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sunlightmurdock · 1 year

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The Odyssey | 0.8 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

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Synopsis: Bradley keeps a close eye on the other students, nightly dinners become a regular occurrence. Malcolm feels further away than ever. A phone call in the middle of the night causes a swift change in plans.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, power imbalance (professor / student relationship), age gap (22 / 33), will be smut, virgin reader, swearing, infidelity. 18+ minors dni

…

Bradley wakes up with the sun. All of those West Coast mornings and thin, green floral curtains in his grandmother’s house. The sun spilling through them and alerting him to the Chordettes playing downstairs on grainy vinyl. That meant his mother was cleaning. Lemon-scented disinfectant, her sitting on her knees polishing the hardwood with a rag. The effortless warmth of her voice drifting through the walls.

He exhales. Sunlight seeps through his eyelids but there’s no Chordettes album today. No lemon scent. Just a dusty room and one of his students sleeping six feet away. His eyelids flutter, blinking through the early morning light. A slow turn of his neck allows him to check the clock on the nightstand and doesn’t affront the stiffness that these cheap mattresses give him either.

It’s early. About four hours before Luke would naturally rise, anyway. Bradley hits the alarm and pushes himself upright with a soft sigh. He doesn’t have to be quiet when he’s getting out of bed, that kid could sleep through a hurricane.

They have a lot in common. Lots of similarities in the way they were raised. Bradley likes him beyond just being his professor. In different circumstances, they would be friends. But, Bradley has always kept that line in the sand clear. Until now. Until you had kissed him.

Showered and dressed, Bradley’s up before most of Verona. The soles of his shoes are quiet against the cobble. Italian leather from almost a decade ago. A gift from an old friend that have held up well. The only dress shoes he’s got.

It’s bright out. Bright enough that Bradley’s squinting through his Ray-Ban caravans already, but it’s not too hot just yet. There’s a wind that makes the loose white of his button-up billow against his tanned skin, fighting to work free from being neatly tucked into his belt.

Enzo’s out on the steps by the time Bradley gets there, which means he is late. Teaching hasn’t ever been Bradley’s passion, but it makes way for him to study and — in theory — he gets his summers off. It allows him to write.

“Good morning.” Enzo greets him with a smile. Bradley’s not much for the business side of things — he would have better luck at counting the shades of blue in the sky than he would at figuring out schmoozing. Enzo knows this, and Bradley knows that he knows this. “How’s the book coming?”

“I’m not sure,” Bradley answers with a broad shrug. He tucks the gold frames of his sunglasses into the part of his shirt. “I’m not sure I’ll have it finished by the end of summer.”

Olive-skinned and about fifteen years Bradley’s senior, Enzo looks the part of a sleazy salesman even if he’s just a curator when his lips twist up into a smile. “Something’s got you a little distracted, hm?”

The straight ahead stare, the deep, slow breaths and the unwavering tight line that his lips are pressed into; Bradley’s reaction is easily readable — and Enzo’s close enough to get hit if he keeps it up. He knows that. Towing the line is his specialty.

“Just joking. Here, let’s go in.”

Three soft-sounding steps inside and Bradley’s back where he was this morning. Ten years old and laying on his back in the twin bed in the bedroom at the front of his grandmother’s house, smelling artificial lemon.

He turns his head just a little, his eyes lingering on the mop being pushed around the tile floor, as Enzo leads him further inside.

Being published is what professors dream of. Having someone decide that their little ramblings are interesting enough to publish. Bradley’s study focuses on two things that are inherently interesting to begin with — sex, and power.

His research may be tedious every now and again but the content is always rich. His morning spins by and before he knows it, it’s time to meet you again. You’re ready for him when he gets there, tugging open the door before he has knocked.

But, you don’t look excited to see him.

Cheeks flushed, your body language suggests to him that you would have a decent future as an offensive lineman. His gaze flickers up, over your head and into your seemingly innocent hotel room. Powerless as he scans the room, you just hope he can’t figure out what it is that has you so rattled.

You had aimed to finish before he had arrived but time had gotten away from you.

“So what are we doing today?” You try.

“What are you writing?” His eyes are already on it. The open stack of lined papers, torn out of the notebook already, sitting on the vanity by the wall. Your perfume is next to it and you’ve got the stationary set that your mother got you laid out neatly next to it.

“Nothing.”

He looks down. First, at your face. Wide eyes and baited breath. Then, at your hands suddenly resting against his chest like they’ll hold him in place. His lips twitch.

“Nothing?” He repeats to you. Enjoyment seeps through his words, amusement tugs at his lips and he lifts his right foot to take one step forwards. “Mind if I take a look?”

Instantly, your fingers are curling into his shirt and you’re throwing your weight at him to keep him where he is. Bradley huffs out a sound of amusement, passing you in one swift stride as you claw at his button up to slow him down.

“Don’t, Bradley, it’s stupid — I was just messing around. I don’t want you to read it.”

His fingers brush the top page as you plead with him, tugging at his sleeve, trying to change his mind. He lifts it nonetheless and shoots you a grin, making a show of clearing his throat.

“Dear Juliet,” He pronounces, turning his attention back to the page from you.

“Bradley, please don’t.” It’s not fun anymore. You’re quiet and resigned to him doing whatever he pleases. Embarrassment teems through you.

It’s a familiar kind of crushing feeling. It’s never just feeling small, it’s never that simple. It’s being made small. Every inch that you shrink, you’re squished down further until you’re nothing.

You can see it in his face, the exact moment that he reads his initials on the paper. It had seemed too personal to use his name. Back when this had seemed like a good idea at all.

He doesn’t read on. The paper sits still in his hand as he turns his head towards you. You stare back at him, preparing yourself. Tongue poised, ready to spit whatever venom he deserves after what he says next. Eyes wide, and sad.

“I’m sorry.”

He sets the paper back down as he had found it. It’s not his to discard, it wasn’t his to read. Bradley steps forwards and wraps his hands gently around both of your biceps.

“That wasn’t cool,” He tells you quietly. Bradley knows a couple of different languages, and he’s confident that he’s speaking English now, even if you’re staring at him like he isn’t. “I didn’t realize what it was. I was just trying to mess with you. I barely read any of it.”

Silent, you blink a few times. He’s still there with his big, heavy hands anchoring around your biceps. He’s waiting for you to say something back.

Slowly, your brows draw together. Your eyes flicker over every inch of his face, looking for some fault that will give up this little act.

Suddenly, your mind is made up. This is an act. He’s not sorry, men rarely are. You straighten your back and lift your chin, if you were a cat your claws would be out and ready. “You’re such an asshole.”

The clock beside your bed, the hands don’t move, and yet it feels like you can hear something ticking. Maybe your heartbeat. He’s staring back at you, not moving, but he’s going to have to soon — it’s his turn.

“I know, honey,” Bradley’s hands open and he releases your arms, only to open his and wrap you in them. Your face presses into his chest as he rubs a hand along the small of your back. “I didn’t mean to.”

You’ve received plenty of life lessons on what it means to be a woman. Your grandmother, your mother, your aunts and cousins, teachers and friends. Not one of them prepared you for this. In your scope, apologies come in the form of jewelry or luxury vacations.

No one had ever prepared you for a man to look into your eyes and tell you that he is truly sorry.

“I just wanted to put it on paper, get it out of my head,” You mumble into his shirt, inhaling the notes of wood and warm spice in his cologne. Your hand rests against his stomach now, unclenched. Your body is soft against his. You relax out of all of that tension and let him hold you. “Make some sense of it.”

His palm hugs the base of your skull, cradling you against his shoulder. His cheek rests against the top of your head. He gives you a slow nod.

“You should finish it.” Bradley tells you.

“Yeah. Maybe later.” You hum. It’s nice, to be held by him. He strokes a hand softly over your hair.

Within this city, within the walls of the first space that you have had to yourself in three weeks, in this brown hotel room — you have let yourself be his.

Tomorrow, you’ll move on to Venice. The decision is yours, to leave him and all of this insanity right here — forever between these four walls — or to let go.

Bradley’s thumb trails the nape of your neck. He can feel you deep in thought. Just once, he would like to know what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours. “Could be our activity for today. Write it in Latin, think of it as a translation activity. I won’t check it.”

Lifting your head, you stare up at him, lips pursed in distaste. “If you don’t check it then what’s the point?”

“Confidence.” Bradley tells you. You feel his open palms trail your back until they hit your belt. Then, they skim around to rest safely on your waist. “The more you practice—“

“Yeah, yeah…” Both hands push against his chest as you wriggle out of his arms and turn. “Okay, I’m in.”

