#chapter 1.6

[lmchaptertitlebracket]

Round 1, Matchup 37: I.iv.3 vs I.vi

[dw-flagler]

She stares at him. So many big words and fancy language. She can hear her father ranting about him in her mind, the idea that a man like this could make more money than decent, hardworking folks doing proper labor. If she didn't know better, she'd even assume it was a point in the therapist's favor.

It feels wrong that this isn't that important of a line. It feels important. For some reason this feels like it should be a character-defining line but it's 100% not. It doesn't say anything we don't already know... I guess it's confirmation that she does hate her dad? that was already implied though. I mean it could have been possible she ran away from home while still somehow liking her parents? It happens occasionally. I mean in mixed feelings astrid still somehow liked her dad despite him being. the dad from mixed feelings.

[fishareglorious]

I'm going to get shot for this but

madam z/hoffman/constantine. foundation women yuri that no one asked for.

two of them are old. Z is probably like in her thirties. two of them are politicians. Greta probably does not gaf about politics. two of them are the direct supervisors of foundation teenagers. Giving Constantine a ward would not. end very well in the child's part.

the three of them would likely never be in a room together but i have something beautiful called my imagination. they're doing paperwork in absolute silence.

[paranormalfrogtivity]

Alright, Lycaon, I see you doing that foreshadowing there... Granted, he did also punch right through his heart so--

I assume this was in his invite event prior to 1.6, but who knows?

[novascharms]

teach please me — tutor!reader x soccer player!rafe

reader's life is meticulously planned, from high school to becoming president of the country—she knows exactly where she's headed and every step to get there. but her airtight plan hits a snag when the principal ropes her into tutoring rafe cameron, the school’s star soccer player, who’s failing algebra and at risk of being benched next season. the team needs him on the field, and reader needs the principal’s glowing recommendation to secure her spot at her dream school. balancing her ambitious goals with rafe’s chaotic charm might just throw her perfectly crafted plan off track.

word count — 1.6 chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap. masterlist

two

tuesday, january 14th

you nibbled on your pen as you stood in front of your oversized 2024-2025 calendar, scrutinizing the packed schedule staring back at you. it was a mountain of tasks, every inch of space crammed with commitments and deadlines. for now, you were miraculously on track, but all that would go out the window the moment rafe cameron made his long-anticipated appearance at your front door.

you tossed the pen onto your bed and scolded yourself silently for clinging to that tiny, stubborn habit. pen chewers don’t get into dream schools, you reminded yourself.

the hum of a car speeding past your window sent your heart into overdrive. you forced yourself to breathe, to relax. this was no big deal. just a straightforward arrangement where both of you got something out of the deal. rafe cameron was just a boy. a boy who smelled heavenly and objectively happened to be the conventially attractive kind.

you glanced around your bedroom—the same one you’d had since you were eleven. soft blue walls adorned with delicate flower details framed the space, bookshelves stuffed with novels you’d read at least three times over, and textbooks for classes you didn’t even take yet because preparation was everything. your closet concealed rows of neatly folded clothes, and the pièce de résistance: your desk. a long, well-equipped workspace lined with pens, sticky tabs, notebooks, calculators, and every imaginable tool a student could need. the tools for your greatness.

you'd set it up for him. moved away some of your "mess" and placed a calculator, notebook and pencil knowing he probably wouldn't even bring one. you didn't have an extra chair which worked in your favor. he and his downright divine smell could stay all the way over there whilst you watched him from your bed.

your phone chimed, and the message flashed across your open laptop screen—two simple words that sent a strange, fluttering sensation through your chest:

you turned to the mirror, giving yourself a once-over. a white tank top showing just a sliver of midriff, paired with a cozy yellow cardigan, jeans, and fluffy slippers.

adjusting your high ponytail, you hurried downstairs and opened the door. there he was, standing on your porch, looking unfairly good for a lazy sunday. no surprise, the only thing he held was his algebra book—no pencil, no supplies. predictably unprepared.

“hey.”

there was something unnervingly open about his eyes. when he looked at you, it was like he was peeling back layers, welcoming you into some uncharted depth of himself. most people avoided eye contact, but not rafe. his gaze was arresting, almost disarming, and it made you feel vulnerable, as if he could see straight through you.

"hey, come in." you turned on your heel and let him into the foyer. you went to stand by the stairs as he took off his coat and when he followed you, you stopped him, pointed to his feet and said, "shoes off." outside dirt was not something your mom found entertaining in the slightest.

"oh, right—yeah," he halted with a nod and turned to kick off his sneakers. you got a good look at his back. he was wearing loose cargo jeans with this white tee that irritatingly did wonders for his arms. they did not look this big last week in principal oakley's office. and his back? the way it flexed was something out of this world. you'd never seen a more attractive back.

you willed yourself to turn around, to avoid being caught staring. "okay, c'mon." you bounded up the stairs two at a time, hearing him follow close behind. "i don't..have to say hello to your parents?" he asked and you hate that your mind immediately went: green flag!

"normally, yes. but no one is home right now." you go all the way up to the attic which was the only room up there. a room you had to fight tooth and nail for but would gladly leave for your sister when you left for university next year.

you closed the door behind him, "work?" he asked and you hummed, "my mom is at work, my dad gets off work at 3:45 and takes my brother and sister to their extracurriculars so we have plenty of time for you to master the first chapter of algebra." you patted toward your desk and tapped on the chair insinuating he sits on it.

he made a face that said he was already tired before you'd even started and you laughed and grabbed his algebra book. "okay, did you read the first chapter?" you asked half-expecting him to say no but he nodded as he slumped into your chair.

you leaned against your desk and did a quick read through of what the first chapter entailed. it had been very long since you'd opened this book in the beginning. "tell me what it's about."

"it's about numbers." he said flatly

you gave him a look and narrowed your eyes. "what kind of numbers?" you asked and he parted his lips like he was going to say something but then stopped to think briefly. "unknown numbers?" he said almost like a question and the answer shuldn't have made you as happy as it did but you quiped, "yes!" happily.

"so, what about these unknown numbers? what are we doing with them?" you dug a little deeper and you could see the cogs turning in his head. "they're unknown so..we need to figure them out?" he says which wasn't wrong, just not exactly what you were looking for. "how?"

"using variables."

"yes, that's right. we need to figure out unknown numbers using variables."

"and i read some shit about expressions and equations?" you find it adorable how he hasn't sounded not confused since the moment he sat down. "mhm, do you know what expressions and equations are?" you ask.

he stares at you for a moment, " expressions are… parts of math that don’t have an equals sign, and equations do…" he hesitates, staring at you for confirmation and you nod gesturing for him to continue. "uh, variables are the letters in those… like x or y, and you have to figure out what they stand for by, you know, solving." he says and you nod. he had a basic grasp of the foundation. that was something.

"yes, perfect. the first chapter covers the basics of algebra—like what variables are and how they work in expressions and equations. it explains how to combine like terms, use the properties of equality to keep equations balanced, and solve for an unknown variable, usually 𝑥. basically, it’s the foundation for everything else, so if you don’t get this, the rest of algebra’s going to feel like trying to read a book in another language."

he blinked at you. "fucking hell..that was english?" he asks and you chuckle and start writing an equation on the notebook you'd prepared for him. "i will walk you through an exercise. once you've done enough of them, you start to see patterns and realise they're mostly, if not all kinda the same thing over and over. math is the most logical course there is."

you covered the intro of variable expressions and basic operations with algebraic expressions and it went okay, rafe was starting to get the hang of the easier exercises but it wasn't smooth sailling either.

you gave him a bit of a challenging one to complete but you had a feeling he could do it if he just concentrated. he was clearly trying, but his attention wandered. he doodles a soccer ball in the margin of his notebook until you snap your fingers in front of him. “eyes on the prize, cameron. the prize being you not failing.”

“so… this balancing thing,” he says, frowning at the equation. “it’s like… i’m balancing practice, school, and you bossing me around, right?”

“sure,” you says dryly. “except the equation has better odds of working out.”

he laughs at that and you will yourself to not let the sound replay in your mind a dozen times. you fail.

by the end of the lesson he managed to make 6 equations all by himself with no mistakes. it wasn't easy, he had a lot of work but after the lesson you just had, you really believed in his ability to succeed.

"thanks for today." he said as he pulls on his jacket and you shake your head, "no worries."

you turn to the front door and open it before turning back to rafe and your breath hitches when you're face to face with him. the proximity sent a jolt through you. you blink up at him, seemingly frozen in place for a solid three seconds before you clear your throat and move away from the door. "good work today. you're better than i thought." you say as he starts to walk out and he turns, walking to his car backwards. "that's when you're right by my side. once i'm alone? everything hits the fan." he says.

you shake your head, holding on to the door. "you did really good. just make the exercises i gave you and if you get stuck, write down your questions and we can go over it on sunday."

"alright, thanks teach!" he says before he's getting in his car and driving off.

you stood in the doorway for a moment, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air, before realising you never sat down on your bed. you stayed right by his side the whole time.

chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap. masterlist

[phoenixglacier]

5.6 Paralogism Archon Quest Interlude Chapter: Act IV

This quest has single-handedly made me happier than anything.

Spoilers for literally everything below.

The 5.6 update has just come out, and with it came the new Archon Quest in Mondstadt!

I’ll start by saying I super super enjoyed it and was also super super looking forward to it. (This is not an unbiased review)

Some notes before we begin:

I play CN dub and EN sub. Always have and always will. It’s a personal preference, but also because mandarin is my second language so I can understand quite a bit. (Fun fact: the dub and sub have quite a bit of difference even in the basic meaning.)

I’ve been in and out of genshin, but I first started back in 1.6.

It’s completely possible that anyone might not have enjoyed this quest for any reason — rather than a review, these are just thoughts I need to get out of my head.

Thoughts in no particular order:

It took just under 3 hours for me to finish the whole thing. There are enough opportunities to pause and take breaks, and most of the fighting isn’t intensive, and the dialogue doesn’t just infodump on you. All in all nice pacing for me!

Dahlia’s relationship with Venti was surprisingly exactly what I was fantasising; he’s close friends with Venti and fully aware of his silly little personality, and it only makes his faith in Barbatos all the more stronger. I think lots of people (Jean, Diluc, Kaeya) love their archon even more when they can see him as a person, so it’s so fun that Dahlia is in the same boat while having an even stronger faith.

The way they kept locking eyes really sold how close of a relationship they have. And then their silly little conversation where both of them danced around Venti’s true identity and teased each other was also super adorable. I look forward to learning more about Dahlia – he seems so professional and also cheeky.

Dahlia running messages for Venti was also something predicted beforehand, but I was so excited to see it come true!

