#oversized grid mirror

[cherryredlove]

☆ his grand prix prize ☆

Modern! F1 Driver! Aemond Targaryen x Model! Reader SMUT

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You're the hottest gal on the runway, the face of Highgarden Haute Couture. When your brand invites you to the Oldtown Grand Prix, how can you say no? And how can you deny the handsome driver that steals your heart on the track?

Word Count: 1.7k

Themes: SMUT, 18+, aemond is a simp, oral, worship sex, mirror sex, p in v, pearl necklace, creampie, reader is a baddie and she knows it, aemond's got both eyes

i'm aware the model world isn't as glam as it seems but for fanfic's sake let's pretend xoxo

part two here

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"Here's your coffee, Miss Y/N." Your personal assisant Dyana scampers over to give you your to-go coffee order, an oat milk cappuccino, which you gratefully accept.

You're standing on the sunlit grid of the Oldtown International Circuit, the excitement of the Grand Prix hanging in the air.

For you, a supermodel who has graced the covers of every major fashion magazine, the scene is exhilarating. This isn’t your usual glamorous world of the runway, but an invitation from the brand you model for brought you here. And standing in the middle of it all, with the air of a man who owns the entire circuit, is Aemond.

Your invite is no ordinary gesture; you're the face of Highgarden Haute Couture, and your presence at the latest F1 Grand Prix is meant to be a statement. As you weave through the paddock, you notice Aemond’s unmistakable figure. He stands by the Red Bolton racing team’s pit, looking every bit the modern racer in his red-and-black racing suit.

You’ve seen photos of him before—the handsome Aemond Targaryen, the rising star in the F1 racing world. Pictures don’t quite capture the striking presence he has in person, though, with his silver-blond hair and piercing eyes.

You catch his eye just as you're adjusting your oversized designer sunglasses, a smirk playing on your lips. His gaze is unwavering, even from a distance. A hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth—a challenge.

You approach him with confidence that matches his own, feeling the heat of the midday sun and the collective gaze of the crowd.

“Impressive,” he drawls, his voice a low rumble. “I wasn’t expecting to see the Highgarden Haute Couture ambassador gracing the pits of an F1 race. Not quite the runway, is it?”

“Not quite,” you reply, matching his sarcastic tone. “But speed has its own allure, don’t you think? Not everything has to be about strutting down a runway to be thrilling.”

His smile widens, revealing a flash of amusement. “Indeed. And what brings you specifically to Oldtown? Here to witness some real action or to simply grace us with your divine presence?”

You tilt your head slightly, enjoying the banter. “Maybe I just wanted to see if the legend of Aemond Targaryen matched the reality. You’ve got quite the reputation.”

“And what’s the verdict?” he asks, leaning his gorgeous body casually against the sleek body of his Red Bolton car, as if he has all the time in the world.

“I’d say reality is exceeding expectations,” you admit, pushing your sunglasses down your nose for effect, allowing your eyes to linger on him for a beat longer than necessary.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly pleased by your answer. “Likewise. I’ve heard of your successes. Modelling must be quite the race in its own way. But here, it’s all about strategy and speed.”

“Then let’s see if your strategy is as good as they say,” you challenge, feeling a rush of excitement. “After all, I didn’t come all this way just for the scenery.”

Just as you're about to continue your back and forth, a team member approaches Aemond, indicating that the race is about to start. He nods, acknowledging the interruption, then turns his attention back to you.

“Stay close,” he suggests, his voice carrying a promise of more to come. “After the race, I’ll show you why this world is as exciting as any catwalk.” You nod, acting with an unimpressed air as you flip your hair and walk away.

You watch the race from the VIP area, a glass of prosecco in hand. Aemond's Red Bolton car shoots down the track, weaving through the pack with precision and grace. The sheer speed and skill he displays are breathtaking, as if he's dancing on the edge of control. Each turn and straightaway is a testament to his expertise, and you can't help but admire his talent.

As the laps progress, you feel yourself drawn into the excitement of the race. Aemond is relentless, pushing his car to the limit as he battles for the lead despite starting on pole. The crowd roars with approval, and you find yourself cheering along with them, caught up in the adrenaline of the moment.

Finally, after a heart-pounding final lap, Aemond crosses the finish line in first place. The stadium erupts in applause and cheers, and you can’t help but join in. His victory is well-deserved, and you feel a surge of admiration for the man who conquered both the track and your attention.

As the celebrations commence after the podium, you find yourself drawn back to the pits, where Aemond is basking in the glory of his win. He looks like a king who’s just claimed his throne, his eyes bright with triumph. He spots you amid the crowd and makes his way over, a glint of satisfaction in his gaze.

“Well?” he asks, that familiar teasing tone back in his voice. “Was that thrilling enough for you?”

“Impressive performance,” you reply, genuinely impressed. “I can see why they call you the best.”

He chuckles, a deep, genuine sound. “Flattery will get you everywhere, especially when it’s coming from someone like you.”

You roll your eyes playfully, but there's an undeniable chemistry between you—a spark that promises more than just banter. As the sun begins to set over the Oldtown Circuit, painting the sky in hues of gold and crimson, you find yourself looking forward to a night with your champion.

“Care for a victory drink?” he proposes. “The bars are a no-go, but my hotel has excellent room service.”

“I’d like that,” you agree, linking your arm with Aemond, who visibly preens at having some real arm candy by his side.

Aemond's hotel room at the centre of Oldtown is lavish and luxurious, exactly what you're used to. You send Dyana a quick text to let her know you won't be needing dinner at your own hotel tonight. And that you might be bringing a date to the brand event tomorrow.

Aemond orders you a selection of wines to choose from to his room, and you sit on the balcony sipping a Dornish red as Aemond lights you a cigarette.

You love being watched. It's why you're a model. You love the camera, love the fans, and the admiration. You love your job, and right now, you love Aemond's eyes on you. The way his eyes follow your perfectly painted lips as you take a delicate sip. The way his eyes linger on your chest, your coiffed hair, manicured nails. You smile into the glass, loving the effect you have on such a gorgeous man.

The sun has truly set by the time the bottle has been finished, and you find yourself sat on a chaise longue as Aemond kisses your hand.

"You're beautiful, you know?" He murmurs. You giggle chastely, allowing him to kiss the corner of your mouth. "And you're smart, so lovely." His lips seem to beg for more.

You indulge him, kissing him and letting his hands wander to your hips, pulling you closer. His grip becomes firmer as your hands wrap around his shoulders.

"Let me have you, princess." He whispers against your lips. You pretend to think, as he huffs against your neck. You stand up, holding your hand out and walking him like a dog to the massive plush bed.

Aemond sinks to his knees as you lie back from the edge. His hands revently take off your red dress, smoothing over your curves and soft skin. He shakily exhales, massaging your tits, and you guide his head down to meet your perfect pussy.

Aemond's eyes roll back at your sweetness, tongue lapping against your folds. You moan lightly, hands digging into his scalp as you scratch him with your nails.

Aemond's mouth is masterful. He glides over your spread labia, tonguing at your soaked hole, suckling your aching clit. You throw your head back, turning your gaze to the side and notice the huge mirror that covers one wall. You pussy gushes with excitement at your idea, but you are distracted by Aemond's pointed tongue flicking your nub, his fingers curling inside your heat to draw a long, languid orgasm from your hips.

Breathlessly, you sit up, shoving his pants down as he kneels above you on the bed. Your lips part around his cock, your hands jerking the shaft and massaging his balls. Aemond makes the most lascivious noises, your tongue swirling against his tip in a pattern that mimics an infinity symbol.

Aemond caresses your glossy hair, hips bucking into your face as he draws pleasure from your tight throat. You suck in your cheeks, swallowing hard and he cums, pulling out to spray ropes of white hot cum against your collar and chest. You gasp, pussy ablaze.

Aemond pants, kissing you hotly as you let his cum dry on your plush skin, a welcome decoration. He follows your eyeline to the mirror, smirking as he understands your desire. His big hands hoist you you until your bent over with your perfect ass in the air, facing the mirror.

You nearly cum at the sight that greets you, hair mussed up, lashes dewey, covered in Aemond's cum, and the man himself behind you, ready to fuck you senseless in doggy.

His nudges his cockhead through your lips, sheathing himself fully. You moan at the sight of his abs flexing, appreciating the Greek God of a man as he fucks you hard and fast with rapid snaps of his hips.

He is gorgeous, your true match, and Aemond reaches to rub your clit with his deft fingers, and you mewl at the feeling of another breathtaking orgasm at Aemond's hands.

His cock fills you up to completion, and you relish at how his eyes are glued to your tits, your open mouth, your eyes that are lost in ecstasy. He lets out a strangled moan, desperately rubbing your clit as he cums deep inside you, gasping at how your pussy flutters around him as you cum.

You both lie there, eyes locked in the mirror as Aemond strokes your back and hair softly, as if you're made of glass. You smile at him, rolling onto your side to steal a kiss from the man that stole the Grand Prix title and your heart.

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AN: thought I'd combine my love for f1 with ultimate babe aemond, hope yall enjoy! spent 4ever trying to make a westeros pun on an f1 racing team, red bolton was my best lol. love me a baddie reader and simp aemond, check out my masterlist for more modern aus and smut xoxoxo

[boredmadamoiselle]

Loving him was red 

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Female reader

Synopsis: You surprise your boyfriend Carlos before his home race with an unusual outfit to support him.

Warnings: Smut, oral

Author's note: English isn't my first language, probably it contains some mistakes. I tried my best but if you want to correct or help me, you are welcome.

It was race day. Carlos had already woken up and gone to the circuit alone. You were used to going together but that morning to Carlos' surprise you had told him to go on without you and that you would join him later.

In fact, that wasn’t an ordinary race for your boyfriend, but a special one: his home race.

Carlos was obviously happy to be racing in his country – it was such an honor for him – but at the same time you knew he was feeling a lot of pressure. As him and Fernando Alonso were the only Spanish drivers on the grid, all eyes were on them this weekend. The entire Spain was cheering for them and wanted one of them to win. Winning at home would have been a dream come true for Carlos. So, of course he wanted to win. But, more than ever, he wanted to make his people – his fans, his family and you – proud of him. 

Yesterday, during qualifying, he had managed to get the pole and it certainly helped, but, as Carlos had said, the race was today and that was all that mattered, so he had to win today. 

As always you were there to support your boyfriend, but for the occasion you wanted to do something different than usual and surprise him. A few weeks ago, you had decided you would show him your support and your love in the best and original way possible. That day you would be his number one supporter. 

For that reason, you had told him you had things to do but the truth was you needed to be alone to wrap your gift for him: yourself. Or better, to get ready.

You were looking at yourself in the mirror satisfied with the result. Having Carlos racing for Ferrari meant you often wore red, especially at the official events you went with him and to the races. It was your personal way to support him and Carlos loved that color on you, especially if you were wearing something sexy. You always left him speechless and couldn’t keep his hands to himself. 

That day you weren't just wearing innocent red lipstick or red lingerie under your clothes. You were wearing Carlos’ race suit, or almost. Indeed, it was identical to the one Carlos usually wore and the same one that had walked a few months ago at the Milan Fashion Week. When you had seen it, you had wanted one for yourself immediately. Carlos instead had loved the idea of seeing you wearing it and of course taking it off. But that was the first time you wore it in public. 

You had slightly customized the outfit to make it more fashionable and to look less like a driver. You had put on a black belt to highlight your waistline and wore a pair of black cowboy boots. Then, you completed the look with a black baseball cap, an oversized black blazer, your Kelly bag of the same color and some accessories. You loved the final result: it was sporty but chic at the same time. You couldn’t wait to see Carlos face: that outfit would drive him crazy. But more than anything, you couldn't wait for him to take it off like you had done with him so many times after races. Just the thought turned you on. 

By the time you arrived at the circuit, it was less than an hour before the start of the race, so Carlos was probably finishing getting ready or warming up. 

As you walked into the paddock, people stopped looking at you and commenting your look while photographers took pictures of you. 

You found both Carlos and Charles playing football behind the motorhome. They were already wearing their race suits. While your boyfriend didn’t see you coming, the Monegasque did and stopped playing. 

“Nice suit, Y/n”, Charles said hinting at you. 

Visibly confused, Carlos turned around to look at you and his face immediately lit up. When he noticed the race suit, his expression went from surprise to desire. 

You smiled at him as he walked up to you. 

“So, what do you think?” You turned around to better show the outfit. 

“Beautiful, mi amor! But do you want to steal my job?” You loved when he called you like that and hearing him speak Spanish always turned you on. 

Although Charles was a few meters away from you, he kissed you passionately. His hands on your back held you pressed against him and you could feel his erection already pushing against his clothes. 

Charles cleared his throat. “I'll leave you to your warmup, mate. Don’t be late”, he said walking away. 

Shortly after, Carlos broke the kiss and looked at you maliciously. “Let’s go inside. I haven't quite warmed up yet and I think you can help me with that.”

Without thinking, you nodded and followed him. 

Once inside his room, you ended up sandwiched between his body and the door, while Carlos wasted no time pulling you in for a bruising kiss. He moved down, kissing down your neck and leaving marks on it. With Carlos pressed up against you and his fingers running up and down your hips, you started to feel your own arousal. 

“Cariño, you look so good in this outfit, but at the same time you have no idea how hard it is not to rip it off right now”, he whispered. 

The contact with your skin and those words were enough to make you moan but you tried to remain silent by remembering where you were. You didn't want to create a scandal just before the race even if the others probably knew what was going on in there. 

While Carlos was still kissing you, his hands took off your belt and unzipped your suit. His eyes, full of desire for you, flickered from your lips to the rest of your body. He smirked at the sight of you wearing nothing less than his favorite red lacy underwear underneath. He rubbed his fingers over your pussy, through your soaked panties, while the other hand was on your breast. 

“Already so wet for me, cariño, and I haven't done anything yet”, Carlos whispered between kisses. 

The sensation of his fingers sliding over the fabric was insane and made you shiver. He slipped his fingers under the waistband and rubbed slow circles on your clit. 

As much as you wanted him to continue, you stopped him and removed his hand from your pussy. He immediately looked at you confused. Before he could speak, you put his fingers into your mouth and sucked them. Your eyes fixed on his while you tasted yourself. 

“Oh, Y/n, you’ll drive me crazy. Look what you are doing to me”, he said hinting at his hardness.

Without saying anything, you lowered his zip. Then, you put your hands on his chest and gently pushed him onto the bed. 

“I know you have been under a lot of stress over the past few days and I am here to ease that tension, so today it’s all about you, mi amor. I want you to relax”, you simply said. 

You kissed him once more before sinking down to your knees in front of him. You tugged his clothes down to let his cock free. Your mouth watered at the sight of him and you wasted no time taking him into your hand, stroking him slowly. You bent over, sticking your tongue out to lick the side of his cock.

“Oh, princesa”, he hissed and pushed back your hair when your lips wrapped around him, taking all of it down your throat while your eyes were staring up at him. 

Every time you were amazed at how big his cock was and how it filled you properly. Only he could do that. 

Carlos was a gentleman and he always liked to treat you like a queen, but at that moment there was no time for pleasantries. You felt his hand rest on the back of your head as he started to thrust up into your mouth, fucking your throat. 

On the other side, you loved that side of him: rough and dominant. However, even in that situation, it was still you who dominated, who had the power in your hands, or rather in your mouth.

When he came into your mouth, you showed him and swallowed it. You knew he secretly loved that. 

“Good girl.”

With his taste still in your mouth, he took your face in his hands and kissed you.

He glanced at the clock above the door.  “Fuck, I have to go, princesa”, he whispered. 

“Then go and win so you can finish unpacking your gift later, my champion”. 

“Oh, baby, I think I’ll fuck you anyway, but I really hope to win”. 

Five minutes later you were ready to leave the room. Carlos was about to open the door when he turned around to look at you. 

“I love that this jumpsuit makes the fact that you are mine even more evident”, he whispered. 

You raised your eyes to the ceiling, but you actually loved letting others know you were his. 

Two hours later, Carlos won his home race and, like a child on Christmas morning, he couldn't wait to unpack his gift.

[anticaceramicablog]

Tiling Your Fireplace: How To Make The Correct Choice?

Creating Visual Space with Tiles: Tips for Small Rooms and Areas

Does your space feel cramped and restrictive? Are you tired of your small bathroom feeling like a box or your kitchen seeming cluttered? If the answer to that is yes, then get ready for change.

Tile choice and layout aren’t just about the looks – they can also drastically alter the feel of a space. You can easily buy affordable tiles in Delhi and completely revamp your small space. Here, in this post, we will help you do just that.

Tile Tricks You Need to Know

Understanding the power of color

Light and bright is the way to go

It is no secret that lighter colors open up spaces. So, if you have a small space, utilize this. Think of soft shades such as creamy beige, pale grays, and even whites. These tile shades will act like mirrors, reflecting light around the room. This results in creating a perception of the room bigger than it is.

The illusion of depth

Light color excels at expanding a room. However, you should not be afraid to strategically incorporate a slighter, darker shade as well! An accent wall will add subtle depth and visual interest to the viewer. It subtly draws them in, focusing less on the smaller dimensions of the room and providing a beautiful focal point.

Consider Glossy Finish

Love a little shine in your tiles? Glossy tiles can enhance the light-reflecting magic of the tiles and bring a touch of extra brightness to your room. And what is great about them is that they can work in both small and large spaces.

Size Matters

Go with large-format tiles

When it comes to tiles in small spaces, think big! Large-format tiles, such as 12×24 inches or ever larger, will be an excellent addition to your room. Larger tiles result in fewer grout lines, creating a smooth, seamless surface that tricks the eye into seeing a more expansive area.

Bigger is better

To truly maximize your space, you need to embrace the grand scale of oversized tiles whenever possible. Sure, there are exceptions. A good rule of thumb for you to follow is that the larger the tile, the larger your room will feel. These create a luxurious, expansive feel that instantly upgrades a room and avoids making the space feel chopped up with visual interruptions.

Clever Layouts

Diagonal Installations

Another trick that you can utilize to make your space look bigger is laying tiles diagonally. It is a classic trick that works wonderfully. As our eyes follow the diagonal lines, they move across a greater distance than a standard grid pattern. This subtly ‘stretches’ the room outward, creating the illusion of added space.

Go beyond the basics

Think differently and move past the basics when it comes to laying out tiles in your space. You can opt for patterns such as herringbone, chevron, and even basketweave for your space. These bring unique visual interest to small spaces. These patterns distract the eye from noticing the limited dimensions of the room by drawing focus to their own beautiful designs.

Beyond the Floor

Wall extension

You need to think outside the box, and one way you can do that is by taking your tile up the wall! Using the same large-format floor tile on a shower wall or continuing it halfway up in a bathroom helps create an unbroken visual line. This makes the ceiling feel higher and the room less compartmentalized.

Backspaces and accents

Backsplashes above kitchen counters or a tiled accent strip in a shower will bring an instant style upgrade to your space. They also allow you to experiment with pattern, color, or texture in a small, concentrated area, breaking up any monotony on long walls.

Additional tricks

Minimize Clutter in your space

A small space overwhelmed by stuff will always feel smaller, no matter how much you do with your tiles. So make sure such is not the case.

Use mirrors as much as you can

We have already touched upon how mirrors make the room appear larger. So why not make the most of them and utilize them whenever possible? You can place a mirror opposite a window for maximum effect or incorporate small mirrored tiles into a backsplash.

Conclusion

Now you know the secrets of using tiles to make your spaces feel larger, what’s next? Connecting with Antica Ceramica – the best tiles store in Delhi to turn your vision into reality.

[melsdreamweaving]

The day I made it "snow" in my bedroom

(a humorous creative non fictional essay)

When I was a kid, I made the executive decision to creatively upgrade my playtime using whatever things made sense to me—think of it as going from freemium to the full deluxe edition, with all the DLCs in a flawlessly pirated way.

Being the youngest in the household, with an elder brother who was practically a decade into living ahead of me and adults who could move but choose not to, I was an unstoppable energetic ball of joy with care-bear DNA. I had so much vitality that if you could have plugged me into the grid, I would've powered a small country. While my brother was busy studying for a huge exam and my mom was in a state of trying to catch up with sleep, I saw my opportunity.

It was time to shine and bring innovation into the realm of playtime. I was like the Thomas Edison of innovation, minus the electrifying elephant and terrible management skills, of course. I was going to make it snow indoors!

Mom and Uncle G had installed a bunk bed for me that year. I only fell off it once but kept it a secret because I wanted to preserve my perilous penthouse.

This bunk bed was central to my scheme. Without it, I'd have been forced to cobble together some ground-level snow-dispensing device or sneak the ladder in from the backyard—both guaranteed to blow my cover.

Now, all I needed was fake snow. Recalling the stash of baby powder in the bathroom, I made a stealthy excursion from my room. Clad in an oversized sweater to ward off the cold, I decided to smuggle out the Johnson & Johnson goods, ensuring I wouldn't spark any suspicion.

This tactic proved invaluable, not just for this operation, but also for past missions involving the covert transport of off-limits cookies from the kitchen and sour Warheads from my brother's stash. He thought he could deter me by developing a taste for them, not anticipating my bizarrely adaptable taste buds.