“Let’s sit outside. It’s a nice day.”

The eighth of June. The day you sat in a public garden opposite a fountain, laying on your front in the grass while Bradley sat in front of you, propped up against a tree. It turns out that when Bradley says he knows a place, it’s usually worth listening.

“What’s this place called?”

“Giusti Garden.” He tells you, working on something of his own in his lap.

“And what is it?” You ask him, trailing the end of your pencil through the dictionary. He looks up at you, his own pencil stilling for a second.

“A palace, originally.” Blinking through the lenses of his sunglasses, Bradley glances down at the page in front of him and back to your lips, pursed in concentration. “Pretty popular. Mozart, Gorthe, Ruskin— they’ve all visited this place.”

“Huh.” You hum.

This time when his gaze flickers up, you have moved. Your lips are parted, you tap the rubber at the end of your pencil against your bottom lip.

Mid-sentence and stuck, you turn your head towards him and he’s already looking at you. He read what was on that paper the first time. He reads hundreds of essays a year, he has mastered the art of clearing a page quickly.

Admittedly, he hadn’t gotten through the whole page, but he’d noticed that you had stopped halfway through a word at the bottom.

He read all about it. How confused you are. The new feelings and the difficult thoughts. Malcolm and how much he loves you. How guilty you are. How furious with yourself you are.

Selfishly, Bradley wonders if you’re writing the same thing now. All of those biting looks and harsh words — Bradley feels like he’s just starting to understand, and he likes the person behind it all.

He’s grown up enough to know that you’ve got enough people messing with your head back home. Whatever that letter helps you realize, Bradley has already decided that he isn’t going to say a word about it.

It’s still bright out by the time that your letter is signed and sealed, tucked into your bag. You straighten up, brushing off your front as Bradley collects his things behind you.

“Here.”

Lifting your head, you almost miss it. He watches your eyes land on the folded piece of paper extended towards you. Your lips quirk softly as you reach out and take it from him.

Breeze catches your hair, you comb it off of your forehead with one hand as you open up the paper with the other. Three different pencil sketches sit on the paper.

The largest is in the centre. It’s of your face and your shoulders, elbows propped up against the grass and your lips pouted slightly as you study the book before you. The lashes, the slight misshape of your polo collar, the tip of your nose. He’s got it down to a science.

The other two are just sketches. One of your face, turned to the side like it is in the drawing of you laying down. The last is of you looking at him, smiling. You don’t even remember what he had said. Neither does he. But he remembers that look.

“What’s this?”

Bradley just slips the pencil into the pocket of his jeans and starts walking, nudging his elbow into yours as he passes by. “You asked me to draw you, didn’t you?”

In truth, he assumes that it’s going to be a parting gift. Call him sentimental, but Bradley always leaves something to remember him by.

When he closes his eyes, he doesn’t remember his father’s face. He has seen it in pictures before, but never in memories. No, he remembers hugging his father’s legs, and sitting on his knee. He remembers the smell of tobacco.

The replacement dog tags. The gold chain. The shoes in the box in his mother’s wardrobe. The suit that Bradley never grew into — one day it was too big and the very next, he had already outgrown it. Those are what he has to piece together parts of his father.

When you’re old and married, maybe you’ll find the drawing and piece together the parts of Bradley that made you smile like that.

You trail behind him, white tennis shoes in the trimmed green grass. A white polo shirt tucked into lemon yellow shorts, your sunglasses sweeping your hair back off of your forehead.

In another life, he’d reach back and you would wrap your palm around his index finger. He would smile at you and you would be all kinds of giddy about this date.

But this isn’t that — it doesn’t work like that this time around. Someone could see you. Bradley knows now how you’re feeling. He knows that your fiancé is on your mind. He chose once, took Natasha’s choice in her own future from her. He won’t do the same to you.

“The dinner thing,” You call out from behind him, watching your shoes travel from grass to stone pavers as you pass by an intricately carved fountain. He turns his head and peers at you over the top of his sunglasses, looking over his shoulder. “Is that really every night?”

Before you’re even done with your question Bradley’s looking ahead once again, and you’re left looking at the plain white of his cotton tee stretched pliantly over the swell of his shoulders. “Until you all start treating each other with a little respect, I guess so.”

“All of us? — Come on, Bradley, don’t act like you don’t know who the problem is.” An incredulous scoff, barely paying attention to your own words as your eyes wander around the flowered garden. “She’s just a slut, and—“

He stops and turns. Your gaze snaps from double early tulips and their puffed yellow petals to Bradley standing before you — the look in his eyes is scolding before his mouth has even moved.

“Do you listen to a single thing that I say? — Seriously?” He asks you, brows drawn together and his lips pressed into a frown. You simply blink at him.

“What?”

“She’s a slut because she has sex with her boyfriend?” He challenges you, shaking his head. The past week, Bradley has been spoon-feeding you content about the sexual culture through the history of Rome. You nod like you understand and yet, you come out with bullshit like that.

He’s the one who challenged you. You simply answer back.

“She’s a slut because he’s not her boyfriend. They’ll both tell you that.” You tell him, defiance coursing through your veins in lieu of anything that might have helped you make a stronger argument.

“What does that make me? — You listen to my stories with a smile on your face. It’s not dirty until it’s someone you don’t like, huh?” Bradley asks. He’s right, you know that much. Bradley has indubitably slept with far more people than Robin possibly could have.

Still, maybe it’s his tone that makes you need to bite back so quickly. Hands on your hips and a scowl on your face, you stand off against him before the fountain. “What does it matter to you if I think she’s a slut?”

“It matters —“ Bradley stops and takes a deep breath. He leans in by three inches and you’re met with that familiar woody smell that just makes you want him even closer. “Use your brain. Whatever your mommy and daddy taught you back home is bullshit — you’re the odd one out.”

With that, he turns and starts away from you. He won’t leave you to walk home alone, but he will walk six paces ahead so that you’re clear with the fact that you have once again stepped on his nerves.

“I’m the odd one out for respecting my body?” You call out to him.

“Respecting it, ignoring it… same difference, right? — It’s your call, honey,” Bradley walks slowly closer until the toe of his sneaker brushes yours. He lowers his voice, calm. “But choosing not to have sex doesn’t make you better than Robin.”

“I’m not your honey.” You bite back.

“Right,” Bradley nods at you. He lifts his arms and drops them back against his sides incredulously. “But here we are.”

It’s an eleven minute walk back to the hotel. You stroll behind him, sullen like a scolded child. The letter feels heavy in your bag. He might not have called you a slut, but you’ve been put in your place nonetheless. The words would never pass your lips — but he’s right. The comparison’s right there in front of you, all around you. You’re living it.

She can’t be a slut for sleeping with one boy if you’re not for whatever you’ve got going on with Bradley.

You would hold it against her, crushing like a weight, if she told your story back to you. If she was the one with a fiancé at home and a professor who spent afternoons in her hotel room.

Still, your face is hot and you’re not ready to speak to him. Halfway across the herati patterned rug that covers most of the reception area, Bradley turns and looks at you as he tucks the arm of his sunglasses into the collar of his t-shirt.

Chin high and shoulders squared, your clear path is to walk right by him. Just as you always have when a man in your life has embarrassed you.

One step ahead, Bradley catches your wrist loosely, stopping you mid-stride. “Dinner’s in five. Remember?”

“I’m not going to dinner with you.” Your answer is simple and biting. Childish. He wouldn’t be surprised if you crossed your arms and stomped your foot.

“It’s not up for discussion. Everyone’s going.” Bradley explains. Right on time, he lifts his gaze and spots Pasquale headed towards the two of you from across the lobby. It’s not like he won’t have seen the two of you argue before.

He reaches you with a smile and stands at Bradley’s side. His bald head has caught the sun, reddened slightly with head. The smile lines beside his eyes always crease when he beams at Bradley. He stands almost an entire foot shorter. Looking up at him and grinning like a kid, even though he’s older than Bradley.

“Hi, guys!” He pats Bradley’s arm jovially and turns that wide, cheesy grin to you. “How is the revision going?”

Your eyes land on the professor and suddenly there’s something dark about them that has simply nothing to do with eye colour, and everything to do with the mood he put you in.

Pasquale lives in ignorant bliss for the two seconds that it takes you to settle your hands into the shallow pockets of your lemon shorts and narrow your eyes at the professor. “Bradley’s a self-righteous asshole.”