They jumped straight into the trial, which was pretty awesome! That way I wasn’t anxiously waiting through gameplay for something to go wrong out of nowhere. I think putting it at the beginning also showed they teased the right part, since that way we pretty much all started out with similar information whether we watched the trailer or not.

Kaeya did a great job as the defence. Earlier when the trailer dropped, I found it interesting that he was the one taking on that role, since it’s not really his thing? Kaeya’s job usually involves intel, infiltration, negotiation… in particular, I thought he might be up there to buy time, like maybe the whole trial was a diversion. So when it was revealed that Kaeya was performing an elaborate façade the entire time, it was really personally satisfying because it matched up with my thoughts. It was the same with Albedo: the trailer seemed like it was leaning fully into him being evil, so I did guess he was putting on some sort of performance too — he does like to act a little evil sometimes. For enrichment.

While I listened to Hertha and her evidence, I kept thinking “The evidence looks really bad for Albedo, but also isn’t conclusive evidence at all.” Her behaviour and the behaviour of the rest of the knights really made me feel that it was strange she was so set on persecuting him. I was already imagining that maybe it wasn’t really her, because she was acting so dramatically. The payoff was super sweet!

Knowing that this update was coming, I rewatched Act I of Albedo’s story quest, 1.2’s The Chalk Prince and the Dragon, and 2.3’s Shadows Amidst Snowstorms to be updated on the whole story beforehand. As a result, my understanding of everything they said during the quest was pretty smooth — I can’t be objective about how smooth it would’ve been otherwise. That being said, I like how they explained things as they came up too!

Pacing felt pretty good for me! I preferred this style of going back and forth between objectives and dialogue in shorter intervals. I personally hope they do this more in the future!

They brought in absolutely all the characters, which made me so happy! I play Genshin for the characters after all! Of course we had our major cast, but I was super happy that characters like Bennett also had their moments. It also felt super appropriate since it was a Mondstadt-wide situation. It was also really fun to see them mixing up the pairings a bit, with Lisa teaching Razor, Eula going with Klee, Amber teaming with Mika, and so on. It really sold the idea that our characters have lives and connections outside of what we are privy to, instead of just convenient pairs. It also seemed like a way to show that these characters aren’t isolated anymore and are becoming a tight community of people.

Speaking of community! Mondstadt has grown so much closer and trusting than way back in the Prologue. From Diluc working together with the knights, to Albedo freely trusting them with his biggest secret, to everyone knowing about the personal lives of NPCs, it really seemed like they’d become so much stronger than before by strengthening their trust. 

People pointed out the presence of Donna way back in the trailer and joked that she was only here to watch Diluc — another awesome payoff! I also liked that they brought up her crush enough that it was okay if you didn’t really know her before. The same with Beatrice and Quinn. It was made so special because we’ve known their stories for so long, but the story was understandable without it too.

In terms of more characters I didn’t expect, all that Durin talk definitely made me think about Mini Durin. I figured they had decided not to bring him up, so seeing Mini Durin show up really blew my expectations out of the water.

I will say that unlike all the Shadows Amidst Snowstorms references, I can’t imagine anyone would understand Mini Durin’s situation without having visited Simulanka (4.8 Summertide Scales and Tales). I really hope they decide to bring back all the events someday. 

The tease of Durin’s human form completely caught me off-guard! I’m so excited to see what they’ll do with him. Maybe when he comes out as a playable character, they’ll make Simulanka a proper permanent quest in some form..?

I love Venti so much. So much. And this quest did him so much justice. It was established way back in the Archon Quest Prologue and his Story Quest that Venti constantly switches between “Venti mode” and “Archon mode”. Miaojiang’s voice acting makes that difference really beautiful. In “Venti mode”, Venti purposefully plays up his weakness, ego, love for drinks, and all-round puts on a face as a bard of no particular threat. It’s an act, one that Venti really likes playing, but an act nonetheless. This quest showcased this really well! Venti was involving himself so much and using his godly powers, and then putting on an act to hide his identity when he thought he needed it.

The extent of Venti’s involvement also felt really warranted. The knights clearly felt they had it handled, so all he did was give them support in specific ways and make sure to keep an eye on everything going on. It’s a type of archonly oversight that just feels so comforting. It’s also funny that between Venti and Jean, Venti can’t possibly succeed in teasing her.

I imagine both Albedo and Kaeya would have felt really happy that they officially have the blessing of Barbatos (per the wind communication spell)

More gameplay things: I really like setting up the story so that Lumine doesn’t always have to be involved in every little thing, such as when Diluc and Kaeya were on the bridge. The trial characters were a neat bridge to achieve that, but I do wish they let us choose to use our own characters too if we had them built!

That beautiful still art of Venti, Varka, and the Hexenzirkel really struck me because they used Venti’s modern outfit instead of his archon look. And it felt like it all just kept teasing more and more information. Albedo navigating the Hexenzirkel like a big, complicated extended family was awesome. Just listening to him negotiate with Alice while calling her Āyí made me feel things. Him ultimate referring to the whole situation as “just another day for his family” and calling Durin his brother were perfect.

More bits and pieces here, but I like the angle they took for Albedo’s pursuit of science. To my understanding, he believes in “Knowledge for the sake of knowledge”, while at the same time, being conscious of the consequences of acting carelessly. In other words, he doesn’t inherently aim to better the world with his science, nor does he believe there are inherent consequences to doing drastic things like creation. But he also doesn’t ignore the possibility of causing harm. It’s not my personal approach to science, but it’s very reasonable and very congruent with his character.

I can’t possibly cover absolutely everything, but Eula deserves a mention. I was wondering why she wasn’t speaking up about our experience in Shadows Amidst Snowstorms during the trial, and thought it might be because she’s worried her reputation as a Lawrence would just cast further suspicion, but it turns out she was part of the plan all along. I love how panicked she was when she lost Klee. I love how she happily played along with Klee after that. I love how a subtle signal from her was all Amber needed to know exactly what she wanted. I love how when Amber heard Eula kept it all a secret, she was so proud of her secret-keeping abilities instead of being upset. Also shout-out to Diluc saying that he could tell Kaeya wasn’t acting right, and continuing the trend of protecting him. They clearly still have a ways to go, but it feels like young adult awkward distance to me.

Bringing up pacing again, but I really liked the pace that they gave us info. Nothing is in a huge chunk, and everything is enough to understand what’s happening, and Paimon validates us when we’re not supposed to know something. We’re told as soon as it’s revealed that all of this was a setup and now we have to defend the city, and then between fights and dialogues they explain the details of the plan to us, which made all of it way more enjoyable. Later when Albedo mentioned that Gold devoured Naberius, Paimon’s reaction let me know I was supposed to feel confused, which immediately made the experience comfortable.

Also what do you mean Gold ate the Ruler of Life. Albedo. What is wrong with your family.

I think it’s very fitting that Albedo looks a little crazed and perfect trailer bait when he’s creating a new body for Durin — it’s when he most resembles his mother, after all. Also, he is very unrepentant about killing several whoppers. Mondstadt is lucky he’s one of them.

Also Venti in his sniper's nest never happened, trailer blatantly lied to us. But something I thought about when I saw him up there with his bow was that Venti actually gets involved in his people's business super quickly, but rarely through combat. At the time, I thought him showing up in public in combat mode showed how dire the situation was. But instead, the threat was so adequately contained by the knights that Venti didn't have to bust out combat mode at all, and instead helped out in his usual Barbatos way (and a little more!)

Closing thoughts:

I was so excited leading up to this update that it nearly scared me. A part of me thought, if I have such high expectations, what if it can’t meet my expectations anymore? I even speedran the whole Natlan quest over the course of four days so that I would be ready for anything in this quest, and I had a lot of issues with it. I had built the Mondstadt quest up in my mind to be this huge thing — thankfully, it delivered with flying colours. The singular only thing that would have made it better is if Venti sang a song.

Based on the recent behind the scenes where the developers talked about Nod-Krai but also a lot about their process in general, I feel like returning to Mondstadt was likely part of their plan to wrap up all the plot threads they’ve put out from the beginning. They seem to be listening to things that the players have said about missing pieces of information or certain technologies being too jarring. The return to Mondstadt was handled beautifully, and felt like coming home to see everyone stronger together.

I wrote this because I’m still bursting with excitement from the quest and need to speak to someone about this, so into the void it goes.

[yuurivoice]

BitterSweet Director's Cut......Timestamp Edition

00:00 Chapter 1.1 All In The Past

12:47 Chapter 1.2 Country Roads

21:50 Chapter 1.3 The Boys Are Fighting

32:55 Chapter 1.4 The Long Walk Home

55:30 Chapter 1.5 The Longer Walk Home

1:30:16 Chapter 1.6 Cinnamon Roll Blues

1:50:10 Chapter 1.7 Picking Up The Pieces (Of Us)

2:03:35 Chapter 1 Epilogue

2:10:45 Chapter 2.1 Home For The Holidays

2:22:18 Chapter 2.2 Can We Keep Him?

2:36:43 Chapter 2.3 Bruised And Battered

2:52:16 Chapter 2.4 Pizza Party

3:00:24 Chapter 2.5 The Winter Festival

3:17:45 Chapter 2.6 Christmas Eve Pillow Fort

3:35:05 Chapter 2 Epilogue

3:40:35 Chapter 3.1 Dark Mode

3:59:41 Chapter 3.2 Rail Road Confessions

4:15:37 Chapter 3.3 Crashing The Party

4:26:43 Chapter 3.4 Charlie The Pizza Rat

4:39:19 Chapter 3.5 No Use Crying Over Spilled Milk

4:52:52 Chapter 3.6 A Chat With Jessie

5:01:50 Chapter 3.7 Starry Night, Broken Heart

5:19:48 Chapter 3.8 Exhausting Charlie’s Dialog Options

5:33:19 Chapter 3.9 Boo’s Gambit

5:40:20 Chapter 3.10 A Race Against Time

5:57:23 Chapter 3.11 Time After Time

6:15:38 Chapter 3.12 Out With A Bang

6:43:39 Chapter 3.12 Post-Credits Scene

6:48:26 Chapter 3 Epilogue

[casuallyanidiot]

The Beta Test | Chapter 2

[Yandere M x Gn Reader]

Local party animal and known social butterfly [name] wakes up to find that they've been abducted by their very reclusive and very wealthy classmate. Why, you might ask, did he do this? Well for one reason of course! He needs to know how he's going to talk to his crush! So now, with their freedom on the line, [name] has to figure out how to get this kid with the one of his dreams or risk never leaving at all. Lots of weird conversations ensue, of course.