Sneaking back to my room was a breeze since everyone was preoccupied. At last, I was back in my fortress, armed with the bottle of white powder. I gathered my eclectic assembly of dolls - Aladdin, the Ninja Turtles, and Tenko (a peculiar doll that resembled a Latin American exotic dancer, gifted to me the previous Christmas).

The stage was set for magic. Climbing atop my bunk bed, I meticulously dusted each ceiling fan blade with the powder, ready to conjure a dazzling winter wonderland.

I lost myself in play, orchestrating an epic saga where my dolls formed an unlikely alliance to rescue Santa from the clutches of Darth Vader - the perennial antagonist in my childhood narratives, a fixture in the fan fictional universes I crafted with glee.

Tenko was poised to invoke the snow with a sacred dance when my name shattered the air, called out in the most piercing tone possible. Maria, my grandmother, the formidable matriarch, was far from pleased with what I considered a masterpiece; to her, it was merely a mess. Among my critics, she was the most stringent, and the staunch enforcer of the cookie embargo.

Unsurprisingly, she enlisted my help to clean the mess, assigning me towel-folding duties as a meditation on my missteps.

Brooding over the abrupt halt of my grand spectacle while folding towels, I was suddenly jolted by a furious tirade in Spanish. The commotion roused my mom and piqued my brother's curiosity. We converged in my bedroom just in time to witness the ceiling fan, forgotten in the cleanup, shower my room and my beet-red grandmother in baby powder. We all froze, bracing for the worst, until laughter from my mom broke the tension. My brother and I were initially petrified, anticipating a cataclysm.

To our astonishment, laughter bubbled up from my grandmother too, and soon, embraces were shared. As mom fell over saying nonsensical things in Spanish.

Years later, I discovered my penchant for havoc mirrored traits seen in my inventive uncle and grandfather. Their own youthful escapades had put the family through a whirlwind of creative mischief and trouble from time to time.

They were actually eager to see where my life's adventures would lead, and happy that a girl had grandfather's penchant for trouble (My house had the weirdest gender war dynamic and my older brother and I were not there for it). Looking back, that day brings a smile to my face, knowing how my artistic endeavors now craft joy and thankfully I'm much better at cleaning up than I used to be. No hidden "booby trapped" ceiling fans.

[vancouverkitchenrenovation]

How to Make a Small Bathroom Look Luxury

Whether you are furnishing a brand new home or simply revamping an old one, there are a few things you can do to make your small bathroom look luxurious. These include using an oversized shower curtain, industrial-style light fittings, and a freestanding bath. In addition, you can also incorporate mirrors and gallery walls into the design.

Mirrors

Choosing the right mirror is an important part of decorating a small bathroom. Decorative mirrors can be a great way to tie together your room’s theme. They can also add a touch of elegance or glamor to the bathroom. They can also function as a storage space for travel-size toiletries or decorative items.

The size of your mirror is also important. You can have a large mirror if you have space, but you want it to be placed properly. If you are installing a large mirror, be sure to use a professional to hang it. Heavy mirrors are not easy to hang and should be anchored to studs.

The material of your mirror frame can also play a role in how your bathroom looks. For instance, metallic frames can create a dramatic effect. But if your bathroom features light walls, you might want to go with a simple frame. A natural wooden frame will create a soft and timeless feel.

Gallery walls

Adding a gallery wall to your small bathroom can bring visual interest to the room. You can display a collection of different art media, including photographs, ceramic pieces, textiles, mirrors, and more.

A gallery wall is a great way to add a touch of style to any space. It can also personalize your home. Whether you choose to display photographs, paintings, or a collection of vases, you can create a unique look that fits your style.

To create a gallery wall, you can start with an anchor piece. A large print, for example, fits nicely into a matte, and you can use it to fill a space you’d otherwise be stuck with.

Next, think about your layout. You can create a free form layout, a grid layout, or even a symmetrical layout.

Freestanding bath

Adding a freestanding bath to your bathroom can make it appear luxurious, even if your bathroom is small. You can choose a large, statement tub to create an oasis in your small bathroom, or you can go for a smaller tub that will look great in your bathroom. Choosing the right color, material and accessories can help you create the look you want.

One of the best freestanding bath decorating ideas is to use a mirror. Mirrors reflect light and create the illusion of space. They also help you reach the bathroom accessories that you need. You can add a large mirror to the center of the bathroom, or a single mirror on either side.

A tub surround is also important. This will protect the bathtub from water and moisture. It can be made of wood or glass to add a spa-like feel.

Oversized shower curtain

Using an oversized shower curtain in your bathroom can make it seem larger and more luxurious. This type of curtain can also be a great way to hide a bathtub. Using a long, white curtain will make your bathroom look cleaner and fresher.

Buying the right curtain for your bathroom can be tricky. However, there are a few key tips to keep in mind when choosing a shower curtain.

Using a curtain with a lot of frills or patterns may not be the best idea. Instead, opt for a pattern that has either top or bottom borders. This way, the curtain ties in with the rest of your bathroom decor.

Another important tip is to choose a material that is easy to clean. This is important because it will not attract mildew. You will also want to hang the curtain with rings and shower hooks.

Industrial-style light fittings

Using industrial-style light fittings in your bathroom is a great way to add rugged vintage charm. You can choose from a variety of industrial lighting styles and colors. These fixtures are designed for durability and functionality.

The industrial lighting style is very versatile, and can be used in many rooms. These fixtures are typically made of metal and have exposed bulb and wire cages. They have simple, unadorned lines.

These lights can be a great addition to any home. They provide a unique touch of character and add a warm glow to any room.

One of the most popular styles is the caged light. They can be pendant lights or sconces. They feature a wire cage that is surrounded by a wood L-shaped frame. This frame allows the light to hang a few inches away from the fixture. It is a great way to show the detail in the bulb.

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The bathroom is often the last room people consider renovating, which makes sense since it’s usually the smallest space in the house. With Vancouver Kitchen Renovation, you can expect a spa-like bathroom that feels luxurious and is built to last. We’ll create a custom bathroom design based on your preferences and budget and handle everything from demolition to installation.

We understand that to be successful is to stay ahead of the curve. That means staying current with the latest technology and design trends. We always want to improve our products or services without breaking the bank. That’s why we stay connected to the latest technologies of NKBA, National Kitchen and Bath Association. In addition, at Vancouver Kitchen renovation, our primary focus is providing sustainable bathroom design and renovation packages, and we believe in sustainable living. Sustainable living is a way of life in harmony with nature. It is a lifestyle which focuses on the preservation of our environment. Sustainable living is a philosophy emphasizing respect for the environment and concern for its well-being. This means we should take care of the planet and treat it as if it were our home. We should try to preserve what we have and protect it from destruction. If we do this, we will enjoy the benefits of the earth’s resources for many generations. Whether you’re planning a major remodel or adding finishing touches to your current bathroom, we’d love to discuss your project. Book your showroom consultation online.

Main Areas of Service in British Columbia:

Vancouver

North Vancouver

West Vancouver

Burnaby

Coquitlam

Squamish

Whistler

Frequently Asked Questions

How can I make my bathroom feel Zen?

A great bathroom can be a place for reflection and relaxation. It’s where we unwind after a stressful day. So why would anyone choose a space where they feel stressed out?

Bathrooms are places we can relax. When we shower, we wash away our stresses. We scrub our skin and clean out our teeth.

There are many ways to make a bathroom quiet and peaceful while still providing all the amenities.

White paint makes a room look brighter and cleaner, for example. White also helps to reflect light making rooms appear larger.

A large mirror lets us see our faces without needing to look around.

To create a calming environment, consider adding candles to the bathroom. Candles are a great way to add warmth and security. Scented candles can promote feelings of calmness and warmth.

A bathroom with plants can promote tranquility and peace. Plants are known to reduce stress levels and increase focus.

Finally, lighting is another way to set the mood. Lighting can create a cozy atmosphere. Warm light, such like candlelight, can create an atmosphere of tranquility.

Remember to take some relaxation time next time that you go to the restroom. This is the only place we can truly be free from the outside world.

Can I Install A Bidet In A Small Bathroom?

It is possible to install a bidet in a small bathroom, but there are a few things you need to consider before doing so. First, you need to think carefully about where the bidet will be located. It should be close to the toilet but not too far. Second, the size and type of bidet you choose must be appropriate for the size of your bathroom. You should also ensure that your bathroom’s plumbing is capable of holding a bidet. It is always best not to try to install a bidet inside a small bathroom without consulting a professional.

How can you make your tiny bathroom seem bigger?

There are a few things you can do to make a small bathroom feel bigger. First, choose lighter colours for walls and floors. Use mirrors as much as possible to reflect light and make the space feel bigger. Glass shower doors can also open up the space. And finally, consider using floating shelves and cabinets to give the illusion of more space.

What does a complete bathroom renovation package include?

A complete bathroom renovation package can include various services, depending on the customer’s needs. Here are some common services you might include:

Bathroom design consultation

3D renderings of bathroom designs

Waterproofing services through the Schluter system

Services for setting up tiles

Delivery and supply

Supply and Installation of in-floor heating system

All plumbing and lighting fixtures can be delivered and supplied.

All electrical and plumbing work is done by our licensed and certified plumbers and electricians

Supply, delivery, and installation of the vanity

The countertop can be supplied, manufactured, and installed.

Supply, fabrication, and installation of shower or tub glass

Demolition and removal of fixtures and other materials

Painting and wallpaper services

Statistics

If possible, allow a 15 to 20% contingency fund so you’re prepared for the unexpected. (loveproperty.com)

2023 bathroom design trends: Large format tile (59%) was the most popular material for tub and shower surrounds. Slab surfaces (40%) were the next most popular (https://nkba.org)

WaterSense-labeled bathroom sink faucets use a maximum of 1.5 gallons per minute, reducing water use by 30 percent or more from the standard flow of 2.2 gallons per minute – without sacrificing performance. (elemental.green)

With this technology, whether you take a 5-minute or a 50-minute shower, you’ll use the same amount of water, reducing your use up to 90 percent! (elemental.green)

2023 bathroom design trends: Heated floors were favoured by a substantial 75% of those who responded to the survey.(https://nkba.org)

Glass tile is one of the greenest bathroom flooring options because it can be 100% recycled. (caddetailsblog.com)

2023 bathroom design trends: 82% of those surveyed revealed bathrooms are now designed for two-person use. (https://nkba.org)

The average midrange bathroom remodels costs $27,164, according to the latest Remodeling Cost versus Value report, and it’s projected that you will recoup 58.9% of that cost when reselling your home. (architecturaldigest.com)

Keep in mind: they advise that, all told, your bathroom project should cost no more than 5 to 10 percent of your home’s value. (remodelista.com)

Other sustainability instruments developed by Noken include an ‘Eco cartridge’ (its two-position switch makes it possible to use 50% less water and energy), and a water ‘flow rate limiter’ (that uses jets and air to reduce water consumption). (decoist.com)

According to a 2019 remodelling report from the National Association of Realtors, 70 percent of consumers “have a greater desire to be home” after a bathroom renovation, so read on and soak up the secrets. (housebeautiful.com)

According to the EPA, a conventional toilet uses 1.6 gallons per flush, but that old pink one could use between 3.5 to 7 gallons per flush. (elemental.green)

External Links

houzz.com

2020 U.S. Houzz Bathroom Trends Study

Eclectic tile and storage niche – Contemporary – Bathroom – Other – by Katie Monkhouse Interior Design

nkba.org

Home – NKBA

Real-World Budgeting for Bathroom Remodeling

How To

How to design a beautiful bathroom yourself

Choose a color combination that complements your home Before choosing any colour scheme, think about how it will fit with the rest of your house. You may not want bright colours, such as orange, yellow, or green, in older homes. Instead, opt for softer shades like blue, gray, white, and cream.

Living in a newer home gives you more leeway when choosing bathroom colours. You can use brighter colors if you like, but not too often. One accent wall, or a brightly coloured towel rack may be all that is needed to personalize your space.

Make sure you have plenty of storage space

Make sure that there is plenty of storage space in your bathroom. This means that you need to leave enough space for your towels, hand soap, makeup brushes and other bathroom items.

A floating shelf or medicine cabinet can be an option if space is limited. These will give you extra storage space without taking up too much room.

Add mirrors to your home

Mirrors make an excellent addition to any bathroom. They let you see your reflections in the powder room. There are many types of mirrors. Mirrors come in different shapes and sizes. Some mirrors can be rectangular while others can be round. Mirrors can be shaped to look like animals or flowers.

Proper Lighting

Lighting is crucial and requires attention. There are many factors you should consider when lighting your bathroom.

The first thing you need to think about is what type of light bulbs you want to use. There are many choices, including LED, fluorescent and halogen.

Next, determine where you want to put your light fixtures. These can be placed on the ceiling or on the walls. However, it is important to consider your natural lighting. Your bathroom must have sufficient windows to let in natural lighting. If you do not have enough windows to let in natural light, you might consider adding one.

Your preference will dictate the type of lighting you choose. However, ensure that the light fixtures you select are rated for use in a bathroom. This will ensure that the fixtures can withstand moisture and humidity in the room.

Choose The Right Flooring

It is important to choose slip-resistant flooring and make it easy to clean. Porcelain tiles, natural stone, and luxury vinyl are all good choices for bathroom flooring.

Avoid dark-coloured floors in small bathrooms. It will make your bathroom appear smaller and less spacious. Instead, choose lighter colours such white, cream and beige.

Choose your Layout Carefully

The layout of your bathroom is as important than the choice of fixtures and colours. It is important to consider how you’ll use the space while planning your layout.

A small bathroom might be an example of this. This will give you more space for moving around.

Double sinks are a great idea for larger bathrooms. This will provide more counter space and make it easier on two people to do their own things simultaneously.

You can begin planning your layout once you have a clear idea of how you would use the space. To determine the size of your room, use a tape measure. Next, draw a few layout ideas on graph paper.

After you’ve seen a few layouts and decided on the one that works best in your space.

Do not forget about ventilation

To prevent mold and mildew growth, bathrooms need to be ventilated. This is particularly important if you live near a humid climate.

Before you begin installing your fan, read through the instructions from the manufacturer. Make sure that the fan vents to the outside of the home.

Use High Quality Materials

Choose high-quality materials when remodeling your bathroom. High-quality materials will last longer and resist damage better. They will cost you more upfront but save you money over the long term.

Professional Help

Remodeling your bathroom does not have to be difficult. It is possible to hire professional contractors to handle the job. Professional contractors are trained to handle different aspects of building projects. They can install plumbing, electrical wiring, and heating/cooling systems. Professional contractors can save you time and money. Professional contractors know how to properly complete each step of every project.

Enjoy Your New bathroom

You are now ready to relax and enjoy your new bathroom. Finish the look with scented candles and fluffy towels. These details will make your bathroom feel more homey.

Now you are ready to remodel your bathroom. These tips will help you create the bathroom of dreams.

Did you miss our previous article… https://vancouverkitchenrenovation.com/bathrooms/minimum-toilet-clearance-requirements/

The post How to Make a Small Bathroom Look Luxury first appeared on Vancouver Kitchen Renovation.

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[writermuses]

WHAT COLOR IS YOUR AURA?

Tagged by @midnightsaboteur

Tagging: @hcllriot @xwhiskeymuses @aprilwritcs @califxrniaxdreamin

Graham | Honey

friendship bracelets, beehives, school busses, children's books, flower petals, honeyed toast, polaroids. your essence is honey: you are devoted and endlessly enthusiastic. your friendships are your security; you shroud yourself with people who make you smile and feel lost at sea without them. often you are quick to dedicate yourself to whatever hand feeds you. you are the companion. you are the confidant. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of peach, marigold, yellow, and orange, who share your love of teamwork. you are also drawn to the streamlined souls terracotta and chiffon, who will help you grow and discover your own confidence. however, you may struggle to get along with the heedless personalities of orchid and chartreuse who seem like fair weather friends.

Jasleen | Mauve

shooting stars, grapevines, velvet curtains, evening skies, mirrors, tarot cards, bookmarks. your essence is mauve: you are enigmatic, a professional surface riddled with deep emotion. you indulge in teamwork only when you surface for air; you project a fractured image, just a glimpse of what others consider admirable. you are well-spoken and a cultivator of hobbies and projects. you are the aristocrat. you are the virtuoso. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of periwinkle, indigo, purple, and blue, who share your need for a guided purpose. you are also drawn to the determined wine and terracotta, who will help you grow and see there are others worth opening up to. however, you may struggle to get along with the aimless personalities of fire and chiffon who struggle with social savviness.

Ellis | Moss

marshes, microscopes, crocodiles, green juice, grid notebooks, long socks, algae. your essence is moss: it is you against the mysteries of the world. you are an impassioned problem solver; it is natural for you to depersonalize, absorbed in your interests rather than in your skin. others find you unconventional yet genuine. you are the investigator. you are the scientist. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of chartreuse, honeysuckle, forest, and gold, who share your immense focus. you are also drawn to the intense souls teal and bronze, who will help you grow and uncover new passions. however, you may struggle to get along with the pandering personalities of magenta and marigold who seem too demonstrative.

Aubrianna & Cara | Wine

plums, nail polish, planners, theaters, pursed lips, mosaics, sewing thread. your essence is wine: you are ruled by determination to bring your grand vision to life. you are a pillar of your chosen family; reliable and moral, there is never a situation for which you are not prepared. you are an idealist and accept nothing less of yourself. you are the activist. you are the dutiful. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of amaranth, pearl, grey, and pink, who share your need to devote to a cause. you are also drawn to the expressive orchid and mauve, who will help you grow and learn it is okay to not live up to expectation. however, you may struggle to get along with the excessive personalities of jade and fire who do not know what they truly want.

Mason | Ivory

lace, marble, china dishes, doves, paper, bones, vanilla shakes. your essence is ivory: you are a piece of history, sturdy and eternal. others believe you to be gentle; they don't see the pressure that is threatening to crack you. you seek control and organize your life into rows. you are the overseer. you are the porcelain. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of grey, noir, pearl, and ashen, who share the pressure you put on yourself. you are also drawn to the expressive rose and lilac, who will help you grow and learn that things will be okay even if they don't go right. however, you may struggle to get along with the indulgent personalities of sky and apricot who need too much stimulation and decadence.

More under the cut (because it was freakishly accurate and I was curious)

Aurélie | Orchid

blooming flowers, butterflies, sunsets, text messages, hair dye, auroras, neon lights. your essence is orchid: you are the brightest smile and strongest heart. you inspire those around you; unconsciously, you exist for their purpose, not your own. continue to seek the limelight though do not lie just for their applause. you are the host. you are the performer. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of lavender, amethyst, pink, and purple, who share your boldness. you are also drawn to the practical wine and chiffon, who will help you grow and let you take things one step at a time. however, you may struggle to get along with the analytical personalities of chartreuse and honey who don't get swept up in your ambitions.

Luca | Fire

sunrises, woven blankets, campfires, tigers, whiskey, monarchs, roadtrips. your essence is fire: you are the bold spirit of adventure. you seek out others who can broaden your horizons; a life best lived is one that's vivacious, but also makes a difference. you are steadfastly committed to your values and do not waver from your opinions. you are the inspirer. you are the opportunist. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of coral, bronze, red, and orange, who share your strong opinions. you are also drawn to the contemplative souls jade and chartreuse, who will help you grow and see the fullness of your vision. however, you may struggle to get along with the opinionated personalities of wine and mauve who act above reproach.

Hannelore | Purple

geodes, club lights, ferris wheels, sunglasses, hummingbirds, eyeshadow, outer space. your essence is purple: you are gracious and thriving, and that is all you want anyone to see. you become a social chameleon to be exactly what they desire; your ambition adapts, pursuing whatever will come with recognition. you are a leader -- burning bright and never shy to speak. you are the star. you are the demonstrator. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of lilac, royal, mauve, and orchid, who share your decorum and aspirations. you are also drawn to the determined grey and red, who will help you grow and let go of your image to accept your flaws. however, you may struggle to get along with the free-floating personalities of yellow and brown who don't understand your far-reaching ambitions.

Taney | Sky

short poems, teacups, clear skies, diaries, dripping icicles, tears, tennis shoes. your essence is sky: you are a hard worker and do not relent on something once you have begun. you are giving to all but yourself and pour from an empty cup; you want to be simple, self-sufficient, easy. you overflow with creativity but throw away your sketches before they're even done. you are the dauntless. you are the venturer. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of blue, navy, periwinkle, and seafoam, who likewise hold themselves to high standards. you are also drawn to the self-actualizing sage and apricot, who will help you grow and relax into your feelings. however, you may struggle to get along with the strict personalities of ivory and blush who seem overly critical.

Victoria | Magenta (of course it's some shade of fucking pink lulz)

splattered paint, glitter, childhood friends, neon, pleather, dance floors, crystals. your essence is magenta: you are charming and lead with your heart. you are drawn to people; you adore the thrill, that rush of attention when making an instant connection. even if you are not genuine, you are confident. you are the enchanter. you are the party-goer. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of pink, rose, amethyst, and amaranth, who share your magnetism towards others. you are also drawn to the driven noir and umber, who will help you grow and become more introspective. however, you may struggle to get along with the ruminating personalities of forest and marigold who seem to always overthink.