“But what else is new!” Pasquale tries. The laugh is forced out of him and nerves shake through it. He shoots Bradley an apologetic look. Bradley’s looking at you anyway.

“She got a C minus yesterday. Still trying to figure out if it was a fluke.” Bradley bites. Your eyes widen.

Sitting on his lap, wrapped in his arms as he told you how hard you had worked — how proud he was. His hand trailing your spine. His mouth soft against yours. Butterflies tearing through your stomach.

“I think I got too much sun today. I’m going to lie down. Enjoy dinner.” Fuck mandatory. Fuck every single student on this trip. Fuck this class, and fuck him in particular. Pasquale swallows softly as you turn on your heel and head for the stairs.

Bradley turns his chin towards the ceiling. He wants to like you, he wants you to like him. In the moments that you do, everything feels so easy. Like the breeze in early June. But when you’re hell bent on arguing with him — those are like those scorching hot summers back in California. Surrounding and heavy. Pressing in on him until he bites.

“A C… that’s not so bad. Right?” Pasquale asks quietly. Bradley turns his head and looks at him, there isn’t really an answer to give. A B is the average in his class, so no — a C really isn’t bad.

The thing about old Italian hotels is that they tend to be marketed towards guests looking to lead quiet lives — romantic getaways and such. Not young women fuelled by anger. The door slams and teaches you a quick lesson in cause and effect. The painting hung on the wall to the right of the bed wobbles in complaint, then bumps to the floor. The glass frame promptly shatters across the floor.

There’s an almost calm silence that follows. A few slow blinks, and the glass is still there. The frame is still shattered. There are pieces all across the floor. Bradley still said what he said.

The soles of your tennis shoes are thin and pliant, excellent for movement but not designed to fend off glass shards. Crossing the floor at that exact moment seems like far too much of a challenge. So, you press your back to the door and slide down it. Cupping your hands tight over your mouth, you clamp your eyes tightly shut and let it go.

The scream is muffled by your palms, but probably still enough to alarm other guests.

Your bag clatters haphazardly to the floor and you lift your face from your hands just long enough to examine the mess once again. Huffing out a sadder sound than you had intended, you push weakly to your feet once again.

Until today, Verona had been your favourite stop so far. Even with that spoiled, at least you have an en-suite here. You’re more careful with that door. You tug it closed and lock it behind you, toeing off each of your shoes as you go.

These old hotels have old water heaters too. You lean across to turn the shower on first and wriggle out of your shorts, dropping your polo onto the ground with them. Facing straight ahead, you stare into the little round mirror above the sink. It’s got molding all around it that was supposed to look gold once, but the peeling paint reveals brass underneath.

Your reflection stares back at you, sullen. It’s a portrait, just your head, shoulders and chest. Swallowing doesn’t make the thickness in your throat fade. You just blink at your reflection in the mirror. The cotton t-shirt bra hugged to your chest is modest and does it’s job — nothing more.

You’ve seen lingerie — you own lingerie. You have a white teddy with matching panties reserved especially for your wedding night. Bradley has most definitely seen lingerie.

A swift inhale is followed by a baited exhale.

The memory is so distinct, standing in a mall with your mother at the ripe age of twelve, watching her soured expression as she searched through the rack.

“Lace, lace, lace.” She had tutted. Back then, you had been more concerned about someone you knew seeing you here, shopping for your first bra. You hadn’t understood.

“Mom, just grab one. I want to go home. I don’t care what I wear.” You had whined, fidgeting on your feet and brushing awkwardly at the pleats of your dress. You’ll always remember the way that she had rounded on you, eyes wide like you had asked her to buy you a thong.

“Well you should, young lady!” Her voice always sounded scarier when you were younger, even though it had always been hushed and poised.

You have been a grown up for a while now. Lived outside of her home. Had your own bank account, car, clothes — and that voice still circles in your head.

The nightdress she had gotten you last Christmas is hanging on the back of the door. Malcolm hates it. He says it reminds him of his grandmother.

You look down at the thread scissors from your sewing kit resting on the shelf beside the sink. Anger has often led you to some of your best DIYs.

“So, we all have to be here… except not actually all of us.” Robin points out, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms over her striped t-shirt. Elbow resting on the table, Bradley turns his head to look at her.

“She’s sick, Robin, leave her alone.” Abigail mutters from beside her, pushing her fork around the plate of roasted vegetables.

“No, but I heard Bradley say mandatory. So, mandatory for everyone except—“

“Robin.” Bradley sighs, sitting back in his seat and frowning at her. The restaurant is dimly lit, almost ten of them are cramped around a table in the corner, and after your argument today, Bradley just doesn’t want to hear it. “I don’t want to hear another damn word.”

This is what Bradley hates most about education. Half of the time a punishment for his students is more of a punishment for himself, which this dinner just so happens to be. He wants them to like you. He doesn’t want to hear the bitter comments and the arguing.

Everyone’s eager to get it wrapped up and over with. It’s still early by the time that he heads back to the hotel — everyone else decides to go out for drinks again, without you. Making the entire thing pointless.

The knock at your door startles you. You wince as the pin slips into the tip of your finger, inhaling sharply. Abandoning the project on the bed, you push yourself to your feet and walk over to the door. You already know who it is.

Bradley’s gaze flickers down at the sweat shorts and T-shirt you’re wearing first, then back up to your face.

“How was dinner?” You’re already turning away from him again, stepping onto the bed and tiptoeing back across the sheets. Bradley glances behind him, then steps inside and closes the door.

“Are you done sulking?” He rests his hands on the leather belt wrapped around his hips. Sewing needle in hand, you lift your head and stare, silent. “I’m allowed to disagree—“

“Fuck you,” This time, you don’t give him a chance to finish. You turn your head and continue to thread the new hem. “What you said was cruel and you know it, this isn’t about a disagreement.”

His gaze turns towards the ceiling, hands still sitting atop his belt.

“It was. I’m sorry.” He mutters with an exhale and a shake of his head. Bradley looks back at you finally. His brows draw together and he takes a step into the room. “What are you doing?”

“Hemming.” Your answer is short.

Briefly, Bradley presses his tongue into his cheek and considers just saying goodnight. Then, he notices exactly what it is that you’re working on.

“Did you cut that in half?” He’s already crossing the room and craning his neck to get a better look. Unluckily for him, you’re finished. He watches you look up at him through your lashes and lift the nightdress, then stand up from the bed. “Oh, you’re ignoring me now?”

The door to the bathroom swings shut behind you, the thin wood does nothing to muffle your voice. “I’m not ignoring you.”

Bradley’s attention has already waned. He’s looking at the paper on your nightstand. His drawing from earlier is uncurled and illuminated in the light of the lamp, below that is your address book — opened to a page with Malcolm’s name. Dotted around are little pink hearts, his number neatly written along the line.

“Are you snooping?”

Bradley flinches, turning back towards you with a swift inhale. He remains silent, lips parted as you march from the bathroom to the wood-framed mirror about three feet from where he’s standing.

Aware of his eyes on you, you study the new garment. It sits a few inches above your knee, just above mid-thigh. The sweetheart neckline keeps it sweet. Bradley’s eyes flicker briefly downwards in the reflection. With the window open, he can’t help but notice your nipples peaked against the light cotton blend.

“What’s this?” He asks quietly.

“I wanted a change.” You answer him.

He lifts his gaze to your face, just in time for you to turn and face him. Half an hour ago, you were talking to your fiancé — and yet, you’ve got no shame in searching for Bradley’s approval like this. Maybe you aren’t as pure as you had once thought, or as your mother would like you to be. But for now, standing in front of him, you aren’t ashamed.

Malcolm had called you today from his office. He was eating a sub that one of the interns had grabbed from him and he was telling you about his week. Numbers and figures.

You had thought of everything you could tell him. Juliet and the views of the city, sitting under the tree in that garden this afternoon. Bradley.

“I’m sorry that I said what I said.” Bradley tells you. Maybe it’s just because he’s desperate to get the conversation off of the light fabric you’re wearing, but something tells you that he means it. “It was childish, and you’re right, I was being cruel.

Barefoot, you take four short steps forwards until you’re standing right in front of him.

“I’m not saying you’re right — but I shouldn’t have called Robin a slut.” The admission comes with a small, lip-twitching smile. Bradley’s hands reach forwards and curl around your hips.

“She is annoying. I’ll give you that much.” Bradley concedes. Your mouth twists into an eager grin as you press closer and shift up onto your tiptoes. Bradley steadies your hips and follows you in until your mouth is on his. Slowly, sweetly. His hands skim along the yellow fabric experimentally. He hums as he pulls away from you. “So, what’s with this?”

