I stand here with his back turned towards me? An answer to why in the past minutes he has only met my gaze once? An answer to why I seemed to be undeserving of his godly attention? Fucking prick!. “You have a nice day,” Unbelievable. If I wasn’t so good at handling my emotions I would throw something behind him and demand for him to at least face me. But I was good at handling my emotions, I didn’t need a man telling me how women can’t control themselves. So I smiled, I smiled as he fixed his suit jacket. I smiled as he took a step towards the door and turned the door knob. I smiled as he pulled it open and walked straight out, I smiled even if he wasn’t looking.

Present

“I remember you being a jerk,” I sit back and raise my leg over the other. I cross my arms again waiting for his answer.

“That bad huh?” He was still a jerk, a jerk with a captivating smile. I allowed myself to relax, my business with Thomas Shelby was over and I didn’t have to worry about whether he wanted us or not because I already knew the answer. Having to ask him was just protocol.

“You didn’t even look at me,” That jerk smiled. He smiled and pulled away to sit back on his chair. “If we are going to ask questions not pertaining to work then I guess it's my turn,” He raised his brow, he was surprised just like me that I was following along to whatever he was playing. “Were you afraid to put your life in my hands?” He lets out a chuckle

“No, I wasn’t afraid.” I roll my eyes. He might not have been afraid but he sure had his doubts.

“Its okay to admit it Mr. Shelby.” I leaned forward hoping to cause him some kind of discomfort or atleast feel more confident as I sat here under his gaze. “It won’t change my mind about you nor hurt my feelings.”

“And what has your mind made me out to be?” I didn’t hold back. He was a grown man who could take an opinion.

“You might not have been afraid but you surely had some doubts. Doubts about a woman like me taking on your case, doubts that I had enough intelligence to keep you from going to trial. Probably taught that your buddy got lucky or that the defense team didn’t have enough evidence to give him a prison sentence and that it had absolutely nothing to do with me. In my mind that made you out to be close minded, which surprises me.” I shrug it off like I haven't poured half of my feelings out.

“Why?” He didn’t seem offended if anything, he seemed intrigued.

“Because I do my research Mr. Shelby.” He tries not to show it but I could see the slight tweak in his eyebrow. “Before any case I do my research on my potential clients. I may look the other way with things that don’t pertain to their case but rest assure that I know whatever I can about them,”

“Still doesn’t answer my question,” He smiled and he crossed his arms matching my stance.

“It surprises me because someone who has a woman such as Polly running your business while you were away at war should know how much power a woman can hold. How smart they become and how skilled they can be with so little.” His smile dies. No matter how appealing he was to my other woman's senses when I had a point to make, I made it. I may become blind once in a while when someone with such power looks at me softly but I learned that in a man's world, a woman needs to build a cold exterior when needed.

“Is that why you handed off the case to your partner? Or why you always were two steps behind him like a personal assistant and never peeped a word out to me or while I was around? If you believed so much in yourself why not be more persistent?” I let out a scoff

“You wanted me to beg?” I shake my head not wanting to add another bad thing to his list. He seems serious.

“The reason why I walked away the first time I met you was not because I was scared or had doubts, I know what a woman is capable of doing. I walked away but I am an asshole with problems. Problems that I didn’t believe could be handled by law and since you did research on me you know that this wasn’t the way I usually handle things.” He was right in one thing, he was an asshole.

“What changed your mind? It must have been big since it only took 3 hours to hear from you again.”

“I guess you can say you made a strong impression on me,” He was lying. Although all of Birmingham knows what he is involved in he is too smart to admit to it knowing it could eventually come back to him.

“Is that what earned me a private talk with you in the bathroom?” He grins. Those devil eyes like that day were chanting for me to give in.

“Call me weak,”

The next day after meeting,

“Are you sure you want to sit this one back?” It was clear to me that this man wasn’t even interested in me representing him. Isn’t that why he contacted James instead of me? He heard my partner was a man and that was what got him to change his mind.