1.6 k words Tw. Swearing

Chapter 1 Table of Contents

You stayed shivering on the floor of the cell for what you guessed to be the next few hours. There were no windows in the little room you had been stuffed into, and even the little dim lights under the cabinets on the other side of the bars had been turned off. They had shut off a few minutes after Javier had left, leaving you in near absolute darkness. Over the course of however long you had been in there, your mind had become increasingly clear.

You had fallen asleep after a certain point. Like, what else was there to do? When you woke up again, it felt like your spine had been bent into thirteen different directions. This sucked, to say the least. Your freedom for him getting with some girl? What a freaking weirdo. You sighed as you stretched out as best as you could and tried not to think about the absolute mess of a man that could probably harm you with little remorse. 

Still, all you could really do was wait for Javier to come back. So, that’s what you did.

It wasn’t clear how long you had been sitting there, staring at the cabinets and trying to imagine what lay in them, before a beeping noise came muffled from the other side of the door. Your bleary eyes widened before narrowing sharply. A twinge of annoyance ran through you as a head peeked into the room. This little asshole stared at you like you were some kind of rabid animal. Still, he shuffled in.

“ Hey uh, you’re probably hungry cause of the drugs and all. I brought you something,” he said. He walked over to stand in front of your cell. In his hands was a tray of what looked like something edible. Honestly, it was the least he could do. 

“ I would’ve had a…someone else deliver it to you, but I think we should kinda uh get to know each other a bit more. Since you know, you’re gonna help me and all,” he laughed a little and raised the dishes out to you slightly. You could only blink at his audacity. But hey, you were pretty hungry. 

The pit in your stomach had been a big pain in your ass for who knows how long, and you doubted that a hunger strike would really get you anywhere. You let a groan out in frustration as you threw your head back and started to stand.  It was a slow and shitty process; all your joints were cracking like a glowstick. You should not be having this hard of a time in your twenties. Maybe it was time to go see a chiropractor or something. Surely someone knew a good one that wouldn’t break your bank or back. 

Walking up to the metal bars you realized that this was the first time you had ever been this physically close to Javier. He must’ve been thinking the same thing because he was shifting around so much you would’ve thought that he had to go use the bathroom or something. Still, you wordlessly held out your hands with a blank stare. He looked at you silently for a few moments, absolutely flabbergasted I'm sure, and went rigid. You rolled your eyes.

“ For fuck’s sake man, just give me the food,” you said, pretty exhausted all around. Your sure you sounded like a stay-at-home military mom with 5 kids after picking them up from school or something. Not a good look at all. Whatever. Being held captive wasn’t exactly the vibe you wanted to put out either, but here you were.

“ Huh! Oh yeah.. That. Sorry, sorry. Here you go,” he said meekly and attempted to pass you your meal, finally, but there was just one issue. It was kind of weird how neither of you had noticed nor thought about the fact that the plate might be too big to actually fit through the bars. As the plastic dish was stopped by the immovable steel (or whatever metal it was actually made of. How should you know?) you pressed your lips into a thin, tight line. You raised your head to see the gloomy man going through what you could guess were the five stages of grief all at once. 

Yeah, Javier looked like he was on the cusp of shattering like a lego building does when dropped from the twelfth story.

“Dude…” you whispered, also absolutely devastated because you were hungry, duh.

“ Uhhh, umm.”

The guy couldn’t even get a single word out; He only kept trying to shove the plate into your cell. The room was filled with only the sounds of dull tapping. You could only stare on dumbly, lips parted in absolute disbelief.

“ Hey it’s um, it’s not going to get through,” you said. It was like your words went in one ear and out the other. It was like he was a robot, trying to do an action even though it was physically impossible. You noticed his trembling hands and his quivering lip almost immediately, and you shook your head. You reached through the bars and grabbed the plastic dish, stopping the weak motions. 

“ It’s not gonna work man. Let it go.”

It was like you had backhanded him or something. His dark eyes went wide and he actually jumped back from you. You were left in a pretty uncomfortable position there while he bumped back into a table. His chest was heaving pretty deeply, and his string bean body was splayed out in all sorts of awkward angles. You stood there, with your back still hurting as the one who kidnapped you in the first place stood trembling 5ft away. 

Well, that was a total waste of time. 

He seemed to realize that he was acting very, very strangely and cleared his throat. Javier ran his hands through his flat, dark hair, clearly stressed. He straightened up, pushing on the high-quality marble counters with shaky arms. 

“ I uh, sorry. I should’ve thought of that haha. Guess that just shows how useless I am,” he laughed weakly, and you grimaced at the way he glanced to the side. You rolled your eyes, the hunger had really started to whittle down your already tiny amount of patience. The plate of food, which you still could not pull into your cell by the way, smelled stupidly good. I mean, if you really tried, you could still be able to eat. Though as you held it up, you noticed that there was nothing for you to eat with. You huffed.

“ You’re fine, man. Can you get me a fork?”  

“ I’m fine? Yeah, you’re right,” he sighed out of relief. He laughed as he waved a finger at you. “ I think… I think I can see why you get along with people so well. “ You raised a brow at his words. He stood tall, finally done with whatever emotional rollercoaster he had gone through in like under two minutes.

“ I mean, you’re really good at talking to people. I mean we’re already having some fun memories, right? I mean, I know we’re not friends, not yet at least, but um, this is good! You can help me better if you’re more comfortable with me and stuff haha,” he said while rubbing his arm. You could only blink at the audacity of this man.

“ Fun memories? Like what?” You couldn’t help the confused hiss that left your lips.

“ Oh you know, like right now. I made a mistake and um, you were all reassuring and stuff. Like I said I know we’re not friends, but um it was really nice how you kept me calm and stuff. I know that I’m probably gonna remember this for a long time,” Javier giggled a little bit at the end.

“ Ah okay. Well, that’s cool and all, but can you please get me a fork?”

“ Yeah, it is cool. I’m glad that I came and talked to you today. I almost didn’t, haha. I was um, kinda nervous. I mean… yeah this was nice. I’m gonna go now. See you later,” he said. His gloomy expression had become noticeably brighter. He gave a little way and smiled before turning to the door.

“ Wha- hey wait!” You cried out, but he just kept walking. The door was shut once again and the same mechanical beeping rang out. You stood dumbfounded, an offended scoff leaving your mouth as those stupid lights dimmed down. The food in your hands couldn’t easily be eaten without utensils, and even if you did, your hands would probably be super messy. Your stomach rumbled as you sighed in defeat.

It was awkward to move the plate down to the ground while your arms were still outstretched beyond the bars, but you managed to do it. You stared at it longingly. Maybe if you looked at it long enough the flavor would somehow miraculously end up on your tongue. You slumped over in slight defeat.

While you had always assumed to an extent that Javier was socially inept, you would’ve never guessed it would be this bad. Like, the dickwad didn’t even spare you a second glance as he left. Did he even hear you? Was it even possible to be that wrapped up in oneself? You could kinda feel bad for the guy if the current setting was literally anywhere else. 

If you were back in the quiet corner of the library, then sure, you might feel for the guy. Hell, if he had asked you to help him like a regular fucking person would, you probably would’ve jumped at the chance. But here? Now?

You groaned as you slumped over. If he was this bad, then there was absolutely no way that he was going to get with that girl. Even if you helped. You looked miserably at your plate and bitterly came to the reasonable conclusion that you were probably gonna die here because of that fact alone.

Fucking Javier Galvan, man.

[businesstiramisu]

For Binary Fission Appreciators I am once again recommending the Doris Finch arc of Worth the Candle

For budding, small lumps on the surface of your body gradually grow into complete human infants before detaching. They are genetically identical to you but otherwise normal children.

Binary fission produces two adult versions of you, at half your current size. You gradually grow back to full size before the process repeats. Neither is the “original,” and both retain full memories and a sense of your identity.

For fragmentations, fingers, toes, and even occasionally whole limbs can fall off and regrow into a physical clone of you (albeit one that lacks your memories).

For parthenogenesis, you simply become pregnant periodically with a genetic clone of yourself. If you lack a uterus, the wizard’s curse will provide you with one.

For spores, you will periodically grow large fruiting bodies on your skin that eventually explode, releasing spores into the atmosphere. If they settle in a damp, dark place, they will grow into a genetically identical human infant there.

[0vereasy]

Life’s Creations and Love’s Manifestations - Dr Ratio x Female Reader

Summary: Your promotion as one of the heads of the Security Department at Herta’s Station was full of many headaches, one of the biggest being a visiting scholar from the Intelligentsia Guild, and delegate of the IPC, Dr. Ratio.

When you were forced to team up with him to solve several crises emerging at the Station, how will your tense relationship change? And what exactly is the Doctor hiding?

Dr Ratio x Reader, implied Screwllum x Reader

LATER CHAPTERS WILL BE BASED ON THE 1.6 TRAILBLAZER QUEST!

Enjoy the fic? Consider leaving Kudos on A03!

Masterlist | Chapter 2

Chapter 1: New Arrival

Word count: 5.7k+

“I’ve got to say, Mr. Screwllum,” your voice was smooth as you spoke, a clear playful undertone underlying your words. You crossed your legs in the chair you sat in, leaning in slightly closer to the robot. Your elbow rested on your knee as you leaned in, hand moving to support your chin and to cover the growing smirk on your features, “An offer for dinner and drinks? In your private quarters? At this late hour?” your gaze briefly flicked to a nearby computer screen, scanning the time, before moving back to your robot companion, “If I didn’t know any better, I would guess you were asking me on a date.”

“Hypothesis: Would that particular offer be so awful, dear?” Screwllum’s face, as usual, was devoid of emotion, his robotic features forever remaining neutral. His voice though; that was what you had to focus on to understand his tone; his meaning. Based on the way he was speaking now, you knew the robot, like yourself, had less than pure thoughts running through his mind, his robotic tone of voice lighter than usual, playful even, “It is not as if you frequenting my quarters at such a late hour is a rare occurrence. Question: Would it be an offence to catch up with someone I hold so dear?”

“Hmm, I suppose not,” you hummed, drumming your fingers against your chin in playful thought, “You know I’m not the kind of woman to turn down drinks… or your company for that matter.” You let a small chuckle escape the ever-permanent smirk on your lips, “I wonder though; what ideas do you have to occupy our evening after our little dinner party is complete?” You uncrossed your legs, briefly standing up to scootch your office chair closer to his, your warm knees now touching his cold metallic ones, “It must be something important; you interrupted my on the job after all.” Your eyes scanned the dark security room, focusing briefly on the cameras you were supposed to be watching. As expected, they were devoid of activity, researchers and most security members long having retreated to their quarters for the evening. You were happy for the privacy though, considering the direction of your little conversation. You were quick to focus back on him

“Ah yes, the job you were so carefully conducting whilst reading the same book you have been trying to complete for the last two months,” the book was now long discarded on the desk, the boring contents much less important than your current predicament. You narrowed your eyes none-the-less, allowing yourself to rest a hand on the robot’s metallic knee in front of you.