[lovingthesimplethings]

DIY Oversized Grid Floor Mirror

DIY Oversized Grid Floor Mirror

DIYer’s don’t spend money on things they can make. And that’s my story when it comes to creating a large multi-paneled floor mirror. I had been eyeing a few of these for a while and as you can imagine they are very pricey. This Berrien Beveled Accent Mirror is from Wayfair and cost about $200, but it’s not a floor mirror. The Amiel Arch Aged Brown Antiqued Mirror from Ballard Design is a floor…

[scuderiamh]

LATE NIGHT DEVIL || m.verstappen x reader

pairing: max verstappen x reader

request: yes / no

summary: a series in which he's her sworn rival and the only other driver she truly hates -- except when they're in eachother's beds. based on teeth by 5 seconds of summer, part two.

word count: 1.4k

warnings: not proofread. references to sex.

notes: sorry this took forever lol. it's also kinda short but c'est la vie. lmk if you want to be added to the taglist (or if i missed you!) and don't be a ghostreader <3

you never thought you'd wake up with the immediate thought of "max was right", but to your distaste, that's exactly what happened. 

hangover.

he did say you'd end up with one , didn't he?

fuck. he did. and with that memory came the rest. albeit reasonably blurry, your memories from last night were well in tact. was that a good thing or a bad thing? you couldn't decide. is sleeping with your rival something to forget, or something to remember? if you thought of him as max verstappen, just max, it'd be something to remember. it'd been years since you've had sex that great. but he wasn't just max. he could never be just max to you.

he was max verstappen, red bull driver. your number one rival. an enemy off and on track. last night had to be something to forget.

you groaned in pain as you rubbed your forehead. thank god you didn't have to fly home. you weren't sure if you could handle having to travel today. yesterday's race took place right here in monaco, where your apartment was. you couldn't pinpoint the exact reason it was a hotspot for drivers to live, but you were one of the several to find a home in the small, yet greatly stunning country. the only downside was that max lived here too. it wasn't too real a downside, seeing as you hardly saw him. but the possibility of seeing him was still too real so it became a downside nonetheless. 

you nearly opted for turning right back around and snuggling back into bed, but your stomach reminded you of the fact that you needed to eat. bummer.

wearing only an oversized tee and panties, a shiver coursed through your body as soon as you left the warmth and comforts of your blankets. the sweatpants slung over your bedroom chair was your cure for that. now to find one for your blistering hangover and your ever nagging hunger. instead of going through your entire morning routine, you only did the bare minimum -- brushing your teeth. you'd get to the rest later. 

only when you came out of your bedroom did you realize you weren't alone in the apartment. in any other circumstances that would've been an alarming thought, but there was one person in the world who had free rein to crash at your apartment whenever he so needed. your best friend not only on the grid but also off, alex. slumped over your couch looking about as rough as yourself, you picked up a stray throwpillow and tossed it at his head. 

“wake up, dumbass.” you wanted that to come out loudly, but for your own head's sake it didn't.

his groan mirrored your own from just minutes before, that realization making you smile in amusement. you proceeded on to search for ibuprofen and water as he bustled awake. 

“any reason you're here and not at your own place?” you asked. not that you cared or minded, despite your grumpy demeanor suggesting otherwise. you knew he knew that. besides, maybe the company was nice. 

“shorter walk here.” he responded simply. that was to presume he'd also gone out drinking in the evening. 

you hummed as a reply. downing one ibuprofen yourself, you went over to offer him one along with a glass of water. he gladly accepted.

“so i fucked max verstappen.”

that was putting it as a bluntly as humanly possible. no matter, you and alex shared just about everything. that's how it always was — you'd known him since he was just entering his teenage years. meeting through a shared passion for karting and clicking instantly, becoming fast best friends. you weren't in formula one to make friends, but it was nice to have one as close as him there. 

your sudden admission caught him reasonably off guard. that much was made obvious when he choked on the water you gave him. “what?!”

“yesterday. bar.”

“...was he drunk?”

good question. was he? “sort of.”

alex snorted at your response. more like at the lack thereof. sort of? “were you?”

tipsy, surely. you weren't shit-faced drunk nor were you completely level-headed sober. you could've just replied with that, but you didn't. maybe only to grate on alex's nerves. “...sort of?”

he raised his eyebrows, unimpressed by your answer. “tipsy, then?”

“i guess so.”

there was a pause and he shook his head. he got up, running a hand through his hair, inviting himself into your kitchen. probably in search of a snack in place of breakfast. you were ready to assume he'd be spending the morning if not the whole day here. that didn't catch you by surprise, not by any means, but what did was his laugh. he laughed. unpeeling a banana he'd found on your counter, the sound rang like a taunt more than anything else.

“why are you laughing, alex?” you whined, drama sure to be heard in your words.

“you fucked max verstappen.”

you stared at him blankly. “and you're laughing...?”

“your biggest rival, y/n!”

you groaned with the reminder, plopping down on the couch as you hugged a pillow to your middle. he didn't need to be telling you this. you were painfully aware. silence followed and it stretched on. the only sound within a couple minute timeframe being alex discarding the banana peel. after doing so, he found his seat in sitting on your kitchen island.

“was he good?”

alarmed by the suddenness in the question, your gaze shot up. you threw the pillow you were hugging on to directly at him, not missing your target, which was his head. you never did. he always made a big deal out of that growing up -- you had a knack for throwing things at him when you saw fit, and never missing. that never faded as the two of you went into adulthood. 

“hey--!” he threw the pillow back in your direction. not that he was particularly trying to, but he didn't hit you. “what was that for?��� he pouted, the exaggeration clear. he knew what it was for, obviously.

“if you must know, yes. yes he was.”

his voice held a little bit of a playful lull with his following words. as soon as you heard his voice you knew you'd hate whatever would come out of his mouth next. “any chance of a repeat, then?”

“alex!”

“sorry, sorry.” he put his arms up innocently. “just needed to know if he'd be a constant guy in your life from now on.”

“no.” you grumbled. “i still hate his guts.”

“ah. that.”

“yes, that”

there was a moment of silence before he spoke again. “well, there's a thin line between hate and lo-”

“alex!”

your time at home came and went and you found yourself back by the tracks. your favorite place, really. as much as you needed the time off between races, there was nothing you loved more than being present at a race weekend other than being in the car itself.

baku, a special place to you. the place of your maiden win. it only made being here all the more exciting. it gave you hopes of a repeat of that race. 

it was only thursday, but your spirits were already high. you were simply navigating your way through the paddock, all smiles throughout your trip to your motorhome. when someone bumped into you, you could've easily brushed it off with a nonchalant smile and a “no worries”, but it wasn't just anyone. it was someone that made your bright eyes dim nearly instantly.

and your stomach flare up with butterflies at the remembrance of your most recent experience with him. 

max.

“i'm s-” he started off, but then his eyes met yours. to your annoyance, his initial expression transitioned to a smirk. “missed me, schat?”

you huffed, bothered. “you wish.”

“no change of heart about me after what happened, hm?” he asked, feigning disappointment.

“did something... happen?” you teased, playing dumb. anything to get on his nerves.

but instead of your desired effect, he leaned in forward, face now almost uncomfortably close to yours. and very kissably. “i proved you wrong.”

he did. he proved you wrong that night in every sense that he had promised to. you expressed doubt and instead he delivered in the most mind blowing of ways. “hm,” you responded, taking a step backward. “can't seem to recall, sorry! and i've gotta go now.”

his smugness faltered as you walked past him without another word.

why was he disappointed in the sudden lack of your company?

tag list: @hendersonsluvbot @sriusun @iamasimpingh0e @maxxiemoo @aaleksmorozova @alwayschoppedtaco @kyomihann @welcometomyworldwithoutrules @sugarmaxie @fictional-l0v3r @iamasimpingh0e @alternativemadchen @fispapercrafter @anthonykatebridgerton @sunshinelovesu @ricsaigaslec @lovelynikol16

[puppypeter]

These are all dark fics, READ THE TAGS before reading the fics. It is your responsibility to check whether what you are about to read is something that you can stomach. While most of these fics are based around trauma, recovery etc many feature triggering scenes or flashbacks as well as darker themes. Please be safe and don’t read them if they can be triggering for you! Proceed with caution! Most of them are Hydra Trash, but still not just the ugly bits as I like there to be a plot. Hiding them below the cut:

between scylla and charybdis | 21590 words

Sam Wilson has been witness to a lot of things he wishes he could unsee. Civilian families shot dead in their cars because of miscommunications at checkpoints. Riley’s body spiralling to the ground in a smoke-plumed plummet. His own face in his bathroom mirror after waking up hung-over as hell at two in the afternoon, the day after the anniversary of Riley’s death, year after year after year.

And now, in an abandoned bunker on the outskirts of Boston, a seemingly unremarkable manila folder at the bottom of a filing cabinet.

Berceuse | 10730 words

There are strange, new things Bucky needs from Steve.

Dreamers Often Lie | 11040 words

As far as Bucky remembers, sex is something that is painful and terrifying if you wake up while it's happening. As the Asset, sleeping through sex was a rare treat. When Steve lets Bucky know he's interested in a sexual relationship, what Steve doesn't know is that they have fundamentally different ideas of what that entails.

despite the threatening sky and the shuddering earth (they remained) | 71532 words

“They really didn’t want the mask to come off.” Hill thumbed through the scans, and pulled out a film that she then handed over to Sam, face mostly expressionless but for the flat line of her pursed lips.

Sam accepted the film and held it up to the light, angling so both he and Steve could see it, squinting at the outline of the Winter Soldier’s skull, and the blips of unnatural white that showed up, God, in his brain, not to mention about half his teeth, plus the mask, with its thin protrusions—

“Those are pins,” Steve realized. He looked over at Hill. “The mask—it’s nailed to his face.”

Hill’s face was as unmoved as ever. “Like I said. They really didn’t want it coming off.”

Fire And Water For Your Love | 77084 words

When the Avengers investigate an abandoned HYDRA base on behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D., they unexpectedly encounter a dark-haired man with a torn metal arm, who leads them to an even more shocking discovery deeper inside the base. The Avengers must reconcile what they have found with the lies S.H.I.E.L.D. has been telling for decades.

Give An Inch | 5070 words

The Captain has a warm smile and clear, open eyes. The Soldier knows these are tricks. He's fallen for them before and he won't do it again.

Humans As Gods | 4818 words

"HYDRA's scientists had been delighted to find their serum-reversal procedure had worked. Their jubilation was dampened by the discovery that Steve's smaller self might no longer be Captain America-sized but was still 100% Steve Rogers, and Steve Rogers was now mad enough to spit nails. A minor oversight in the design of the containment area meant that smaller-Steve had simply wriggled out of the now ridiculously-oversized restraints like an angry ferret escaping a paper bag, and punched the nearest technician in the nuts.

Chaos ensued."

HYDRA scientists successfully de-serum Captain America, only to discover that they are utterly unprepared for Steve Rogers. Meanwhile, the Winter Soldier follows his instructions to the letter. This works out just great.

The Only One That Needs To Know | 6571 words

Bucky can't control his body. He can only control what secrets he keeps.

I Was Wearing My Blue Coat | 11503 words

Following exposure of his past as the Winter Soldier, anonymous postings of explicit video footage, 63 charges of murder and the wrath of the Internet, James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes finally steps into the limelight and tells his story to Zenat Patel of the New York Times.

Compliance Will Be Rewarded | 4767 words

Someone told him once: "Compliance will be rewarded," and he remembers pressing his head against a man’s leg in open supplication. He remembers hands in his hair, and a gentle grip on the back of his neck. He remembers a man telling him "so good, so good for me aren't you?" And he remembers nodding his head in a desperate attempt to be exactly as good as he was supposed to be.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Bucky Barnes is physically free from Hydra, but the hold on his mind lingers still. All he wants is to go home, and he'll do anything he can to get there.

To Burn Your Kingdom Down | 12370 words

The Avengers go after a Hydra splinter cell with a nasty habit of brutalizing their prisoners. Steve has some ugly history with them, and when a rescue mission gone wrong leaves him and Sam in enemy hands, the situation gets uglier still.

Worth The Wound | 7709 words

The asset knows that maintenance is better than punishment. But with Steve, maintenance becomes more pleasant, soft and gentle and everything he could dream of. It was only natural that he decided to prolong that maintenance a little longer.

The Spaces In-Between | 6971 words | Part 1 of What We Tried So Hard To Hide Away

"Memories are like buckets of water: they weigh on the heart and the brain until the body fails. You're blessed to stay forgetful and young, Soldier."

Sometimes blessings feel like curses.

Illuminate The Scene | 7086 words | Part 2 of What We Tried So Hard To Hide Away

The doctors had wanted to keep the Soldier. Shock him and freeze him until he was fixed, or tear him to scrap if he couldn’t be repaired so that he wouldn’t be an entirely wasted investment. Steve is the only thing stopping them.

When the Soldier can't trust his own body, how can he trust anything?

All These Riots Of Broken Sound | 83790 words | Part 1 of Forever Is A Close And Honest Friend

When Steve and the team return to Avengers tower to find Bucky gone, they must venture into B.A.R.F. to figure out what triggered him to leave and hunt those who wronged him. Trapped in a simulation of Bucky's worst memories with rogue HYDRA agents waiting to strike, 100 years of secrets, lies, pain and love drive the team to their limit and push Steve towards a realisation that is a century in the making.

I Was Lost But Left A Trace | 3585 words | Part 2 of Forever Is A Close And Honest Friend

Disorientated, the Asset reached up to wipe at the moisture on its cheeks and was shocked to find it clear, instead of the crimson it has been expecting. It didn’t understand why this misidentification had caused uproarious laughter from the technicians.

“It is not blood,” the Asset told him, “but it is still a malfunction.”

This sobered the technician a little, and he nodded tightly.

“Yes. It is. But we will fix you.”

I’ll Always Be Blamed For The Sun Going Down | 9907 words | Part 3 of Forever Is A Close And Honest Friend

He knows he’s in the right place. He has heard the guys at the docks laugh and joke about the queers who come out after dark, looking to earn a little extra cash. He has seen the johns, when he’s been out late enough, skulking in the shadows like predators hunting for their next meal, looking for something in particular. Sometimes they look at him.

A small, rusty pen knife that his father had picked up in Europe during the Great War sits heavy in the breast pocket of his jacket. Just in case.

Book Of The Moon | 16019 words | Part 4 of Forever Is A Close And Honest Friend

In 1929, Bucky Barnes falls in love for the first time and resigns himself to never telling a soul, let alone Steve, the object of his affections. In 1943, half a world away from the man he can never have and fighting for his life and his sanity, something new begins to bloom.

Habeas Corpus | 18054 words

An unexpected incident in the field leaves Steve Rogers facing the infiltration of a Hydra base and retrieval of important intelligence, all while pretending to be the Winter Soldier. Unfortunately, there are important aspects of the Soldier's past that Bucky hasn't disclosed, and Steve has no idea what he's really walking into.

Bullies | 14979 words

Written for the MCU trash meme prompt:

I wanna see Steve being messed with by his secretly-HYDRA coworker buddies. I want them generally fucking with him, "accidentally" doing terrible things to him or getting Steve into awful situations, telling jokes that aren't really jokes, gaslighting, performing sexual-assault hazing under the guise that "that's what people do now," pressuring him into other sex shit, anything, just fuck Steve up.

Steve isn't failing to fully catch on because he's dumb or oblivious: it's just that he is Steve, so he wants to believe the best of everybody, and he doesn't want to believe that he could be working for/with bullies and that (as Natasha says) he essentially died for nothing.

Not Unwanted, Not Unloved | 50320 words

They'd resigned themselves to never becoming parents - until Bucky gets pregnant and drops off the grid without even a whisper to his mate about his condition. Steve will still raze the earth to find him, but that doesn't mean he likes what he finds.

The Tones That Tremble Down Your Spine | 13889 words

Tony tells him they’re planning a party for Steve’s birthday. He knows how parties are supposed to go.

Lacuna | 62875 words

The Winter Soldier doesn't remember Steve Rogers, but he needs Rogers' help.

OR: The one where Bucky doesn't remember Steve, but falls in love with him anyway.

Not A Perfect Soldier | 93354 words

In a world where HYDRA was wiped out in the '40s, Steve is found by the Army rather than SHIELD. General Thaddeus Ross wants a perfectly obedient super-soldier at his command, and to that end, he sets out to break Steve to his will. As Steve struggles to come to terms with all he has lost, his life in captivity is only made bearable by the presence of another prisoner-- another super-soldier known only as "Soldat". Then the Avengers strike a deal with Ross to "borrow" him for missions, and Steve is faced with a team who dislikes him, an organization he doesn't trust, and the question of what he's willing to do to escape Ross's clutches.

For Want Of Him | 103174 words

It's the twenty-first century, and Steve Rogers has never been more alone. Everything he knew, everyone he loved, is now gone, and a dark, bitter loneliness claws at him, raking bleeding gashes into his heart. And then there's Brock Rumlow. Rumlow is like salt in his wounds; vicious, and cruel. But his dark brown hair and teasing smirk reminds Steve of someone long dead, and his New York accent sounds like home...He's a soldier like him...he understands. And Steve makes the fatal mistake of trusting him.

The Same Measure | 4943 words

The Winter Soldier was never allowed to stop unless an injury was too grievous.

To Be Unmade | 5114 words | Part 1 of Alexander Pierce Should Have Died Slower

For the asset, things only ever get worse. The external scars fade quickly enough. The internal ones dig deeper and deeper.

But the internal scars are called love, and doesn't that make them worth the hurt?

Do Not Put In The Icebox | 7143 words | Part 2 of Alexander Pierce Should Have Died Slower

When the asset malfunctions on a mission, Rumlow and Rollins learn more than they ever wanted to know about Pierce's hobbies.

And then everyone has pancakes.

The Knowing Makes It Worse | 4130 words | Part 3 of Alexander Pierce Should Have Died Slower

No is a bad word and invites punishment.

Or, Alexander Pierce is a very bad man who delights in manipulating and degrading the asset.

Love Is For Children | 5303 words | Part 4 of Alexander Pierce Should Have Died Slower

Bucky understands how the game works. He can't understand why it makes Steve cry.

But Natasha and the other Avengers are there to help.

I Just Wanted To Be Sure Of You | 4461 words | Part 5 of Alexander Pierce Should Have Died Slower

Bucky has Bucky Bear; it's only fair for Natasha to have something of her own.

Visiting a toy store wasn't strictly necessary, but if Tony wants to throw money around, no one's going to complain.

“Till The End Of The Line | 6069 words | Part 6 of Alexander Pierce Should Have Died Slower

It's hard to take a friendship right back up when so much has changed over seventy years.

Particularly when HYDRA's conditioning resurfaces.

*if you feel that any of these fics shouldn’t be in this list please just send me a message! :) I have read them all but over the past 1+ years so some of them I might not remember all the details of :)

[yourstarringrole]

she's all i wanna be

today, she is lorelei andez.

she wakes up at 4 a.m. she gives herself time to rejuvenate from a night drenched in liquor and secrets. she lights a candle and cleanses herself with burning sage and crystals. she takes a half-an-hour long bath, because lorelei values her ‘me’ time for self love.

she does her make-up, going with as little as eyeliner, blush and a little bit of highlighter. lorelei believes in the afterglow of her sun-kissed skin, so she will believe in it too. she glues on a pearl, just under each black butterfly wing accentuating her eye shape.

she looks herself in the mirror for a moment. she grabs her favourite tube of lipstick. she puts it on, and on the mirror writes ‘xoxo’. she hesitates for a faction, then kisses the reflection of herself.

she undresses. the sunlight bends at her will. she decides on a lace bralette and her beige blazer with black jeans and 3-inch stilettos. lorelei lives for champagne gold and rings. she puts on 5 rings in total, even the one made of jade that she swore never to put on due to it’s history. she puts on her signature designer cologne.

she makes herself breakfast. sliced avocado and egg toast, with a side of earl grey. she doesn’t rush herself, lorelei does not like to be rushed. she places her phone on the other end of the table, she doesn’t need to be distracted focusing on herself. she takes 7 bites out of the toast and decides it was enough to last her through the morning.

she packs her purse with her phone, her wallet and keys. her headphones are in its casing, along with chocolate and a water bottle. she checks for her lipgloss and spare earrings, lorelei’s always the one to be prepared for any occasion, and does up the magnets. she places her laptop in its carrier and puts on her vintage sunglasses.

she sits in the lecture hall, taking notes for the english literature lecture. she kept her handwriting neat, aligned with the grids of her notebook and in elegant cursive. every once in a while, she takes a sip from her fruit-infused tea, not missing a beat of the discussion on of Shakespeare’s Othello. she sits at the middle rows, front and centre. she participates occasionally, because lorelei would know everyone’s watching her every move.

she takes the subway home, missing her stop on purpose. she watches the daylight drain from the rain-stained windows of the metro and reads her French novel. she feels another sit next to her and smiles at them. they smile back and make brief conversation. they exchange phone numbers, the stranger leaves. she feels a foreign feeling swell in her guts and sighs. lorelei loves this feeling.

she unlocks the door and places the fresh ingredients on the counter. she changes out of her day clothes into her oversized sweater. she pulls her hair up to a bun and makes caesar salad with a poached egg and parmesan cheese. she has it with a cup of apple tea, on the couch, with her favourite series playing on the television. lorelei knows the best way to cure a hectic day.

she cleans herself of makeup and does her skin care routine. she cleans off the mirror and does her nails to the radio. she dances to her favourite songs in her room and drinks a few more glasses of water, because that’s what lorelei loves about nights in her room alone.

she was out like a light by 10:30 p.m.

