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greenorangevioletgrass · 11 months

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given the circumstances (part 1) | b.r.b.

pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x actress!reader

summary: your relationship with Bradley goes from 0 to 100 after a little happy accident. [Part of “The Actress & The Aviator” universe]

word count: 5.9k

Warnings: established relationship, language, pregnancy, mention of vomit/nausea, accidental pregnancy, fluff, smut [unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, daddy kink, hint of mommy kink?, breeding kink, size kink, creampie]

notes: they’re back babeyyyy! This is set about 1.5 years after the events in “It’s Classified”, and it fills in the gap of the blurbs I did a while ago. But you don’t have to read it first, this can be read as a standalone. I have missed writing for them so much, and I hope you enjoy reading this! <3

✨ follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass to get notified for my latest words <3 happy reading and please reblog if you liked it! ✨

PART ONE

You’ve been New York-bound for six whole months, doing two shows on Broadway back-to-back. Bradley came to visit you for your musical’s opening night about two months in (and again for your second show, a modern take of Romeo & Juliet), but with your shows and his sudden deployment to God knows where for three months, the time and space apart was killing you.

Which is why you’re determined to take some time off as soon as you’re done, just to be with your stupidly handsome fiance at home in the stupidly sunny California.

Your first month or so was a bliss. You would wake up to the smell of your coffee, and saunter into the kitchen where Bradley would kiss you good morning. There’s no rigid structure to your days, save for the occasional work meetings. Most of your time is spent playing house with your fiance, redecorating the house you both barely lived in before you were called off to work. Wandering around and jotting down inspirations for your new screenplay. Treating yourself to frozen yogurts and manicures. Adjusting to life in the San Clemente neighborhood of Orange County.

(Bradley made a joke about you joining The Real Housewives soon, which earned him an elbow to the rib. Whatever. He was more Housewife material than you anyway.)

But halfway through your second month, you started feeling lethargic and just… off. You chalked it up to the weather and exhaustion, since you’ve been back to work, going to pre-production meetings for your upcoming movie. You tried to brush it off with vitamins and heartier meals, powering through for a couple of days.

“You sure you’re okay? You don’t look so good…” Bradley looks at you in concern when you shuffle into the kitchen that morning.

You’re really not, but you blatantly refuse to acknowledge that. “I’m fine. Still tired, is all. I just need some…” the coffee scent wafts in the air—the same scent that always woke you up in a good mood these past six months—and you gag. “Oh fuck.”

Bradley’s voice calling out your name sounds distant as you dash towards the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before you puke your guts out.

“Hey…” he holds your hair back with one hand while the other rubs your back patiently. Staying calm despite his head is running a mile a minute in panic. “What happened, sweetheart?”

Everything feels like hell from your mouth to your stomach, and you groan as you pull the flush. “I have no idea. I just… I could smell the coffee and suddenly…” you motion at the toilet. “I mean, what the fuck?”

He sighs, wiping off sweat from your forehead and brushing the strands of hair sticking on it. “Maybe it’s stress?” he guesses, although they both know it’s unlikely. You’ve been keeping it relatively chill since you got here. “Or a stomach bug? Or…”

You look up to find his brown eyes softly gazing at yours, in worry and concern and… “Or what?”

He grimaces almost apologetically, and you slowly catch what he means.

“No. No way. Nuh-uh.” you shake your head so quickly, you give yourself a headache. “I’m on birth control. I’ve never missed a day…” That’s not true. As the words leave your mouth, you remember the surprise trip Bradley took you to Big Sur one weekend where you forgot both your pills and condoms…

Fuck.

“Babe… What date is it?”

He stammers for a bit, “Um, the— it’s the 18th.”

You do the mental math, counting the time gap between today and the Big Sur trip, and your last period… and your eyes widen. Your head is swirling, and so is your stomach.

“Sweetheart, do you think you might be—”

Before he can say the damned word, you feel the bile rising again. Your pointer finger lifts up in wait, as you bury your face in the toilet and throw up once more.

His heart catches. You’ve talked about having a baby, and you’ve talked about wanting to have one… some time in the future. He didn’t expect it to happen so soon. Butterflies fill his stomach at the possibility of you carrying his baby right now at this very moment, but the sight of you looking so… defeated by your own body is enough to create a nasty pit in his gut.

“What can I get for you, baby?” he asks softly, caressing the back of your neck.

There’s absolutely nothing else to empty from your stomach at this point. It’s basically just water and dry heaving, and your eyes are tearing up from the terrible sensation.

“Ginger ale from the fridge…” you manage between heavy breaths, “...and some test packs from the pharmacy, please.”

“Okay, sure. Got it. Come on, let’s get you back to bed.” He offers both his hands and gently pulls you up. If he’s nervous or excited or both, he does a pretty good job of not showing it. He pulls up some tissues from the bathroom counter and wipes your mouth without batting an eye.

He lays you down on your side, getting you all nice and comfy, before disappearing into the kitchen, returning with a can of ginger ale and a puke bucket, just in case.

“Sweetheart?” his hand is soft and warm on your cheek, and his voice even more so. “Drink up. Hope it’ll settle your stomach a little bit.”

You sit up a little, and take small sips from the can. At least it helps alleviate the bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

“I put your phone on the bedside. Call me if you need me, alright? I’m just gonna run over to CVS. Be back before you know it.” He kisses your forehead, and you make a face in protest.

“I’m gross right now!”

“I don’t care,” he chuckles. “Just rest up. Love you.”

Of course he knows what to do. Picture perfect Bradley Bradshaw, who knows how to be caring without being overbearing. Who kisses your clammy forehead after you puke your guts out. Who is literally running to the nearest drugstore to get her pregnancy test packs right now, for fuck’s sake. He’s just… perfect.

You lie back down and smush your face into the pillow, faced with the fact that you’ll never be able to live up to that. And if you can’t… how the hell are you supposed to raise a child? How the hell are you supposed to pull your weight when your fiance can already do it so well?

“Babe?” He calls out upon entering the house a few short minutes later. “I’m back. I got the…” his words trail off as he walks into the bedroom and sees you in tears. His whole features soften up as he approaches you gingerly, sitting by your side. “Hey… what’s wrong?”

You shake your head as you sit up, sniffling a little. “What are those?” You nod at the paper bag he put down on the foot of the bed, hoping it’ll divert the conversation a little. It’s a little too big for just a bunch of pregnancy test sticks.

“The tests. And some snacks I thought might help with your stomach.”

And with that, the tears burn the corners of your eyes again and your lips quiver as they fail to hold back the cries.

“How are you so good at this?!”

He pauses in confusion, and then… it dawns on him. An amused glint appears in his eyes. “Are you… crying because I got a good bedside manner?”

Your hands fly up to your face, hiding it from view. “I’m not! Shut up!” You really were, but he didn’t have to say it like that… and your reaction only confirmed his speculation.

Bradley chuckles. God, he loves your silly little antics. “I mean, I had to take care of my mom all through high school, so…” he shrugs sheepishly.

You wipe your tears with the back of your hand. An uncomfortable awkwardness sets in as you remember his late mother’s terminal illness, right in the peak of his high school years. “Right. Sorry.”

“It’s okay, baby. I’m just… glad I’m doing it right?” He smiles in reassurance, wiping what’s left of your tears and kissing your nose. He lifts up the ginger ale can to your hand again. “You lost a lot of fluids to make up for. Drink up some more, and we’ll do the tests, yeah?”

You glance at the paper bag again, watching him fishing around… “How many pregnancy test packs did you get?”

“I got three just to be safe.”

You want to laugh, but you probably would’ve ransacked the test kits too, if you were the one to buy it. So instead, you nod slowly, ponderously. “Three is… three is good.”