“Yeah,” I let out a sigh trying to take this day easy. There were plenty of clients I had James sit up front for. I trusted him to take care of them because he trusted me to actually have his back. I would tell him how to lead the conversation and do the paperwork at the same time. He was good enough to prepare his part while the client believed he was leading. They way they were more comfortable giving us their business and this wasn’t any different. “Mr. Shelby will be like any of the other clients, just follow the script and we will be on our way.”

“Right,” James along the way of our partnership was okay with me being the one who talked to the clients but as we met up with some who didn’t want to deal with me he had to learn how to work with them. But now he has gotten so much better and knows how my mind works so he doesn’t try to over think me. “You ready?” I couldn’t help but smile. Looking down I see why he was asking, my leg had been non-stop shaking for the whole ride and even as we stood parked outside our meeting place.

“Just tired,” I tried to give him a reassuring smile but he gave me a knowing look. “I am okay,” I was truly tired. Even if Thomas Shelby hadn’t decided on us yet, that doesn’t mean I couldn’t think ahead and start preparing incase he did. There was also the problem of the living situation, I hadn’t found a place to live yet and the lady I was currently living with wanted me out before the end of the month.

“If you say so,” He checks his watch and hurriedly places it away. “We have to go,” I nod following him as he opens his door and gets out. “They should be in here,” He points over at a building, nothing like Birmingham. From the outside you could see multiple windows decorating the light reddish brick wall. “After you,”

“Thank you,” I smile walking in but I wait for him to pass through and into the room. Welcoming us was Thomas seated in a leather chair. This couldn’t be his office or where he does his business. The room was surrounded by warm light coming through the windows. No office desk, no feel of an office. It was a simple living room, couches, paintings, and even a vase full of flowers.

“I will meet you at the pub later,” Thomas talks to an older man that was walking out the room. He nicely gives us a smile before walking past us.

“I will have John meet us there,” Thomas doesn’t respond but shortly nods. He gave us a quick glance as James spoke up to him.

“Good Morning Mr.Shelby, we were glad to hear from you again.” James stretches his hand which Thomas takes but not even bothering standing up. “We wanted to go ahead and start strong here so we took the liberty to start the process-” The words rolled out of his mouth like every deal we have done in the past. James takes a seat and starts pulling out the files. “If you like what you are hearing then by the end of this meeting let us know if you want to continue or not, does that sound good with you Mr. Shelby?” I walk around the other side of the couch and I couldn’t help but feel his eyes on me, yet I dare not give him the satisfaction of giving him my attention. Plus, I wasn’t the one who he should be talking to. “Now I understand the situation but we would like to get your statement of it first,” James pulls out his notes pad ready to hear from the man himself on what happened.

“Alright,” Thomas' thick accent clears as he begins telling James his side of the story. He sits confidently in his chair with his hand enterwinded. I couldn’t help but bite my lip as I noticed the details of his presence. The way it seems he took extra time with his hair. His neatly iron white button up without his suit jacket on. He's only wearing a watch as an accessory and it works for him. Simple but quite captivating. As I hear his story I note down points on my own paper, things that James might not catch. Every word spilling smoothly out of Thomas’ mouth, might be made up but atleast him saying it without a hitch made it more believable.

“Ma’am?” I jump back a little feeling a slight tap on my shoulder. It was a young girl. Short bob hair, I think I’ve seen her before. “I’m sorry,” She quietly giggles.

“It’s alright.” She was young, at least a couple of years younger than me.

“Would you like something to drink?” She must work for the Shelby’s. Maybe a secretary? “We have water, tea, or if you-”

“Water is perfect.” I didn’t like alcohol. She nods and turns to leave but I discreetly grab on to her hand.

“Can you tell me where the bathroom is?” I could still hear the conversation going so I tried to follow her without distracting the two men.

“Just down the hall to the right,” She didn’t take me the whole way, “I will have your drink waiting for you,” I thanked her again and began walking, following her directions. I would be lying if I said I found it on the first try. At the end there were two doors and once I noticed the first door I chose was the wrong one I slammed the door shut and frantically turned to open the right one.