---

today, she is tate reynolds.

she wakes up at 6:40 a.m. she lays in bed for 10 minutes more. she gets over her existential dread and puts on her favourite pairs of stockings. she flips through her magazines with a cup of freshly brewed coffee, on the floor of the living room. she leaves the curtains open and bites back a smile when the sun rays warm up her skin. tate may hate mornings, but the sun, before it ripens into a sweltering afternoon, is her reason to live on.

she puts her playlist on full volume and curls her hair. she sings to herself in the mirror, making a mental note to keep the beautiful little art form to herself and herself only. tate loves to see herself energised and thrilled for the day yet to come. she plays around with her perfumes and draws text emojis on her cheek, flushed from all the dancing. she decides on a small ‘:p’ and twirls her hair in between her fingers.

she turns on her stereo and undresses. she decides halfway to undo the blinds and lay in the sun spot on her bed. she gets up when her phone chimes with a text, because tate always knows what to say, and responds after a few moments of consideration. she pokes another hole in the new belt she bought and threaded them through the loops of her suit pants. she switches out her bra for a red corset top and an oversized black cardigan. she layers her pearl necklaces and weaves a ribbon through her hair.

she has another cup of coffee, with skimmed milk and vanilla this time, and made herself pancakes with assorted berries. she buries her toppings in whipped cream and has it on the carpet, leaning against the corduroy loveseat. she puts her hand up against the sunlight and squints, letting the halo of gold filter through the gaps of her fingers. tate is immortal, and the sun is her only eternal companion.

she finishes the stack of pancakes and places the dishes in the sink. she saves the cup of coffee for later, because tate cannot stay awake at all without it. she picks out her heels, 6-inch nudes with attached silver chains. she puts on her safety pin earrings and lays on her sofa, awaiting her friends’ notice. she thinks, tate tends to overthink a lot of things, weighing the pros and cons of the outing.

she sits, shotgun, in her best friend’s Porsche. she listens to them gossip, never intervenes. she watches the malibu sun float along the light-bleached clouds and closes her eyes. she takes initiative to undo the roof of the car and link her streaming service to the speaker system. she plays infinite by lyn lapid, because the song has made home and lives in tate’s heart, and takes in the scent of leather and oceans. she is forever 16, and she doesn’t have the luxury of dying young.

she lets her friends pick out her clothes in each store. she tries them on, and whether she likes it or not, she showcases it to them. she treats them to gelato and smiles when they get it on the tip of their noses. tate loves each one of her friends with her own life. she sits with them, on the beach, with her magazines while they splash each other with saltwater by the shoreline. she thinks to herself, this is the life lorde talks about in her songs, and lets the golden sky devour each longing inch of her skin.

she invites her friends over. she borrows to them her stash of hoodies and they stay in for the night. she takes pictures with her polaroid camera and films moments of their sleepover on her video camera. she captures as much of the euphoria bleeding from each second that passes as she possibly could, and records it all on rolls and rolls of video tape. tate will miss them, and she always does her best to keep as many pieces of them as her fingers and memory would allow her to.

she talks to them. about her life. they listen and kiss her on the cheeks. they rope her into a hug, and god, it feels so good to be touched again. they tell her it’s okay, and for once she believes them, because tate knows the consequences of not trusting her friends enough. they pop open a bottle of tequila and they make cake together. she smooths out the frosting and sneak in extra pieces of chocolate truffle. they sit, together, under the midnight sky, out on the front porch with pieces of the cake, and feel.

she falls asleep last, by the window seat of her room, with a bottle of half-empty liquor, at 2:37 a.m.

---

today, she is demilia locke.

she wakes up at 9:49 a.m. she doesn’t want to get out of bed. she stays in bed for another 2 hours. she puts on her reading glasses and lights a candle. she gathers her tablet and stack of annotated books and flipped through them, reading over every highlighted verse with nostalgia. she browses on tumblr, through all the feeds with aesthetic quotations and low-quality images that seemed cut out from a magazine.

she pulls a hoodie on, over her oversized band t-shirt. she doesn’t bother fixing her hair, because who was going to see her like this anyway? she washes her face and sits on in the dry bathtub with her face in a white fluffy towel for a few minutes.

she slices up an assortment of fruit to the steady rainfall. she accidentally cuts her thumb. she runs it under cold water and leaves the little wound alone. she tosses the fruit pieces in a bowl and pours herself a mug of hot water. she lays on the carpet and feels the centre of gravity shift inside of her. it sinks, down her veins, until it gathers like a bruise where her skin connects the floor.

she has her fruit salad in silence. the silence helps demi think. she traces her eyes over the walls, over each pigmented pattern etched on. she blows on the hot water and admires the way white smoke drifts off until it thins into invisibility. she takes a sip and breathes out a sigh.

she washes the dishes and dries them off, putting back to where they originated from. she returns to her room, to her bed. she removes her laptop from her backpack and places it above her sheets. she opens it, runs her fingers over each sticker surrounding the display retina. each one has it’s story, and demi loves each one more than she did life.

she opens another word document and stared at the blank page. she couldn’t feel anything. she puts on her writer’s playlist. the only thing she could hear was her heartbeat choking her by the throat. she slams the laptop shut and lies down. maybe she cries a little, but that’s okay, creative burnouts happen all the time for demi.

she feels horrible. so she turns on her current series. she takes pictures of scenes and matches lyrics to them. she whispers each lyric to herself, sacred as any oath and smile a little when it planted a soft candle-like glow inside of her chest.

she opens her laptop again and types. she spills her guts out onto the page, until grey and white blurs with ink. she feels a hollow beckoning that came with its catharsis, one that strangely brings her enough peace to look up. it was dark outside, her clock reading 4:19 a.m.

she writes some more, and passes out somewhere in between the lines of passing time.

and she woke up.

today, she is eris darklight.

[cycleoffates]

been meaning to post my first NSR OC here for a while but decided to wait until i got around to hopping on the bandwagon and making a robot/1010 OC companion for them! here’s my NSR OCs Chroma and J7/Vesta! :D Submitted the both of them to the #CitizensofVinylCity collab that Zuke’s VA is hosting on Twitter too :”)

more info below the read-more for bios!

KLIFF: “Hope you’re ready to dive deep into the ground for this one, kids! Because this next star is, quite literally, a hidden gem.”

NAME: Chroma (they/them) AGE: 23 OCCUPATION: NSR Artist, Charter of the Meteo District. PLACE OF CONCERT: Lux Museum GENRE: Artcore (EDM) WEAPON/INSTRUMENT OF CHOICE: Lapid Mining Drones THEME: Qavsell by Feryquitous / ALT: ALiUS by Feryquitous

Chroma is affiliated with NSR, and works as both a EDM musician, artist and lapidary. Many people associate Chroma with the former and latter, which is their music and the beautiful jewelries and gems they craft and refine.

With artcore being a genre that many people don’t know about, Chroma is the same way. Unlike NSR’s Megastars, Chroma prefers to be lowkey, not being the type of person to flaunt themselves. Chroma would rather have their music and jewels be in the light instead of them.

As a person, Chroma is very quiet yet kind. They tend to keep to themselves, engaging in conversations with strangers for a short period of time. They are extremely passionate about lapidation and art, and will go on semi-long talks about their interests if presented with the opportunity. They are also humble, not wanting to bask in the limelight for too long. They treat everyone they see with silent kindness, and it is not uncommon to see Chroma spend more time with their AI drones and Vesta. However, should Chroma see anyone laying their hands on their bots or attempting to hurt them, Chroma’s mood will shift and they will aggressively protect them.

As a boss, Chroma is a long-range attacker, utilizing mirrors, light-rays, prisms and their mining drones (Barringer, Holsinger) to fire beams of light and bright flashes to attack and stun their opponents. Chroma will often maintain their distance from BBJ, dodging swiftly and running to the other side of the arena when presented with the chance. Once attacked enough, Chroma will “crack,” shifting to become hysteric and their form will transform into something more sharper and hardened. They will drop their long distance attacks and lash at their opponents with claw-like hands, or charge at them with their horn-like headgear. Their drones will also activate into “mining mode,” spinning like drills, swiftly honing in and flying at BBJ to attack them.

EXTRA 1: Chroma names all of the drone AIs. Their main drones that stay by their sides are Barringer (white) and Holsinger (black). They also chose the name for Vesta.

EXTRA 2: the horns on Chroma’s head are not permanent. They are removable, worn like head-gear, and is used to relay messages to and from their drones. Their headgear also comes with an ear-piece, which is worn in Chroma’s hidden ear.

EXTRA 3: Chroma looks up to Eve as a fellow artist and admires her work, often visiting the Evenfall Gallery on their free time.

EXTRA 4: Chroma is secretly a fan of SAYU and 1010.

KLIFF, AFTER BBJ RETURNS FROM METEO: “You say you fought a robot in Chroma’s district, huh? That’s funny, I don’t have anything about a ‘strange 1010′ written in my notes. Then again, Meteo isn’t a place I visit everyday.”

NAME: J7 “VESTA” (he/him) AGE: ? OCCUPATION: Meteo District’s Head of Security, Chroma’s companion and overseer of the mines. PLACE OF CONCERT: Lux Museum GENRE: ????/EDM  WEAPON/INSTRUMENTS OF CHOICE: BIORUS Stinger, titanium drill legs. THEME: SECRET BOSS by Camellia 

Formerly known as J7, Vesta is a repurposed and customized 1010 robot who serves as many things within Meteo, with his primary role being Chroma’s bodyguard. Though he and Chroma are close, their relationship can hardly be called romantic. The two share a mutualistic bond over similarities (not in appearance) and the need to protect one another. Chroma is fragile yet wants to keep Vesta safe, whereas Vesta is dangerous to everyone around him, including himself.

Due to glitches in his system from a virus that could not be fully removed in time, he had to be put out of commission. Said glitches from the virus’s remaining effects include:

The inability to fully form his left iris (iris lens expansion causes further glitches and hinders eye movement, thus perpetually stuck in its shrunken form).

The inability to sing and dance like the current builds of 1010.

Glitching caused by the virus’s aftermath. This causes his mind to fragment, and the glitch lasts longer the more intense of an emotion he feels. If he is in close contact with other robots or electronics, one touch can instantly cause them to glitch*, malfunction or even deactivate for a short period of time. If not careful, he can shut down power-grids (this has happened once before, and Chroma knew immediately to ask for Neon J to upgrade their district’s network/systems to prevent a shutdown from ever happening again).

*There is a unique event that comes when Vesta is in close contact with another robot. Should he glitch while feeling intense emotions, he has the ability to project his glitches through contact (via hands, stinger). This will allow whoever he touches (given that they must be a bot) to feel what he feels, only for a short moment.

As a person, despite his appearance, Vesta is very self-conscious. He feels his sheer height may intimidate many, when that doesn’t end up being the case. Non-district visitors may recognize him as a 1010, which causes him to become anxious and overwhelmed. As he was upgraded and customized to Chroma’s likeness, Neon J activated him in Meteo upon Chroma’s request as to not attract attention near the other districts when he would awaken. He has never once come into contact with 1010, only seeing them on giant screens and billboards. Each time he sees them, he feels a strange aching sensation in his robotic core that tells him he should be like them...

As a boss, Vesta is extremely protective of Chroma. During the initial battle against Chroma, Vesta will swoop in before BBJ can finish them off. Seeing Chroma hurt puts Vesta into a glitched rage, causing his system to go into SECURITY MODE. He will then utilize his BIORUS Stinger to attack his opponents, which can extend like a scorpion’s tail. Like Chroma’s mining drones, he has the ability to transform his legs into drills, charging at BBJ with flying kicks and sometimes spinning and attempting to hit them. Like SAYU’s last form/Yinu’s last segment, his battle is a short one, if dodged and timed right. He will experience another malfunction due to his intense emotions, and can be knocked out when he is frozen in place trying to control himself.

EXTRA 1: Vesta was originally a J7 unit, which was supposed to be an indigo color. Due to Neon J later on limiting 1010 to five members, he had to scrap them.

EXTRA 2: Originally, Chroma went to Baracca mansion to ask Neon J for software upgrades for Barringer and Holsinger. While waiting, Chroma stumbled upon a powered down J7 and asked if they could have it. J7 told them that specific bot was off for good reasons, but with much insisting, Neon gave in to Chroma’s pleas, and even gave in to customizing J7 to Chroma’s liking (this resulted in Chroma paying J back by giving him any gem/metal materials he may need to fix/upgrade his own robots).

EXTRA 2.5: Chroma had the intent to have Vesta be customized to match them in some form (horns, diamond pupil, duo-toned palette). 

[already-14]

L o u i s e - B o u r g e o i s Cell (Eyes and Mirrors) 1989–93 Steel, limestone and glass. © The Easton Foundation. Tate Collection . Presented by the American Fund for the Tate Gallery 1994. Cell (Eyes and Mirrors) is one of a series of installations which Bourgeois began making in 1989. The Cells are typically constructed from a mixture of such salvaged architectural materials as old doors, windows and wire mesh combined with found objects and sculptural fragments. This Cell has the structure of a cube. The ceiling and two of the walls are made of woven iron mesh joined by iron bars which are hinged in places. The other two walls consist of iron rods welded in a grid holding large square panes of glass so that they resemble oversize windows. Several spaces in the grid are empty of glass. A large round mirror is attached to a hinged circular panel cut out of the centre of the ceiling. The panel rotates to reflect different aspects of the interior. A large pair of eyes, comprising two polished, black marble eyeballs, stares blankly out of a lump of rough, greyish stone mounted on two sections of steel girder in the centre of the Cell. This sculpture is a later version of a work Bourgeois made in 1984 titled Nature Study (Velvet Eyes) (Collection Galerie Lelong, Zurich). The artist has subsequently developed several versions of eyes carved in marble. As a result of their elemental materials, simple form and large scale, the eyes convey a sense of monumental force, both inviting and repelling the viewer’s gaze. They are surrounded by mirrors of various sizes. Several small mirrors hang off the mesh wall behind them. A large oval-shaped mirror and a small round mirror mounted on tall, old fashioned wood and metal stands are positioned on either side of the eyes. A square mirror is propped on the floor. Breast-like bulges, carved out of the back of the unpolished marble in which the eyes are embedded, are visible through reflection in one of the mirrors. These suggest that the eyes represent a female subject. The many mirrors create a profusion of reflections and altered perspectives which disrupt any sense of direct perception the eyes would seem to propose. Enclosed within the cage-like structure, the eyes are themselves trapped in a space which offers them for viewing by other eyes – those of the viewer. Bourgeois has stated: The subject of pain is the business I am in. To give meaning and shape to frustration and suffering ... The Cells represent different types of pain: the physical, the emotional and psychological, and the mental and intellectual. When does the emotional become physical? When does the physical become emotional: It’s a circle going around and around. Pain can begin at any point and turn in any direction. (Quoted in The Secret of the Cells, p.81.) Bourgeois’s Cells are enclosures from which the viewer is usually excluded physically, but which he or she is invited to penetrate visually. The need and desire to look and the ambiguities inherent in both positions of the one looking and the one being looked at are familiar themes for Bourgeois. Similarly, spaces or forms which provide shelter but also possible entrapment have been present in her work since the 1960s. Toilette and Woman in Bathtub (Tate P77682 and P77691) are two prints in Bourgeois’s Autobiographical Series (1994) depicting voyeurism by another and also of the self. For Bourgeois, mirrors provide a concrete representation of the challenging dynamics involved in looking. She has commented: ‘reality changes with each new angle. Mirrors can be seen as a vanity, but that is not all their meaning. The act of looking into a mirror is really about having the courage it takes to look at yourself and really face yourself.’ (Quoted in The Locus of Memory, p.50.) Further reading: Rainer Crone, Petrus Graf Schaesberg, Louise Bourgeois: the Secret of the Cells, Prestel, Munich 1998, p.160, reproduced (colour) p.118 Louise Bourgeois: Recent Works, Musée d’art contemporain de Bordeaux, Bordeaux 1998 Charlotta Kotick, Terrie Sultan, Christian Leigh,

Louise Bourgeois: The Locus of Memory, Works 1982-1993, The Brooklyn Museum, New York 1994, pp.26, 49, reproduced p.124 Elizabeth Manchester /July 2001/September 2003

https://www.facebook.com/EMeMuskanCahiers/

[gaycrouton]

post-one breath

scully angst | 2.5k | ao3

scully is having a hard time feeling normal after returning from the hospital after her abduction.

(these were written for my five times exchange story, prompted by the always wonderful @mmeadowlarkk, but I wanted to post them here too!)

It was usually one of two things that woke her up: the sound of a drill or feeling like someone was shining a light into her eyes. Neither was actually happening of course, but she'd start up in bed, sweat covering her body and a scream caught in her throat.

It had been like that since she returned home. Granted, that was only five days ago, but even in the hospital her sleep was always restless. In total, she'd been out of her coma for two weeks, but it was hard to tell with how trapped she felt in her own body.

"Are you okay?"

I'm fine.

"How are you?"

Fine.

"How's recovery?"

Going fine.

Fine was all she could manage during the barrage of questioning she received every day from seemingly everyone in her life. It seemed to placate her mother, her sister would smile in response, but Mulder's eyes would bore into hers while he searched for the real answer within their depth.

It was when he looked at her that she realized just how absolutely not fine she was. While her family and the doctors saw a shocking story of recovery, Mulder could see she was struggling. The title of survivor had been bestowed on her before she could even process the extent of her victimhood. She didn't even have a full understanding of what she was a victim of.

With a shaky hand, Scully drew back the dampened covers and sharply inhaled as her bare feet touched the cold, wooden floor. She padded over to the bathroom, flicking on the light before discarding her sweaty clothes. When she turned, she caught sight of something she'd been avoiding for a while now: her reflection.

However, in the soft lighting of her bathroom and the full length mirror precariously tucked in the corner, she couldn't look away when she caught sight of the woman on the other side, for surely that couldn't be her.

Walking over on unsteady legs, she stood on uneven ground with one foot on the linoleum and one foot on the plush bath mat as she took in the sight. Her skin was ghostly pale barring the ruddy flush of her cheeks. She could see the blue spider web of veins spreading like a grid underneath her skin, cobwebs in an empty shell.

Her face looked different than it had for the past few months, as if her slight, lingering baby fat had been taken from her but her face had yet to compensate for its loss. She was thinner when she came back, she knew that when she looked at her chart. Within three months she'd lost enough weight that the doctors had to monitor her intake so she didn't overdo it and make herself sick with the sudden adjustment.

Even though she'd lost the weight, her stomach looked slightly different to her, slightly swollen and tender to the touch. There had been a sharp pain in her lower belly that over time had become just a dull ache.

It felt like a menstrual cramp, like her uterus was screaming at her.

Like every other aspect of her life, she wasn't certain if her menstrual cycle was still regular since she had yet to get her period. Scully hadn't gone back on birth control since her return, partially because the dull pain was concerning to her and she didn't want any dependent variables taking away from her ability to monitor her body's recovery.

She knew from the test run by her doctors upon her admittance that she wasn't pregnant. It was a relief, but it was only one concern addressed with a hundred others still unanswered.

After admitting her discomfort to the doctor at the hospital, they'd both reached the conclusion that, while odd, nothing appeared to be wrong. He offered to do a more in-depth pelvic exam since they'd been too worried about keeping her alive when she first arrived to try and gather evidence of anything, but she refused. She didn't want anyone else touching her.

And she knew she had been - much like her hair had been maintained to stay the same length over all these months, her pubic hair had also been trimmed, a detail she'd kept to herself.

Scully felt a wetness on her sternum and she looked up to see she was crying with a shell-shocked expression on her face. She raised a shaky hand and smeared the tear into her skin and rubbed her eyes.

She was alive. Scully knew she should be grateful for that miracle, but she'd lost a lot more than three months when she was abducted.

A sob escaped her throat as she flicked the lightswitch off and walked over to her boudoir, grabbing an old grey sweater with "FBI Academy" embroidered on the space above her left breast. It was slightly scratchy from being mass produced for all the Quantico trainees, but it would have to do. Her favorite University of Maryland sweater was retired to an evidence bag covered in Duane Barry's blood - another loss.