“You’re right. I was ignoring my body — I like the way I look in this. I like my shape. I can still respect myself without covering up so much. Right?”

Fuck. Bradley stares at you for just a split-second too long. He wrestles with the realisation of what he has just done to himself. Sure, you listened to him for once and it was a decent lesson to learn — but his summer just got considerably harder.

“Do you like it?”

He trails his fingers lightly along the fabric, careful not to touch too hard and press it against your skin. Quietly, he hums. “Sure. It’s cute.”

Bradley’s mind is swimming as he is walking back to his room. Fine, he resolved the issue that he went up there to resolve. Now, he has presented himself with a much bigger one.

His hands press into the pockets of his jeans as he starts to contextualize how deep he actually is into this mess. He hasn’t ever thought about fucking a student before — not once. He detests the men he knows that fantasize of it. And yet, here he is, picturing his fingers bunching up that stupid nightdress.

“Hey, Bradley.” Luke grins, sprawled out across his bed in the dark, reading a magazine with a flashlight. Bradley flinches. The door shuts behind him and they’re in there together. “Natasha called from Turin! She told you that she’s going to be in Venice this weekend too, she asked you to call her back.”

…

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fear-less · 7 months

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omg could u write a maroon x fred weasley fic ? I think that would go amazing, but ofc it's all up to you 💘

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 maroon

pairing: fred weasley x reader

warnings: angst, some fluff, implied gryffindor reader¿, SOME parts are cringe 😭🙏😢

a/n: my first request ahh!!! i tried to finish this as quickly as i could but this was lowkey hard to do😭 i was struggling so forgive me if it isn’t to ur expectations 🧍🏻‍♀️ maroon is one of my favs on midnights tho🧏🏻‍♀️

2.6k words ^_^

When the morning came we were cleaning incense off your vinyl shelf

'Cause we lost track of time again

The morning light streamed through the tall windows of the Gryffindor common room, casting a warm glow over the cozy space. Fred Weasley and Y/N found themselves amidst the hustle and bustle of students preparing for the day ahead, the scent of parchment and brewing potions mingling in the air.

“We ought to consider a time-turner, I reckon,” Fred remarked with a playful grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he waved his wand, banishing dust motes from the ancient tapestry that adorned the common room wall.

Y/N’s laughter filled the room, bright and infectious, as she joined Fred in their morning ritual of tidying up. With practiced ease, they worked in tandem, their wands dancing through the air in a graceful choreography of magic.

“The incense seems to have made itself rather at home, hasn’t it?” Y/N remarked, a playful glint in her eyes as she surveyed the cluttered shelves.

Fred chuckled, the warmth of camaraderie enveloping them like a comforting cloak.

The common room hummed with the energy of friendship and anticipation, the familiar sounds of laughter and conversation echoing off the stone walls. Fred, ever the jovial spirit, settled onto a plush armchair with a theatrical flourish, his feet finding a resting place in Y/N’s lap.

“Like a proper wizarding portrait, aren’t I?” Fred teased, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips as he leaned back, a picture of relaxed camaraderie.

Y/N rolled her eyes affectionately, her laughter mingling with the chorus of voices that filled the room. The morning sunlight danced in her hair, casting a golden halo around her features as she playfully nudged Fred’s feet aside, the easy banter between them a testament to their deepening friendship.

“How’d we end up on the floor anyway?” Fred quipped, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he glanced around the familiar surroundings of the Gryffindor common room.

“George��s cheap-ass screw-top rosé, that’s how,” Y/N replied with a chuckle, the memory of their recent escapades bringing a smile to her lips.

Their laughter echoed through the warm confines of Gryffindor Tower, a testament to the enduring bond that held them together.

As Fred and Y/N navigated the halls of Hogwarts, they found themselves drawn into a whirlwind of adventure and discovery. Together, they uncovered hidden passageways, brewed questionable potions, and faced down fearsome magical creatures with courage and determination.

Yet, amidst the excitement and chaos of school life, a deeper connection began to blossom between them—a bond forged in shared laughter, whispered secrets, and unspoken understanding.

————-————-————-————-—————-

And I chose you

The one I was dancin' with

In New York, no shoes

It was now Christmas day, 1995, and the Great Hall of Hogwarts was a vision of splendor for the Yule Ball. Its towering walls draped in cascading ivy and shimmering with enchanted snowflakes that danced in the air. Fred and Y/N found themselves swept away by the magical ambiance, the grandeur of the occasion casting a spell of awe and wonder upon them.

Hand in hand, they glided across the polished marble floor, the soft strains of celestial music filling the air like whispers from another realm. The glow of enchanted candles bathed the hall in a warm, ethereal light, casting shadows that danced across the ornate tapestries that adorned the walls.

In the midst of the swirling festivities, Fred and Y/N shared a moment of quiet reverence, their hearts beating in time with the rhythm of the music. With each graceful step, they wove their own story, a tapestry of friendship and companionship that transcended the bounds of time and space.

As they moved in perfect harmony, Fred’s gaze never wavered from Y/N, his eyes alight with a warmth that mirrored the flickering candlelight. In that fleeting moment, amidst the enchantment of the Yule Ball, they were suspended in a timeless embrace, their souls entwined in a dance as old as time itself.

The air was alive with the whispers of magic, the soft rustle of robes and the gentle murmur of conversation blending seamlessly with the lilting melody that filled the hall. Above them, the enchanted ceiling shimmered with a kaleidoscope of colors, a breathtaking tableau that mirrored the depths of the night sky.

And as they looked up at the starlit heavens, Fred and Y/N knew that they had found something truly extraordinary in each other—a connection that defied logic and reason, a bond that would endure long after the echoes of the Yule Ball had faded into memory. The twinkling stars above seemed to whisper secrets known only to them, their luminescence casting a gentle glow upon Fred’s warm smile and Y/N’s shimmering eyes. It was a moment suspended in time, filled with the promise of endless possibilities and shared dreams.

The light-colored dress Y/N wore was now stained with a deep burgundy, a result of Fred’s playful antics as he accidentally splashed red wine onto her during a moment of laughter. As the wine seeped into the fabric, Y/N felt the blood rush into her cheeks, a scarlet blush that mirrored the color of the wine staining her dress. The soft rustle of robes and the melodic strains of the orchestra faded into the background as Fred’s concerned gaze met Y/N’s, their unspoken understanding bridging the gap between them. In that fleeting moment of vulnerability, amidst the enchanting splendor of the Yule Ball, they shared a silent communion that spoke volumes of their growing affection and mutual admiration.

As the wine seeped into the fabric, Y/N felt the blood rush into her cheeks, a scarlet blush that mirrored the color of the wine staining her dress.

Later, as they danced under the enchanting glow of the Yule Ball, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the mark on her collarbone, a faint rust-colored smudge that had appeared during their playful exchange of banter earlier in the evening.

And as the night wore on, Y/N found herself lost in the depths of Fred’s eyes, her lips forming a smile as she realized that in him, she had found a home—a sanctuary where she could be herself, embraced for all that she was.

In the quiet moments between dances, amidst the swirling robes and the flickering candlelight, Y/N reflected on the journey they had shared together—the laughter, the tears, and the unspoken moments that bound them together like threads in a tapestry.

And as they moved together in perfect harmony, their hearts beating in sync with the rhythm of the music, Y/N knew that she had found not just a partner, but a kindred spirit—a soulmate whose presence filled her with a sense of belonging and completeness that she had never known before.

In the scarlet hues of the evening, amidst the magic of the Yule Ball, Y/N and Fred shared a connection that transcended words, a bond that would endure long after the echoes of the night had faded into memory.

————-————-————-————-—————-

When the silence came, we were shaking blind and hazy

How the hell did we lose sight of us again?

As the silence settled around them, enveloping the Astronomy Tower in a shroud of contemplation, Y/N and Fred sat in quiet reflection. The echoes of the Yule Ball still lingered in the air, a distant memory wrapped in the tendrils of the night.

In the midst of the hazy darkness, Fred's voice broke, his words trembling with emotion as he grappled with the weight of their shared history. "How did we lose sight of ourselves again?" His voice, tinged with regret, carried the weight of unspoken truths and missed opportunities.

A week had passed since the enchantment of the Yule Ball faded into memory, leaving behind a bittersweet residue of longing and unfulfilled promises. Y/N and Fred, nestled in the quiet solitude of the Astronomy Tower, found themselves confronting the harsh realities of their tangled emotions.