You know how these test kits work, they’re all the same, but you insist on reading the instructions pamphlet anyway. With two other test kits to spare, Bradley simply takes another copy from another box to read.

“Pee on a stick, wait for up to 5 minutes.” You put down the pamphlet on the counter. “Easy enough.” You sigh like it’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do.

And it is. Every tick of the clock feels louder and farther from the one before, and you’re trying your damnedest not to look back onto the counter where the blue-tipped sticks are lined up. Inspecting it up close and see the lines that appear.

You sigh in exasperation, breaking the stilted silence. “I don’t even know what I’m hoping for, if I’m honest. Is that weird?”

He shakes his head a little. “Not at all. This is a weird situation to be in, I think it makes sense if we’re still not sure what we want.”

“Do you know what you’re hoping for?” You turn your head towards him. Maybe you’ll know it when you hear it.

“Honestly? No.” Yes. He knows exactly what he wants. He just doesn’t want to admit it and freak you out even more. “I’m just thinking about you. About us…”

“What about us?”

“Just that… whatever happens, we’ll figure it out together.”

Bless him. It would be infuriating if you weren’t so comforted by it. Leave it to Bradley to always know just the right thing to say.

And he means every word of it too. Yes, he wants a baby with you now, but you don’t, or if it doesn’t turn out to be now, then… he can stand to wait a little more. For as long as you need.

“How long do we have left?”

Bradley joins your gaze towards the nautical clock on the wall. A silly little gag gift you gave him last Christmas, for your favorite flying seaman.

“Three minutes and fifteen seconds…?”

“That’s about the average length of a pop song.”

He grins. “Exactly. One pop song, and we’ll find out.”

You nod. Listening to the tick, tick, tick of the clock. It drones on and on, and it seems to lull slower as it goes. Fuck Einstein and his theory of relativity. You pick the first random song that pops into your head and holds onto it for dear life. It’s your only way of keeping track of the time, at this point.

“I took my love, I took it down…” you sing under your breath, tentatively.

Bradley snorts. “It’s a good song.” That’s an understatement. He adores Fleetwood Mac, and this is the first song he learned on the guitar when he was 10.

“Climbed a mountain and I turned around…” you throw him a side-eye, a more than obvious invitation to join you.

Bradley has his eyes closed, though. But he nods along and sings along in his warm voice, “And I saw my reflection in the snow-covered hill…”

“‘Til the landslide brought me down.”

The two of you are singing with your whole chests now, belting out the chorus to drown out your nerves, forcing yourself to stay on tempo even when you feel like rushing it to the end. Right now, it’s more like Nick Miller’s nervous singing from New Girl than a beautiful bathroom jam session, but you don’t care. Bradley is vocalizing the guitar solo part like the back of his hand, playing the air guitar and everything, and you’re so, so happy that out of all the people in the world, you’re doing this with him.

And at that moment, you realize that your worries earlier today were misguided. Yes, Bradley knows how to take care of you, and he probably knows a thing or two about babies. But he’s on your side. He’ll be pulling the weight with you. Being good parents is not a competition—you know he’ll cheer you on like he is doing right now. He knows you’ll do the same for him, too.

Well I’ve been afraid of changes

‘cause I’ve built my life around you

But time makes you bolder, even children get older

and I’m getting older too

You didn’t notice it at first, but Bradley also softens up on the final chorus, lost in his own thoughts. He has built his life on self-preservation, protecting himself from the lies of the people he loved, and depriving him of the love and family he’s always wanted. But maybe it’s age or the wounds healing (or you swooping into his life at just the right moment)… but he’s not gonna live forever. He knows in his heart of hearts that he wants this baby. He wants this life with you.

When you ask him to look and tell you the results, he doesn’t even flinch. He just nods, kissing your temple as he reaches for all three test kits behind you. His hand shakes a little as he picks them up, though, flipping to see the indicator side. One line for negative, two for positive.

And there it is.

“They’re…” his throat catches, his face unreadable. “They’re all positive…”

“What?”

He shows you the test kits, two blue lines all across the board. His voice wavers, with tears and smiles at the same time. “We’re having a baby.”

“Oh my God…” you walk into his arms in a daze, still not sure what you’re feeling. Are you relieved because you simply know the answer, or relieved because it’s true? Are you terrified because you want it or you don’t?

Bradley cups your face with both hands, tucking unruly strands of hair behind your ear. His brown eyes brimming with tears, blurry as he admires your beauty. The mother of his child. Gosh, he can’t believe his luck.

“How do you feel, honey?”

It tugs at your heartstrings, just how soft he is. So brave, and so gentle at the same time. You have no idea what kind of parent you would be, but you know he would make a great one. “Shocked,” you admit. He nods. “Scared.” This time, you’re a bit embarrassed, but he completely empathizes. “But…” you put your hand over his, closing your eyes as you lean your cheek against his palm, so warm and soft and right, “…happy.”

***

And after two months of a relatively slow life, things are going from zero to 100 very quickly.

Bradley manages to duck out of work early and take you to the doctor that very afternoon. Everything seems to be in order. The baby is, indeed, there— a 7-week-old blob as big as a blueberry with a heartbeat.

Heartbeat.

Your heart all but stops beating when you first hear it, much stronger than you thought it would. But there it is. Strong. Alive.

There.

“That’s… that’s our baby…” You choke up, staring at the ultrasound screen in awe. His hand brings yours to his lips for a loving kiss.

Gosh, you must’ve cried about six times that day. Bradley twice as much (He would deny it to his grave, but you kept count.)

And then, once the novelty wears off a little and the new situation sets in… the two of you get to work.

Bradley updates the entire kitchen inventory and goes into a research (or, as you like to call it, a rabbit hole) into what you can or cannot consume during your pregnancy. You’re constantly on the phone with your agent to rearrange your schedule for the next year (he sounds happy that you’re expecting, but a little inconvenienced that he has to move some things around and even cancel your involvement in a few projects). Conversation topics at mealtimes now include baby names, nursery ideas, and childcare plans.

Bradley comes home to you huddled over your laptop one evening, brows knitted in focus. The AC is cranked up to the max in the summer heat, and you’re all bundled up in the throw blanket. He wants to squee over how cute you look. He puts down the takeout bag of Pad Thai on the coffee table.

“Whatcha got there, my little cocoon?”

“Insurance, mostly.” You look up to kiss him briefly, before you continue typing on. “I’ve been talking to them all afternoon, going through the birth plans and sorting everything out. Very exciting stuff.”

“Hell yeah! Paperwork! The thrill of calling up an insurance company on a Tuesday!” Bradley counters your deadpan with an overexcited cheer, flopping himself on the spot next to you with another big kiss. “Anything I can help you with?”

“Well,” you take a thoughtful deep breath, going through your mental to-do list and realizing… you’re pretty much all set. “How about a back massage?” You give him the puppy eyes, as if you needed it in the first place.

“Copy that, Ma’am.” He throws her a lazy salute and tugs the throw blankets off of you. He starts on your shoulders, noticing the tension under your skin. “Jeez, babe. How long have you been hunched over here?”

Before you can answer him, he’s already working the knots on the base of your neck, you don’t even know you were so tense there, and you respond with a resounding moan.

He raises his eyebrows. “I’ll… take that as a compliment, then.” He grins, ever so proud that he’s eliciting these sounds out of you.

It’s not like you were playing it up or anything. You really were tense, and his hands really do feel good. And while it does make you moan and sigh blissfully, it’s hardly your fault that it makes him think of something else, right?

“Baby…” his voice sounds like a gentle warning.

“Yes?”

His hands stop. “Don’t test me.”

“Oh, okay. Would you prefer this instead?” you grunt oafishly, a piss-poor impression of him in bed, “Fuck baby, that’s it. That’s it. Good girl…”

“Hey!” he pokes his fingers to your side and cage you in his arms so you have nowhere to go. Nowhere to avoid his ministrations.