She slid the matching oversized sweatpants up her legs, satisfied when her body was shrouded and hidden from her own view. An irrational part hoped the polycotton blend could act as a metaphorical cocoon, and when she shed it off later maybe she'd come out a different person. But she knew from past nights' experience that it wouldn't happen.

Knowing she was too worked up to go back to bed, she made her way to the living room. While she knew it hadn't been a drill or blinding light that woke her up, she couldn't help but hear the similarities between her nightmare and the storm currently brewing outside. The wind sounded sharp against the side of the building, and every two Mississippi's the cracking of nature's whip would follow a bright lightning strike.

It hadn't stormed this hard since-

"Mulder! I need your help! Mulder!"

The sound of glass shattering ricoheted through her mind, and she took a sharp breath as she told herself that no one was breaking in. It was just in her head. Looking over, she could see the spot it had happened, the weather outside macabrely setting the scene.

Scully felt her heart hammering in her chest as what once was her sanctuary quickly became her mental prison. She wanted to be better. She was tired of this affecting her in this way, but she couldn't help it. For what felt like the thousandth time since she'd been back, she felt the overwhelming, albeit irrational, panic that someone was going to come and take her again. She didn't feel safe.

She hadn't even processed she'd moved. One minute she was breathing heavily in the middle of her living room, and the next she was pressing her back into the crevice where two walls met while she held her phone in trembling hands. She was rubbing the number two with the pad of her thumb, and in her state of hypersensitivity, she felt like she could feel the grooves of her thumbprint catching against the silicone of the button. The printed numerical "2" felt like braille against her thumb, but it also felt like a life preserver and she was drowning. If she pressed that and the accompanying nine other digits she knew by heart, she knew she'd be safe.

Mulder would answer.

She looked down and pressed the buttons, the key tones sounding deafening in the silence as the pitch went up and down with the different numbers.

202-

The sound of something tapping against her window made her jump and she looked up and saw a shrub outside was being knocked against the glass in the storm. Mulder had gotten the windows replaced while she was gone, and it would be nearly impossible for someone to shatter them as easily as Barry had. He'd invested in her safety because he knew it would come in handy for when she returned. Because for Fox Mulder, it had always been a matter of 'when' and not 'if'.

Her eyes were drawn to a blinking red light on the opposite side of the room, and she realized it was past three in the morning. Her confidence in her plan faltered as the landline started beeping from the rest of the number not having been entered.

She was too late.

During one of the first times Mulder visited her at the hospital, she'd been chatting with her mom while Mulder and Melissa sat in seats against the wall. Apparently she'd gotten too wrapped up in the conversation because by the time she looked back to Mulder, he was out cold, slouched in his seat next to Melissa who was trying not to laugh at the way his mouth gaped open with his head resting on her shoulder.

"Mul-" she'd started, intending to wake him up only to be hushed by her mother.

"Let him sleep, Dana. I'm quite certain that man didn't sleep once while you were in your coma," she chided.

"I don't think he slept since you disappeared," Melissa corrected, her eyes widening comedically as Mulder snored loudly.

When she asked him how he'd been doing a few days later, her insomniatic partner even himself said, "I've been sleeping better this past week than I have my whole life."

Because she was safe.

Scully couldn't bring herself to call him and shatter that illusion. She couldn't think of him laying sound asleep on the other side of town, only to be woken up to her sobbing, causing him to rush across town to be with her. Because that's exactly what he would do and she knew it. Mulder was concerned about her now, but she played it off as him worrying too much. If she confirmed his fear and admitted that an hour hadn't gone by that she hadn't been scared, he wouldn't be able to rest until she felt better. She didn't know if she could promise she ever would.

Part of her considered calling her mom or Melissa, but the same concern was still there. They wouldn't be as relentless with the information as Mulder would be, but she knew if she called them now at this low point, she'd have to field questions down the line. She'd have to be fine even more than she already was.

Heat started burning uncomfortably on her face as she thought of someone she wanted to call who wouldn't have made her feel fragile. Who would have told her Scullys can get through anything, and she was one of the toughest of the bunch.

She wanted her dad to hold her and make everything better.

A hot tear slid down her cheek as she felt more alone than she had in her entire life. Every sniffle and whimper she made echoed against the walls of her large apartment and it made her feel small. She'd come back to the people she loved and she was too stubborn to let them in.

Her chin trembled as she made her way to her couch, tripping slightly when plastic caught her foot. Scully regained her balance and looked down to see she'd gotten caught on the brown plastic sack Mulder had given her. Bending down, she took out the VHS tape that lay inside. Superstars of the Super Bowl.

A small smile erupted on her face, her cheeks protesting as the tear tracks that had dried against her skin shifted uncomfortably. She stood up with the bag and VHS in her hand, popping the latter into her VCR. Scully listened to the clicks and whirs of the machine starting as she turned on the television, basking her couch in an indigo blue haze.

Scully pulled a blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped it around her, sitting cross-legged on the middle cushion while the roar of an audience filled the empty space, making her feel a little less alone. Her hands found their way back into the plastic bag as she sifted through the miscellaneous other presents Mulder had brought to her over the stint at the hospital.

She chuckled as her hand came in contact with what she was looking for, and she pulled a bright pink Hostess Snoball out of the bag. These were her favorite treat to indulge in, and during one particularly long road trip with Mulder, fueled by period cravings, she'd picked up three at a gas station and eaten them all within an hour. Mulder had been so tickled by it that any time he picked her up for a road trip, he grabbed her a pink fluffy cake to go alongside her rootbeer. When she lamented that she only could indulge once in a blue moon, he'd scoff and tell her she deserved to have one every day if it made her happy.

The memory lightened the thick miasma that had brewed around her, and she wiped the remaining wetness from her cheeks. The coconut ball had been dented by the corner of the VHS tape, but it was delicious all the same. Scully watched as men wearing various colors of spandex ran around the field. She didn't even know what team Mulder rooted for, she thought he was more of a baseball or basketball guy if anything, but watching this silly tape he probably pickled up at a bodega made her feel close to him. She reached back into the bag to pull out another snack, but as her fingers grazed the bottom, she felt something had spilled. She scooped it up in one hand, pulling it out and looking at her palm. Sunflower seeds, little tokens of Mulder left in his stead.

Scully picked one up between two fingers and brought it to her lips, the salt burning the part of her lip that was raw from her worrying it between her teeth. She moved the seed around her mouth tentatively, not having the same dexterity Mulder did. After a few seconds, she cracked the shell and the meat of the seed fell onto her tongue.

She continued that with the next few seeds and she started to find a groove with it. Her worry and anxiety started dissipating as she got lost in the comfort of the game on television, she felt like she was just a member of the crowd like the people on screen. It made her feel less alone than she had backed against the corner of her living room, despite nothing really having changed. Mulder was just somehow able to make her feel better, even without physically being here.

For an hour, she continued imbibing in Mulder's brown plastic bag of gifts, and she felt connected to him in a way she hadn't anticipated, and it made her feel strong and unafraid. After all, he had been brave for three months, she could be brave for tonight.

[solecize]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. the boy you meet in detention, felix, doesn’t see colours. you want to gift his eyes with the kaleidoscopes and the rainbows of your world. the palette of your love story is supposed to bring together a work of art, but calamity lies beneath the canvas. 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. felix x reader 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. swearing 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. 4.1k 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.  i wrote half of this while i was high sorry

YELLOW. / PART III - “THE LIST OF GOOD THINGS”

this is what you were afraid of. felix came and went as he pleased and after the day at the beach, he was gone for weeks. you had no way to contact him and when you worked up the nerve to ask around, nobody had a clue. it was a little embarrassing, the way you scoured social media for any trace of him and you weren’t even the slightest bit surprised when you discovered that he was off the grid.

there wasn't any chance of you being able to shake him off—the thought of felix was tattooed on your skin, entangled in your hair like bubblegum, left a stain that couldn't be washed away. his lazy grin haunted you and the faint sensation of his lips forever planted on yours. you thought you were going mad.

you'd had crushes before, even a failed relationship or two, and the way he made you feel was incomparable to all. 

“was that okay?” you fumbled with your words, tripping and leaping over hurdles to get your voice out. 

you weren’t sure how long the two of you sat in that cave. you especially weren’t sure how long you two spent completely taking in the other by the lips, dizzying your vision and swelling your lips. it was felix who pulled away first, panting for air. his hair was tousled and a wash of strawberry pink flushed his face. 

felix just laughed and cupped your cheek. “yes. it was more than okay.” his eyes bore into yours and an army began marching through your chest.

the two of you remained in that spot until the night fell and the stars illuminated your surroundings. someone—you weren’t sure which one of you—finally knocked some sense into them and realized it was time to go. neither of you wanted to leave and making your way back was like dragging you feet. 

“where do you live? i’ll give you a ride home.” this time, you were the one that hopped into the driver’s seat. you took a glance at your phone abandoned on the dashboard, vibrating wildly.

twenty missed calls from your mom. four from your dad. about fifty texts altogether. you rolled your eyes and turned the device off.

felix raised his eyebrows, startled for a moment. “oh! no, that’s okay—”

“don’t be dumb, i made you come here and you’re not taking the bus,” you snorted.

“. . .fine. you can drop me off back at school,” he ran a hand through his hair, shoulders tense. “i left my car there.”

“your car? i thought you said it’d “been a while” since you last drove,” you said, but turned on the car anyway. the engine roared to life and the two of you were met with the local pop radio station. you scrunched your nose and turned it off, just as felix reached for the button at the same time with the same expression. the two of you shared a laugh.

you connected your phone again and played a more mellow playlist, one for the late atmosphere. adore you by harry styles filled your ears and you felt your hands relax on the wheel.

felix chuckled. “come on. i just didn’t wanna get in the minivan with you.” his nose crinkled when you playfully slapped his arm.

“i don’t blame you,” but you sure were glad that he ended up doing so.

the rest of the car ride was filled with comfortable silence. at some point, felix shyly put his hand over yours and you didn’t notice. it felt so natural and your fingers automatically tangled up in his. the rest of the harry styles album found its fingerprints all over the inside of the car and the remainder of the night.

eventually, the two of you pulled up to the high school and you felt a weight of dread trailing down your spine. you looked over at felix and a frown etched his face as well. 

“i guess this is it?” the thought of collecting his number didn’t even occur to mind.

felix’s hand didn’t move. “i guess so.” 

worst of all, there was nothing to distract your mind with. the glare of the summer sun and the clean slate of all of your days brought you with a frustrating routine of sitting in your room in front of your electric fan all day. you weren’t even quite talking to your parents beyond a few words at dinner and the occasional moment when one of them would stick their head through your door to ensure that you were alive and breathing. clearly, they were still upset about the whole steal-the-minivan situation.

you felt pathetic, holed up indoors. you wanted to find motivation to go out and actually be with people, but it wasn’t like you had many options. eventually you got tired of wasting your summer away and decided to go for a bike ride. outside. of your room. admittedly, it was the craziest thing that happened since school went out.

you slipped on a pair of beat up white air force ones at the bottom of your stairs, tiptoeing quietly down and stopped when you realized that the house was empty. taking a glance at yourself in the mirror, you looked like you hadn’t seen the sun in years—really, it was for a few weeks. you wore a pair of oversized basketball shorts and a tank cropped just above your belly button, showing off a piercing that represented another badge of rebellion against your parents. a sound that could’ve sound like a groan of frustration rumbled from your throat, though it was too distorted to be compared to anything human. 

after a moment’s deliberation, you decided to at the very least put your hair up in a ponytail, roughly forcing the scrunchie through your tangled hair. you appeared a touch more presentable then. then again, you didn’t care all that much if you ran into anybody you knew—it wasn’t like you were going to run into them in september after you moved away for university.

carefully, you locked the front door and brought your bicycle out from the back. you didn’t have an idea of where you wanted to go, but you knew that being inside the house brought a heavy weight to your body that you couldn’t quite get rid of. even just the slightest stream of sunlight spilling through the door and the kiss of the summer heat lifted your mood.

following the wind, you found yourself in front of your now former high school. maybe it was the familiarity of the route that creeped up at the back of your mind and unconsciously brought you here. it looked exactly the same, even in its barren state.

you were coming to a stop when you heard someone call your name. an all too familiar deep rumble of a voice. thinking you were imagining it, you ignored it. then, it came again and you whipped your head around.

“hey.”

it was felix that walked past you, hands deep in the pockets of his grey sweatpants that you knew must have been killing him in the crazy heat, along with the light zip-up on top. he wore the same jordans from the day in detention and a plain white t-shirt. simple, but it fit him so well. and that goddamn smile. it always reached his eyes, it seemed, no matter what. 

“hi,” you managed to breathe out, suddenly thanking yourself for hauling your ass out of bed. what were the chances that you’d bump into the boy that had been plaguing your mind for week? “. . .long time no see.”

the words felt dumb and numb, rolling off your tongue, but you were too taken aback to process that he was actually in front of you. it had come to the point where you wondered if the day at the beach was a fever dream, created in the haze of your lonely desires at the back of your mind.

however, he was very real before your very eyes. he creeped up upon you like a summer breeze; unexpected, but exactly what your spirit ached for in a seemingly endless drought. it seemed as though felix was just as happy to see you, though a twinkle of relief slumped in his shoulders and relaxed all of the muscles in his body. with you, he always did that.

felix bit his lip. “it’s nice to see you. how’s your summer been so far?” you tried to read his facial expression, wondering if he was feeling the same way you were feeling about him, but was left to a complete wall of neutrality. he was good.

“boring. not much to do when you don’t have friends and it’s too hot to do anything outside.” that was the truth, but it sounded more pathetic out loud than you were willing to admit. however, felix simply nodded in understanding.

“well, you’re out now, aren’t you?” felix looked off into the distance, squinting at the relentless sun. 

you could’ve sworn you heard him mutter the word “finally” but you weren’t sure.

“i was going stir crazy,” you admitted with a gentle laugh. you subconsciously tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ear and stopped mid-way through when you realized what you were doing. oh, you were a freaking goner.

he teased, “so you decided to come visit the old prison yard?” he gestured to the school building and you tilted your head to the side, taking a moment to observe it. the lot did resemble a jailhouse to an uncanny extent.

however, with void of students, the lot seemed peaceful. abandoned and colossal. it was as if there was actual oxygen to breathe in, instead of feeling restrained as you had been the past four years. you wanted to attribute it to that, but there was an itching feeling that it was because of felix’s presence that gave you the ability to capture freedom. 

“i was riding my bike and i guess getting here is just muscle memory,” you shrugged it off. “what’s your excuse?”

nobody hung out at the high school during the summer unless they were getting high in the parking lot or using the outdoor field to play soccer. you had a feeling that felix wasn’t there for either. he also came alone, or so it seemed, considering you hadn’t even realized his presence.

“well. .  . .” a playful smile emerged on felix’s lips. “okay, fine. since you showed me your hidden spot, i’ll show you mine.”

it was as though the earth had thundered and a mirror sprung up from the ground below, forcing you to see your reflection in him. you knew there was a reason why you were so drawn to felix from the very first moment. in a way, he was just like you.

without waiting for you to verbally answer, felix extended his hand, just as you had done for him on graduation day. and, in the same vein as his own actions, you laced your fingers with his without any hesitation. you had to stop yourself from sighing out loud—the feeling of his hand joined with yours was a relief that you would cross the ocean for.

however, today, his skin was rough. they were calloused and dry, ones that were hard at work and had been drained of hydration in a deep desert. they met your soft palm and the contrast was electric. the two of you became one in just the smallest of forces, though, it was as powerful as a hurricane. you imagined that kissing him once again would feel like as though the heavens were to rain down upon us all—quenching thirst after a drought.

“i swear, if you take me behind the bleachers . . “ you teased. everyone knew that place as the local makeout spot, where there always seemed to be a douchey senior guy declaring it as his and the innocent girl next door’s secret hideout. of course, felix was the last person on earth who would take any person there.

his ears still tinted a cherry red, even in spite of the fact that you were joking. you laughed a bit and with your free hand, you abandoned your bike on the side of the driveway into the high school. somehow, it didn’t occur to you to bring a lock or even place it anywhere safer than there. your mind was too wrapped around felix’s pinky finger and his eyes were glued onto yours. 

“no! no—of course not,” he replied without waiting a beat, eyes wide. 

you just laughed and shook your head, as felix caught onto the joke. he chuckled nervously in response and your heart wanted to burst. it was adorable. 

felix tugged gently to prompt you to begin moving and you did so. the summer sun climbed onto your bag and wrapped its arms around your neck, straining your ability to walk in smooth motions. however, you were able to see that the two of you were going towards the forest nestled behind the football field. 

“what have you been to this summer?” you asked, squinting at the sun startling your eyes upon looking up at felix.

he just shrugged. “there’s nothing to do around here. i just end up coming back here all the time,” he said, referring to the place that he was leading you to. 

that was the truth, the city got boring fast. not to mention, everybody you grew up with turned into completely different people and the ones who didn’t change already drifted too far away. it was like being stuck and staying inside wasn’t even as bad because coming out to face the real world meant facing the reality of the cards that you were dealt with. 

it was the reality of growing up. you despised it and it must’ve shown on your face because felix glanced over at you and frowned. at that, you relaxed your shoulders that had stiffened without your command. 

“sorry. it’s just—” you began, already hearing felix’s inquiry form at the tip of his tongue. “—this isn’t really the summer i dreamed of. i wanted bonfires and friendship bracelets and sleepovers. not sitting around in my room all day because i don’t have any friends anymore.”

“you have me,” felix immediately said and you weren’t sure if your heart should’ve skipped a beat or sunk because you just potentially got friend zoned. however, the squeeze of his hand and the way his lids grew a touch heavier looking at your face, at your lips, relaxed the thought. 

he then let go of your hand for a second and began to tug at the strings of his zip up sweater, slowly and more forcefully when he realized just how hard it was. you simply stared at him, blinking, because you were confused at what he was doing. felix finally managed to get the string out and then proceeded to wrap the arms of the sweater around his waist, submitting to the heat.

“hold out your wrist.”

you silently did so, still confused. felix pulled you slightly closer, just enough that you were almost chest to chest and your arm still stuck out. he smiled. then, he took the red string from his zip up hoodie and began to tie it around your wrist. you couldn’t help but notice that it was the same shade of red as his red paper footballs from the first day in detention.

tilting to your head to the side, you managed to ask, “uh, what are you doing?”

he was having a hard time knotting it and looping the excessively long string properly. “what do you think i’m doing?” felix wore a mischievous grin on his face.

“ruining your hoodie?” you blunted.

felix chuckled. “no, dummy, this is our friendship bracelet.” 

no one had ever done something like that for you before. you were always the one going out of your way to do nice things for your friends and play the good guy, only to be fucked over in the end. with felix, he gave you the power of feeling appreciated and wanted. it weighed heavier than a box under an evergreen tree or a birthday surprise with confetti.

you jumped onto him and he let out a yelp of surprise. maybe you crushed his bones at some point, but you couldn’t stop repeating words of gratitude over and over again. you felt felix’s shoulders relax and his chest rumble with another laugh, as he snaked his arms around your torso and squeezed you just as hard back. 

“i know it’s kind of just a string, but you also kind of just made my summer,” you whispered in his ear and felt him stroke your hair in response. “sorry, i just had to tell you that. do you. .  .do you wanna go now?”

“if you still want to,” felix’s face was slightly flushed when you pulled away from the hug.

he captured your hand in yours once again and reeled you in, pulling you straight out of the salt water and into his world of butterscotch skies.

you didn’t even know that place like this existed in your hometown. it was a moderate journey to say the least, at least a twenty minute walk from where the two of you started at your now former high school. felix began by leading you through the forest, taking paths that you didn’t even notice during your few visits there.

throughout the past four years, you seldom found yourself strolling through the murky trails of his forest, mostly to avoid the kids who would cut class to smoke weed here. the place was notorious for the activity, with its extensive paths crawling into one big maze and lengthy branches perfect for hiding behind. it was never anything but ugly and shady to you.

however, felix was like midas. everything he touched turned into gold. everywhere you went with him turned into a wonderland.

“these trees are way grown out now,” he murmured, pushing an small log out of the path with his foot. “i like it here, though.”

“it’s peaceful,” you replied, eyes drinking it all in. it wasn’t quite like the trees leading up to the beach hill, but the gloom hanging off of pea coloured moss and damp dirt brought strange comfort. 

that wasn’t the end of it, though. the two of you continued to make your way through the forest and on your end, with no destination in your mind. you even forgot about the heat. weaving through the way, bits of light began to make their presence known, shining from the far distance. you looked over at felix and a small grin began to form on his face.

all you saw next was yellow. 

at first, you were blinded by the sudden flash of sun. then, you slowly, but surely, fluttered your eyelids open and were confused when you were met with the same yellow. tucked away in the middle of the forest was a surprisingly large field of sunflowers. they varied in length and sparseness, but the one constant was their bright hue. the field shone brighter than the sun itself. the aroma of the field attacked your lungs and you relented, letting the scent of the flora run through your body. 

“you always come exactly when i need you.  . .” you mumbled under your breath, perplexed. you looked up at felix, who let his fingers run through the first patch of flowers, never picking, but appreciating the soft petals.

felix’s ears perked up. “huh? did you say something?”