Fred's shoulders sagged as he succumbed to the weight of his own vulnerability, his head buried in his hands, tears staining the fabric of time-worn robes. It was a familiar scene, one that echoed the ebb and flow of their tumultuous relationship—a cycle of highs and lows, laughter and tears.

As Fred grappled with the depths of his emotions, Y/N watched in silent understanding, her heart aching with the weight of their shared pain. It was a moment of raw vulnerability, a glimpse into the fractured landscape of their hearts.

In the stillness of the night, amidst the whispering of the stars and the gentle caress of the wind, Y/N and Fred shared a bond that transcended words—a connection forged in the crucible of their shared experiences and unspoken truths.

And as the night wore on, their silhouettes cast against the backdrop of the starlit sky, Y/N and Fred found solace in the quiet companionship of the night—a beacon of light in the darkness, guiding them through the maze of their tangled emotions.

————-————-————-————-—————-

You were standin' hollow-eyed in the hallway

In the dimly lit hallway of Hogwarts, shadows danced with the flickering torchlight, casting an eerie glow upon the stone walls. Y/N stood there, her gaze hollow and distant, lost in the labyrinth of her own thoughts. Fred watched her from across the corridor, his heart heavy with the weight of unspoken words and unresolved emotions.

As he approached, the echoes of their shared history reverberated in the silence between them. They were like carnations mistaken for roses, their beauty and fragility intertwined in a delicate dance of misunderstanding and longing. Fred couldn't help but feel the pang of regret, the knowledge that some things were never meant to be.

Y/N turned to face him, her eyes betraying a vulnerability that mirrored his own. It was as if they stood at the threshold of an unspoken truth, the echoes of their shared pain reverberating in the hallowed halls of Hogwarts. Yet, amidst the uncertainty, there was a glimmer of hope—a silent understanding that transcended words.

"I feel you no matter what," Fred whispered softly, his voice barely above a murmur. It was a declaration of unwavering devotion, a testament to the depth of his love for her. In that moment, amidst the shadows and the silence, Y/N felt the weight of his words wash over her like a gentle tide, soothing the ache in her heart.

The rubies that I gave up, Fred thought, his mind drifting to moments lost and chances forsaken. Yet, amidst the regrets and the what-ifs, there was a flicker of something precious—a connection that defied logic and reason, a bond forged in the crucible of their shared experiences.

As they stood there, bathed in the soft glow of torchlight, Y/N and Fred shared a moment of quiet introspection—a silent acknowledgment of the complexities of their intertwined destinies. In the silence of the hallway, amidst the whispering of the castle walls, they found solace in the knowledge that, despite the trials and tribulations that lay ahead, their love would endure, steadfast and unwavering.

And as the echoes of their shared moment faded into the darkness, Y/N and Fred knew that, no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together—bound by the rubies of their shared past and the promise of a future yet unwritten.

With each word, their bond grew stronger, their hearts entwined in a dance of love and longing that would endure the trials of time.

————-————-————-————-—————-

And I lost you

The one I was dancin' with

In New York, no shoes

In the cozy streets of Hogsmeade, amidst the chatter of witches and wizards, Y/N found herself lost in the crowd. She searched for Fred, the one she had been dancing with just moments before, their laughter echoing in the night air. Yet, amidst the hustle and bustle of the village, he was nowhere to be found.

As she wandered through the winding streets, the lantern lights casting a warm glow over the cobblestones, Y/N couldn't help but feel a pang of longing—a yearning for the connection they had shared, lost amidst the excitement of the Hogsmeade visit.

She looked up at the sky, the stars twinkling overhead, and felt a sense of emptiness wash over her. In the absence of Fred, the one she had danced with under the starlit heavens, the world seemed devoid of color and meaning.

"And I lost you," Y/N whispered to the night air, her voice barely above a murmur. In the midst of the festivities and the laughter, she had lost sight of the one person who had brought light into her life, the one who had made her feel alive amidst the magic of Hogsmeade.

With each step she took, the echoes of their shared moments haunted her—the laughter, the tears, the whispered promises that had once filled the night air. Yet, amidst the memories and the regrets, there was a glimmer of hope—a silent understanding that, no matter how far apart they may be, their connection would endure.

In the quiet solitude of the village streets, Y/N found herself yearning for Fred, the one she had danced with under the maroon sky. And as she looked up at the stars, their light twinkling overhead, she knew that, no matter where life took them, their love would always find its way back home to Hogsmeade.

————-————-————-————-—————-

The lips I used to call home, so scarlet, it was (maroon)

As Y/N drifted into a restless slumber, memories of her time with Fred Weasley began to dance through her mind like ethereal wisps of smoke. She found herself transported back in time, reliving the moments they had shared together in vivid detail.

In her dream, she stood amidst the bustling corridors of Hogwarts, the echoes of laughter and the scent of magic filling the air. Fred appeared before her, his mischievous grin lighting up his freckled face as he extended his hand, inviting her to join him on a journey through time.

Together, they wandered through the hallowed halls of Hogwarts, their footsteps echoing against the ancient stone floors. Y/N watched as Fred conjured bursts of colorful sparks from his wand, his laughter ringing out like music in the night.

They passed by the Gryffindor common room, where they had shared countless hours lost in conversation and laughter. Y/N felt a pang of nostalgia wash over her as she remembered the warmth of Fred's smile, the comfort of his presence by her side.

In her dream, they danced beneath the twinkling stars of the Astronomy Tower, their movements fluid and graceful as they wove through the night sky. Y/N felt the warmth of Fred's hand in hers, the gentle press of his fingers against her skin sending shivers down her spine.

But amidst the joy and the laughter, there was also pain. Y/N watched as Fred's face contorted with anguish, his eyes clouded with sorrow as they relived moments of heartache and loss. She felt the weight of their shared struggles, the burden of their unspoken fears and insecurities pressing down upon her like a heavy cloak.

Yet, even in the darkness, there was light. Y/N saw glimpses of their shared dreams and aspirations, moments of hope and resilience that had sustained them through the darkest of times. She felt the strength of their bond, the unbreakable thread that connected them heart to heart, soul to soul.

As Y/N stirred from her slumber, the echo of Fred’s laughter lingered in the air like a melody, a reminder of the love they shared and the memories they had created together. In the quiet solitude of the morning, she carried his legacy with her, a beacon of light to guide her through the uncertainties that lay ahead.

It was maroon

#fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #harry potter #harry potter oneshots #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x y/n #weasley twins

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wheelsgoroundincircles · 1 year

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1969 PLYMOUTH ROAD RUNNER

NO RUST, 4-SPEED AND A FACTORY A/C CAR!

Super desirable factory air conditioned Road Runner with 4-speed, power steering and power disc brakes. Ground up restored 20 years ago and looks like it was done this year. Other then a couple small paint flaws, its really exceptional nice. Even the underside is painted white. Super clean, rust free floors. Everyone agrees the car looks really sharp in white and no vinyl top. Body is super clean and straight. Has a smooth, glossy finish. Painted jambs. Stainless trim is polished like chrome, grill restored like new. Rechromed bumpers, new handles and taillights. Replaced weatherstrips, windshield and window seals. New Magnum 500 wheels and BFG tires. Interior is also mint. Firm cushions, replaced upholstery, door panels, carpet, headliner, armrests etc. Steering wheel looks new, chrome switches sparkle. Has bucket seats with the buddy seat armrest in the middle. Clean metal in the trunk painted white. Engine bay painted white. Rebuilt motor, upgraded aluminum Mopar intake and Edelbrock carb. Runs strong. Has Flow master exhaust. A/C needs servicing. "Beep beep" horn works. This is an impressive Road Runner!

#car #cars #muscle car #american muscle #mopar #moparperformance #moparnation #moparworld #PLYMOUTH ROAD RUNNER #plymouth #plymouth roadrunner

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imreadydollparts · 10 months

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A bit of a ramble.

I was asked if I had a pony salon wish list by a repeat customer that was interested in replenishing my supplies a bit.

I do, but it's not exactly what you might expect because part of how I can keep my salon fees so very low is that most of those supplies are paid for by my S.O. as we can grab them at the store during our regular grocery run.

But it got me thinking: Would people be interested in knowing what I use a lot of?

I've shuffled the wish lists around a bit to make them more sharable (because they were a mess), and will talk a little bit about what I use and how.