You giggle uncontrollably, squirming as he gets on top of you, peppering kisses all over your face. A mere distraction to his real tickle attacks. “Stop! Stop! Roo-roo!”

He pins your arms over your head, his cheeks tinged pink with mischief now. “Yield?”

“I’m willing to negotiate.” You flash him a coy smirk.

He frowns. Go on.

You raise an eyebrow. You know what I’m talking about.

He raises his, mirroring you. Interesting…

You tilt your head slightly. Well?

And just like that…

“Deal.”

Your lips meet each other halfway in a searing kiss. The pregnancy hormones are kicking in in full gear, and you’re needier. Much needier than you already are. You want Bradley all the time, in whatever form he’s in, in whatever situation you are in. He knows this, and he finds this endlessly adorable. He would poke fun at you for that…

If only he wasn’t so god-fucking-damned enamored by you for it.

He tears off your dress, reveling in the sheer sight of you. Your curves growing softer, more pronounced in the past month alone. The very subtle but steadfast roundness of your belly. Your breasts, as they grow fuller and—

“Oh…” you whimper as he rolls your nipple between your fingers.

More sensitive to the touch.

“God, you’re so beautiful like this…” he leans down to kiss you again; on the mouth, and on the neck… his tongue gliding across your collarbones, forming the shape of your mounds, one after another…

“Roo, take me to bed…”

“Or what, lose me forever?”

He grazes the outer parts of your nipple with his teeth and teasingly licks at the hardened tops, and you cry out. Such a small little thing, but you feel the sensation in your fingertips.

Bradley smiles. A soft look despite how the situation is escalating. “C’mere, baby.”

With your legs wrapped around his waist, he lifts you up off of the couch. You think it’s just to get you up on your feet, but then he’s not letting go. “You’re not seriously thinking about carrying me all the way upstairs, right?” A teasing frown sets on your face as he hauls you out of the living room.

“Are you assuming that I can’t carry my beautifully pregnant wife to our room?”

“I’m not your wife yet, you know— oh shit!” He pins you against the wall right by the stairs, one hand cradling the back of your head, ever so caring.

He mouths your neck in teasing, his breath fanning against your bare skin. “No? So I don’t have to perform my husbandly duties now, since you’re not my wife?”

It’s kind of hot… but you can’t help but make a face at his choice of words. “You need to stop watching Downton Abbey. Just say ‘fuck.’ It’s not that hard.”

He pulls away, his comeback locked and loaded and ready to go. “You can’t tell me what to do. Who are you, my wife or something?”

“Ugh!” your jaw falls open in a mock offended expression, and you smack his ass playfully.

In turn, he squeezes yours back. Tight. Possessive. There’s a shift in his gaze, a tiny sliver, a darkening—the kind that makes you feel even more naked than you already are. You look at him with unbridled lust, and he kisses you like it’s the only way he can breathe. Like he’s been holding his breath until he can get his hands on you.

And by God, you would let him have all the air you have left to give.

He carries up to the bedroom slowly, carefully, and you hold onto him tight. Reveling in how strong he’s built, all muscles and abs and everything, and how gentle he handles you as he sets you down on the edge of the bed. The epitome of a gentleman, as he kneels down between your legs.

You can feel the heat emanating from him—or is it you?— and you try to unbutton his khaki uniform. “Baby, don’t you wanna take off your…” your words die out as his chest moves out of reach. There is only his hair between your thighs.

His tongue between your folds.

“Fuuuuck…” you bite through your teeth. And once his finger joins in, you’re done for.

You make no effort to hold back your obscene moans, but the wet sounds coming from your pussy are still louder. Your face grows hot as the noise bounces through your bedroom walls.

Bradley pulls his mouth away for a moment, smirking devilishly at you from between his legs. “Well well well… What’s got you this soaking wet, honey?”

You bite your lip, trying to keep it together. But you’re teetering dangerously closer to your release, and you whine out, “You, Daddy…”

He chuckles darkly. “Daddy’s got you all worked up, huh?” The use of the moniker has significantly increased since the news of your pregnancy, but you’re hardly complaining. It does hit different now that he’s actually gonna be one. “I’ve been home for two minutes, and you’re already dripping down your legs…” he slaps the inside of your thigh and you’re keeling into it. “So fucking cute.”

He watches you fuck yourself on his fingers and it makes you dizzy. “Please…”

“Please what?” His mustache tickles your clit, and it drives you wild. “Please stop?”

You whimper in protest.

He adds another finger into you, and raises an expectant eyebrow. This fucking asshole. A snide remark sits right at the tip of your tongue, but the only thing that comes out is,

“Please fuck me.”

He stops, straightening up with an intrigued look about him. Then, being a little shit, he comes back up to you with a kiss. “Good girl. There we go. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You taste yourself on his lips, his mustache wet from your arousal, too. In any other case, you would be more proactive, more feral in returning his sentiment—tearing off his clothes and stuffing your mouth full of his cock. But lately you’ve been feeling more… submissive. So easily drunk on climax that you just surrender your pleasure to your man, knowing he’ll take care of you.

Bradley stands up to his full height, towering over you. He toes off his shoes, unbuttoning his uniform. It’s hardly a striptease routine, but there’s something insanely hot about him undressing when he’s about to fuck you.

His shirt drops to the floor, and the white undershirt soon joins. You perk up at the sound of his belt unbuckling, pants rustling down. And as his hard cock springs free from his boxers, you swallow thickly at the sight.

“You ready?” He pumps his fist around his hard-on a few times, as he settles between your legs, still standing on the side of the bed.

A quiet little please escapes you, and then a gasp, as he pulls your hips to the edge of the bed. Lining up his cock against your entrance. He’s big, and your pussy is still aching after he edged you moments ago. It’s gonna be a tight fit.

“Honey, go slow. Please. Slowslowslowslow… ahh!” His cock slides into you in one swift movement, sending a blinding wave of pain and pleasure as it stretches you out.

He doesn’t tear his eyes off of you. He watches your face fall under his undoing, and he moans. “You feel so good, baby…” he says between heavy breaths. You’re always so strong and bold and ballsy, and it gives him a fucking power trip to see you look so… small taking on his cock.

You let out a pathetic whimper as he starts to shallowly thrust in and out of you.

“What is it, baby?” He coos, caressing your hip gently.

“Y’too big…”

“Too big?” Bradley looks down to level your gaze, a seed of a shit-eating grin plastered on his stupid face. “You want me to stop? Is that what you want?”

“No!” You buck up into him as soon as his hips halt, desperately trying to maintain the pace.

He chuckles, that cocky fuck, before he finally continues driving his dick up your inner walls again. “No? You want me to keep stretching you, then?”

You nod. Every thrust feels bigger, deeper, more than the rest, hitting that spot of pleasure just barely, and you’re willing to do anything to stay there.

“Been so needy since I got you pregnant…” he kisses your neck. “Want Daddy more now that I made you a mommy, huh?”

Fuck. The words—the exact order of the words he said sounds batshit insane. You never considered this kind of dirty talk to be hot, but Jesus…

“God, I can’t wait to see your belly all big and round… your tits too, fuck…” he groans as he squeezes your soft flesh, rubbing your nipples with his thumb. “Gonna be a mommy and show everyone who you belong to, huh?”

“Mmh…” You’ve seen Bradley being possessive, and you’ve seen him tap into his primal side, but not like this. This is a whole other beast, and it shocks you how much it turns you on.

“All mine, huh?”

“I’m all yours, Daddy. I’m—fuck. Fuck!” Your whole body is shaking. The band in your core is wound up so tight, and it’s threatening to snap.