“nothing,” you shook your head and bit back your smile. felix as a good luck charm would have to stay a secret. it was all a quiet coincidence, but you were more than grateful that he seemed to perfectly show up every time. “this place. . . .is this even real?” you giggled, mimicking his movements and brushing your fingers against the flowers.

“i come here almost everyday. it’s breathtaking.”

there was a crinkling noise and you hadn’t even noticed that felix let go of your hand to open a lollipop. he popped it out and it was, of course, a bright lemon colour. it perfectly matched the field. you raised an eyebrow at him,

“yellow,” he began, with the stick poking out of his right cheek, “is the easiest colour to remember. it’s the colour of happiness and home and summer and flowers and. . . and goddamn lemonade!” felix declared, spreading his arms open as if to hug the skies.

you knew exactly what felix meant. everything that embodied the colour yellow was right there, in that moment, there was no better colour to remember.

you blinked and after a breath, you grinned and yelled out to up above, “like goddamn lemonade!” 

“LEMONADEEE!”

the two of you began making yelling and whooping to absolutely no body other than yourselves. after a few moments of jumping around, he captured you into a gentle hug. you only squeezed your arms harder.

he paused. “you know you’re one of my first friends in a long time?” felix asked. “and graduation just happened. great.” his tone was sarcastic, but the truth hurt you just as hard.

you thought about the alleged “friends” you used to run with, the petty girls who always found themselves in drama. the ones that you completely changed yourself for. the ones who no longer had a place in your life. 

you thought about felix. he felt like home. you met him too late.

“you’re one of mine, too.” you wondered if being a friend was all that felix thought of you. you thought back to the day you kissed him and he responded positively. you thought about the friendship bracelet now laced and bound to your body. maybe, that’s what you needed him more as. “what happened to your old friends?” you were attempting to change the topic.

was that a mistake? felix cleared his throat. “well, there used to be nine of all of us back then . . .” he trailed off and instead made a spot for himself on the ground. he sat crosslegged and began playing with the nearest flower.

there was a story to everything. experiencing it is the worst, but explaining the breakdown to someone else was just as bad sometimes. you saw the way felix struggled to piece it together, so you merely shook your head and sat beside him. it could wait another day.

“i can’t believe i never knew about this place,” you said.

felix replied, “it’s probably for the better. it wouldn’t be this pretty if a bunch of random high school kids found it.” he cocked his head towards the forest, the lollipop still dangling from his mouth. 

in one fluid motion, you swiped it and stuck it into your own mouth with a grin.

“hey!” felix exclaimed, completely taken aback. he began laughing, though, and a playful look shone in his eye. 

before you knew it, you were underneath him. of course, not in that way, but the idiot managed to tackle you to the ground in the same way he had done at the beach. you gasped for laughter as he did so, holding you down with tickles. 

you somehow slid from the position below him and held your hands up in defeat. “i’m sorry!” you giggled. 

felix couldn’t help it. you looked ethereal against clusters of flowers and the best colour in the world. he couldn’t see it, but he felt it. the list of good things associated with it was now changed: happiness, home, summer, lemonade, and now, you.

he pressed a kiss to your cheek. 

“i thought we were friends?” you countered, smugly. you really didn’t care what you were, all that you knew was that you were drunk on felix’s presence. it wasn’t love or lust, but a comfort that you were addicted to.

“we can be whatever you want.” felix picked a sunflower, one of a smaller size, and held it out to you.

[auriel187]

Purgatory Ch.1

Word count: 8500 (around)

Warnings: Creepy Capitals being Creepy Capitals...

Pairings: None yet (ship who you want)

The Conclave

In times I tremble, I hold onto my heart knowing their safety is more important than my own.

In krono mhe slipp lowa, mhe kep onto mi beeta knowing demens secur is masal imprativ than mi own.

Eulalia

The cityscape was unapologetically urban. There were no trees or city planted blooms, just monoliths of concrete and glass soaring out of the sidewalk in an exact grid pattern. At night it was beautiful in it's own way, there were so many lights. By day you relied on the sky to let you know that it wasn't a monochromatic world; just one in which the people were too busy for life. For over a generation progress had meant the teaching of specific skill sets to the children of The Felicity and The Hope Rises. In most parts of this city we only work and eat, there was no time to sweep fall leaves or plant spring flowers, so they eliminated them. It was sad how mundane and rigid life became. There was no beauty, hardly even enough to notice the blue above. With no more designers, our clothing and cars never change, there are five styles of everything in Ellis, but you’ll very rarely see different districts dressed the same way. In this way our city outperforms those in the region.

In the mind of the young outcast I used to be, it was like a story to me. One that became more and more like a nightmare as time ripped every shred of innocence from my life.

The coldness of the slate tile and it's dampness seeped through the thin polyester trousers my brother, Hami, had stolen from the market. With knees pulled tight to my pronounced rib cage I shivered in the early morning chill. In this poor light the roof-tops spread in every direction like great grey serpents with rectangular scales. Only the red brick chimneys ruined the illusion, but in this light they were just as monochromatic as everything else, the slate, the swirling smog, the streets that were never deserted, the unfriendly sky with its dense cloud robbing me of the sunrise. From here I could see what a maze this borough was, every house three stories and each joined to the next. The streets curved as if laid down on a whim a few centuries ago before anyone had conceived of a grid pattern idea.

There I’d stay while I waited for school to begin, in my ripped khakis and oversized faded maroon shirt. There I’d stay telling myself stories of brave heroes who had it all wishing I could be one of them. Hungry, cold and tired from all the city had to give me, was it selfish of me to wish this on the little girl in my class who called me by the wrong name telling me I’d live the rest of my life covered in mud and shit and drinking out of a clogged gutter?

From the Mass, you could see all the things to love about the city, and there was a lot to love about this city. It was one thing I loved about Capital Hill. From the high arches in the towering glass buildings to the balconies that look over the sea of homes and businesses. It was one of the things I never had back home. The views from here were stunning. I could see The Torch glistening in the golden rays of sunlight, and the sense of safety that fills me is almost overwhelming. “Miss Suarez,” I heard behind me as I felt the soft breeze hitting the apples of my cheeks. The stray hairs behind my ears flailed about behind my ears as I turned to face the intruder now standing before me. He practically filled the doorway, in his uniform that made him look more like a cinder block than a man. His half shaved black hair glistened in the light before he took a step toward me. “The work day is over for you. There’s gonna be a Conclave later this evening at The Torch.”

I tried to keep my face as neutral as possible, but judging by the way he held back his laughter I guess I failed. “What for?” I proceeded on as if I didn’t realise the cameras were there, and Seraphineas was living for it. Now it was his turn to roll his eyes as he chuckled boredly, “Maybe it’s another execution...or maybe they’re announcing a new system in place that only benefits them.” It was impossible not to hear the humour in his deep voice as he mocked the Capitals and the past Conclaves. Of course, knowing that he would never say anything like this in front of his other guard buddies really put a damper on things. He must’ve seen my fading smile because he immediately turned to walk me out. I slipped into the elevator, the wall of glass turned into a mirror. I see why people assumed we were related. We were both relatively tall, him at six feet and myself at almost five foot eight. Thin figures adorned with muscle that came from our unique forms of exercise. “The Conclave begins at five. You’ll be charted too so be careful.” Phineas warned me as we exited the elevator just before we parted ways.

Well, that wasn’t ominous at all. You’d think something like that would bother a girl, but no. I’ve lived in this city my whole life. A girl gets used to the threats disguised as requests. They don’t just crash suddenly before you like lightning in a storm, I’ve known them to be the sudden raindrop before a downpour. It reminded me of the unease I felt every time I entered The Felicity. The Capital Hill district was beautiful. With their grand buildings and picturesque views, it was easy to say how much nicer it was then The Barrens or The Shadows. It was just another monster behind the curtain. A puppeteer pulling the strings of laws and lives of the people around them. They were an oxygen mask filled with poisonous gas to anyone that wasn’t their own. Luckily, I was close enough for them to view my life worth saving if shit ever happened.

I was a Regal now. Almost thirty eight percent of the population, we were almost untouchable in the eyes of society. We were privileged and we knew it, most of us acting like assholes because of it. I knew better. I used to be part of the forty two percent of Ellis. In short, my family was living ration to ration, sick and in a small house that was barely standing. I had a mother who worked her ass off just to come home to four kids and a father I barely knew because he was off working the most shifts he could. Unfortunately, the whole family plan didn’t work out when my mother and brothers all got Galixx, leaving only my dad and I.

I think we lived because we weren’t always home. I was the only one who went to school. Maybe if they didn’t think to send me away, I could’ve been with them. Instead, I left for school everyday and came home one day to my crying mother holding my brother, Devis, whose face was covered with sweat, dirt and tears as he coughed up blood. I turned and ran outside my home and began screaming until I found one of the town guard. I don’t know who long it took me to find him but when we got back, my mother was wailing and begging for the guard to take me away as she started coughing between her sobs.

I went to bed that night with tear stains running down my face, and to make matters worse, I was completely alone. I didn’t call anyone, simply sitting in my room with my eyes screwed shut until I eventually dozed off.

I woke up the next morning with a guard outside ready to escort me to my new home. My new home in The Hope Rises. It was nicer than my old home there was also more room up here not that my dad would be spending much time at home. It didn’t matter though, I was never completely alone. We all had our own family, mine just came in the form of Tauriel.

She was at the root of most of my happy memories. From my first day of school when she braided my hair and told me stories from books she had read from before the bunkers opened. I’d spend some nights at her house doing homework. She never really paid attention to anything aside from Earth Class. It was considered a Rogue class, but that didn’t stop a few Blends from coming in. Maybe she was interested because of the books she read of mountains that reached clouds, or butterflies with bright wings and this class was the closest thing to actually learning about them. She just wanted a world beyond these walls. I understood that. It just made us better friends. Even when I changed districts, we were still inseparable.

But, as Murphy’s Law dictates, “Everything that can go wrong will.” It was one of those days where Tauriel’s mom and I were baking for some Capital party. One of the snobby events where they needed catering and waiters. Zenobia, Tauriel’s mother, had been working for hours and seemed glad to have the assistance of a twelve year old. I had been decorating the large cake when I heard screaming from outside. Zenobia quickly ran to the window and nearly passed out. I muttered ‘Tori?’ before I was out the front door, seeing three guards trying to cuff her and shocking her into submission. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Her mom asked, trying to make it for her child. “Your child hacked into a government system with intent to distribute information.” I saw red, almost jumping on the guard closest to me. “She’s eleven, you lunatics!” Her mother reached for her daughter and the guard holding her hit her in the stomach. Tauriel and I froze. I didn’t know where to look. From the guard beating Zenobia to the guards dragging Tauriel to a large truck and throwing her in. I took a step in Tauriel’s direction and regretted it instantly.

A loud clang echoed behind me and Zenobia was lying on the ground, the guard walking to the truck without a second thought. When I ran to the unconscious woman, the truck drove away and I was stuck. Do I run for help or do I stay with her? I couldn’t shake the memory of my mom and Devis and what if I could just have faster? I need to stay with her. I’m not risking it again.

“Miss Fa Suarez?” I heard a voice say from behind me. I only turn my head but I stay pretty much in place as the swaying of the shuttle brings me back to the world I should be in. “It’s your stop.” He looks concerned. In his words, I’m usually ‘sharp as a tack’. I walk to the front of the shuttle and reach into my pocket. He’s here everyday. From my six AM trips to The Felicity straight to my trips back home at eight PM. “Take a day.” I say handing him my fair, plus another tip for waiting for me to get off. He never accepts my tips, but that doesn’t stop me from stuffing it in the small basket where he keeps his personal belongings. “This is why I got you these. Tell that sister yours I said to eat.” He handed me four wraps. I nodded my thanks at the sweet old man. “My love to the greats.” He laughed at my words before watching to make sure I descended the shuttle safely.

I turned towards my building. A large gold bricked building not very many stories high, but it was honestly much smaller on the inside than one would think when examining the building from outside. The air was cold here, it always was. With Tauriel constantly in the garage and having several pieces of machinery, the cool air prevented her and I from becoming casualties of her rage. She only ever got into tinkering when she was pissed. Based on the loud echoing clanking I could hear echoing from downstairs, I figured she’d need time to cool off and maybe put down whatever large metal object was colliding with her desk. In any sense, we had to be at a Conclave in a few hours.

My room wasn’t very big, only enough space to place my bed and two drawers. The room already had a large closet in the back so it’s not like I needed much in here anyways. The bronze and turquoise lights that swirled designs in my room. The premise of light and shadow was always appealing to me, maybe because it accrued anywhere and remained a natural part of life no matter what district you lived in. I headed towards my closet in search of something formal for the Conclave. I was never one for overt femininity, having been taught at a young age to not give a crap about what I look like and to just get the work done. That being said, I always managed to find a dress or two that I really did like. Scouring through pieces of cotton and linen, I stopped suddenly when I saw it again. A distressed brown leather coat.

It was just a jacket. It was just a stupid leather jacket with a padded quilt patch on the left elbow and a crap ton of buckles. There were faded letters on the left chest and a sort of mesh material that would cover my knuckles. It was just a jacket, and I loved it. Like a hidden piece of me that I never really show. This jacket screamed Rogue in uppercase letters. I loved that, even though I hadn’t been a Rogue in sixteen years. It almost felt wrong to wear it sometimes. Like I was an impostor trying to pass as something I wasn’t. I wasn’t even close.

I always envied Tauriel in that regard. Despite living here in The Regal Ward, The Hope Rises, with me, she never seemed to fear being shunned for not attempting to fit into the higher classed district. Fiercely adorning leather and denim in her everyday attire, she looked more like a Rogue than a Blend. Then again, why try fitting in when the world already looks down on you. Being that Tauriel’s district accounted for only one percent, and having been around Rogues most of her life it was easy to understand why she might be more comfortable in leather and studs.

“Are you wearing that tonight?” I heard her ask behind me. I should’ve figured she was on her way up when the banging and crashing ceased. I was holding the jacket in my hands, my fingers running over the cuff. “No...it doesn’t go with anything I own.” I gave my reply, letting my eyes drift past the coat and toward some of the other items of clothing in the confined space. I grab an old dress. The ornate gold dress collar along the black halter top matched the asymmetrical leaves on the red rose skirt. If it still fits like I remember, it should stop a little above my knee. “I’ll be in the shower. Do you…” before I could even finish asking, she responded. “Yes.” And with that, I left.

I spent almost thirty minutes in the bathroom, I was wrapped in my robe with my hair soaking wet. In the mirror, I hold my own gaze for just a second before taking into account how tired I must look. The bags under my eyes were devastatingly prominent. I don’t look at myself often, too afraid to not recognize myself from the old photos I had hanging in my room, and I was right. My features are sharper now, more pronounced jaw, higher cheekbones, and my eyes look more almond than monolid. I look like my mom. Though her hair was shiny black and mine was dark brown and my eyes are slightly darker than hers, I can still see it sickeningly clear. I placed my hand on the scar on my neck, remembering where my birthmark used to be. Descended from Natives and Malaysian ancestors, teachers at school would tell me that the very DNA in my bones held more history than our textbooks.

I’d know. I read them all.

It wasn’t much but keeping my hair down with a braid securely clipped behind my ears, neither Tauriel nor I had any makeup so my bare face and simple hairdo, Just dry your tears and fake a smile. Nobody wants to see a Regal cry. “You know, your eyes are going to get all puffed up. Here.” Tauriel stood behind me clutching a bottle of eye drops. I smiled at my oldest friend before I slung my arm over her shoulder and we walked to her room. I could never imagine my life without her. At this point, she was all I had to live for.

My little sister. I would walk from Heaven to Hell (and everywhere in between) for.

Tauriel

I always hated Conclaves. They always seemed too public. Ironic when you think about it. The word ‘conclave’ actually meant private meeting so the large citywide events seemed like a lie. I felt almost pageant-ish, told to look my best because of how many “eligible bachelors” there were. I honestly just think it’s because the Capitals would never want to be seen with the lower districts in our ‘rags and cheap coats’. In my opinion, the clothes the lower districts could afford only seemed to make the Capitals look more classy, almost like they were subtly jabbing at us in a way that said “haha, even in your best you’re not at level with our best.” And if we were looking to impress the eligible, more attractive people, The Rogues held that trophy for decades. Honestly, the glassy dullness of Capitals creeped me out. I wasn’t the only one who thought that either, the distinct features of each district were almost immediately identifiable.

The Capitals, born and raised in Capital Hill (aka The Felicity) had the most interesting eyes in the world, very distinctive for their central heterochromic irises that housed multiple colours at a time. That and the fact that most of them were fat faced from being able to eat was a dead giveaway. They look like the Bill Nye bobblehead Eulalia had on her desk. Capital also wore their hair short. I never understood why, but long hair was a sign of rebellion against the “oppressive and derogatory order of the Capital men.” I’ll give you one guess what demographic was saying shit like that. I’ll give you a hint, they steal daddy’s cards and mommy’s rocks to go flirt with the Rogue boys much to the disapproval of the elders. Acting like they were edgy for going through the same phase as their mothers did, before they realize that Rogue men don’t give a fuck about rocks unless it gets them paid.

The Regals were similar, wearing their hair slightly longer. Most had extremely lean frames due to the training most of them worked for since the age of six to become a guard. The Regal Ward housed most of the idiotic soldier boys, I was honestly surprised when a Regal came along and decided that they would rather sell booze to the city rather than tote a gun and act like you owned the place. Most regal women (like Eulalia) studied for the higher grades, like doctors and lawyers. It was cool to see Regals, though. Their tag was their hair. Yes it was usually cut short but I think they made up for it with the silver that rimmed their hair from birth.

Rogues were almost unbelievable in their district appearance. They had all the most beautiful features from their naturally sharp jawlines with either dimples or freckles (sometimes both). The boys usually had long hair, mostly because the Government didn’t think it was a good idea to give Rogues and Infects access to sharp edged tools, partly because most of them thought they looked tough. They were all ripped, boys and girls from years of literal heavy lifting. I always considered myself lucky to be a Blend in that regard. We always got some kind of Rogue gene. I dawned dimples. My Jawline wasn’t as defined but I had that feature and I was glad I did. Eulalia was of Native descent so her bone structure resembled a statue carved of marble.

Eulalia kept fidgeting with the metal collar on her dress, her jacket fitting her narrow frame as the dress hung above her knees. I know for a fact how much she hated wearing tight, single layers. Regales often wore baggy jumpers with tattered looking overlayers. It was the perfect look for her. Mostly Regal but with an obvious Rogue history. “Hey.” I whispered, her head snapping down to me due to her not only being a few inches taller than me but in heels nearly the same height Seraphineas. “You okay?” I asked. The huge influx of people walking towards The Torch, once a mighty statue.

She always had this moment where she stands just out of view of the guard. The Conclaves would separate people based on district and having only recently (not recently) turned twenty one, the word Regal was now branded on her identifications, she still felt like a traitor for standing with them. She nodded, softly patting my hand before walking towards the desk. I did the same.

“Hold out your hand please.” A woman asked, holding a large glass plate with a few small censors out to me. It was cold under my palms as it scanned the fingerprints. My face appeared on a small screen in front of the woman. It must’ve had the words Bruise in big block letters because the demeanor of this woman changed as she stared me down. She quickly gripped my arm and clasped a large silver cuff on my wrist. Could she feel me rolling my eyes at this? I huffed a laugh at her attempt to be nonchalant. She has to know how obvious it is that she now fears a twenty three year old. I stared at the blinking light as I walked through the stone arch that led to the city center. The four sectors were at least proportional to the Districts population, Blends/ Bruises having the least amount of people. I stood in the back, my eyes glancing over to the Regal section where I attempted to find Eulalia. I can see Seraphineas walking down the row and walking towards the back of the section. The silver streaks in his shortened hair I can recognize immediately, even in the sea of silver headed citizens. He liked to dye his hair darker, I know he tries to keep his hair as neutral as possible as to not get busted right away when he gets sent undercover, but that only made the silver look like a slate blue.

The microphone screamed. A short, sickly woman stood on the stage with a tall, semi healthy looking man. They were Capital to the heights accord. The Jevons to be exact. They were the parents to three kids. Spoiled like asshats as most people like to call them. They come to the Mopes once a week. They go thrifting cause it sounds real fun and looks real cool when a Capital is down to get down, while they wear their false lashes that wave like flags to the men here. I can see their eldest, a girl by the name of Apathy and yes she lives up to her name. A narcissist who spends her time ridiculing the districts for the fact that The Felicity robs us blind. Places like The Barrens and The Bounds were trash holes where the people should bow down and kiss her feet. The only reason she even dares cross the boundary is to find a piece of ass they’d dump after a month anyway.

Even now, Apathy and Power (yes, Elodora and Zenier Jevon named their son Power) were basking in the spotlight of Capital glory, whilst Anarchy, the youngest, was staring off into the Regal section with her lower lip between her teeth. Apparently mommy and daddy’s speech was a bore. She really thought she was somebody though. Her honey gold tresses dangle to her lower back rather than the neatly buzzed pixie most of the women wore.