(I know punctuation and capitalization in a bullet list doesn't go like this. I don't care.)

bubble wrap is used to protect ponies in shipping

40Vol is 12% hydrogen peroxide cream, which is what I use to "retrobright" yellowed vinyl in the SunBox and it will sometimes remove stains - I don't use this up very quickly, surprisingly

I will use any dish soap, but that's the one I'm using right now because I had bought it to wash dishes but the whole family doesn't like the scent so I took it down to the salon to use up. I'll get something else when this runs out, which won't be for some time

Garnier Fructis Sleek & Shine conditioner isn't really great for repeated application to people-hair because it does build up over time, but it's excellent for a single application on synthetics. Well conditioned hair flat irons better than dry hair (and feels nicer, too).

I absolutely burn through melamine sponges. They're excellent at removing grime from vinyl that doesn't come off with a gentle hand-washing or toothbrush scrubbing. Anything acetone can take off, a melamine sponge can, just slower. Melamine sponges are micro-abraisives and will take the shine off of things.

larger envelopes for larger numbers of ponies sold on eBay

smaller envelopes. I prefer these envelopes to boxes because it keeps the shipping weight down, and ponies do just fine wrapped in paper, then bubble wrap, then in an envelope. For larger orders I reuse boxes from other things.

packing tape doesn't need much explanation. I tape boxes shut with it.

I wrap every pony in packing paper both to help keep their hair in place during shipping and to keep them from touching each other in the case that one has that particular yellow hair that likes to stain when it gets hot, or has colorant leeching that I don't want to transfer from one pony to another

cellophane tape is used to close the paper towel strips that I use to set their hair

Paper towels are cut into strips to use as hair setting strips, used to clean up areas that I don't want the mess getting onto my work cloths (I do mean cloths, not clothes) nor in my washing machine like rusty oxy clean goop, rusty tail washer chunks, or bits of hair that were combed out. I also use paper towels to strain the cleanser bath when I'm doing deflockings. I prefer to put all those little bits of plastic filament in the trash rather than down the drain. I'd like to get some full-size paper towels for straining flocking fluids because the perforated line is a weak point that sometimes breaks but it seems they're all half-size, now. Coffee filters are too slow and get gunked up too fast by the debris and glue residue from deflocking.

acetone is used to remove factory paint, or you know how sometimes paint from something else sticks to a pony, and smooth out rough areas

L.A.'s Totally Awesome concentrate has many uses in my salon. I use it to remove Mattel head glue, deflock ponies, and remove nail polish from areas where acetone would remove factory paint

This is is the things I wouldn't mind getting for the salon.

You may or may not know that the salon is currently mostly in the basement bathroom. Don't worry, no one uses that bathroom, so there are no potty particles flying around.

Towels are just for laying out on the wire shelves where I dry ponies, or laying on the floor when I need more room to dry ponies. I often do a hundred or so ponies all at once and need a lot of space to work.

There is no counter space in there at all, and it's honestly very difficult to work in there. As such, I've been looking at adjustable work benches because I have to accommodate the toilet and shower if I want to put in some work surface. It's a whole thing.

UVC light is the kind of UV light that kills off bacteria and fungus. Right now I have UVA lights in my SunBox for "retrobrighting" and wouldn't mind adding a little UVC lamp in there, just to help with cleanliness and probably also would help with smells.

The sink in there is teeny tiny and very difficult to work in, so an extension for the faucet would be really handy. I'd rather replace the whole sink, to be honest, but that's not in the cards at the moment.

A thermal printer would be really handy and let me no longer be reliant on the inkjet printer for which the ink cartridges are being discontinued, soon, and will become difficult to get a hold of. I honestly don't know if THAT one will work with my computer (I don't think my computer has Bluetooth), it's just a placeholder, really.

Obviously this isn't EVERYTHING that I use in the salon. I have an ozone generator for bad smells, paint and paint brushes, combs, brushes, flat irons, crimpers, curling irons, straws to curl hair, pipe cleaners, a massive stash of doll hair........

There's quite a lot going on down there, really.

(Since I'm putting wish lists anyway, here's the art supplies list: https://www.amazon.com/hz/wishlist/ls/264SH6D7R373P?ref_=wl_share )

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inbalanceofpower · 3 months

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tay's garage.

very(!) important note: all vehicles include an emergency first aid kit, bottled water and all cars include blankets. lots of them (space dependent). but like, probably, at least two. maybe three (space dependent).

cadillac ct4 sedan —

standard features: all-wheel drive, 2l turbo engine, automatic transmission. glossy, summit white exterior, beige interluxe leatherette interior. led headlights. 19" all season tyres; alloy wheels with a contrasted dark, polished finish.

paid extras: all weather floor mats, powered sunroof, clear tail lamps, surround sound 14 speaker audio system. fitted with a (boot area) collapsible organiser and premium, dual pocket back seat organisers (magnetic close).

air freshener scent of choice is cherry vanilla, very sweet and obviously artificial. additionally, the back-middle seat is decorated with a plush, fluffy white pillow. tay's sedan is for everyday use, and naturally, is her most used.

land rover x-dynamic hse defender 90 —

standard features: all wheel drive, 3l engine, automatic transmission. glossy fuji white exterior with a black, contrast roof (and extended black exterior detailing); ebony leather interior. matrix led headlights. 20" all season tyres; diamond turned wheels in a contrasted, glossy dark grey.

paid extras: sliding panoramic roof and rear side glass, solar attenuating windscreen (filters sunlight to reduce heat), 14-way heated/cooling front seats, three-zone climate control (different front/backseat aircon/heating system), gloss black exterior gear carrier, front centre console refrigerator compartment, backseat plug socket.

air freshener scent is clean linen, much easier on the nose for the car's intended use — long drives for holiday destinations in america, and road trips. pillows are available for all passengers, and their drink of choice can be found in the land rover's fridge compartment.

mini cooper s convertible —

standard features: front wheel drive, 2l turbocharged engine, manual transmission. metallic white exterior with a black trim, soft-top roof; carbon black leatherette interior. 17" all season tyres; scissor spoke 2-tone wheels.

paid extras: heated steering wheel (keeps her hands from getting cold).

no air freshener, since it's rare she drives her convertible with the roof up. there is no real reason as to why she owns the car, beyond it being used for fun and girly days out (with rebekah). like the others, the middle backseat has the same style pillow as her sedan, and is there purely as decoration since it's unlikely she'd carry more than one or two passengers.

harley davidson softail standard —

standard features: milwaukee-eight 107 v-twin engine, motorcycle transmission. vivid black exterior, with silver detailing; premium black vinyl seating. led forward headlights. 19" dunlop harley-davidson series tyres, silver wheels. anti-lock braking system installed.

paid extras: enhanced grip on handlebars, and rider and passenger foot pegs. upright sissy bar, with a premium black vinyl backrest. single-sided swingarm bag (storage purposes).

+ scorpion exo 520 evo air —

standard features: gloss white. overall visor lock, for security with a retractable sun visor, anti-fog lens. anti-microbial fabric inner liner (to keep warm, or cool down). breath box. inflatable cheek pad system, for comfort. vent system, to boost breathability.

tay's bike is primarily for extracurricular use, and applies to her hybrid verse exclusively. the same style of helmet is available in black for passengers.

#hc.#i love u car making websites (i can't drive)

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lissasmemes · 1 year

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𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬

from taylor swift’s 2022 album midnights. feel free to change pronouns as needed!

001. lavender haze

“meet me at midnight.” “you don’t ever say too much.” “you don’t really read into my melancholia.” “i’ve been under scrutinty.” “you handle it beautifully.” “all this shit is new to me.” “i’m damned if i do.” “i’m damned if i do give a damn what people say.” “they keep asking me if i’m gonna be your bride.” “the only kinda girl they see is a one night or a wife.” “they’re bringing up my history.” “you weren’t even listening.” “get it off your chest.” “get it off my desk.”

002. maroon

“we were cleaning incense off your vinyl shelf.” “we lost track of time again.” “you were my closest friend.” “how’d we end up on the floor, anyway?” “i chose you.” “ain’t that the way shit always ends?” “i feel you, no matter what.” “i lost you.”

003. anti-hero

“i have this thing.” “i get older but just never wiser.” “all the people i’ve ghosted stand there in the room.” “i wake up screaming from dreaming.” “you got tired of my scheming.” “it’s me, i’m the problem.” “it must be exhausting.” “i’m a monster on the hill.” “one day i’ll watch as you’re leaving.” “i have this dream my daughter-in-law kills me for the money.” “she thinks i left them in the will.” “she’s laughing up at us from hell.” “everybody agrees.”