And through it all, he doesn’t let up. Bradley keeps that rhythm, pounding into you hard and deep. “Shit, that’s it… that’s it, baby. Come on my cock. God, you’re so fucking tight…”

There’s no stopping it now… your pussy gushes and clenches around him, as shocks of pleasure wave through your system. Your mind goes blank, and for a hot second, nothing is registering in your brain. Nothing but your man, as obscenely as he is fucking your brains out right now,

“Need your cum inside me, Roo…”

“Don’t wanna come anywhere else. Just you, just your pussy…” he breathes out. He’s close, that much you can tell. His pace is erratic and his mouth runs wild. “Gonna keep pumping you full of my cum. Gonna keep fucking babies into you until you can’t anymore.”

You would laugh. You would tease him for being such a caveman about it. But as he comes deep inside you, his hips stuttering one, two, three more times as he rides out his orgasm… you don’t only surrender to the idea; you welcome it.

Maybe you’re completely fucked out. Maybe you’re going soft and mellow, but nothing—and you mean nothing— is hotter than what he wants to do to you.

What he is doing to you now.

The room falls into a pleasant silence as you come down from your high. Bradley pulls out of you, and you gush out with your own release and his. His mouth falls open in awe. “Fuck, that’s hot…”

“Huh?” You lift your head from the bed, trying to see what he’s looking at.

“Nah, it’s just…” he shakes his head with a grin. “Good thing we’re already pregnant, huh? If we weren’t, that might’ve just done the trick.”

You roll your eyes as he gives you a sweet peck on the cheek. “I think the dirty talk alone was enough to do it.”

He blushes, a deep shade of red. He absolutely can’t take it when you quote back the things he said to you during sex. “Nope! Not a single word. La-la-la-la…” he closes his ears with his fingers, waddling over to the bathroom comically.

The sound of water trickling into the toilet coincides with your laugh in the bedroom… and then it gets drowned out with the flush. It’s a mundane little snapshot of your intimate lives together.

He comes up to you and offers his hands. “Come on…” he helps you get up. “You go ahead and clean up. I’ll change the sheets.”

Leave it up to Bradley, to always take initiatives to do the small things, like changing the sheets and ushering your ass to the bathroom after sex.

As you clean up and put on some clothes in the bathroom, Bradley singing Take My Breath Away to himself in the other room, you wonder how all of this will turn out. Change is inevitable—your belly is getting bigger, this new stage of relationship is getting more real— and you’re desperate to get a grasp on these things. It’s strange to be so anxious after such a lovely evening. But it’s been so good so far… too good, maybe… and you can’t help but wonder if the other shoe might drop.

“Everything alright?” Bradley pops up by the bathroom door, already in sweatpants and a t-shirt. You must’ve been in there for a while.

You nod absently. “Yeah, just… changing.” And you’re not sure whether you’re talking about the clothes you just put on, or the body you inhabit.

“I think you look beautiful,” he says so simply. Wrapping his arms around you, feeling your small bump. He smiles into your hair and whispers, “My beautiful wife…”

“Not your wife yet…” you remind him pointedly, teasingly. It’s one of your favorite pastimes, keeping him on his toes.

He turns you around to face him, a tender look seemingly permanent on his face whenever he sees you these days. “I mean, you’re here, with me, in our house, carrying our baby…” he kisses your nose, “As far as I’m concerned, that makes you my wife, doesn’t it?”

Well, when he puts it like that… you take a deep sigh, not hating the idea. But not quite ready to concede to his argument yet. “Apart from a piece of paper.”

“Ah well. That can easily be arranged, hmm?”

Truth be told, he’s got a point. The only differentiating factor to your status right now is a little certificate, and both your signatures on the dotted lines. Not a big party or a horrendously expensive dress that everybody would have an opinion on. And to be more truthful, it was never what you wanted in the first place.

You only ever want to be together.

And you’re free to decide how you want to be together.

“Should we just do it?”

“What?”

You look up at him with a tentative smile.

His eyes light up, and his heart leaps. “I mean, sure.” He chuckles. “We can go down to the courthouse. Or, hell, I’ll drive us to Vegas right now.”

It gets a giggle out of you. Of course he would jump at the opportunity to marry you right away. “Or… we can just celebrate it with our closest friends and family? Rent a beach house somewhere, and just… make a fun weekend out of it?”

“And just… what, get a justice of the peace to marry us?”

You shrug with an easy smile. “Or we can make Mav cry and ask him to officiate.”

He chuckles, but trails off as it sinks in. It has never occurred to him that that was an option. He’s always imagined it the traditional way. A church ceremony followed by a reception in a hall somewhere. Walking under the arch of swords. Looking dapper in his dress uniform. But with his work obligations and yours, and all the nightmare logistics of guest numbers and venues and entertainment and the fucking publicity that comes with your fame, both of you are well aware that it’s a hassle.

And it’s not even the most important part.

The most important part is you. You’d be the one meeting him at the altar. You’d be the one saying your vows and making him cry happy tears.

You would be the one.

For him.

Forever.

“Let’s do it.” Bradley nods resolutely. “Just you, me, and our closest people. We can get married in our jammies, for all I care.”

“Maybe not jammies…” you roll your eyes in amusement. “I still wanna look nice for our wedding, you know.”

“You look nice in your jammies.” He glances down at your tank top.

“Roo.” You cover his line of sight indignantly.

But he tugs your hand away, eyes still glued to what is arguably one of his favorite sights in the world. Your cleavage. Plays it off really coolly as he teases you. “No, no. I’m serious. You look really nice in your jammies. I really wouldn’t object to—”

You swat his hand, only half-serious. “Bradley.”

“Alright, fine!” He raises his hands in surrender. “So long as I get to call you my wife.”

“Not your wife yet…” you saunter out of the bathroom, knowing full well he doesn’t care.

To be completely honest, you’re not even sure that you do, either.

#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster imagine #rooster smut #rooster x reader #the actress & the aviator #ava writes #top gun maverick

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ask-a-group-of-monsters · 2 years

Photo

*Perhaps an explanation is in order...

Previous | Next

#Asking the monsters #A group of weirdo monsters #Yogurt #Rosemary #Sans #Papyrus #Quinn #Kahari #updates are few and far between #but they're still fun to make whenever I have time :D

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ateezinmymind · 11 months

Text

number seven

hongjoong x reader

fluff

this is part one !!!

word count: 3.4k

tag list: @yunhobabygurl @hxneyboy @bobateastay @multidreams-and-desires @yungisstar1117 @atinywhore

the breeze across your face causes the hairs on the back of your neck to rise, even under your bundled scarf. the autumn air - cold, brisk, ready and on the verge of winter.

on your way to the local grocery store, a part of you regretted walking and not riding the bus - or even your beat up and rusty bike you’ve had ever since your teenage years. the very tips of your fingers began to tingle with numbness from the cold, hands buried deep within your long coat pockets not helping one bit. but once you turn the corner, the store comes into view and the slightest dash of relief washes upon you.

it wasn’t even a long walk from your apartment, but the weather made it feel like it lasted one too many millions of years. ‘exaggerate much’

a long sigh leaves your mouth when you feel your phone buzz in the back pocket of your jeans. taking your already frozen hand out from the somewhat warmth of your coat pocket, you manage to dig out the phone - bringing it into your eyesight.

your roommates name displays itself on the screen and you hurriedly pick up the call.

“hello?” you say, closing in on the vicinity of the store's small parking lot. seeing the heat of your breath fog up the air

“y/n! where are you?” san’s voice shrieks through the speaker and into your ear, causing your face to flinch slightly. his concern makes you giggle softly while finally reaching the main entrance, and you grab the door handle and pull it open. walking into the led white lit building. “san, i already told you dummy. i’m at the store-“

“BYEOL NO-“ he interrupts you, yelling at the cat away from the phone. making you roll your eyes and smile - just imagining what mess that cat decided to make this time.