“We celebrate another year of safety and sanctity behind the walls of Ellis...” The woman on stage spoke in a shrill voice that instantly made my whole brain throb. Can this day get any better? Well yes actually. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the one and only October Vervent. I was nearly four years older than him and I'm thoroughly convinced he’s been taller than me since birth. I slowly weaved my way through the section to find the taller young man. I pat his shoulder causing him to jump slightly and smile almost immediately. His mother was a Rogue, just like mine. His jawline was more rounded, less sharp than most Rogues and Blends. He was of Chinese descent, which gave him shiny black hair that only cut off below his ears with a single streak of silver just behind his left ear. Just below but still in sight, was a tattoo that read “I CAN’T HEAR YOU.” Well, that’s one way to tell the world you’re deaf and mute.

I knew he had spent the better half of ten minutes reading the lips of the Jevons standing on the large metal podium. I turned to face him. He followed suit with an even bigger smile. I saw two small scars just above his ears. I’ll have to do something with that later. “It is our pleasure to present the recipients of this year's Grands.” Elodora continued with her rehearsed and very poorly executed speech. I normally would have stopped listening by now, but October needed a break from people being completely oblivious to his needs and the needs of people like him. I began signing to him, each word they said. “Mara Fox of the Barrens District. An extra one hundred was added to your wage, congratulations on receiving Dead Eye, Miss Fox.” A knew the name. I’m sure Everybody did. Every member of the Fox family walking the earth had naturally bright red hair. Mara was the only one with a fiery red.

She walked up on stage almost gingerly. The apprehension in her warm brown eyes as she twisted the material of her dusty rose dress, which was actually just an oversized T shirt with bleach stains and burn holes at the bottom. Her hair was in an updo. The front was twisted up to the right side of her head with a long braid that wrapped the rest into a sock bun. The smile on her face was fake. She usually had these deep dimples in her cheeks when she smiled. She was on the stage, the uncomfortable feeling that this was some kind of sick joke was evident by her wandering eyes. The part that made me sick, though, was when Zenier Jevon looked her up and down, biting his lip at the exposed fair skin of her legs. He stared at her almost greedily as he shook her hand. He was married with three demon children and was currently drooling at the thought of being with a twenty five year old on a public stage. A girl the same age as his youngest daughter with his wife standing right next to him as the creep caressed her hand. Were all men in power this fucking gross? She bid the couple a near silent thank you as she practically flew off the stage.

A low applause filled the room as she returned to her place with all the other Rogues and Infects. Everyone began to move out of the aisle, heading for the doors when, “The next recipient of this grand is…” What the hell? In the 23 years I’ve lived in the city and all the Conclaves I attended, there was never more than one recipient. Never has there been multiple. Ever. The crowds all stood frozen. Something wasn’t quite right about this. “...Eulalia Fa Suarez!”

Something definitely was right here.

Eulalia looked more confused than I thought she would. Her eyes narrowed as she slowly walked to the stage. She kept shooting questioning looks to both Seraphineas and I as she shook the hands of the Jevon’s on stage. Xenier had the fakest of fake smiles before he practically pushed her off the stage, where the crowd raised their hands in an awkwardly pushed applause. October and I didn't applaud though. I think he might’ve been able to sense my worry because even as I stood completely spaced out, staring at the empty space where Eulalia was standing not that long ago.

“The next grand being received,” I snapped out of my daze and signed to October. I know he was able to read lips but honestly he deserved all the help the world had to offer. “Thayer Michaels for bringing in the most food for the city!” Eladora spoke pridefully as the Rogues and Blends (Infects and Bruises included) either scoffed or dramatically rolled their eyes. Of course we did. Regals had the highest population and spent most days begging for scraps. Blends were treated just the same unless both parents were in the picture. Capitals were less than fifteen percent of Ellis and for some ridiculous reason, they deem themselves more important than every other district taking first picks of long hauls and leaving enough for them to have a chuckle watching the poorest of citizens fight for stale bread or and water rations.

I wasn’t complaining. If anyone deserved the grand, it was Mara Fox, EulaliaFa Suarez and Thayer Michaels. Mara Fox, when she wasn’t doing the wood work or in the meat room, spent hours teaching young Rogues how to read, giving them the education most of them had to give up in order to eat. Eulalia bought big portions of food and would walk the streets of the Barren giving food to families. She cries when she comes back and begs me not to ask about it. In guilt, she pushes to raise the ration fund for Capitals and Regals before she offers her leisure time (which she barely has) to teach kids in the neighborhoods that had no doctors basic medical skills. Thayer spent his time not hunting as a caretaker. He would walk October and a few other people to and from places, getting them groceries and even playing with them in parks. It didn’t need to be said that October was his favorite. October was partial to him too, if the smile that was currently on his face said anything as he watched the much taller, much older man walk on stage. He deserved it. All three of them did, but giving them grands to commemorate for all they’ve done almost exclusively for The Felicity made them seem far less noble.

At this point, for October, I tried not to focus on the fact that Eladore was eyeing Thayer the same way Zenier was eyeing Mara. What the fuck is wrong with these people?

When the Conclave ended, there was this feeling of unease. October and I still stood side by side as the Capitals made their way out first, not wanting to be surrounded by the lowest of lows for longer than necessary. They also just got to leave. Every other district was either held back to get your cuff taken off or you were waiting for someone who did. Yet another way to separate us and treat us like crap. All because I have a flashy red label next to my name. To hell with it all. I stood in the line watching as people existed around me. I never felt like I was existing anywhere close to them. Eulalia was having a conversation with October, Mara was having a moment with her boyfriend and Seraphineas is breaking up a fight. Oh this chaotic world of mine.

“You know,” I heard a deep voice behind me. An air of familiarity hit and shifted to my comfortable numbness once I knew who it was. “The point is for you to move up when people leave, right. Don’t tell me you grew attached to that thing.” Yup, same old Thayer. I took a few steps forward closing the gap between me and the tall Rogue girl in front of me. “Still not much of a talker, huh, Jailbait?” He said quietly enough so only I could hear him. Part of me wanted to clock him for bring up that stupid ass nickname. Another part wanted to give a smart ass reply. I was so in my own head, I missed the opportunity. “You always did prefer hunks of metal to people.” He bit. I just knew the bastard had a smirk on his face right now. “Hunks of metal don’t talk and aren’t nearly as narcissistic.” I responded, adamant on getting away from the prick.

I was never so glad to see a Capital in my life and this one was a real bitch. The younger woman had the angriest look in her eye when I walked up, not sure why. I don’t fuck with Capitals and the feeling was mutual. “Have you stolen any property not belonging to you during the conclave?” What the fuck was there to steal, all the shits a person could give? “No.” She sized me up before shooting a quick glance to Thayer, who was still behind me. “During the Conclave, did you skip a mandatory announcement for-” She looked at Thayer again, this time slowly taking in his features, “any reason of recreation?” Is she serious? I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, we ran off to tap dance on the Torch. I guess you caught us.” I could hear a few people snickering at my rebuttal. At least they have a sense of humour.

Eulalia

Tauriel looked about as comfortable as I thought she would. She had a scowl on her face as the attendant pried the cuff off of her wrist. “Ak heppia?” I called out to her. She turned to me with a small smile. She didn’t have to look up to see who was talking to her, I’m pretty sure only a handful of people still speak Dyselian. It made Tauriel feel safe, like people couldn’t poke their nose into our thoughts and conversations. She nodded slowly, she was alright but the exhaustion of having to deal with so many people was getting to her. “Mhe am heppia, mhe just desir to vette hadven.” I chuckled at that, because of course she just wanted to go back home. I honestly am not sure why she didn’t want to stay. Most girls would kill to get Thayer to utter a single word to them. Like most Regal boys, he was broad shouldered with rippling muscles that were obvious under any shirt and tall as hell. Who was I kidding, she'd rather break every bone than deal with her old tormenter again.

She walked over to Toby and I, glad to be with people she could actually tolerate. “U beso to gat allies!” I whispered, pinching her arm. She visibly cringed at the idea. “Mhe would rather pia in hutted.” she replied, turning to look at October. She quickly signed ‘Eula says I need to make friends.’ The taller boys tried to stifle his laughter before he signed ‘She’s right.’ Tauriel rolled her eyes before the two began to playfully bicker back and forth. I left them to their devices when I turned to notice Mara standing to the side waiting for Cecil to get his cuff off.

“Hey, Fox.” I said nudging the redhead’s shoulder. She quickly turned to face me, a smile quickly spread when she realized I wasn’t some other Regal. She whispered a quiet hello before turning to look at her boyfriend. It’s been a while since I’d seen Cecil but he grew up nice. He was now a little over six foot two, typical for Rogue males. “He asks about you two.” Mara stated seemingly out of the blue. I know she worried about him all the time, more so since he stopped coming over for exams. It was the same look in her eyes the night she called Tauriel and I to help him after a few guards thought it right to attack him. “You let him know it’s nothing for me to do an exam?” I asked as the freckled young man moved up in the line. Mara’s voice quivered as she nodded “Everyday. He doesn’t want to bother you, you being a doctor and all.” She smiled slightly when he waved our way. “He still working in the mines?” I asked. Mara scoffed, “Like he’d ever stop. Thick as he and his buddies are?” I couldn't help but laugh. Cecil definitely hadn’t changed. I nearly jumped out of my skin when the chimes rang throughout the city. Fuck!

“Tell him I say to give that shoulder a break every once in a while!” I say before I began running back to Tauriel and October. This wasn’t good. Tauriel looked ready to break something. Her fists were clenched so tight, I thought she'd pierce the skin. As quickly as I could, I signed to the two of them, ‘We need to leave. October, you’re staying at our house for tonight.’ Tauriel froze in place. I only sent her a sympathetic smile when October ran to grab his protector. Thayer had placed his hoodie over October as we all started to Tori and my building. We walked the back alleys and listened for the easy to identify marching of the guards.

I’m not surprised that Thayer is good at this. He was a hunter. Standing at nearly six six, he is both light on his feet and stealthy. I imagine his training was horrifying but I know for a fact that he learned his skills while he was in prison not when he got out. He had the same urgent distrust of his surroundings that Tauriel has whenever she leaves our house. What the fuck did they do to them?

Tauriel sneaks to the back of the building and then there’s silence. I held my breath as I waited for her. I smiled when I heard a whistle emit from around the corner. We were behind the building in a second as she held the window open. She turned to Thayer first, I know it was because he was the tallest and the window was a little more than seven feet above the ground. He went down feet first and let out a satisfied smirk when he landed. I sent October in next, only because I wanted him inside before any guards decided to check back here. I went next, grabbing onto the copper pole that hung above the window I quickly slid in. Thayer made sure to place me down on the concrete floor rather than actually let me jump. Tauriel came in and jumped from the window, closing it before the guards could see her.

We got inside just before eight. The second we entered upstairs from the basement, the alarms started blaring. They had placed a curfew after the Conclave. I can see Tauriel standing awkwardly by the door before she disappeared into the garage. October sent me a curious look and I was glad he didn’t hear what I assumed to be her shelf colliding with the ground or the string of Dyselian profanities. He didn’t need to witness that. Thayer seemed a little shocked at first but I guess he knew the feeling because he sent me a sorrowful half smile.

“Hey! Go lon out isei yella!” She reluctantly exited the garage with a kid bruise forming at her knuckles. She looked beyond pissed. “Mhe deid howa infolo! Mhe deid howa infolo it was a angaari!” She began pacing around. I sent a look to October who was all too quick to leave, practically dragging Thayer behind him as he headed upstairs. I could feel Tori’s blood boiling from here. “I knew they were up to something. I should’ve guessed there would be a trap too!” I said nothing. She was right about something weird going on. The Capitals never offered more money than necessary, they never offered grands and fundings to more than one person each. It’s fairly odd that three people won the grands and six won the funding.

We walked upstairs seeing Thayer and Toby looking for something to eat. Tauriel had walked into her room, closing the door behind her as I walked into the kitchen. October was stuffing his face with bread, not at all worried about anything today had to offer. Thayer on the other hand was standing against the wall, watching as his little brother consumed his food ravenously. I could see how hungry he was too. I tossed him a loaf of his own, standing next to him as we watched the near twenty year old fill himself while sitting on the floor. “You take great care of him.” I said quietly. Most people thought that Rogues like Thayer, tough guys who got into fights, were barbaric animals. They get told that they’re animals so much that they believe it so much.

He looked me in the eye before quickly averting his gaze to the floor. He shrugged off my compliment like it was nothing, but the itching of his lip and the dimple in his cheek let me know that he appreciated it. We sat in silence for a minute before I blurted out “Can I ask you something?” To which he laughed in response. He rolled his shoulders back and relaxed a bit. “Go ahead but I might not answer.” ‘Cheeky bastard’ I thought, rolling my eyes at him “It’s about Tauriel.” He got serious rather quickly at the mention of her name, standing up and staring at me in concern. “Sure, what’s up?” His voice dropped a bit.

“What was she like? In prison?” It hurt me to ask but I might learn something. I pretended not to notice the disappointment and guilt in his eyes even though his long hair had fallen in his eyes.He scratched the back of his neck before clearing his throat. “She was noticeable.” He smiled to himself. “When she got there, a bunch of guys sought her out as a punching bag. They learned pretty quick not to mess with her.” his voice carried such pride as he spoke it was kinda heartwarming. I knew this story. Some prick came in ready to throw punches on anyone in there, he immediately thought Tauriel would make a good target. Thayer got in the way just in time. It’s why he started calling her Jailbait. Easy pickings for a prison brawl. “She was so fucking smart! So much smarter than the guards there. Smart ass got into her fair share of trouble. They threw her in the pit the first night!” That explained a lot. “She came back with a tattoo, we all did.” He mumbled, pulling down the neckline of his shirt to reveal his collarbone. Liberties lined his skin from his collarbone to his right shoulder. “What does “people are poison” mean?” I asked suddenly. He seemed caught off guard. “It means that most people will try to kill you before they actually help you.” He must’ve noticed my furrowed brow because he immediately nudged me with his shoulder “Don’t worry. It’s about Capitals.”

I scoffed. “You definitely sound like Tauriel. She always worries. Thinks they’re monsters that suck the world around them dry.” He laughed at the idea. “You think they’re evil too?” I asked. He shook his head. “I think they know not to poison the water they need to drink.” He says picking up October, who had fallen asleep on my kitchen floor with a half eaten bread roll in his hand. “You boys take my and Tauriel’s beds. We got a couch in the garage.” Thayer shot me a look of refusal. “Like you AND October can fit on the thing, go!” I shooed him away with a humoured grin plastered on my face. He put October in my room, I had a sneaking suspicion he would. “Any particular reason why you opted to take the room of a young girl, Mr. Michaels?” I heard him scoff. He looked up at me with a grin. “She fashioned her room like I did mine.” He responded. I shot him a curious look before it hit me. It looked and felt like a prison cell. That’s why it was always so cold.

I stood silently in the doorway of the garage. Tauriel, currently sitting on the floor fixing her busted shelf with her braid in a sort of bun, paid no mind to my existence as she worked. “You can come in here.” She mumbled under her breath before filling the shelf so it stood at its proper height. I sat on my bench, filled with some of my tools as Tauriel sat in hers. She was tinkering away at something.

When she was arrested, I became her only family left. I would call her everyday and visit her every chance I got, but these walls became so quiet when she went away. I would go to school, earn some quick cash from dumb kids then big bucks from dumb adults. I called her and taught her lessons over the phone and she’d be happy. When I’d go visit her, she’d keep her head down and speak slowly. There were times I’d wonder if she’d make it, but as time went on she became the queen. When she was finally let out, due to the ‘Liberty Act’ all occupants twenty one and lower got released at that point she was seventeen and only a fraction of the eleven year old I saw arrested over a decade ago for no real reason.

She came out with a tattoo, two Liberties on her waist and a new habit of looking over her shoulder at every turn. On her twenty first, when she was branded Bruise by the rule of the Capitals I noticed the scars on her back for the first time. She was wearing her hair up, similar to how it was styled right now, and her top tied around her neck leaving her upper back open. She said she wanted to see the rain so we figured out a way to do it. That year, she spent over a hundred days teaching me how to fix things. I guess when you have a tendency to break things you learn how to fix them.

“I saw Mara earlier. She and Cecil said hi.” I saw her break into a small smile. She adored the redhead, always finding humour in her quickly retorts and sarcastic remarks. “Tell them I say hi.” Tauriel went back to work in a much better mood. “You know…” I started watching Tauriel place an old pair of headphones over her ears. She nodded at me to continue. “With Cecil’s longer hair and dimples, he kinda looks like Thayer…” I held in my laughter when Tauriel’s face fell. She rolled her eyes dramatically before taking off the headphones. “Eula, sharp bone structure and long hair is kinda the norm. And don’t go ruining Cecil for me, he’s my friend.” She still laughed. It’s been years since I heard that sound.

I always loved the sound of Liberties in the morning. The sweet sound of their bird song that let me know I was still in the garage when I should’ve been sleeping hours ago. What did I care? I spent most of my nights on this very bench and often woke up with my head against the cool metal of my desk. I sit with my head in my hand for a minute or two before I actually stand. The boots I ditched last night were still on the floor by my feet, so I decided to leave them there and go eat. The fixed up headphones were around Tauriel’s neck, with a stray wire tickling the back of her head. “Need your room back?” He asked from behind me. I actually did but I wasn’t going to let him know that. I spared a glance in his direction, he almost filled the door frame. He was smirking at me. That devilish smirk, like I didn’t know that's not who he really was. “Is October awake, I need him for something.” I kept my voice cold as I spoke to the older man. He gave me that look, the same one he gave me in prison when he wasn’t overly trying to be a jerk or when he thought I wouldn’t notice. He gave me a quick smile before heading into my room for the sleeping twenty year old.

Toby came out rubbing his dark brown eyes. I pulled him into the kitchen as Thayer emerged. He smiled at his brother before pushing off the door post he was leaning on and going back into Tauriel’s room to get dressed. October kept looking around the kitchen for food as I placed a food bag in front of him. We went through the cupboards, grabbing things for the young man to take home. I knew it would be easier for me to stock my cupboards rather than Toby and Thayer to stock theirs. We were almost done wrapping the bread when the alarm blared throughout the city. “THAYER MICHAELS, REPORT TO THE HAULING STATION.” I nodded at October to continue, letting him know I’d be right back before quickly making my way to the hall where Tauriel was waiting outside the bathroom. When he came out of the bathroom, his hair was tousled and slightly damp. Tauriel wasted no time heading into the steam filled room, waving the soft white clouds from her face. “Sorry in advance. I used a lot of hot water.” He stated through the door to which Tauriel offered no reply. Whatever he did to get this reaction from her must’ve been bad. I saw a glint of that subtle irritation in his eyes, understanding too, but mostly just irritation. “Don’t worry, she likes to take cold showers.” He looked my way with a forced smile. I watched as he quickly put on his jacket and boots shooting me a questioning look. I chuckled knowing exactly what he planned to ask me. “I’ve got work in a couple hours, but Tori will watch him okay?”

He only stiffly nodded before opening the door and heading to the Hauling Station.

@jayloxoxo @thinkinghardhardlythinking @justagirlinafandomworld @mashedpotatowithcheese

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part three) Fandom: Supernatural AU Characters series: Reader, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen Singer-Harvelle, Jo Singer (Harvelle), Benny Lafitte, Ash Miles, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Castiel Novek, and many more. Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventually) Word count: ±5200 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family.  Summary part three: Things are awkward between the Reader and head-wrangler Dean, and her nerve wrecking first day at Gold Canyon Ranch hasn’t even started yet. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: Check out ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Thank you @kittenofdoomage, @coffee-obsessed-writer and @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish for helping me. You girls are awesome betas. 

Ride With Me Masterlist

     Before the alarm even has the chance to awaken Y/N from her restless sleep, she turns it off and rises from her bed. As she hops off the small mattress, she hits her head against the top bunk and lets out a groan. Wonderful, she thinks to herself as she rubs her head and grids her teeth, just what I need at 5.30 in the morning.       She flicks on the light, which stings her eyes the moment the rays hit them. For a second she glances around the ten-by-six room, of which most of the space is occupied by the two-story bed and a closet. Oh well, at least she has the room to herself. She would feel even more claustrophobic in the small space that she can call hers for the next six months. 

     By taking in a deep breath, she tries to calm herself down. Today is the first line of a new chapter in her life, the chapter in which she will prove to the world that she is not just some stuck up rich kid from upstate who is offered all life’s best opportunities by her parents. She does get everything she wants, alright, because she works hard for it. She has worked hard for her degree, she has worked hard to become a pro reining rider. And now she will work hard shoveling horse shit. Y/N isn’t a simpleton; she saw how interns were treated at the livery stable where she boarded her horse, back in Freeport. They tend to end up with all the chores nobody else wants to do; the dirty jobs. Come to think of it, she might have used an intern to clean up her mess every now and then, and boy, does she regret it now. If karma exists, today it will bite her in the ass. 