004. snow on the beach

“i saw flecks of what could’ve been lights.” “it might just have been you.” “life is emotionally abusive.” “time can’t stop me quite like you did.” “my flight was awful, thanks for asking.” “tonight feels impossible.” “to hide that would be so dishonest.”

005. you’re on your own kid

“summer went away.” “he’s gonna notice me.” “it’s okay, we’re the best of friends.” “i hear it in your voice.” “i waited ages to see you there.” “you never cared.” “you’re on your own, kid.” “i gave my blood, sweat, and tears for this.” “the jokes weren’t funny.” “i took the money.” “make the friendship bracelets.” “you’ve got no reason to be afraid.” “you can face this.”

006. midnight rain

“he wanted it comfortable.” “i wanted that pain.” “it was paradise.” “i broke his heart cause he was nice.” “he was sunshine.” “i guess, sometimes we all get just what we wanted.” “he never thinks of me.”

007. question...?

“i remember.” “i swear that it was something.” “one thing after another.” “fucking situations, circumstances, and miscommunications.” “i just may like some explanations.” “can i ask you a question?” “what did you do?” “did you leave her house in the middle of the night?” “oh...” “did you wish you’d put up more of a fight?” “do you wish you could still touch her?” “it’s just a question.” “you’re not sure, and i don’t know.”

008. vigilante shit

“you did some bad things.” “i’m the worst of them.” “sometimes i wonder which one will be your last lie.” “they say looks can kill, and i might try.” “lately i’ve been dressing for revenge.” “i don’t start shit but i can tell you how it ends.” “don’t get sad, get even.” “she needed cold hard proof, so i gave her some.” “she looks so pretty.” “the lady simply had enough.”

009. bejewled

“i think i’ve been a little too kind.” “putting someone first only works when you’re in their top five.” “by the way, i’m going out tonight.” “when i walk in the room i can still make the whole place shimmer.” “they ask ‘do you have a man?’“ “i don’t remember.” “i polish up real nice.” “i think i’ve been too good of a girl.” “i think it’s time to teach some lessons.” “i miss you.” “i miss you but i miss sparklin.” “some guy said my aura’s moonstone.” “you can try to change my mind.” “what’s a girl gonna do?”

010. labyrinth

“it only hurts this much right now.” “breathe in, breathe through, breathe deep, breathe out.” “i’ll be getting over you my whole life.” “you know how scared i am of elevators.” “it can’t last.” “uh oh.” “uh oh, i’m falling in love.” “oh no.” “oh no, i’m falling in love again.” “oh.” “oh, i’m falling in love.” “you know how much i hate that everybody just expects me to bounce back.”

011. karma

“you’re talking shit for the hell of it.” “you’re terrified to look down.” “you wouldn’t know what i mean.” “karma’s a relaxing thought.” “i’m still here.”

012. sweet nothing

“i spy with my little tired eye.” “we almost forgot it.” “they said the end is coming.” “everyone’s up to something.” “i find myself running home to your sweet nothings.” “you’re in the kitchen humming.” “this happens all the time.” “you should be doing more.” “i’m just too soft for all of it.”

013. mastermind

“once upon a time...” “you and i ended up in the same room at the same time.” “i couldn’t lose.” “what if i told you none of it was accidental?” “the first night that you saw me nothing was gonna stop me.” “nothing was gonna stop me.” “what if i told you i’m a mastermind?” “no one wanted to play with me as a little kid.” “i’ve been scheming like a criminal ever since.” “this is the first time i’ve felt the need to confess.” “‘cause i care.” “i told you none of it was accidental.” “you knew the entire time.”

#rp meme #rp prompts #rp sentence meme #rp sentence starters #rp sentence prompts #lyric starters #lyric meme #lyrics: taylor swift

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handoverhaus · 1 year

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Handover Haus Singapore | Post Renovation Cleaning

Handover Haus Singapore is your trusted and reliable all in one service provider for post renovation cleaning, move out cleaning, end of tenancy cleaning and handover cleaning. Our services also include floor cleaning (vinyl & tile floor cleaning), floor polishing (marble & parquet polishing), deep cleaning services, mattress cleaning, sofa cleaning, aircon servicing and more. We also provide tenancy repair & restoration services such as handyman services, electrical services, painting services and plumbing services. Our team is composed of trained and certified professionals and has worked on a wide range of property types, from condos to HDBs throughout Singapore. We prioritize customer satisfaction and affordability, offering cost-effective packages that include top-notch services and a friendly customer support experience. Leave your home with peace of mind and WhatsApp Handover Haus at +65 8241 0032 today!

1090 Lower Delta Road #04-06F, Singapore 169201

Phone # +65 6233 2196

https://handoverhaus.com/

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noneofthisisreal · 1 year

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Testing by government agencies and watchdog groups have found PFAS in carpets, furniture, nail polish, shampoo, mascara, nonstick cookware, dental floss, raincoats, fast-food wrappers, pizza boxes, microwave popcorn bags, yoga pants, sneakers, sanitary pads, tampons, menstrual cups, bedding, upholstery, children’s pajamas, paint, vinyl flooring and artificial turf. They’re in the protective equipment used by firefighters and medical personnel. They’re in an especially effective foam for putting out fuel-based flames. They’re in dust and the household cleaning products you might use to get rid of it. They are in flamingos in the Caribbean and plovers in South Korea. They are in alligators. They are in Antarctic snow. In Europe, they’ve been discovered in organic eggs; in the United States certain states have found them in produce and meat. Last year, a study of PFAS in freshwater fish in the United States revealed median levels so elevated that eating a single serving could be equivalent to drinking PFAS-contaminated water for a month. In June, the U.S. Geological Survey reported that it had tested private wells and public water supplies and found at least one PFAS in 45 percent of the nation’s tap water.

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dryfastcleaning · 1 year

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Hard Floor/Vinyl Floor Polishing in Auckland offers Dry Fast Cleaning.

Are you planning to give the work over to your business or residential floors to achieve a top finish and fine aesthetics? We at DryFast are pioneers in providing comprehensive cleaning services for vinyl and other flooring surfaces. We will help your floors to achieve the highest quality of glossy finish that is eyeball grabbing. Dry Fast Cleaning is an all-in-one cleaning services provider in Auckland, that offers best class Hard Floor/Vinyl Floor Polishing in Auckland (New Zealand). For more info. visit now: www.dryfast.co.nz/service/hard-floor-vinyl-floor-polishing

#auckland #dryfast #new zealand #cleaning services #floor cleaning #floor polishing #vinyl floor polishing #hard floor cleaning #outdoor cleaning #indoor cleaning

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demonictreegremlin · 1 year

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Compiled Scents

Mustard

Peppermint

Whiskey

Dark Chocolate

Root Beer

Squid Ink Pasta

Wheat

Coffee

Custard

Popcorn

Meatballs

Chocolate Fudge

Chocolate Cake

Barbecue Sauce

Pepper

Carrots

Fresh Fish

Coca-Cola

Tequila

Wine

Bacon

Caviar

Oysters

Chicken Broth

Protein Powder

Ginger

Tea

Vodka

Calamari

Dog Food

Maple Syrup

Licorice

Coconut

Eggnog

Olives

Mud

Wet Forest Floor

Flowing River

Cedarwood

Rusted Iron

Wet Fur

Amber

Forest

Roses

Fresh Blood

Leather

Coal

Mahogany

Cactus

Driftwood

Bones

Salt

Ash

Flint

Shedded Fur

Graphite

Lava

Cattails

Hay

Tar

Obsidian

Charcoal

Gasoline

Vinyl

Engine Exhaust

Satin

Gunpowder

Wet Cement

Velvet

Hot Iron

Frayed Wires

Change

Corks

Cigarettes

Mochi

Pumpkin

Rice

Sushi

Cantaloupe

Gingerbread

Honey

Toffee

Cheese

Gingersnaps

Flour

Filtered Water

Champagne

Molasses

Butter

Tap Water

Breads

Macadamia Nuts

Almonds

Brown Sugar

Rotting Fish

Tuna

Sake

Grapes

Figs

Yogurt

Milk

Hazelnuts

Chestnuts

Banana

Macaroni and Cheese

Peanut Butter

Silver

Earth

Oil

Aluminum

Copper

Clay

Aloe Vera

Fresh Rain

Lilies

Ice

Sand

Glue

Melted Wax

Ironed Laundry

Shoe Shiner

Spray Paint

Rubber

Soap

Wet Plaster

Sparks

Cotton

Instant Film Accord

Fresh Laundry

Burnt Sugar

Lemons

Pina Colada

Bubblegum

Melted Marshmallows

Crème Brûlée

White Chocolate

Sugar

Cinnamon

Whipped Cream

Pineapple

Shortbread Cookies

Maraschino Cherry

Cotton Candy

Lollipops

Papaya

Apricots

Margarita

Peaches

Mint

Candied Orange

Cranberry

Caramel

Raspberry Jam

Key Lime Pie

Frosting

Candied Apple

Meringues

Coconut Pie

Macroons

Sugar Crystals

Honeycomb

Cherry Blossoms

Tulips

Daises

Lavender

Pulveroboletus Ravenelli (a type of sweet-smelling mushroom)