“A genius like yourself should know your company is more valuable than one of Adler’s little research books,” you said slyly, allowing your hand to drift slightly further up Screwllum’s thigh, “You can’t hide anything for me, you know. So tell me, Mr. Screwllum; what exactly do you have planned for tonight?”

He sighed, letting a small chuckle escape that had you clenching your knees together to control yourself, an action that didn’t go unnoticed by your companion, “Conclusion: You are right, nothing escapes your careful observations, dear,” the usually cold security room seemed impossibly warm now, your heartbeat increasing in your chest as Screwllum copied your actions, allowing his own metallic hand rest on your knee, “During my previous trip, I happened to stumble upon a quaint shop that sold candles and such,” he started, his words slow and sensual, leaving you internally grasping for more, “The owner happened to sell a collection of essential oils as well; for massages.”

“Interesting,” was your simple reply, not trusting yourself to comment further as a flood of dirty imagery grew in your brain. Screwllum watched your expression carefully, another chuckle escaping his metal mouth that had you completely willing and ready to jump out of your stupid office chair and straddle him right there and then.

“Hypothesis: I know you have been stressed lately. Conclusion: A relaxing meal and massage may help revitalize you before Ruan Mei’s expected visit. I have been told that I am exceptional with my hands.” You couldn’t help but swallow hard at that, your throat bobbing slightly as Screwllum’s began massaging your knee with his hand, fingers expertly kneading the flesh. You resisted the urge to clench your thighs together once more.

“You’re always full of surprises,” your voice was slightly shaky this time, body hyper-focused on his touch on your knee. You stood up again, allowing you to be face-to-face with the robot who usually towered over you, “I gotta say though, I’m curious about one thing… Mr. Screwllum.” You whispered his name, your words causing goosebumps on your own skin, as if the universe or some aeon out there was making up for the lack of physical reaction that Mr. Screwllum could afford from his own body.

“And what would that be?” He asked simply, glowing green eyes staring back at you defiantly, briefly flickering to your hands, which now rested around his neck, allowing your two bodies to be even closer together. At this rate, you weren’t even sure you could make it to dinner, your arousal ever-growing.

“Everyone knows that massages start at the shoulders,” you commented, rubbing his own metallic shoulders through his shirt, despite the knowledge that the motion would do nothing for him, “and then often trail down the back,” you allowed your hands to dip down his metal spine slowly, brushing the green butterfly wings on his back “but ultimately, they have to stop,” your hands came to a rest at his hips, your face moving close to his so you could whisper in his metallic ear, “So, Mr. Screwllum, where will your hands end up?”

He chuckled, one of his hands tilting your chin slightly so he could better look you in the eye. The room was practically spinning then, your hair clinging to your forehead due to the heat building up in the small space, “Interesting line of inquiry, my dear. Of course, my hands would end up-”

BRINGGGGG BRINGGGGG

The sudden ring of your walkie talkie from the desk made you jump, you and Screwllum separating from each other, and whatever little world you had been in, in shock. You muttered a curse under your breath as you slumped back into your chair, trying to contain your annoyance as you spoke, “This is Y/N from the security department. What is it?” You rubbed your thighs together angrily as if you were a horny teenager who couldn’t get off… though you supposed that description was pretty accurate given the circumstances.

“Y/N, it’s Leonard reporting from the Supply Zone,” you couldn’t help but hold back your groan, glad that audio could only transport through thesed damned devices. Of all the people who had to call you right now, it had to be Leonard? The same Leonard who managed to lose a hacking battle with that damned Stellaron Hunter girl? The man attracted too much drama for a night like this, “there’s a ship trying to dock in the Zone, but we weren’t expected any visitors!”

“And the identity of this person?” you asked, forcing yourself to switch into work mode despite the ever-growing desire to make out with the robot beside you. Your swift fingers quickly pulled up the feed from the Supply Zone, showing a modest sized ship waiting for permission to dock, the few staff around looking between each other and the ship like lost, confused dogs.

“He says his name is…. Dr. Ratio, a scholar from the Intelligencia Guild,” Leonard repeated the name awkwardly. At the mention of the Intelligencia Guild, you looked back at your robot companion, exchanging a look, “He says he’s a representative of the IPC on his way to Penacony, and that he emailed Ms. Asta early this evening about dropping by for a few days.” Leonard paused for a few seconds, not yet hanging up the call from his end of the line, “He’s getting impatient that we won’t let him dock, and we don’t know what to do! Were just following protocol after all.”

You let a few seconds of silence pass, briefly closing your eyes as you internally kissed your evening of drinks and a massage goodbye, “...Tell him that I’m on my way to the Supply Zone… I’ll come as quickly as I can.”

“Roger that, thanks!” Leonard sighed in relief, the walkie talkie going flat as the line died. You resisted the urge to groan and bury your head in your hands, instead only allowing a frustrated sigh to break through your lips.

“I’m sorry Screwllum… I have to deal with this tonight,” you stood up, patting the robot on the shoulder sympathetically, “but maybe we can make another night work… I still want to take you up on that massage offer.” You spoke, leaving the implied context of those words unaddressed.

“It is quite alright dear, your work is more important that our leisure, though I must admit that your prescence in my chambers will be missed tonight,” Screwllum spoke honestly, grabbing one of your hands and squeezing it in his hold, metallic grasp, “But I will look forward to having you grace me with your prescence in the upcoming days.”

“Thanks for understanding,” you said earnestly with a small sigh, quickly pressing a kiss to his metallic cheek before regrettably letting his hand fall from yours, turning away to grab your walkie talkie and Station ID card and lanyard, which you let hang around your neck, “Do you know about this Ratio dude at all? Name ring any bells?”

“Affirmative, I have heard of him,” Screwllum nodded, “He’s known for his desire to spread knowledge across the universe… and his arrogance and self-centered nature.”

“Sounds like a pleasure to deal with tonight,” you rolled your eyes, turning back to Screwllum briefly, “I’m sorry again about everything.” You hoped that he understood the truth behind your words as you stared into his glowing green orbs, though you knew you would never truly understand what he was thinking in that moment.

“Please do not worry yourself, my dear,” he said, tone light, though the playfulness from earlier had dissipated. He reached over to the desk, passing you Adler’s boring book and your waterbottle that definitely was not filled with water that you had overlooked while grabbing your items, “Please send me a text once you are sure everything is okay. I will remain here to watch over the cameras until the next guard arrives.” You couldn’t help but smile at the thoughtful gesture, pressing another quick kiss to his cheek, lips lingering slightly before you forced yourself to move away