“sorry!” he apologizes over the sound of something rustling through the speaker. “the cat almost got into the plants you pulled down from the shelf”

dismissing his apology in understanding, since there was no need, you smile kindly at the store’s worker that greets you, “i’m only getting a few things that we ran out of, and i need more oat milk.” you continue, sliding a small grocery basket around your elbow.

“do you need me to grab anything while i’m here?” you question, making way to the dairy section.

he hums out in thinking, and then answers once thirteen seconds of him pondering saying “mmmmmnhhhhhh” are over.

“can you get me some strawberry yogurt and those yummy baby food things.. uh, like y’know those cereal puffs?”

after hearing his request, you burst out in a big laugh - catching the attention of a few other customers you pass in your path. “umm. sure san, i can get that for you” you manage to answer once you’ve caught your breath, and blinked back tears from your laughter.

“i’m being serious y/n” san whines out, then chuckles. “i’m really craving it”

“okayyyyy sannie, i’ll do it.”

reaching the glass case doors for the alternative milks, you grab two boxes of your favorite oat milk. “yay!” he cheers out like a five year old child.

smiling to yourself, and putting your things into the basket - you say goodbye to your roommate on the phone and hang up. now walking to your next destination, the yogurt aisle.

grabbing the strawberry yogurt you know san wants, you accidentally back into someone with your basket hooked on your arm.

“oh gosh! i’m so sorry!” you squabble out, in apology. whipping your head around to show your sincerity.

but to your surprise you see the most bright and kind face - instead of one wrenched with disgust that you were expecting.

the man shows his perfect set of teeth in a genuine and lighthearted chuckle, his glasses framing his smile squinted eyes.

“don’t be sorry!” he says, adjusting the black hat covering his platinum blonde hair. “that wouldn’t be the first time i’ve gotten bumped into” his eyes catch yours and you feel yourself blush just a bit while you let out a small polite sigh

he was incredibly handsome.

a small silence fills the air between you two, and you break eye contact and look down for a second. clearing your throat with a somewhat awkward cough.

he must've sensed your shyness and decided to speak up again

“im hongjoong!” his voice was cheerful, and almost instantly soothed your quick wave of anxiety. for you never know whether someone you accidentally run into is going to be as kind as he is. especially with these older ladies grumpy about the cold weather and such.

“it’s nice to meet you, im y/n” you say, putting out your hand in order for him to shake in an official introduction.

he immediately meets yours and you take notice of how some nails of his are painted black, and how the skin of his hands are rough yet at the same time incredibly youthful and gentle. the backside of his hand slightly dry, and you guess it’s from the cold temperatures

his grip isn’t overwhelming, but the perfect amount of pressure to where it’s comforting. like a hug.

“y/n, huh? i like it” his simple compliment causes you to pull your hand away in unexpectancy. “oh…oh, well .. thanks” you sputter, bringing your hand up to pull on your scarf. (that all the sudden feels too warm and tight)

hongjoong was definitely not oblivious to the fact that you were flustered, and it made a part of him all giddy and interested. to where he puts both hands in his back pockets and shifts his weight onto one leg and eyes you closely

you were very captivating, the flush to your cheeks only spreading to your ears now as you loosen the already loose scarf around your neck. he couldn’t help but chuckle slightly.

and hearing him chuckle, only worsened your embarrassment.

“relax, y/n” he soothes out, taking a step back to try and help you with some space. “i’m just complimenting you”

he laughs out again when you let out a little noise of a sort of groan and turn your head to the side. trying to gain composure. (or rather try and hide your growing smile)

you couldn’t believe yourself, you were literally acting a fool.

“i’m sorry” you say again. making him scoff out and wave his hands out in front of him. “don’t apologize! you’re totally okay!” he laughs more

“i think it’s cute” he tried reassuring you, but him saying that actively made your stomach erupt in butterflies and you felt yourself smile bigger.

taking a deep breath you look back into hongjoong’s eyes and lick your lips nervously. “well.. thank you.. hongjoong”

when you say his name, he dips his head and puts his hands back in his coat pockets this time. then finally takes notice of the things in your basket that bumped into him. the strawberry yogurt catching his attention.

turning away to look back at the selection of foods behind you, hongjoong speaks yet again and gets your attention once more. “strawberry yogurt huh? i love yogurt.” he steps forward right next to you and grabs a package for himself. “thanks for the idea”

watching him by your side holding one container and looking for another flavor you finally take in the sight of his side profile. perfect, smooth skin and the many piercings that adorn his ears - his long lashes behind his eyewear almost touching the glass.

he was so captivating.

“oh yeah hehe.. yep, just grabbing some things we’re out of.” you reply back, averting your gaze away from him.

as much as he wants to, hongjoong doesn’t ask who ‘we’ is and instead nods his head and picks up some vanilla yogurt to put in his shopping cart too. and a small silence falls between you two once more.

“well, i guess i should head to my next thing on the grocery list,” he says, pulling a small crumpled piece of paper with some dark green ink arrayed all over from out of his pocket. “it was nice getting bumped into by you y/n” he says with a teasing tone, while sending you a friendly wink. which you shake your head and laugh softly, trying not to make a face of distress. turning your body to face him as well. “uh yeah, sorry about that again hehe” you groan out with an exaggerated frown that mimicked one of a frog with your strained jaw (in the best way) and it made him snicker

“i’m only joking, but it really was nice meeting you”

you blush and drop your eyes down to glance at his mouth. glossy lips stretched in a sweet smile, you involuntarily swallow and smile back. “yeah, you too hongjoong”

looking back into his eyes you see them squint just slightly for a second. a flash of affection displayed itself it had seemed, but you didn’t know for certain for he waved you goodbye and turned around and walked away. leaving you in the reminisce of your flustered self.

taking a deep breath and letting it out in another audible sigh you try and remember what to do next.

“strawberry yogurt…” checking off items on the imaginary grocery list in your head, “right,” you say to yourself,

“fucking baby food”

trying not to let that quick encounter with the handsome man distract you too much as you step on track to the infants section.

wearing the most gleaming of smiles across your face

“choi san!” you shout, closing the front door to your apartment. one grocery bag on your arm hitting the side of your thigh as you begin taking off your scarf and coat.

you hear a pattering of footsteps coming through the hallway and out comes san at your service - still in his pajamas. “yes ma’am?” he says teasingly. “will you please put these things away?” you ask, taking the bag into your hand and reaching it out in front of you. while the other hand and shoulder shimmy off your jacket.

“of course!” san voices in a dramatic almost elderly way, taking the groceries and heading to the kitchen with you following behind - once you slip off your shoes and reply with a light ‘thank you’.

“how did ol shopping go, hmm? did you walk there?”

nodding your head, even though san couldn’t see - you bend down and give the cat a few scratches behind her ears. “it was good, and yeah, i did walk there.” you answer, then walk over to the sink - grabbing a water pitcher and filling it. “but i regretted it, and took the bus home - it’s actually so fucking cold outside.” you complain, turning the water off when it reaches around half full.

going to the counter where the plants you left earlier were situated, you began pouring water into each. giving them the same amount. “the walk there sounds l-a-m-e.” he tells you, closing the fridge door and dashing to quickly snatch byeol before she can walk into the living room. (leaving the grocery bag on the floor in the process, for you to end up picking up for him)

tossing the water pitcher into the sink, causing clunking sounds of heavy plastic and aluminum to echo in the kitchen. you pick up one the plants and place it on the shelf next to the sink. “do you know a hongjoong?”

you don’t mind the dead leaf that fell off the greenery, leaving it there for later and turning your body to face san who finally caught byeol and had her in his arms. leaning your backside against the sink.