“They could save a lot of space if they didn’t build this place as a maze,” Leaning against the sink I closed my eyes, taking in a deep breath. “Once I get out of here I will have James start customizing a contract while I go deal with my living arrangements” It was easier said than done. That lady made sure that people around me wouldn’t want to rent me a place after she spoke of people I defended. Then telling her it paid well no matter if they were guilty or not truly didn’t help my case as not only was I a cover up maker for criminals, now I was a slut who sold myself to them for more money. “I know it's bad,” I groan, moving my head upwards with my eyes still closed, “God if you can hear me, take me away or show me a way.” I am not the praying type and maybe that was the reason why god didn’t help me. He knew I only contacted him when I needed something, I knew better than that. “I-” I didn’t get a chance to blink when I heard the door twist open and shut behind a blur figure I saw from the mirror. I turn so fast I got dizzy, “What are you doing here Mr. Shelby?” With my lower back pushed up against the sink, this was as far as I could be from him.

“I want you to take my case,” I did hear him. I would act more shocked if I wasn’t frantically looking around to see if something tells me how to get out of this room unharmed.

“I am.” Maybe I could run for it?

“No,” That catches my gaze. He spit it out like poison. “You’re partner seems capable but I need a sure thing,” He takes a step forward as he moves to unbutton his sleeves.

“I can assure you James knows what he's doing and I am right behind him,” He shakes his head once again ignoring my words. He easily pushes his sleeve up to his elbow and continues with the other one, still moving closer and closer with every slow step he takes towards me.

“I need someone more focused, he wasn’t the one who got Henry out of a nasty sentence.” That was true, but he helped. I opened my mouth to defend him but by this time Thomas was just inches away. “I need you,” I couldn’t breathe. Once more he made my skin crawl. The warmth running up to my cheeks, blinding my thoughts. For a moment I wanted to be one of those girls he probably has practiced with millions of times. With only three words he would have them squirming under him, have them wondering how he tastes, how he touches them, because I was.

“Okay,” I cleared my throat sliding past him. If I didn’t take the reins now then I would probably end up how most of his girls do.  “James won’t have a problem backing up.” I opened the door before he could speak or corner me against something again. “Shall we?” I was right to open the door and walk out. My legs trembled all the way down the hall until I could sit down. Before leaving the bathroom I scanned his face and noticed he was smiling, smiling!. His blue eyes matched perfectly.

Present

“Since that moment I was sure of one thing.” Here we go again. If I rolled my eyes one more time I was afraid my mothers words were going to come true, If you keep rolling your eyes, they will get stuck there forever. Thomas got that out of me so if it did happen, it would be all his fault. “That I was meant to meet you.” I held back another eye roll, this man was just saying stupidity. It was six months ago since we met but since the third day he was like a different man. He began to meet my eye. He answered all of my questions with no hesitation. He agreed to meetings and even set up some so we can go over things. Then as days went by, he changed even more. He would invite me to dinner or drinks outside of work obligations. I would tell him it wasn’t appropriate so I denied every single offer but that didn’t stop him from coming to my office. When he could make it he made sure to send a small gift once in a while, mostly flowers. I would be lying if I said his advance went unnoticed or even that it didn’t cause my heart beat to increase, but since I was employed by him it couldn’t go any further than him being my boss.

“I think it's all the endorphins going to your brain from me saving you from serving some time,”

“Stop trying to deny it.” He caught my off guard when he stood up from his chair and pulled me up with him. His hands pressed around my waist pulling us against each other. “You are no longer working for me.” He laid his forehead against mine. That was my excuse, the only one I could come up with for the past 6 months.

“But you will be a client of ours if you agree to have us represent you in the future,” He lets out a breath, a warm breath radiating against my skin. Then realization hits me, that's why he hasn't answered my question. I found his gaze and in that moment I knew I was wrong, “You aren’t going to accept are you?” I pull away.

“Can you see the future?” What the hell is wrong with him? I am trying to have a sort of serious conversation and he comes up with these questions.