“Thank you,” you smiled, before your mouth slipped into a sly smirk, “I won’t forget this the next time we are together… I’ll have to repay you for everything, hm?” you turned to leave then, letting the robot ponder the true meaning of your words as you strutted away.

~~~

You could hear the new arrival before you could speak to him.

Aeons, his voice was so grating on the ears, his tone refined and moderately deep, but insanely unpleasant as he yelled obscenities through the communication port connecting the office in Supply Zone to any ships preparing to dock at that station. Even from the ever white and shiny metal hallways of the Space Station, you could hear his annoying voice echoing off the walls, doing nothing to help your annoyed attitude. You took a swig from your water bottle, allowing yourself a modest sip of the alcohol inside. You had to get through this interaction somehow, right?

“... and I must say! The gall of the renowned Herta’s Space Station to treat potential guests as akin to petty criminals is preposterous! For an institution dedicated to knowledge, I would expect the grace and intelligence of the security team to be able to determine friend from foe, and to allow those with the best intentions inside. To treat a guest like this! An IPC Representative! The service here is admismal!” Leonard shot you a panicked look as you walked into the security room, the voice of your oh-so-kind visitor somehow even more grating from inside the confined space. You flashed him what you hoped was a reassuring and confident smirk, striding towards the communication system as if you were born to do so.

“I must ask you, Mr. Ratio, to avoid insulting our staff. I would expect a smart man like yourself would know how to manage his words,” you spoke cooley into the microphone serving as the communication device, which was placed in front of a few monitors in the smaller security room overlooking the docking station, “My name is Y/N, I am a leading supervisor in the security department.”

“Did I ask?” was his deadpan response from the other end, “I simply want entry into the Space Station, miss Y/N, but you’re incompetent and completely unprepared coworkers have no idea how to check the identity of guests that checked in prior for visitation rights!” Clearly he wasn’t going to let up easily, a thought of which made you sigh. You cracked your knuckles in anticipation.

“Ah yes, the check in email,” you replied drily, scrolling through your phone, “An email which was sent to Ms. Asta a mere two hours ago. I assume, given your work experience Mr. Ratio, that you understand the concept of a 9 to 5 and working hours, no?” you kept your tone neutral as you spoke, though your words themselves carried enough attitude themselves.

“You-” the man on the other end seemed flustered for a moment, his end of the line going dead for a few seconds, “I am well aware of the concept of working hours! And yet, clearly given that you are hear gracing me with this oh so pleasant conversation, working hours vary. I would expect that people with your experience, Miss, would have the foresight to check an email inbox, especially concerning the arrival of potential guests.”

“You’re right, that would be expected,” you conceded, your tone still even, though the amused smirk grew on your face, “Which is exactly why all inquiries pertaining to visits and arrival times should be sent to the alternate security email address when Miss Asta is not in working hours, a fact you would have known if you had bothered to read past the first line of the automated response you must have received when you emailed Miss Asta earlier this evening.” The eyes of the security department members, or at least the few who had had been unlucky enough to have to work in the Supply Zone tonight, were glued to you as you spoke, just as you hoped Mr. Ratio was glued to his seat as he attempted to reply to your quips.

“Again, as I am sure you are aware, the use of technology in space can be fickle when travelling, especially when older vessels are not in the proximity of an electric source,” the scholar’s voice rung though as annoying as ever, though the loss of extreme exclamations in his tone was glaringly obvious, “I therefore did not receive this automated message you speak of until I arrive here and connected to your ships internal power supply.”

“Ah, so you did receive the message?” you quipped, dropping the respectfulness in your tone with this opening the scholar oh so graciously dropped at your feet, “And yet instead of sending another email to correct your mistake, you decide to harass my colleague? For a genius, your logic seems to be lacking.” You couldn’t hide the excited bite in your tone now, or the giddeness you were experiencing due to this conversation.

You hated to admit it…

This was… kinda fun. Definitely not on the level of rizzing up a robot like you had been earlier, but this conversation was clearly entertaining. What more could a woman ask for than sassing a renowned genius to release sexual tension that had built up earlier that night?

“You- you are clearly trying to-”

You didn’t let him speak, “Lucky for you, as a senior member of the security department, I have access to Lady Asta’s emails, and was able to check them after Leonard told me about the situation. Loe and behold, there I found your little check in email. I was able to confirm your identity and status after talking to a collegue, and after running a voice analysis on this call…” you paused as your fingers quickly moved over the keyboard in front of you, “I can can officially welcome you to Herta’s Space Station, Mr. Ratio. I am disabling the external security systems now… and I’ll see you on the dock shortly.” With that, you pressed a button on the keyboard, hanging up the call before leaning back into the office chair with a small sigh.

“Miss Y/N, that was awesome!” Leonard was at your side immediately, patting you on the back as a look of relief passed over his features. He watched your fingers and you quickly disabled and re-enabled the external security system to the station, allowing the passage of the ship through, “What’s that guys deal anyway? He’s such an ass!” Leonard allowed himself to collapse in the desk chair after you stood, grabbing your book and your water bottle, which you allowed yourself a triumphant sip from.

“We should know better than anyone, Leonard,” you commented, quickly moving to the door of the security room so you could rush to the docking platform, “Geniuses are fucking weird.” With that, you walked out of the room the same way you walked into it, confidently as if this was your Space Station, leaving Leonard and the researchers to gossip over the juicy call they had just listened to alone.

You’re sure Arlan would hear about this in the morning… a fact that he wouldn’t find quite as amusing as Leonard and the others. Oh well, future problems, you supposed.

The walk from the security room to the docking platform was short, a mere 50 feet or so down a ramp and across a small black platform. As you walked, steps quick but not overly rushed, you could see the ship docking in the platform, a small ramp extending from the door to allow for easy passage to the walkway below. The man inside clearly was in no rush, and was remarkably more quiet compared to your first impression of him, with no noises traveling towards you as you approached.

You didn’t exactly know what to expect as you stood at the bottom of the ramp. Considering the vast number of people hosted on the ship, each different from the last, there could be pretty much anything inside that space ship. Your only had one experience with the IPC was with that one debt collector, Topaz, who stopped by once in a while to collect loans taken out by Herta to support the massive money sink which was the Space Station. If he was anything like Topaz, you were expecting a scantally dressed man with a nice figure and a cute trotter to accompany him.

Well you weren’t too far off with two of your guesses as you watched the man of the hour finally make his appearance. The man front of you was definitely well built, your eyes scanning over his muscular arms and broad shoulders as he descended the ramp. He also was fairly scantally dressed, his Greek-esque outfit barring cut outs on the sides, showing off his toned stomach, along with his aforementioned muscular arms, one of which was completely visible.

Unfortunately, the man was not accompanied by a trotter. Instead, he wore a alabaster head over his own, blocking his face from your view.

“Well Miss Y/N, I would say it was a pleasure to meet you, but I always tell my students that one shouldn’t lie in a professional setting,” he stood in front of your now, having finished descending the ramp. He was a head taller than you, and his close proximity meant you were basically face to face with his stupid broad shoulders and toned chest. Maybe if you were less pissed off and the it wasn’t past midnight at this point, you would find the nerve to exchange pleasantries. However, with the alcohol loosening your inhbitions and lips, you let you true thoughts ring out.

“Can you even see through that thing?”

The lack of direct response to his taunts and the sudden change of subject were clearly not expected by the scholar, who clutched the codex he carried to his toned chest, almost as if he was recoiling from your words.

“I beg your pardon?” He spoke a moment later, as if finally snapping back to reality, he tucked the codex under one arm, allowing him to awkwardly cross his arms across his chest in a show of… defiance? Toughness? You weren’t exactly certain.

“The alabaster head, can you see through it?” you tapped on the nose of the head, as if testing the material, “seems pretty thick to me, how do you even walk around in that thing?”

He now physically recoiled from your touch, quickly yanking the alabaster head off his own and allowing it to vanish, a technique of some weapon bearers that you didn’t quite understand yourself. You concealed your surprise at the man underneath. His shoulder-length blue-purple hair framed his face almost perfectly, and the golden leaf pin adorning the top of his head brought out the gold and amber red in his eyes; the very eyes that were now narrowed and glaring at you as he too looked over your appearance, “Enough! I forbid you from touching this head, do you understand the time that went into crafting this? Or does an imbecile like you not understand the concept of art and the beauty of sculpting?”

“Given the way you’re looking at me now, I’d guess the answer to my previous question was no,” you retorted with a smirk, before sticking out a hand in greeting, “Welcome to the Space Station, Mr. Ratio.” He stared at your hand, not moving to stick out his own.

“That is Dr. Ratio to you,” he snapped, “I expect someone of your standing would understand the importance of a proper label and greeting, or do you need me to read you a list of my credentials so you can truly understand the importance?”

“Considering were already stuck together, I would hope you would refrain from making both of our evenings more unbearable,” you commented, unable to resist the urge to roll your eyes, “I would expect someone of your status to shake my hand so we can end these non-existent fake pleasantries so I can escort you to your quarters so we will both be oh so happier.”

The Doctor let out a sound the mix of a scoff and a groan, reluctantly reaching a hand out to shake yours. His grip was strong, as expected based on his figure, you supposed, as he shook your hand with all the enthusiasm he could muster, “Thank you for the oh so kind welcome.”

“Great, you’re sounding more like an IPC delegate already!” you cheered in fake enthusiasm as he released your hand, “Let’s get going then, so both of us can rest easier.” You gestured for him to follow you down the platform, turning your head and not glancing back as you did so. You were reassured he was following you based on the sound fo his footsteps, evident by the quiet supply zone given the late hour.

“I must say, when that Leonard fellow said he was contacting his supervisor, I did not expect someone like you to show up,” he commented as he followed you, his tone of voice as arrogant as ever.

“Meaning?” you rebutted, not willing to show your hand and work up a retort until you truly understood what he was getting at. You glanced over your shoulder to meet his gaze briefly, his golden eyes fixed on you.

“Most higher ups in security departments are stern and unforgiving men, not some over confident zealous girl,” he expanded, spitting out the word girl as if it was some sort of insult. You didn’t bother with a reaction, somewhat used to comments of such a sort.

“Our boss, Arlan is the stern one, though he’s definitely pretty forgiving,” you shrugged, leading the man inside the security room, smirking when you caught him with a slightly frustrated expression when you look over your shoulder, “My job is to be the witty moodmaker, isn’t that right Leonard?” You let your eyes move from the scholae to Leonard, who looked up from the security cameras he was monitoring.

“Y-Yes Miss Y/N!” he stammared, flushing slightly as you smirked at him. He was quick to change his focus to the doctor beside you, “It is our pleasure to have you on the Space Station, Doctor Ratio.” The Doctor didn’t spare him a nod, only quickly glancing in his direction. Leonard’s face dropped at the lack of response, a change which angered you.

“I’m sure Mr. Ratio is thankful for the welcome,” you replied despite the indifference seen on the man beside you, “I’m sure he’s just too busy thinking of how he’s going to apologize to you, right Mr. Ratio?” you turn completely now to look the purple-haired man in the eye, tilting your head to the side innocently.