“hongjoong?” san pipes up in question (more to himself than you - vocalizing it to try and help his brain to remember any recollection of the name). humming out with ponder, he clicks and squints his eyes. shaking his head. “mmmh i can't say that i do y/n, im sorry”

dismissing the slight feeling of disappointment, you grab the other plant and put it back in place. “why?” san asks, watching your mood change just in the slightest bit.

“oh nothing, i just met a guy at the store today named hongjoong” you say, now busying yourself to the fridge and grabbing a handful of blueberries out of their small container and popping them in your mouth. “was wondering whether you knew him or not is all”

“hmm.. i see, i see” san replies, trying to contain byeol from jumping out of his arms. “was he cute or something?”

swallowing down the berries hard, you clear your throat and whip your head to look san straight in the eyes, with a sliver of mischievousness.

“maybeeeee.” you say in a playful way. ultimately making your roommate shriek and bust out in an excited laugh, readying himself to hear all about this new profound grocery store crush of yours.

whining out in exhaustion, you yell for san once more. the pain in your head becoming an excruciating pound, and you regret calling for help immediately.

two days since you ventured out in the cold to go to the store and now your body suddenly decided it wanted to get sick?

fun.

“sannie!!”

no response, again… you’d think yelling for him four times before would work but it didn’t, so you lay back down on your pillow. accepting the fact that he’s most likely not home.

carefully and slowly, you turn your body to grab your phone that’s plugged into the charger on its place in the window sill. texting san if he could pick you up some advil from the store.

dropping your phone from your hand you close your eyes in waiting. and then feeling the buzzing of the notification in a matter of seconds, you pick the phone back up and look at his reply.

‘so sorry, i’m not gonna be home until tonight! i love you’

sighing out. and maybe cursing under your breath, you decide that you’ll just go ahead and stop by the store yourself. (the pain in your skull ultimately sealing this thought)

so, texting san back a quick ‘no worries, love you’ - you steadily get yourself up and grab your wallet from the nightstand it was thrown on and clothe yourself in every warm piece of apparel that was available. heading out the door with a mission for some relieving drugs.

only this time… you took the bus there.

“thank you” giving the best smile you could muster towards the snobby teenaged cashier, you grab the small sack of newly purchased medicine for your cold and made your way to the exit. sighing when the cold air hits your face once again with an icy tinge

sniffling from your nose, you clutch the grocery bag close as your arms flatten across your chest to hold your sides seeking warmth. nuzzling your chin deeper in the bundle of your scarf, crossing the parking lot to the sidewalk of the tiny strip mall where the bus stop was stationed at the corner, you instinctively become oblivious of any person you pass by

until you hear your name being called

“it’s y/n, right?”

turning your head over your shoulder towards the sound of the familiar voice, none other than your new acquaintance met your eyes

hongjoong.

you felt your stomach flip again seeing his welcoming smile with crescent shaped eyes. “oh hi!” you greet, returning his grin. then fully taking in his appearance, he was still wearing the same black hat he wore the other day, but his build was puffier than before. his crossed over arms with the bulging comfort of his layered tops. a black trench type of coat draped over what looked to be an oversized beige hoodie. he wasn’t wearing glasses like last time, and instead it seemed he exchanged it for a scarf … covered around his neck just like the way you wore it on your own.

‘yep .. still handsome’

“what have you been up to? how’ve you been?” his voice sounded so genuine and interested as he beams you one of his infamous smiles. his questions made you feel comforted and almost seen, and you couldn’t help but feel your heart lift in your rib cage. “oh well… i actually just got finished picking some medicine up from the store,” you begin, motioning your head to the right and towards your previous walking trail from the supermarket. “it’s funny, because i seemed to catch a little cold from the day we met. i was stupid enough to not take the bus haha!”

your energy was soothing to hongjoong, and his eyes softened hearing your light chuckle recalling just two days ago. “anyways, yeah …” you continue, “nothing really just gonna go home and try to relax and warm up, try and fully get rid of this headache” stopping with a tight smile, your eyes then go wide internally realizing that you were being impolite not asking him back.

“well-“, hongjoong softly sighs, “what-“ you blurt out right when he begins to speak up, causing the two of you to lightly chuckle in unison. “oh, i’m sorry, you first” you insist with one of your hands releasing it’s grip around your side to lift up and loosely pull on your scarf (something hongjoong noticed you do when nervous - like last time). your beaming grin slowly relaxing from the chuckle the lovely man and you shared.

hongjoong’s voice was like a little spark of warmth which seemed to have an effect on your blood flow and heart rate, and after he too falters his fit of snickering - his tongue prods out to wet the corner of his mouth naturally before speaking again. “i was just going to say that’s too bad, you got sick and all.” pausing he grows a new look of amusement and continues with a cheeky look, “sick of me i betcha”

this causes you to scoff and probably chuckle a little louder than you wanted, swatting your hand from your scarf and down to barely graze the front of his jacket. “nuh uh!” you retort with a high pitch, nose scrunching in a teasing way, along with a roll of your eyes. blatantly ignoring the light pound of your head.

“i’m kidding” he laughs, “you haven’t been around me long enough to get sick of me.. yet”

his response sent your stomach fluttering, yet the tiny voice in the back of your head kept saying he was just ‘being friendly’ and ‘he didn't mean it in any other way besides just being polite’. “honestly i don’t think i could.” you reply, quieter but with more confidence in your gaze up to his. tilting his chin back just slightly with a growing smirk seeing this new version of the girl he’s only met twice, hongjoong’s thoughts arrived. ‘what kind of game are you playing y/n’. and his mind couldn’t help but also think back to you talking about living with someone already, from your first encounter with one another.

“well,” he pipes back up again, tugging his hands deep in his coat pockets - then giving a big sniffle through his nose followed by another full set of teeth smiles, he continues. a slight shake in his voice, “i was just about to go get myself a drink,” he states, poking his elbow back towards the entrance of the local cafe, “can i get you something?”

his kind offer was surprising to you, and it definitely showed on your face, because he immediately started shaking his head with a big smile. “you can decline y/n” and his cheeriness soothed your blushing cheeks, but it didn’t help the way your eyes bulged wide open. “oh- oh, no that would be so nice”

feeling your hands shake gently, you dig them underside each elbow as you cross your arms tightly (your small grocery bag shuffling with the movement).

hongjoong nods his head in agreement and takes one step back and then slowly turns around to go ahead and open the cafe door, doing so with such ease. the faint and welcoming sound of the doorbell jingles and he gives you an assuring hand outstretched towards your anticipating stance out in the sidewalk.

“then let’s get you out of the cold.”

#it’s been a FATTT minute. i’m so sorry. i literally forgot how to write. i suck BAAHAGAH #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez fluff #hongjoong smut #hongjoong fluff #kim hongjoong smut #kim hongjoong #kim hongjoong fluff #ateez hongjoong #ateez hongjoong smut #ateez fic #ateez x reader #ateez reactions #ateez drabbles #ateez scenarios

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formeryelpers · 6 months

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San Froyo, 1150 El Camino Real, San Bruno, CA 94066

Fro-yo girl here. San Froyo is the new name of what used to be the OrangeTree at Tanforan. Can you believe that OrangeTree opened in 2009? It survived for over a decade. The OrangeTree sign is still above the entrance.

San Froyo has 12 self-serve froyo and sorbet flavors with toppings for $0.79/oz. You can get your froyo but an employee has to add the toppings, so it's only partial self-serve. Toppings included fruit, cereal, candy, mochi, cookies, chocolate chips, popping boba, nuts, etc.

The decor is cheerful and bright with bright green walls.