Lip Gloss

Sandalwood

Maple

Citrus of any kind (lemon, orange, grapefruit, lime, etc)

Berries of any kind (strawberries, blackberries, raspberries, blueberries, etc)

Rosemary

Sugar-clove

Moss

Pine

Chocolate

Lemongrass

Cloves

Pomegranate

Cypress

Sage

Teakwood

Pecan

Cherry

Rose water

Firewood

Myrrh

Mocha

Machine oil

Red velvet

Cupcakes/cakes

Pancakes/waffles

Iron

Shampoos/deodorants

burnt anything

Smoke

Pine Trees

Fireplace

Aftershave

Old Spice

Burning Wood

Apple Pie

New Car Smell

BBQ

Matches

Fresh Money

Patchouli

Seawater

Seaweed

Pears

Pesto

Sautéed Onions

Funnel Cake

Fresh Cut Grass

Ink

Snap Fire Crackers

Wet Dog

Rancid Meat

Blood

Sweaty Feet

Bamboo

Shortbread

Macaroons

Sharpies

Baby Powder

Butterscotch

Mangos

Sautéed Garlic

Marigolds

Lilacs

Vanilla

Soda

Vinegar

Chocolate Covered

Jasmine

Spearmint

Old Books

Honeysuckle

Eucalyptus

Marijuana

Cinnamon Bun

Apples

Sea Breeze

Magnolia Trees

Thunderstorms

Cherries

S’mores

Cookies Fresh from the Oven

Sky After it Rains

Smell of Baskin Robins

Burnt Rubber

Rotten Eggs

Bleach

Nail Polish Remover

Fresh clean laundry

Wood

Paper (old or new)

Sugarcane

Straw

Rosin

Cocoa

Dough

Oats

Herbs

spices‐ anise, clove, nutmeg, savory paprika cardamom

Root vegetables

#a/b/o scents

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luckysingh1999 · 1 day

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The Essential Benefits of Using Floor Cleaning Detergent for a Pristine Home

Keeping your home clean and hygienic is essential for maintaining a healthy environment, and one of the most important aspects of home cleaning is taking care of the floors. Since floors are the surfaces we walk on every day, they gather dirt, grime, bacteria, and stains over time.

While regular sweeping and vacuuming are effective for surface-level cleaning, they aren’t enough to achieve a truly clean and sanitized floor.

1. Deep Cleaning Power

One of the key benefits of using floor cleaning detergent is its ability to provide a deep and thorough clean. Unlike plain water or mild soap, a detergent formulated for floors contains active ingredients that break down and remove stubborn dirt, grease, and grime.

This deep cleaning action is especially important for kitchens, bathrooms, and high-traffic areas where floors can accumulate spills, oil, and food stains.

Floor cleaning detergents are designed to penetrate the surface of different floor types—whether it’s tile, laminate, vinyl, or hardwood—and dissolve even the most resistant residues.

Regular use of a floor detergent ensures that your floors are not just clean on the surface but truly sanitized beneath the top layer.

2. Sanitizing and Disinfecting

Floors are a hot spot for germs and bacteria, especially in homes with children, pets, or heavy foot traffic.

Dirt and bacteria can easily spread across the floor, contributing to allergens and health hazards. Using a detergent specifically formulated for floor cleaning ensures that your floors are not only clean but also sanitized.

Many floor cleaning detergents contain disinfecting agents that kill bacteria, viruses, and other harmful microorganisms.

This is particularly beneficial in bathrooms and kitchens, where pathogens are more likely to thrive due to moisture and food particles. By using a disinfecting floor cleaner, you can reduce the risk of infections and illnesses, keeping your living space healthier.

3. Improved Aesthetic Appeal

Dull, dirty floors can negatively affect the appearance of your home. Over time, dust, spills, and stains can cause your floors to lose their shine and appear worn out.

A quality floor cleaning detergent is designed to restore the luster and shine to your floors, making them look new and vibrant again.

Certain floor cleaning detergents are specifically formulated to enhance the natural finish of various flooring materials.

For example, wood floor cleaners can enhance the warmth and shine of hardwood floors, while tile and laminate cleaners can restore the original gloss and brightness of your surfaces. Regular use of floor cleaning detergent can significantly improve the aesthetic appeal of your home, making it look fresh, polished, and inviting.

4. Stain Removal and Prevention

Stains are a common problem on floors, especially in homes with children or pets. Whether it’s food spills, muddy footprints, or accidental liquid splashes, stains can become embedded into the surface of your flooring if not treated promptly.

Floor cleaning detergents are formulated with powerful stain-removing ingredients that lift and break down tough stains, preventing them from becoming permanent.

In addition to removing existing stains, many floor detergents create a protective layer that helps prevent future staining.

This is especially important for porous materials like tile grout or natural stone, which can absorb liquids and develop unsightly marks over time. Using a floor cleaning detergent regularly ensures that your floors remain stain-free and easy to clean.

5. Safe for All Floor Types

One of the great advantages of modern floor cleaning detergents is that they are often formulated to be safe for a wide variety of flooring types. Whether you have hardwood, tile, vinyl, laminate, or stone floors, you can find a detergent specifically designed to clean and protect your particular type of flooring.

For example:

Hardwood floor cleaners are designed to clean without damaging the wood's finish or causing it to warp due to excess moisture.

Tile and grout cleaners help remove dirt from the tiles and grout lines without causing discoloration.

Laminate floor cleaners are gentle enough not to strip the protective layer but strong enough to remove dirt and grime.

Always choose a floor cleaning detergent that is suitable for your specific floor type to ensure optimal results and avoid potential damage.

6. Pleasant Fragrance

Another benefit of using floor cleaning detergents is the pleasant fragrance they leave behind. Many floor detergents are infused with fresh, clean scents that make your home smell inviting after each cleaning session.

Whether you prefer the smell of citrus, lavender, or a neutral clean scent, the right detergent can leave your space smelling fresh and revitalized.

A clean-smelling home not only feels more pleasant to live in but also creates a welcoming atmosphere for guests.

Instead of using harsh-smelling chemicals, modern detergents offer refreshing fragrances that complement the cleanliness of your home without being overpowering.

7. Time and Effort Efficiency

Using a floor cleaning detergent can save you time and effort compared to traditional cleaning methods.

Without a powerful cleaning agent, you might find yourself scrubbing stubborn stains and dirt for longer periods. Floor detergents are designed to make cleaning more efficient by breaking down dirt quickly, allowing you to mop or scrub with less effort.

Additionally, because these detergents are formulated to clean effectively in a single application, you don’t need to go over the same areas multiple times. This means you can clean your floors more quickly, allowing you to spend less time cleaning and more time enjoying your pristine home.

8. Long-Term Floor Protection

Regularly using a floor cleaning detergent not only keeps your floors clean but also helps extend their lifespan.

Many detergents contain conditioning agents that help protect the surface from wear and tear, scratches, and scuffs. This is especially important for high-traffic areas or delicate surfaces like hardwood floors, which can be damaged by dirt particles and frequent foot traffic.

By using a floor cleaning detergent, you can protect your investment in your flooring and prevent premature wear, saving you money on repairs or replacements in the long run.

Conclusion

Maintaining clean, shiny, and hygienic floors is an essential part of home care, and using the right floor cleaning detergent is key to achieving this goal.

From deep cleaning power to stain removal, sanitization, and long-term protection, floor cleaning detergents offer numerous benefits that enhance both the cleanliness and appearance of your home.

By choosing a high-quality detergent tailored to your specific floor type, you can ensure that your floors remain beautiful, healthy, and durable for years to come.

Regular use of a floor cleaning detergent is an easy and effective way to create a fresh, inviting, and sparkling-clean environment for your family and guests.

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