“Excuse me?” he glared at you, again crossing his arms, almost as if he was dealing with an unruly student rather than security personal on one of the most renowned Space Stations in the world.

“Oh, was that not on your mind?” you feigned ignorance, shifting your book under one arm and placing an exaggerated hand over your mouth, “my apologies, I guess I just expected for a intelligentsia guild member and delegate such as yourself to maintain pleasant relations with the station, and to apologize to those you wronged.” You let out an exaggerated sigh, looking at the other security members in the room, “I guess with the small crowd tonight, your reputation wasn’t exactly on your mind?”

He was fuming now, fists clenched at his side as he glared daggers at you. He fists remained there as he let his gaze wander from Leonard to the other security members, “I… apologize Leonard, and all of you, for letting my temper get the best of me. I suppose I am tired after my long day of travel… please forgive me.” His fists were practically shaking now, his barely-controlled anger begging to be released.

“Ah, look at that!” you exclaimed, shifting your book under your shoulder so you could place a mocking hand over your heart, “I can almost see the diplomatic relations between the IPC and the Space Station improving as we speak! Amazing! Let’s get going then, shall we?”

Leonard and the other securiy members stare at the both of you as you leave, mouths slightly agape as they watch the angry proud scholar trail after you, fists still clenched and face now red in a mix of embarrassment and anger, though he was forcing himself to take deep breaths as he went to calm his own temperament.

Arlan would definitely hear about this now…

You allowed yourself another long swig from your water bottle as you made your way through the winding silver hallways of the space station, the doctor on your heals.

“You’re breath smells like alcohol,” he stated simply, taking a few large steps so he was walking beside you, “I’ll let you know that that is the only reason I allowed you to treat me like some fool show for your co-workers. What would that Arlan fellow say if he learned you were drinking on the job?” his gaze flickered from your mouth to your water bottle, mouth crinkling in disgust.

“I was technically off work…” you glanced at your watch, “almost an hour ago at this point. Guess I’m not truly drinking on the job, hmm?” you spared a glance at the doctor, his face much less red, but his eyes angry still. You really had poked the wasps nest, huh?

“I am no fool, Miss Y/N,” he rolled his eyes, sighing in disappointment, “Based on how you are carrying your bottle, it is almost empty,” he eyed your hand, the only thing holding up the bottle being a few of your fingers clutched around the hand hold on the lid, “and based on your delayed reactions and unexplained confidence, it is clear you have been indulging in alcohol throughout the day.”

“Wow Doctor, I’m impressed,” you replied with a smirk, “I guess all the supposed titles you have aren’t only for show.” You both paused in front of the elevator, doing the best to ignore the growing tension between you to. You liked tension though, and this interaction was filling you with as much heat and excitement as your previous more steamy encounter with your robot companion earlier that evening, albeit much less pleasurable physically, the desire you had felt long ago fading away to a dull ache you would have to deal with yourself later.

“You are insufferable,” he replied, pushing in front of you to step into the elevator before you could. You rolled your eyes at that, quickly following in afterwards. You easily press the button to the floor containing the living quarters and guest rooms, cursing whoever designed the space ship for making the travel distance to them so unbearably far from your current location, “Though I must say, I am surprised a person of your intellect level is aware of Adler’s System of Ecological Classification.” Both you and the scholar’s eyes trail down to the book in your hands, a bookmark placed very close to the front cover.

“I’m not,” you said plainly, drumming your fingers against the hard cover, “I honestly don’t understand it at all. I told Adler I would try to read it so he would have someone to rant to about it.” You shrugged, looking from the book to the Doctor’s face.

“Ah, as expected, you truly are an idiot, just simply following the crowds and what people tell you to do instead of using your brain to come to your own decisions and calculations,” he sighed, as if disappointed in the outcome, “Though I don’t know what I expected from a security girl exactly. I should not have gotten my hopes up, I suppose.”

“You seem awfully sure of your abilities,” you commented offhandedly as the elevator finally reached the right floor, metal doors opening, and you and the doctor stepping out, “Interesting how this ‘security girl’ has managed to best you twice in one night. I suppose even the smartest people can be bested.”

Alone on this secluded floor, you could feel the tension building behind you, a glance in the reflection of your water bottle once again showing the Doctor clenching his fists in anger. It was kind of funny, you pondered, how someone such as him had no outlet for his emotions. Yet, the anger now was different, as if his body was a volcano on the brink of expkosion.

You heard his arm move before you saw anything.

In an instant, you let Adler’s book, the bookmark falling out of the marked pages, and your water bottle fall to floor, arm moving upwards towards your head to block the force of his codex from hitting you. Clearly surprised, the Doctor had no time to react when you turned on your heal, grabbing his wrists and slamming him into the wall beside the elevator, his muscular arms firmly held in his grasp. He attempted to wiggle free, his muscles clenching against your arms, but your grip remained solid, holding him there despite the height and size difference between your bodies.

He stared at you in shock, those golden eyes that he just loved to glare at you now wide an innocent like a childs, his lips parted slightly in shock as he blinked cluelessly at you. He almost looked beautiful then, your mind conceded, someone as stubborn as him put into his place by a woman half his size. The heat between you two was obvious, growing by the second as you held him there, staring into those pretty eyes just liked you owned them.

You had expected you would be pinning some man against the wall tonight. Though your predictions were not as exact as expected, and least the core of the guess had come true.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” your voice came out as a whisper as you held his wrists against the wall, speaking into his ear, “See, Mr. Ratio, though you may be some stupid academic genius with outstanding credentials and a stellar reputation, you clearly lack any common decency and respect.” Your breath fanned his face as you talked, “Calling me a girl, insulting the security team. You’re someone who doesn’t know their place here, so let me make that clear to you.”

You released one of his pinned arms, though his body seemed to shock to move away. You let your hand trail down his defined jaw, tilting his head downwards so he has no way to look away from your gaze. Your body felt sweaty again, hair sticking to your forehead much like it had earlier. Your love for tension, your craving for control, they were all shining through right now as you practically degraded the man in front of you.

“You have the book smarts. I have the street smarts… so next time you think about swinging that codex at me, know your place. I won’t be so merciful next time.” You let the one hand holding his wrist dig into his flesh slightly, twisting and flinching it until the Doctor winced, involuntarily letting out a noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper.

You released his other wrist then, satisfied with your work, but he remained against the wall for a second, as if too shocked to move. You were quick to turn around, grabbing your items from the floor, before strutting away, “Come on, Mr. Ratio… Your room is this way.”

[sunlightmurdock]

The Odyssey | 1.6 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

synopsis: desperate times call for desperate measures when repairing bridges burned.

warnings: enemies to lovers, power imbalance (professor / student relationship), age gap (22 / 33), swearing, infidelity, nudity, mentions of erections, them being mean to each other, idiots in love.

…

The sun sets over the city. Tears streak your cheeks. Bradley’s blue shirt sits dry-cleaned and hung on a borrowed wooden hanger against the doorframe. A chill catches your shoulders and your first instinct is to look over at it. You should hand it back.

“Honey, talk to me,” He pleads, his voice static through the worn out reciever. “I love you. You know I love you. That was just— it was just a stupid fight—“

Venom sits on your tongue, your nose wrinkling like the sound of his voice put that foul taste there. 

“If you say that to me one more time,” Your voice wavers and cracks. The lump in your throat aches with each swallow. You close your eyes as another roar of laughter comes from outside of your window. “Then we’re done.”

Malcolm falls silent. 

He’s standing in the twelfth floor apartment facing the Hudson that you had been so desperate for a few months ago. The phone line is just about the only thing connected, the movers are due next week with the furniture you had picked together.

He wanted it to be perfect for when you got back.

After the wedding, your new home would be ready for you.

Stuck in the entryway, the phone cord tugs as he lets his head fall back against the wall. It’s midday for him, late evening for you. He hasn’t told you that he has taken the past two days off of work; that he hasn’t slept with the thought of never hearing from you again.

He’s sick to his stomach.

“I won’t.” He all but whimpers. Rubbing a hand over his jaw, it’s dusted with a stubble he never usually allows to grow. “I won’t. You’re right. It wasn’t. I’m sorry, honey, I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry.” You say it back to him without an ounce of question in your tone. Repeating it to him like it’ll make him realize that those two words are far from being enough. 

“Yes, I’m sorry!” He pleads. Even while staring at the painting of a boat hung above the hotel dresser, you can see the exact look that would be on his face. “I’m so sorry. I would never hurt you. You know that, sweetheart. Right?”

You would hurt him. It occurs to you suddenly that you wouldn’t just do it, you might even enjoy doing it. You could, in six syllables. I slept with someone else. This morning, you were perfectly content in bed with someone else. You had told Bradley that you were ready.

Maybe that was just a heat of the moment thing, maybe it wasn’t. You aren’t sure. It would hurt Malcolm either way; to know you had, or to find out you hadn’t but had so badly wanted to.

And you had, so badly, wanted to. When you close your eyes you’re confronted with memories of his weight above you, and his mouth on your skin and that half-smiling look he gets on his face when he really wants you.

A month and a half ago, you couldn’t have dreamed of hurting Malcolm. 

Right now, you should be sitting against his thigh while he strokes at your hair and the two of you are laughing about a work story. Maybe the two of you would take that little pre-wedding trip up to Cape Cod, like you had talked about.

When you close your eyes and picture yourself there, looking into his steely blue eyes, you’re colder than ever. Wondering just how long exactly he had been planning to pretend like he hadn’t acted like a complete pig. Wondering how long it would be, really, before he would disrespect you like that again. 

“I don’t forgive you,” You tell him, colder than he has ever heard you be. “You’re a pig, and a liar — and I’m going to take as long as I want to decide if I ever want to speak to you again.”

He’s quiet for a long while.

“I understand.” 

He doesn’t. He can’t possibly understand the way he has made you feel. 

Your teeth are gritted, tears burning in your eyes. “I don’t know if I want to ever even look at you again. Do you understand that?”

“I do, honey, and I’m so sorry. It was a drunken mistake and I wish I could take it back, I do—“

You don’t want to listen, and it occurs to you suddenly, that you don’t have to. You weigh the reciever in your hand.

“I’ll call you. When I’m ready.” 

Then, you drop it down onto the stand, ending the call. Bradley has made it very clear that he has no interest in seeing you today. According to Pasquale, he has been back for a few hours now already. You don’t have your ring back just yet.

Your bed feels strange without the weight you spent the last six days growing familiar with, but sleep comes for you in a few restless, hour-stretched intervals anyway.

All the while, Bradley rolls the band between his index finger and thumb, watching the light catch on the twinkling diamond. Silence all around him, the hotel sleeps peacefully while he sits alone on the veranda. He’s up earlier than anyone else.

You were right— this ring probably would have cost more money than he makes most years. He could make more, if he put his personal research on the back burner. He just hadn’t realized that’s what it would take to be with you.

There’s a bitterness to the thoughts that bite at him; when he’s laying in your bed, kissing you, is it something that crosses your mind? Are you concerned about if he’ll be able to provide for you? He could. He already has been, beyond monetarily. With him, you don’t have to worry that one of his touches wouldn’t be gentle.

It brings him back to the first image he had of you — self-centred, arrogant, spoiled. In this time he has spent with you, he had seen something more. He’s not wounded enough to pretend that he only sees the worst parts of you. There’s so much more. 