Froyo flavors of the day:

Fancy French vanilla

Cappuccino

Very strawberry (unavailable)

Alphonso mango (unavailable)

Chocolate

Cookies & cream

Taro

Original tart: icy and gritty, mildly tangy

Pineapple sorbet

Raspberry sorbet: very sweet, like candy rather than raspberries the fruit, icy & smooth

Green apple sorbet

The only cups they have are gigantic. The froyo is okay but expensive for average quality froyo. However, it's the only froyo shop at the mall. The mall has plenty of parking. San Froyo is on the lower level.

You know you love me. X0 X0, fro-yo girl.

2 out of 5 stars

By Lolia S.

#San Froyo #OrangeTree Frozen Yogurt #froyo #frozen yogurt #froyo shop review #self-serve froyo #San Bruno

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armpirate · 1 month

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Soundleasure | Choi San || CH. 9

Pairings: Soft!San x fem!reader || Strangers to lovers, fake dating

Genre: smut, angst, fluff, online sex, ghosting

Warnings: inexperienced!San, fem!reader, masturbation, online sex, camboy, first times.

Summary: You can do whatever you please and be whoever you want on the Internet. And San knew that a little bit too well.

After finally following all the signs the universe was throwing at him, he started living a double life that no one was aware of. Everyone in his daily life knew him as Choi San, the reserved and quiet boy who wouldn't raise his voice, and would barely communicate with anyone outside of his comfort group. But only a few knew him as Soundleasure, the man with a sexy voice and a filthy mind that had their toes curling just with his narrations.

He never thought of the possibility of those two lives ever meeting, he had always tried for them to follow a parallel route and had always played safe to keep his friends from ever suspecting that side even existed. But his plans will start to crumble when he gets a little too close with one of his subscribers and she invades his real-self and altergo's universes without being able to stop it.

Y/n will not only help him to keep his secret from his circle, but will also show him there's more of Soundleasure in him than he'd like to admit.

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

Aprox. time of reading: 14 minutes

A loud scream from somewhere in the house interrupted whatever it was he was trying to type on the computer. By how loud and powerful it was, almost making the walls tremble with it, San could tell it came from Mingi. It worked like an alarm, because not even a minute later, both Wooyoung and San were showing up at the living room with a confused look.

—Who used my razor?

Mingi lifted it, to show off the rusty blaze. As if neither of them would be able to see the tiny brown marks over the shiny silver color from their positions.

—Mingi, are you sure you weren't the last one to use it? —San tried to knock some sense back to his friend— Last time you pulled a scene like this, you were the one who ate your last yogurt.

—Yeah —Wooyoung seconded—. Try to think about what you did before blaming others. You probably were the one who left it in a random place after shaving.

—You think so?

His determined gaze quickly changed to a confused and insecure one, looking at the razor while he tried to remember what exactly happened the last time he shaved to know whether Wooyoung was right or not.

Slightly pouting his lips, Mingi went back to close himself inside the bathroom, leaving San and Wooyoung alone in the living room. As soon as the door of their shared bathroom closed, his best friend turned to him with a devilish smile and a contained laugh.

—I actually was the one who did it.

San gave him a scolding look, tilting his head in annoyance when he was aware of the war that would start if Mingi knew about it.

—He always leaves his things everywhere —Wooyoung tried to excuse himself—. You'll see how he'll be careful with his things from now on.

—I knew it! —Mingi screamed again, opening the door to their bathroom— You little gaslighting asshole.

San just stared at them, seeing Wooyoung barely able to move his right arm as he tried to move the chairs from their dinner table to block Mingi to get any close to him as they ran around it. The doctor told him that, even though his arm seemed to be alright already, at least enough to take off the bandage, to be careful with the movements he could make and the pressure he added on the joint. And what was Wooyoung doing? Exactly the opposite of what he was told.

—Don't be a pig and I'll respect your things —Wooyoung said, testing what direction he should run to, as Mingi stood at the opposite side of him.

—It was a new razor that cost forty dollars.

—Forty dollars for that?! —San interrupted, opening his eyes wide at the price.

—I don't care. It's on the Rules Board —Wooyoung insisted—. If you leave your things unattended in a common space, deal with the consequences.

San sighed at the mention of the Rules Board. It was their way to get used to one another and their way to live. Actually, it was created mainly because Mingi worked night shifts, and it was their best way to settle the times in which they could make noise and when they should keep the volume as low as possible. Once Mingi finished his degree and started working in the position he was in, that board found a comfortable space behind the bookshelf in the right corner of the living room, next to the dinner table.

—It was a gift from my mom, you dumbass —Mingi ignored his comment.

—Your mom bought you that? —Wooyoung's cocky expression changed to a concerned one.

—Yes!

—Sorry, I didn't know.

Wooyoung walked to their taller friend, trying to calm down the mood, before he spoke again.

—I'll buy you the same one —he said—. Send me the model, and I'll make the order right now.

As soon as Wooyoung left, a smirk appeared on Mingi's face, turning to San with a proud look.

—It wasn't a gift from my mom —he whispered.

Of course San was already suspecting that. Mingi was such a bad liar, stuttering as he dropped those words, that he was surprised Wooyoung didn't catch on to the lie as soon as he heard it.

—Use one of mine for today, and hope Woo doesn't find out about that —San simply said, after rolling his eyes—. I need silence to finish my research, and with you two bickering like five year olds I will never finish.

—Alright, alright —his hands raised to the air—. I'm meeting up with some friends, anyway.

Said that, Mingi closed himself inside the bathroom again, leaving San alone in their living room. After sighing, he went back to his room, closing the door behind him, before he made his way to the turned on computer and the blank sheet on Word.

His research was actually the new theme for the weekly video that he had been trying to think of for almost an hour already.

His fingers taped over the black desk, trying to get some inspiration back -although it wasn't like he had any before Mingi interrupted.

Trying to write a proper script was the most difficult part of what he did, although he had never been in such a big block as he was that day. He had gone through several tropes ever since he joined the website: cute boyfriend, angry sex, friends to lovers, friend's brother... even he sometimes went over some dark concepts that people asked him to do in the comments. Not even with those he had a hard time writing them as that day.

Whenever he came up with an idea, Y/n instantly showed up in his head taking the position of the lead of his fantasies. Innocent girlfriend? Y/n was there. Hot neighbor? She was there. Sister's friend? She fitted the role perfectly.

His head was thrown back, hanging over the backrest of his chair, as he closed his eyes.

The memories from the previous night were still fresh, the warmth of her body against his was still there, he almost could feel her if he concentrated enough. Even her floral scent invaded his nostrils as soon as he left his mind blank.

His fingers flew to the curve between his lower lip and chin, touching where she kissed him the past night to fool his friends into thinking they actually kissed. His heart started beating faster again when he remembered how her breath coated his skin first, before her lips covered that spot. She felt soft and moist, and it made him wonder if she would've felt better if he hadn't told her she didn't kiss anyone before her. What would've happened if he had allowed her to kiss him like she wanted to?

The click of his tongue interrupted those fairytales, bursting his bubble as he sat straight on the chair back again.

How was he supposed to come up with a story if the only thing in his head was Y/n.

His fingers caressed the keys of his keyboard, positioning his hands properly before he forced himself to write something down. He couldn't fight his own brain, and he needed to get that script done by that day if he wanted to be able to record the video in the next two days.

Suddenly, he found himself remembering how tempting she looked while lying on his bed, and how his most instinctive thoughts, that were only eclipsed by worry the previous night, were emerging again through that memory.

In his head, he adopted the confident persona that belonged to Soundleasure, leaning over her as his two hands were positioned on both sides of her hips, leaving their lips millimeters away from each other.

All those fantasies he built with her as they texted grew deeper after meeting her in person, getting the perfect image of how her face looked up close, and how her eyelids slightly closed before she kissed him.

It was such a realistic thought that he could almost feel the taste of her saliva on his tongue, as he rewinded back twelve hours back. And all that realism only helped him get lost in her, and be engulfed by his own thoughts.