“Thomas I need an answer” I groan, placing my hand over his chest to try and push him away. I know it was wrong to be pissed about him not wanting to be one of clients, but I don’t know if that made me stupid because the only reason he didn’t want to was because that meant I wouldn’t agree to be with him.

“After you answer me I will answer you with no hesitation,” I let out a frustrated sigh, at this point I couldn’t tell what could follow each answer.

“No, I can’t see the future.”

“I can.” And he kisses me. With his palms pressed up against my back he pulls me closer and connects our lips.

Future

“How are you feeling?” I wanted to let out a loud groan and answer her question that way  but I held back. It wasn’t Polly’s fault I was tired and grumpy, it was Thomas.

“Horrible. I am tired, disgusting, and feel like laying in bed all day.” But of course I couldn’t do that on this special day. Polly offered me a warm smile before hooking her arm under mine as we walked down the stairs.

“You are growing a baby darling, it's okay to feel that way. Plus you look gorgeous and this baby is treating you better than the last one.” Oh for sure.

“I guess it's true when they say a girl steals their mother’s beauty for themselves. Look at her,” I find them with my eyes. My girl being held in her fathers arm.

“Well then that means this one is a little boy and what a joy that would be.” With my free hand I ran it over my growing belly, I still had half way to go and by this time with my first one I had more energy but then again I wasn’t running around after a toddler. “Lets just hope he turns out like you because the Shelby boys have a temper,” If anyone knows the Shelby's is her, hell she is one of them.

“Not to mention their ego and pride.” We share a laugh before reaching the bottom steps. The crowd and our family surrounding Thomas and our daughter. “We will go home and prepare for the celebration.” I nod, giving her a half hug.

“Thank you Polly,” Polly waves me off like it was nothing but it meant the world to me. She was always with me since I joined the family. She supported me with Thomas when he was having a hard time accepting that I was loyal to my job. Since he met me he knew I loved it and it would be hard to leave it behind. Polly of course talked to him. Thomas, being a man, hoped that once we got married and started a family that I would quit and focus on him and our kids but I quickly shut that down. Now he has grown to accept that I would do what I feel is right and if he continues to have a hard time with it then he won’t overreact, he will talk to me about it.

“She is beautiful,” I look over to find Arthur standing beside me. “Like her mother,” I smile in awe. He was so sweet, the Shelby brothers being so great with my daughter was all I could ever ask for.

“Thank you Arthur,” He smiled before saying goodbye to joining Polly as she was excusing herself from the crowd.

“My love?” Thomas’ voice catches my attention. He outstretches his hand and pulls me closer to him. “Look at her,” He smiled widely. The whole crowd pauses to hear our daughter's sweet giggle as her father raises her up above his head.

“We did alright with her,” I nudged him as he settled her back in his arms.

“You think so?” He teases, wrapping his free arm around my shoulder.

“Sure do Mr. Shelby. Lets just hope we do right by this little one too.” I smile, giving him a kiss. I didn’t have a doubt that we would raise our future son or daughter right. We were a great team and I couldn’t choose a better father for my kids.

“We will, my love,” He returns my kiss and begins to pull me away towards our car. “I am sure of it.”

“Really? You can see the future?” I giggle seeing his offended expression.

“Of course, just like I told you 3 years ago.”

Present

The tingling sensation lingered on my lips as he pulled away. Who knew a kiss from Thomas Shelby, a man feared all through England, could be so gentle. “I can see you and me,” I couldn’t open my eyes. “You and me, married and happy.” I couldn’t. I was too afraid to let this go. “With our kids.” It all sounded too good. With my eyes still closed I began to see it too, maybe it was because with his words he painted a pretty picture but my heart yearned for it. It felt right to be in his arms, it felt right believing and giving myself to this future. “Can you see it?” I didn’t want to miss it. I opened my eyes and found him, these were the eyes I wouldn’t mind seeing until my very last breath. And if it didn’t last that long at least I would have a pretty memory of him.

“Yes.”

A/N: I know I don’t usually write a gender or specific characteristic but I hope y’all enjoy this one.