There’s a spark to you, when he really gets you talking that captures his attention in a way he wasn’t prepared for. A thoughtfulness, a softness. There are so many things about you that draw him in. But, it’s not up to him. 

If you want to be that spoiled little girl, he can’t stop you. 

He has been awake for hours already, watching the city of Siena, trying to make peace with the fact that this is surely over. He should have handed your ring back when he arrived. Back then, he had told himself that he kept it because he hadn’t wanted to wake you. At 6pm.

Faced with solitude and views of the Piazza Del Campo, he can be honest with himself; he just doesn’t want to give it back.

And, that seems to be the worst part. He’s got a decade of years on you, and infinitely more experience with the way the world really works, and he still can’t settle on the right answer. He knows what the correct move would be — to let you go home and pretend this never happened. 

At the precipice of your adult life, he has thrown such a damning spanner into the works by letting himself get wrapped up like this. If the ring cost as much as it did, Bradley can only imagine the kind of money your families must have spent on the wedding. He’s an idiot for thinking you were ever going to give it up.

He should have just curved your grade, or told you earlier that you should switch out of his class. Maybe he wanted to teach you a lesson, of sorts. Having to work for things rather than having them handed to you, something like that. 

He shouldn’t have let you kiss him, or kissed you back. It’s a little late for all the ‘shouldn’t have’s’ now, but Bradley figures that it’s about time to stop adding to the list of them. 

Before his meeting, he slides the ring under your door and leaves without a word. Giving it back is one thing— having to look you in the eye while he handed it over would be another thing entirely.

Then, straightening and fiddling with his tie as he walks, he takes his short walk through Siena’s streets. 

His meeting takes him through the early morning, and right past the time he promised Pasquale he’d be back to lead this morning’s event.

He rushes into the hotel lobby, finding his group strewn around couches and the ground, all bored to the point of silence. And then you, staring right at him.

You’re wearing a white blouse and linen shorts, sunglasses and sandals. He’s wearing a thick white shirt and a blue tie, tucked into dress pants that are a little darker than cream. His hair is windswept and messy, his tie loosened and his top button undone.

Even all dressed up, he finds a way to be a little bit himself. Just a little bit rugged, out of place — exceptionally handsome, his tie bringing out the gold in his tan. 

He looks back at you, brown eyes trailing you head to toe, then looks away with a discernible disconnect. The adam’s apple in his throat bobs as he tugs at his tie, wiggling it out of place.

“So, did you get it?” Luke prompts.

Your head turns, and Bradley looks back to you in the absence of being watched. You frown, confused as to why you don’t know as much as Luke does. You’re the one spending afternoons and evenings with Bradley, cuddled against him.

“Yeah,” Bradley says, still looking at you, “I did.”

He’s staying in Italy, for two more weeks after he sends the rest of you home. He’ll need just one research assistant. It should be Luke. It could have given him two more weeks with you.

He shakes his head as Luke opens up his mouth to continue this conversation, pushing his fingers through his hair. “I need to shower. Why don’t you guys head down to the piazza, and I —uh— I’ll catch up with you all.”

He needs to get away from you and the way you’re looking at him. He can’t stand that look on your face now that you’ve slipped that ring back onto your left hand. It was the first thing he saw, glinting at him ostentatiously in the morning light. 

Bradley doesn’t give anyone a chance to dispute, either, digging his hand into his front pocket to grab his key.

He hates you. You freaked out at him, and he doesn’t want you anymore. You watch him go, eyes wide. As the group begins to bustle, you’re left with a wounded feeling in your middle. No one has ever wanted you the way Bradley does, and you ruined it.

He turns, and starts for the stairs. Broad shoulders tapering into his waist, long legs in loose pants. You never thought you would miss the sight of his jean shorts, and the way they hug him in all the right places. 

Robin watches you looking after him, just waiting to see if you’ll follow. 

Pressing your lips firmly together, you adjust the strap of your bag to sit more comfortably against your shoulder. Then, you march right past her and join the rest of the group outside. 

She almost hums. Surprise coats her features unmistakably as she wanders out into the cobbled street and loops her arm through Luke’s. Maybe it is over between the two of you after all, whatever ‘it’ was. 

Pasquale compensates for Bradley’s absence with plenty of breaks in the shade that Bradley’s rigorous lecturing rarely allows for. As much as his content remains the same, he lacks the same conviction with which Bradley is able to talk about all of this. 

You’re practically asleep standing up, dragging your heels against weathered streets as he rattles on about Saint Bernardino. Heat prickles at the back of your neck, a bead of perspiration trailing down under the neat collar of your white blouse. 

Sparks tickle the base of your spine as fingertips skim across your skin.

“Excuse me.” Bradley’s deep voice makes you jolt as he angles his shoulder and moves to brush past you. Exactly an hour late to the tour he was supposed to be leading, he doesn’t even look down at you as he passes by.

He’s wearing a faded white graphic t-shirt and those offensively short trunks he wears sometimes even when he doesn’t plan to swim, his sunglasses settled onto the bridge of his nose and his curls still damp from his shower.

Your fingers catch on his forearm. 

“Can I speak with you? Please?” You huff out, gnawing at your lip as your chest rises and falls with each deep breath. The sudden silence draws some attention, as Pasquale stops speaking up front. 

Bradley pauses. Everyone, again, is staring at the two of you. You couldn’t just let him pass you by. A muscle in his jaw ticks as he looks you over, white sandals and a simple blue dress, Dior sunglasses set atop the bridge of your nose and a ridiculous, impractically small bag set against your shoulder.

He can’t act like a jilted lover. He isn’t one. He can’t act like this is a break-up. This isn’t one. 

“Make it quick, Ashworth — some of us have work to do.” 

You flinch. A few chuckles come from somewhere in the group. Humiliation burns through you in a foreign way, something so much worse than the other times that Bradley has called you by Malcolm’s name. It’s tainted now.

Bradley watches your bottom lip wobble. You swallow it down and straighten up, squaring your shoulders and settling your chin up high. He bites at the inside of his cheek, tucking his paperwork under his arm.

“Fine. Let’s talk right here.” Your voice shakes just a little. Enough to let him know that you’re only provoking him now because he has backed you into a corner. “Would you like me to apologize first for insulting your salary or for intruding on this stupid little trip to begin with—“

He shakes your hand off of him and catches your bicep. Your mouth hangs open as he hauls you backwards, dipping into the shade of an alleyway. 

“No, no! — If you want to be mean, then I can be mean too—“

He finally stops dragging you with him once he has thrown you around a corner and backed you up against a crumbling wall. He gives a small shake of his head, the warmth of his eyes lost behind his dark lenses.

“I don’t want to be mean to you,” Bradley says softly. “But I don’t know how I’m supposed to get through these last three weeks with you staring at me like I broke your heart. It isn’t fair.”

“So talk to me!” You urge him. He steps back as you step forwards. As you reach for him, he turns and paces a few steps away, then takes a seat on the little stone bench in front of the opposite wall.

“Okay,” He rubs at his temple, then pulls his sunglasses from his face. “I think that we’ve been kidding ourselves here. All that I’ve been doing is screwing up what you’ve been working towards — if you want to marry that jackass, I won’t stand in your way.”

The corners of your lips twitch for a second before you tug them downward into a discernible frown. Maybe something to do with hearing Bradley call Malcolm a jackass. Still, your brows furrow and your face becomes stormy.

You step between his parted knees. “Kidding ourselves? — That’s what this was to you? — A joke?”

He shakes his head, sitting back against the wall, grabbing your hips in his hands. “No. That’s not what I was saying and you know that.”

“So, what are you saying?” You challenge him.

There’s a beat between you. It gets about as silent as Siena ever does in the middle of tourist season, and for a second the two of you feel alone on that little side street.

Tucked between two weathered, orange painted buildings, Bradley strokes his thumbs across the space between your shorts and the hem of your blouse. The pads of his thumbs feel like fire against your bare skin. 

Maybe the wind changes directions; something switches between the two of you briskly. He softens, closing his eyes for a moment.

“I think that this needs to stop.” He whispers, pressing his lips to the smooth skin of your stomach. Your fingers trail through the soft curls at the crown of his head, following where deep brown becomes soft auburn.

“I don’t want it to.” You whisper.

“It’s selfish,” He looks up, endlessly warm brown eyes locked on you. His thumbs circle your hipbones, cursing the soft linen for being in the way of him getting to feel your skin one last time. “Of me, to mess with your head like this.”

And of you, to let Bradley get as attached as he is. He holds your waist in his hands, thumbing at the waistband of your shorts just enough. His eyes fall shut with the glimpse of your skin as he nips at your hipbone, kissing from the right side to the left. 

“I can speak for myself,” You tell him, watching his warm mouth work across your navel. Right here in the open, just around a quiet corner, where anyone could see the two of you. Excitement pools between your legs, your hips angling toward his mouth. “And I’m fine.” 

“You’re not fine.” Bradley looks up, cocking his head like he dares you to continue this arguement. 

“Stop telling me what I am,” You scowl defiantly. “I’m fully capable of telling you myself.”

He stands up swiftly, towering. “So tell me.”

Your neck cranes uncomfortably, all to see the challenging look in his eyes. “Tell you what?”

“Tell me how this works. How this goes. How the fuck I’m supposed to watch you go back to him after all this?” He bites. Suddenly, you feel the weight of his palms holding onto your midsection. Your gaze flickers downward as your mind ponders over the depth of his tone.

He almost flinches as you look him in the eye again. Something downright analytical in the way you’re staring at him. Weighing up exactly what about what he had said that made it feel so different. Something far different from anger. 

He doesn’t give you a chance to answer him. 

“It’s over, I can’t keep doing this.” Bradley is unwaveringly firm. 

The first thought that crosses your mind isn’t the loneliness you had felt in the first two weeks here. You could survive that for your remaining three weeks. You’re going to miss the gentle graze of his fingertips on your knee, and the way he smiles at you sometimes, and the things he holds onto to tell you at the end of the day.

Undoubtedly, you would miss him. 

“That’s final.” He can’t hear you out; he doesn’t want to. He would change his mind too easily. It’s time to finally act like a grown-up and stick to what he says.

Your lips part and hang, eyes wide. That’s final. He doesn’t speak to you that way— not unless he wants an argument— and he’s going to get one. He gives you no chance, adjusting his sunglasses and walking way ahead in his long strides. 

It’s strange how fast your anger just becomes shame.

Maybe standing in the street and screaming at him would have made you feel better, maybe it would have changed something. In its absence, you’re left silent and surrounded. Crowds bustle around you, but Bradley’s not as easy to lose as you are. His brown curls stand out over the crowd, as his American accent carries across the blending conversations, starting his ongoing lecture about Siena’s economic role in early Italy.

You don’t want it to be final. 

It’s not fair. He can’t just toss you aside— even if it’s a defensive gesture. Your feet find their rhythm and you start to move finally, making minimal effort to catch the group. You’re stuck on that idea, realizing that you have put him in a very familiar position.

He learned his lesson with Natasha, he hurt her trying to hold on and she left him anyway. Maybe he’s just trying to save both of you from the hurt this time.

Bradley’s accent fades and fades until you’re in a crowd of just unfamiliar conversation, your pace slowing until you’ve stopped all together. He doesn’t want to be around you, fine. You can give him space, you’ve got a severely neglected checking account and a seriously fogged mind to clear up.

You close your eyes and gather your bearings, turning in a tight circle to survey the streets around you. Swallowing at the lump in your throat, you take a breath and reach into your bag. 

Headphones settled over your ears, Walkman playing a Roy Orbison classic, you straighten your shoulders and start walking.