He didn't break off when she needily took off his t-shirt, and unzipped his pants. And he couldn't find a way to move on the second he pictured the way her lips would feel around him.

He was so sick for thinking of her like that, and he realized when he finally moved his fingers away from the keyboard with a deep breath. Finally back to his senses, he realized most of the script was already written down. And that only made him wonder how long he had been lost in thought fantasizing about her.

The leg slit of the long skirt of her floral dress softly moved up her knee, having her instantly moving it back to place, holding the two sides between her pressed thighs to keep the soft breeze from moving it back again.

She hated those brunches with passion.

The only thing that could make of that moment something acceptable was the food, but not even the food was good enough for her to forget how annoyed she was at the superiority complex their supplier radiated.

—You look tired, you didn't sleep well? —Tim Hockman finally asked, looking at her over the bridge of his aviator sunglasses.

Although she arrived back home with no inconveniences, she couldn't say the same thing happened when she snuggled under the blankets of her king size bed. She kept rolling under them, unable to find the right position to feel comfortable enough to fall sleep. Although how uncomfortable she felt had zero to do with the bed or the actual position, but where the back of her mind was as she closed her eyes.

She was so close. If only she had moved her head a bit higher, she'd have been able to kiss him. And probably, if he hadn't told her she was going to be his first kiss, she would have.

Y/n didn't know the reasons why he hadn't kissed anyone yet, but it was enough for her when he directly told her he didn't want to do it. It didn't matter if it was because of his friends, or because he felt insecure of his skills, it was a line that she wasn't entitled to cross -as much as she felt bad for not crossing it. She did well, she respected an invisible boundary that he didn't exactly settle, but that was there, and she was sure she probably would've felt way worse if she had violated it.

Thinking about his lips, or how well they'd felt sucked in between hers, wasn't the worst and what had her losing her sleep. Every thought that came right after linking it to it, every step further she took with the imaginary vision of San in her head had her scolding herself for it.

She had fantasized about him when he was only a pixel in her screen, she had touched herself when he was only a voice she was attracted to, but for some reason it made her feel uncomfortable about herself how she was suddenly daydreaming fucking the real person.

Could be the difference was that knowing him settled some limits for her, could be she only fantasized about him before because she never thought she'd actually meet him -and, in consequence, didn't actually get her to see him as a real person. But he was pretty much real, and her body reacted instantly to that imponent aura he didn't think he had, and those attractive mannerisms he had normalized to the point he wasn't aware of them.

San was aiming to be one big problem for her.

—I slept well —she finally answered—. It might be because I'm facing the sun, and I can't open my eyes without them hurting.

Her tone had a slight glimpse of reproach, annoyed by the fact that he was the one who chose the place, the table, and also sat first on the only chair that was back facing the sun.

Her clenched jaw relaxed when her father kicked her knee, drawing her back to reality and trying to get her to realize who she was speaking to.

Tim was the type of man who had a fragile ego. The minimal sign of disrespect or annoyance would get him to act in consequence. Her father had seen it before, he had to deal with it before. One misunderstanding had him almost feel forced to do business with someone else when he suddenly raised the price of his supplies.

—Not like it's an issue. Vitamin D is always good —she faked a smile, hurrying to drink from her orange juice before looking away.

—Harry, you must be so proud, huh? —he chuckled, pointing at her while talking with her father.

—I am —her father sighed—. Every day, I am more at ease thinking I'll leave the business in good hands.

—One day you should let her take control of these deals —he suggested, shaking his hands in the air as he pointed at the situation they had going on.

—One day she will. Don't worry about that.

She would've been creeped out by his comments if Tim wasn't also her ex boyfriend's father and she wasn't used to that type of attitude from him. Those comments were nothing new.

—By the way, leaving your business in good hands... I guess it'll also depend on who she ends up with.

—Excuse me? I don't see what one thing has to do with the other —she frowned.

Touching that delicate topic did annoy her, and she was afraid she wouldn't be able to control her tongue from running wild depending on the answer he gave her.

—I mean —he started as he laughed—, it depends on what your significant other's ambitions are.

—And what my limits are drawn —she cut him off—. Also, I can't see why the business would be affected if my boyfriend doesn't even belong to the field.

Her father reached his hand to her wrist, trying to get her to control her tone as soon as he noticed the anger forming on the last few words.

—So your current boyfriend doesn't belong to the field? —Tim's eyebrows lifted in surprise.

It was almost as if he got from her the involuntary sign he wanted.

—Current boyfriend? —her father asked, alternating his eyes between his daughter and Tim.

—Oh, was it a secret?

Her tongue moved over her lower lip, in a desperate attempt to control it from running wild before she looked at her father.

—I don't k...

But she was knocked out with the evidence right on her face. As he spoke, she could see him messing with his phone, thinking it was just him being as disrespectful as he usually was, but seeing the picture on his screen made it clear he was just being a rat.

A picture from the past night was occupying a 50% of the screen, where she could be seen snuggling to San while his arm was around her neck. And she probably wouldn't be in that big problem if she hadn't encouraged him to wrap his arm around her, when she held his wrist and placed it on the other side of her neck, to give it a couple vibe. She clearly didn't think of the consequences of taking that picture, and giving Wooyoung her Instagram user shortly after when he asked, mainly because she didn't think he'd upload it, and even less tag her. But also doubted anyone was paying so much attention to her to be aware of the posts she was tagged on.

—My son saw it on his feed today, and I was curious about that. The poor thing is still brokenhearted.

—Others call it obsession —she mumbled.

—What?

—Nothing —her father rushed to answer for her.

He was also the one who broke up with her because she didn't meet his standards, after dating for two years. It just sounded weird for her that Tom was scrolling down her social media to keep track of everything she did -when last time she had news about him against her will, he was snorting coke in the middle of a stripper's tits.

—You didn't know about her relationship? Oh, sorry.

Tim should've been thankful to her father for being there, and being the only reason why she wasn't sticking his croissant down his throat.

—Of course I knew —Harry nodded, adapting quickly to the situation and trying to sound as relaxed as possible—. A really good guy.

As much as her father tried to make it sound like he was indeed comfortable, there was some tiny crack in his voice that she was used to hearing when he got upset at her, and that only showed up when he tried to hide how angry he actually was in public.

She knew all that would turn up against her as soon as Tim walked victoriously out of there.

And he did.

Her father gave her the chance to sit on Tim's chair, as soon as he left with the excuse that he had a family meeting. And he was giving her that exact same scolding look he gave her whenever she failed an exam, or when she didn't behave the way she was expected to in the company.

—You're dating someone and you didn't tell me about it?

—It's my private life. I don't get what fucks that has to do with the company —she defended herself, crossing her arms over her chest.

—It has nothing to do with it until it's linked to your public social media —he accused—. It's important because his background could affect our reputation.

—Not everyone is as twisted and crazy as the Tities to be checking my tagged posts.

—Can you just own up to it? —he tried to get her to focus— Honestly, I'm well aware you've been dating around, and I don't think I've ever asked any explanation from you. It's your private life, and it has zero to do with your position because you've kept it on the down low. But do you realize that, once it connects somehow to your social media, not only you're making it public and accessible, but also linking it to the type of person and professional you might be? As bad as it is. If he's a known asshole, that image will also be added to you. If he's done fraud, that image will also be added to you.

—He's none of that —she waved her hands in the air, getting him to stop.

—That's why I want to judge by myself —her eyebrows furrowed at that answer—. I want to meet him so I can be sure he actually isn't none of that.

—It's not that serious...

She was already preparing the field for the imminent and sudden break up, but her father spoke first.

—You lowkey made it public, and what you have isn't serious? Y/n, no excuses, I want to meet him.

Well, she was damned.

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