There are a pair of shiny, dangly earrings that you pick up in a little boutique. A pair of heels that you most definitely don’t have room in your suitcase for in a designer store. A brand new blue swimsuit from a store with a male attendant that had been far too eager to help you.

You’re just about considering yourself done spending, walking along a street that must be about a mile from your hotel given how long you have been walking. 

Then, you catch sight of a woman leaving a store. She’s supermodel tall, with a long, slender neck and a serious face. Serious in the kind of way that makes men go weak in the knees. 

Your head tilts just slightly, watching her strut through the street ahead of you in six-inch heels and a tight little mini skirt. You’re not the only one watching, either. At least three men ahead of you turn their heads, watching in awe as she passes them by. Your gaze flits down to the little red bag in her hand, stuffed with black tissue paper.

Turning your head, you find the store she had appeared from. 

Three tall mannequins stand proudly posed in the window of the little boutique, dressed in bustiers and bras and stockings and… something even smaller than a thong.

You look between her and the store. It seems like a good idea in the moment. It seems like a good idea at the checkout, even. 

It seems like a good idea until you’re standing in the strange little bathroom at the very end of your hotel floor, feeling utterly ridiculous. Standing in a pink babydoll and it’s adorning thong, you try to picture yourself posed like one of those mannequins.

Sprawled across the bed in your hotel room with one knee bent and a hand on your hip, maybe, your finger poised against your lip. The idea makes you shiver. The thought of Bradley watching makes it worse.

He finds you sexy, sure. You’ve felt his erection pressing into you enough times to know that, at least. But that was when you had his attention, his affection. Now, it’s different.

You bite at the inside of your cheek, scrutinising the sheer fabric coating your reflection. You wonder if this is supposed to feel natural, if you’re supposed to feel sexy, if it comes naturally to everyone else except you.

You lift your hands and sweep your hair back over your shoulders, screwing your mouth into a displeased frown. You brush it forwards again, fidgeting and fidgeting with the way that you look.

At once, the door whips open. 

You haven’t even had time to open your mouth to shriek before Bradley barges in with his size thirteen Nikes and his papers under his arm, desperate to take a leak after spending his afternoon searching Siena for you. 

He hits you like a stack of bricks. He never makes the choice to save you over his work, it’s something instinctual instead. The papers all go flying as he grabs you by your arms to keep you from landing completely on your ass.

“Shit— shit.” Bradley’s hands are off of you from the second he realises who you are and what you’ve done to his neatly organised stack of sources. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck.” 

The weighted door swings shut behind him and you’re trapped with the man you’re trying to seduce, as he considers fishing three pages of work out of the toilet. He hasn’t even looked at you yet.

Your eyes are practically bulging out of your head, and your arms finally strike into motion, crossing over your chest in an attempt to cover yourself.

Bradley seems to decide that he is going to attempt to salvage the papers. He reaches out and the first time he touches you in forty-eight hours is to try to manhandle you out of his way. His fingers curl around the chiffon mix.

Instantly, the papers are forgotten and his eyes are on you. Dark and heavy, his pupils fade into the deep brown hue of his eyes. 

Without restraint, his gaze drops. You stand, frozen, hugging your arms to your chest to cover your breasts, heart thudding through the thin fabric.

He starts at your ankle, noticing the new anklet secured around it. You squeeze your eyes shut, veering away from the scrutiny of his gaze. 

Bradley’s thoughts are far from scrutinising you. He eyeballs the pale pink underwear through the fabric, taking his time in moving on until he finds the way you’re trying to cover your chest with your hands. You’re trembling, eyes squeezed shut.

The tag pokes out by your ribs. He cocks his head slightly as his gaze flickers downward, reminding himself that he’s still holding onto your hip. His thumb twitches toward the pink fabric, smoothing over the thin line where the g-string covers your skin.

“What’s this?” He’s still holding it, his big, stupid, hand is still holding onto your hip.

“… Lingerie.” You answer him quietly, shrinking backward like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. He follows you without moving, curling his fingers into the skimpy fabric.

“Right,” Bradley acknowledges. His gaze flickers downward again, willing his cock to keep it together and not stretch the fabric of his jeans. “Where’d you get it?”

“I wasn’t— I just wanted— this isn’t—“

Bradley straightens up and finally remembers to take his hand off you. The stumbling step he takes back makes him hit the lock on the door, and finally he thinks to lock it for real. His tongue dips from his mouth, wetting his pink lips as his hand palm scrubs at his clean shaven jaw.

“You drive me crazy,” He whispers, almost in disbelief. “You’re driving me crazy. What is this?” 

“It’s…” You pause, and fidget and throw your arms up exhasperatedly. “It’s supposed to be… I just wanted you to look at me again.”

If he wanted to be cruel, he could tell you that you’re being ridiculous and that playing dress up isn’t the way to make an apology. He would’ve, at the beginning of this trip. Now, his heart just sinks to his stomach at the thought of you so desperate for his attention. He wants to give it to you.

A muscle in his jaw ticks. He looks you up and down once more, this time pausing for longer. With your arms out of the way, he can see your flushed nipples peaked against the fabric and the way your chest trembles with each breath. 

He swallows thickly, suddenly forgetting that his work is disintegrating in the toilet water.

“I’ve been looking at you this whole time,” He says tightly, kind of like it pains him to compliment you with what you’re putting him through. “But I meant what I said, baby, I’m done.”

He takes a step back and bumps the door, cursing this country for building its bathrooms without guys like him in mind. He crowds the space, finding it impossible to back away from you and somehow even harder to keep his hands to himself.

Your mouth straightens into a line and he just knows that he’s got another argument on his hands. He isn’t in the mood to be argued with in a bathroom.

“Whatever you’re about to say, don’t.” He says firmly, willing himself to keep his eyes on your face and hoping you’ll offer him the same courtesy, so that you don’t notice the semi straining against his jeans. 

He glances down at the strewn around pages. 

“Now will you give me a minute?” 

“No, not unless you’ll talk to me. You can’t avoid me forever.” You bargain, taking a step towards him and resting your fingers against his bicep. Bradley practically flinches, taking a step back and letting your hand fall to the space between you. 

He successfully avoided you noticing that even now he’s trying to protect the both of you from this, you’ve still got him wrapped around your finger. Your lip trembles. He can’t help himself, taking another glance downward at the pink chiffon on your body.

His hand flies up to rub at his temples, an exasperated sigh forcing its way out of his lips. 

“If I say you can work with me, you’ll get out so that I can take a piss?” He huffs, already irritated with how much of a struggle that’s going to be because of the southbound blood situation. Your eyes widen at the promise of time with him. “Fine. Get out.”

Leaving your original clothes on the counter, you turn swiftly and push open the door to your side of the bathroom. Bradley stares at your ass, covered by a thin layer of chiffon and a thong. He has never seen you in a thong. His mouth dries.

As your door swings shut behind you, Bradley instantly steps forward to lock it. Then, he turns his head and examines himself in the mirror— straining against his jeans and pointing right for you. Wrapped. Around. Your finger.

Scrubbing a hand along his jaw, he exhales deeply and closes his eyes for a moment. Painted on the inside of his eyelids is the image of you in his shirt a week ago, your hip popped and skin spilling out from inside, as you had waved at him from that window. How confident you had looked.

The way you’d keened into his touch.

He doesn’t know how to explain this part. It’s why it’ll never work. He doesn’t want lacy, frilly clothes that make you hide yourself. He wants that look in your eyes, and that smile on your lips — the tone your voice takes when you know you’re really riling him up.

Sure, the sight of you in that pretty pink get up damn near made his brain stop functioning, but he didn’t like the look on your face. He doesn’t like the way you spoke to him yesterday, and he knows that he can’t keep playing with your head like this.

But then, his gaze flickers downward towards the countertop. Nestled to the right of your neatly folded clothes, glinting at him once again, is that stupid fucking ring. All by itself, far from where it should be sitting around your finger.

…

tags: @thedroneranger @batdanceq @cassiemitchele @himbos-on-ice @bradshawsbaby @damrlova @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @sihtricswife @callsignvenus @callsign-joyride @harper1666 @krismdavis @sheisanangell @cherrycola27 @kmc1989 @sugarcoated-lame @mshistorylover

[lmchaptertitlebracket]

I.vi.2 Comment Jean Peut Devenir Champ

And a proper Translation of Shame for this one: where did Denny get "The Honesty of Javert" from?? I am truly perplexed and I'm not sure that's fully within the realm of translation.

How Jean Can Become Champ: Wilbour, FMA

How Jean May Become Champ: Wraxall (Wraxall has quotation marks), Hapgood, Walton (Walton has quotation marks), Donougher

The Honesty of Javert: Denny

How Jean Can Turn Into Champ: Rose

[bodegadulac]

Badly (Re)Drawn Worm: Gestation 1.6

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[fishareglorious]

Semmelweis: I have nothing against psychiatrists; if only they would stop prying... Always bragging about their mental strength, forcing their help onto others, and perhaps worst of all, carrying that mirror with them... Semmelweis: If they stop doing all that, I may just come to... respect them.

semmelweis has beef with kakania?

[maybankslove]

the summer that changed everything

an outer banks rewrite!

plot: what happens when y/n miller and her friends come across a wreck that will change everything in their life. from old family secrets that were covered up and trying to discover the truth about herself to chasing the adventure of a lifetime in places she never expected, how will her story unfold?

pairing: jj maybank x y/n miller

warnings: violence, drug use, death, abuse, emotional distress, swearing

more specific warnings will be given for each chapter!

a/n: i do not own the outer banks storyline! i came up with this plot idea myself so please do not steal it, if it is similar to someone else’s idea i apologise :) let me know if you like this idea and want me to continue!

characters

prologue

chapters:

season one:

chapter 1.1: pilot

chapter 1.2: the lucky compass (new!)

chapter 1.3: the forbidden zone

chapter 1.4: spy games

chapter 1.5: midsummers

chapter 1.6: parcel 9

chapter 1.7: dead calm

chapter 1.8: the runway

chapter 1.9: the bell tower

chapter 1.10: the phantom

season two:

chapter 2.1: the gold

chapter 2.2: the heist

chapter 2.3: prayers

chapter 2.4: homecoming

chapter 2.5: the darkest hour

chapter 2.6: my druthers

chapter 2.7: the bonfire

chapter 2.8: the cross

chapter 2.9: trapped

chapter 2.10: the coastal venture

season three:

chapter 3.1: poguelandia

chapter 3.2: the bells

chapter 3.3: fathers and sons

chapter 3.4: the diary

chapter 3.5: heists

chapter 3.6: the dark forest

chapter 3.7: happy anniversary

chapter 3.8: tapping the rudder

chapter 3.9: welcome to kitty hawk

chapter 3.10: secret of the gnomon

season four:

chapter 4.1: the enduro

chapter 4.2: blackbeard

chapter 4.3: the lupine corsairs

chapter 4.4: the swell

chapter 4.5: albatross

chapter 4.6: the town council

chapter 4.7: mothers and fathers

chapter 4.8: family plot

chapter 4.9: the storm

chapter 4.10: the blue crown

season five:

tba

[spadesolace]

the idea of yoo

pairings: highschool au! karina x fem!reader smau

synopsis: in a small town called kwangya, there's not much going on aside from familiar faces, small annual events, and little to none attractions. what happens when naoi y/n was given an offer she can't refuse? the catch is the job to ghostwrite letters for choi yeonjun's crush, yoo jimin?

spade speaks: this entire thing is inspired by the half of it, you can read this without watching it

tags: strangers to lovers, fluff, a bit of angst, a short smau

warning/s: bullying, homophobia, emotional cheating, discussion about religion

featuring: yeonjun (txt), jeno (nct)

status: started (09/25/23) - completed (11/23/23)

CHAPTERS

prologue.

0.1. yeonjun's letter

0.2. the first letter

0.3. exchange of letters

0.4. the (horrible) date

0.5. another chance

0.6. what do you like about jimin?

0.7. date number 2

0.8. how to move on?

0.9. the recital

1.0. after party

1.1. alone with yoo

1.2. yeonjun’s dance battle

1.3. heartbreaks

1.4. what even is love?

1.5. confrontations

1.6. the best part.

epilogue

taglist [CLOSED]:

@1luvkarina @beawolfbealionbeyou @pandafuriosa60 @txtbrainrot @rinapomu @limbforalimb @yoontoonwhs @noascats @thefckghost @petruchiosstuff