     With a sigh, she gets up, grabs a towel, her shampoo and makeup bag, and quietly heads for the shower without waking anyone. The warm water falling on her skin does not only cleanse her body from a damp and restless night, but also her mind. The intern expects today to be dreadful, but she needs to stop being so negative.           Maybe you will get to go on a trail today, that would be fun, she reassures herself under the spray. You’ve got Jo to back you up, you will be fine.

     You. Will. Be. Fine.

     Nevertheless, nerves tighten knots in her stomach again, as it did when she stepped into the saloon last night. What if I won’t be fine? What if the workload is too heavy, what if I’m not cut out for this job?      Getting tired of her own brooding, she washes out the conditioner and turns off the shower. After drying her hair, she wraps the towel around her chest and secures it by tucking one hem behind the other, then starts on her makeup. 

     This is her daily routine, no matter how early she needs to get up for it. Confidence is not her strong suit and looking as good as she can, gives her just enough boost to get by, especially on nerve-wracking days like these. After fixing her eyelashes with mascara, she hears a door creak open in the hallway; sounds like the rest of the crew is waking up too. After tightening the towel, making sure that it’s not coming off on her stroll back to her room, she opens the bathroom door. A young woman with dark wavy hair throws an old coffee filter in the trash. All she’s wearing is an oversized plaid shirt that reaches over her thighs.       “G’morning,” the brunette greets friendly.      “Hi,” she returns, somewhat hesitant, then extends her hand towards her as she takes a step in her direction in order to introduce herself. "I'm Y/N."      “Casey,” the natural beauty replies, shaking her hand.      Last night, she was there in the saloon, but Jo didn’t introduce them. Y/N assumed she was a guest, but now that she finds her here in the bunkhouse, she figures Casey must be personnel.       While pouring herself a cup, she looks up at Y/N. “You want a cup of coffee?”       “Yes, please,” Y/N obliges, appreciating a mug full of warm brew to help her wake up. "I'll throw on some clothes first."

     As Y/N turns around to retreat back to her room to get dressed, the door closest to the kitchen area opens. When she sees the man at the door, her jaw drops and she swears to God that her heart beats twice as fast from the moment her eyes capture the person in the doorway. It’s Dean, but wearing distinctively less clothing. His worn-down jeans are the only thing he’s wearing, hanging from his hips, only held by a leather belt with a silver inlaid buckle. Y/N’s eyes glide up, noticing the happy trail running up his abdomen. My oh my, is that body a nice one. Proportioned, toned, and tanned from years of ranch work under the Arizona sun. Broad shoulders, strong arms. In her mind, it feels like she has been taking him in for at least a minute, but thankfully she only needs a split second to snap out of it, not wanting to get caught staring again. It’s only then when she realizes that she herself is draped in nothing more than a towel, exposing almost as much skin as he is. There it is, the first moment of the day when she wishes to be invisible.      “Morning, Yankee,” he greets, his voice still raspy from sleep.      “M-morning,” she manages to mutter.      She then points at her room awkwardly, pressing the towel against her chest, after which she stammers something unintelligible and turns to self-consciously walk back to safety. His eyes burn in her back, and when she turns towards him as she closes the door, a suppressed smile that expresses both amusement and appreciation adorns his handsome face. Y/N only breathes out again when the door falls in the lock behind her. God, could you be more embarrassing? Good job on not making a total fool of yourself!       She takes a deep breath and runs both her hands through her hair, trying to push the moment to the back of her mind, then drops the towel and quickly hoists herself in underwear, and after that a pair of dark jeans. Get yourself together, Y/N. Sure, he looks incredibly hot, but he is not the first good looking guy you’ve come across. He shouldn’t have this effect on you, Jo warned you about him, for crying out loud!       Lecturing herself, she puts on her bra and a denim blouse, after which she steps in her boots. The shine has worn off, since she kicked through the dirt on her way to the bunkhouse last night, making them a little less conspicuous. Quickly, she blow-dries her hair, straightens it out with an ironer, and glances at the reflection in the small mirror. A nervous and insecure little girl stares back, the image having her sigh deeply and close her eyes on herself. On the corner of the bedpost, her custom-fitted Milano western hat waits. She brought two hats to Arizona, one being a navy blue Stetson that she has had for ages, the other is the black Milano, which her grandfather gave her before debuting at the State Championships. Ever since that win, it has become her lucky hat. She picks it up by the crown, moves it over her head, and then pushes it down on her hair, pulling the front dip down a little deeper over her eyes. There, much better. Just walk out there, pretend nothing happened. You’ve got this.       After another deep breath to ground herself, she exits her room and joins the others in the living area. Jo, Benny, and Garth are there too, trying to wake themselves with some caffeine. Dean has settled on the leather couch, also sipping his coffee. He’s fully dressed now, thankfully. She’s not sure if she could have looked in his direction if he wasn’t.

     “Hey! Slept well?” Jo wonders, pushing a coffee filled mug in her direction.      “Yeah, fine,” Y/N answers, forcing a smile.      Not at all, but no need for them to know. A quick glance at the clock above the stove tells her it’s 6.20; only ten minutes until this dreadfully slow day is going to start.      “Is Ash up yet?” Dean checks with the rest.      “What do you think?” Jo returns snarky.      With a grunt Dean gets up, walks over to the door next to her and bangs on it loudly. “Ash!”       A loud snore comes from behind the closed door, followed by nervous rummaging. “I’m up!”  

     With a chuckle, Dean returns to the living room, where Casey stood up from the chair. Wearing the same clothes as she did last night, she walks up to him.      “I’m heading off. Breakfast with the girls,” she announces, after which she leaves a kiss on his lips. He answers her and closes his eyes as he does, stalling the motion for a second longer. Then they part and he smiles down on the gorgeous girl.      “See you in the saloon tonight?” Dean checks.      “You betcha,” Casey replies, staring him down flirtatiously, before she exits the bunkhouse.      The wrangler pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, grinning content as he settles on the couch again. All this time Y/N has watched him, a bit perplexed by what just happened. Suddenly it makes sense why Jo didn’t introduce her to Casey; she’s a guest who just happened to have spent the night here, with Dean. When she directs her focus to Jo, the blonde cowgirl mouths ‘told ya?’ triumphantly. Chuckling, Y/N shakes her head. Jo was right, and boy is she glad that she told him to find his booty call elsewhere. 

     In the meantime, Ash has joined them and five minutes before their shift starts, the group of wranglers and workers head out. The moment Y/N steps outside, the heat that lingered despite the night hits her. Dear lord, she hasn’t lifted a finger yet and she’s already sweating. Before she can complain out loud, the intern looks up, instantly captivated by the landscape. Last night the veil of darkness didn’t allow the scenery to be appreciated, but now that the sun steadily rises in the east, warding off the clouds that float at the horizon above the Superstition Mountains, she is fully aware of its beauty. Bright rays of orange and yellow spread their light over their surroundings, draping all that’s in the sun’s reach with gold. Cows and their calves impatiently wait in their large stretched out pastures by the fence, moohing, eager for new hay. The dirt with a speck of red in it crunches under their boots as the smell of the country fills her nostrils.

      Suddenly the intern’s first day at the ranch seems a little less intimidating. She can’t wait to be around horses again, to hear them rustle their noses through their roughage and hear them neigh the moment the stable doors open. The way their presence triggers every sense of her to take in as much as she can possibly absorb, purely to enjoy the bliss feeling of belonging. In a year’s time, only a few days passed without spending at least some hours around these majestic animals. Christmas was one of those moments, yesterday was one too. One day without them and she already craves for their touch, their interaction, their companionship. Something called homesickness. Not for Maine, not for her friends and family, but for horses. Home is where the heart is. There’s a lot of truth in those words.

     “So, what is today going to be like?” she wonders eagerly, after catching up with Jo.      “We start with feeding, turning the horses out, and mucking stables. Dean and I usually ride a couple of horses before breakfast at 8.30. After breakfast, we tack up for the trail rides with the tourists. A few wranglers go out with them, others stay behind to groundwork horses, clean tack, stuff like that. Lunch at 12.00, depending on the heat we take a break and get back to work at 2 PM,” the ranch owner’s daughter fills in.      Y/N tries to memorize the schedule as well as she can. Her description of the day helps, though. It offers a grip on the situation, calming the nerves.      “The afternoon is different every day. Sometimes we have extra trails, the vet might come in, or clients for the horses that need to be sold. When it’s quiet the workers do maintenance on the property while we train more horses. We feed the animals round at 6.30, dinner is served at 7. Final feeding round at 10.”

     The humid air was already pressing heavily on Y/N. Getting through the day without passing out, is definitely going to be a challenge. Despite those circumstances, she catches herself looking forward to this day, something that she couldn’t imagine last night when she retired to bed. She directs her attention to the group again, when some of the workers fan out, heading for the hay barn next to the stables. Within seconds she hears the tractor start and watches Ash roll out the big old machine that pumps black puffs from the exhaust with every strike of the engine. A trailer loaded with hay bales is attached to the rusty tractor, carrying Benny as well, who found a comfortable spot in the back.       “Keep up, Yankee!” Jo looks over her shoulder, waiting for Y/N to step to it.      Quickly she follows the cowgirl, who on her turn is right behind Dean and Garth.       Seems like they aren’t the only ones who got up early to get work done, because Bobby is already pushing the feed cart through the hallway between two rows of stalls, scooping pellets into the horses’ feeders through the bars. Some impatiently kick against the wood in an attempt to rush the old ranch owner, but he’s not in a hurry. Instead, he mutters something to the grey in the left row that is making a fuss.      “Mornin’, y’all,” Bobby greets them, somewhat grumpy.      “G’morning. What are we up for?” Dean consults with his boss.      “Two rides. A slow ride in the morning and a mountain hack in the afternoon,” Bobby fills in, closing the lid of the bucket half full of oats, then turns to his new intern.       “What time does your horse arrive?” he asks.      “Around 2 PM, the driver would let me know if he would run late, but I haven’t heard anything so far,” Y/N notifies.      “The first box on the right is unoccupied. It’s yours for the next six months, but I expect you to work for it,” he says, an encouraging sternness in his voice.      “I will, Mr. Singer,” she assures him.      “Alright,” Dean interrupts. “Y/N, you’re with me.”      The authoritative way he speaks unsettles her a little, but she tries her best to hide it. She’s on his hip from the moment he starts walking through the barn, showing her around.      “Tack room is on the right. Wash the bits clean before you hang the bridles away and always fold a cover over the saddle. Put back everything where you found it, otherwise Garth will rip you a new one, he likes the place neat. The cafeteria is over here, we all gather here for breakfast and lunch. Same deal, keep it clean. The coffee sucks, but it will wake you up in the morning.”      Dean gives her a short moment to glance inside the small yet comfy hangout, which contains a wooden picnic table for ten, and a small kitchenette. Her eyes glide over the numerous photos on the wall of show horses, the ranch from a birds-view, and many other images, together with won belt buckles, ribbons, and a messenger board.      “You’ll find the schedule of the day on there, also important phone numbers, to-do lists, memos, you name it. Check it every morning before you start and every evening before you leave. If a horse loses a shoe or needs special care, write it on the board,” he tells her, after which he retreats back to the hallway.

     His flirtatious manors have disappeared after she flipped him off last night, just the way she wanted at that moment. But now that he has this coldness over him on the work-floor, Y/N isn’t so sure if this is what she was after. Is he a sore loser? Is that the reason why he’s so reserved all of a sudden? Or is he keeping personal and business separate? Confused, she follows him as the wrangler heads for the horse boxes.      “These are all training horses, some owned by us, some by clients. They are turned out in small groups, except for the stallions, which are turned out alone in the high fenced paddocks. Learn their names and description quickly, we can’t have a mare in a pasture with a stallion, and believe me, you wouldn’t be the first to do such a thing.”

     On the other side of the barn, he lifts the heavy bar out of the hinge in order to open the tall doors. Behind them lays several acres of land, split up in pastures and paddocks, their gateways surrounding the outdoor tack up area in a U-shape. In the center, a Joshua tree reaches up to a clear sky. The old specimen must have been here for a while, since it has grown to a stunning height of at least thirty feet, offering shade to whoever needs it. To the right, a round pen is situated together with a large outdoor training arena. The yucca tree as well as the wooden fencing, are illuminated by the warm rays from the rising sun. Y/N tips her hat forward to protect her eyes from the brightness, enjoying the view. It’s a gorgeous sight and she wonders how long it has been like this. The tree almost seems sacred in this setting, an old soul that has been watching over these lands for decades, maybe even centuries. In the far distance, a herd grazes on the slopes leading up to the Superstition Mountains.           “Those are our trail horses. We’ve got about twenty of them. They stay out in the fields twenty-four seven and only come in for rides,” Dean tells her, after which he goes on with the tour, pointing out each while naming them in a rush. “Stallion paddocks, pastures, round pen, arena.”

     He heads back inside, expecting the intern to be right on his heels, but she hesitates, still absorbing the information. For a split second he observes, because she isn’t the only one who is taken aback by the view. Her silky hair falls down from under her western hat, the profile of her nose, lips, and chin outlined by the morning sun. The place mesmerizes her, just like it did when he first saw it. In fact, one of the first memories he can recall is sprinting through the barn towards the sunrise, his mom requesting with a gentle voice not to run, because it might spook the horses. He listened and halted in the large door frame, gazing at the enormous tree in front of him. He couldn’t have been more than four years old. Pushing the memory away, Dean lifts his gaze back at his intern and gets back to business.      “C’mon, we ain’t got all day!”            Y/N snaps out of it and approaches him, clearly not at ease and he regrets striking such a tone instantly. He can’t help it, though. Of course, he needs to be tough on the rookies, he has to if he wants to determine if they are right for the job or not. Ranch life is hard work, not to mention that they are handling horses and cattle weighing a thousand pounds each. A small error can have huge consequences, and since she’s under his supervision, he wants to prevent mistakes at all costs. But is it just that? If he’s honest with himself, is he really being an ass because he’s the boss? Or does he have to admit that he’s still slightly annoyed by the fact that his ego got damaged by this fierce new face? Normally he would shake off a rejection - not that he had many - yet she brought out of balance. Why is that? He gave it some thought, especially the way she responded to him right after she entered the saloon. Those lingering stares they exchanged, the way she got all flustered when he surprised her with his eyes. It didn’t go unnoticed, so the harsh ‘no’ when he went over for a chat still feels like a slap in the face. Somehow, it didn’t add up, because he could have sworn he felt a connection. It occupied his mind to a degree that he was still thinking about the woman who shot him down while having sex with Casey. 

     Forcing himself to get a grip, he continues to walk down the alley between the stables, footsteps echoing under the high ceiling. Jo and Garth already started preparing the horses for their free time outdoors, strapping protective boots to their legs. Bobby’s daughter takes a bay quarter horse out of his box after which she opens the stable door for a beautiful palomino as well and leads the two horses outside. Iron horseshoes click on the paved grounds rhythmically, soothing like a metronome.      “Each horse has its own halter. Some wear leg protection, which you can find in these bags,” Dean continues, taking a pair of overreach boots out of a canvas bag hanging from the stable door, along with a halter.       He opens the stall without making eye contact with his intern, focusing on the horse that curiously comes closer to meet him. Uncomfortable, Y/N waits for his next instruction by the door. Should she speak up? This time she reconsiders her words carefully, but she cannot stand the tension that is hanging in the already humid air.      “Dean, about last night…”      Her voice is so hesitant that it triggers the wrangler to turn and face the young woman, his expression shifting from annoyed to something much more gentle. In comparison to the deliverance of her message yesterday, she seems timid now.       “I know I was a little… blunt, when I told you to go find your luck elsewhere. The thing is, that I really need to focus on this job and on my placement here, do the best I can. I don’t want to mess this up or get sent home early. I can’t afford distraction,” she explains, trying to smoothen things out.      Observant Dean returns her gaze while he gently pulls the halter over the horse’s ears, securing the snap of the throat lash to cheekpiece. He doesn’t mean to, but a small smirk fights it’s way up to the surface. He’s got to say, he respects her for keeping her eyes on the ball. Bobby was right; she is a go-getter.      “Where is this coming from?” he wonders, voice much softer than it has been all morning.      “Well, I kind of had the feeling you are giving me the cold shoulder,” she confesses, uneasy.

     Again silence, this one at least as awkward as the previous one. How many hours ago have they met each other? Not even ten? And yet, despite being a little insecure about it now, she seems to be able to express herself quite well. It’s an aspect that stands out, one that Dean likes. She doesn’t beat around the bush, that’s for sure.      “You might have a point,” the wrangler admits. “But I need to be tough on the interns. It ain’t a cashier job at Walmart, this line of work can get dangerous. Do understand that I’m your supervisor and that it’s my responsibility that you--”      Whoa whoa whoa, stop it right there. Rewind and play again. He’s her what now?      “You’re my supervisor?” she repeats in shock.      Dean nods, confused. “Yeah, didn’t Bobby and Ellen tell you that?”      She shakes her head and buries her face in her hands as the embarrassment washes over her like a tidal wave. She cannot believe she wasn’t aware of this!      “N-no, they didn't…” Y/N stammers. First, they forget her at the airport and now this? God, this place has communication issues!        “I’m so sorry. What I said, that was just downright disrespectful,” she apologizes, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks.      “Don’t worry about it,” he says, shrugging it off. “Can you get Argo? He’s in the box next door.”

     She nods, not entirely at ease just yet. Nevertheless, she steps to it, takes the halter and splint boots, and enters the stable to the right. Not being in the same box offers time and space to revise strategies, because she doesn't feel like the conversation has come to a solid end. Good grief, she feels like such an idiot. For someone who takes the job seriously, it was a pretty dumb move to talk back to the one person who is going to be her guide and mentor during this placement. He barely said a word before she treated him so rudely! He came up to ask if she was looking forward to her first day, for crying out loud! She has got to say something, anything to make it right. Before she can continue, though, the wrangler beats her to it.       “Look, I might have come on a little strong. I didn’t mean to put you in a compromising position. If I did--”        “No, it’s fine,” Y/N insists. “I think last night went down a little different than we both anticipated.”

     The wrangler keeps a hold of her gaze for a second and then nods, deciding to settle with that. She’s right; they both could have handled the situation differently. It’s good that they cleared the air, though. He usually enjoys bossing rookies around, but with her, he’d rather take a more gentle approach.      “I’m gonna take you thinking I’m a distraction as a compliment, then,” he comments jokingly.      Y/N looks up from her work as she puts the halter on the chestnut, chuckling lightly. Dean smiles at her response, her little laugh lifting the weight off his chest. Their eyes lock as they observe each other through the bars separating them, both very well aware of the slightly different vibe in the air. Dean - who was left somewhat disoriented after her decline - seems to have found his footing again. She can see it in the small crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes, in the dimples of his cheeks when he smiles. Damn, that smile. And there it is again, that sparkle. A shimmer in his eyes, like holding a beautifully cut emerald gemstone against the light.        “I was warned that you can be very distracting,” she returns, correcting him.      Jo walks past to fetch more horses to turn out, glaring at the pair as she passes by. Dean catches her ‘what the hell are you up to?’ stare, which he replies to by raising his eyebrows and intensifying his trademark smile.      “Let me guess. Jo told you all about how I spend my evenings?” he replies to her comment, almost a whisper to prevent his cousin from listening in.      “And your lunch breaks,” Y/N adds, well aware of the value of the intel.      He cringes at that, then chuckles, busted, as he clasps the lead rope to the halter, after which he bends down to strap the overreach boots to the lower leg just above the hoof. He never thought the day would come, but his experience with women isn’t exactly working in his favor right now. Is he keeping his hands busy trying to hide the embarrassment?       “Seems like I’ve built myself quite the reputation,” the cowboy concludes.

     She watches him through the barred wall, considering if she should say something. After all, she doesn’t want him to feel ashamed. What he does in his own time is none of her business. So what that he sleeps around? That doesn’t make him a bad person. Why should she even care? And yet, she can’t deny that when Casey kissed him back at the bunkhouse, jealousy tucked at her heart.       “No, you haven’t,” she reassures, trying to take away his embarrassment while pushing down her own thoughts. “I promise I won’t jump to conclusions anymore, okay?”      “Alright,” Dean agrees to that. “And you’ve got my word that I won’t treat you differently from now on. Despite that you were busting my balls yesterday.”       Finally at ease, she smiles, glad that they both find the memory amusing now. When she looks up at him again, the curved line of his lips evens out a little.       “Despite that - and please don’t take this the wrong way,” he adds on a more serious note, the short pause hanging between them, the moment intensified by his kind eyes, “I believe that you’re somethin’ special.”

     Surprised by his words, Y/N stares back at him. It’s not a joke, is it? Nor is it innocent flirting. She barely knows the guy, but she can tell he’s being sincere. Unlike yesterday, Y/N accepts the compliment, because this time she truly believes it’s not just a way to seduce her and lure her to his bed. He means it, and something tells her that he hasn’t said something like that to many girls before. That’s what she wants to believe, at least.       The flustered smile that his words ignites should give him even more confidence than he already possesses, but it does the opposite. With any other girl his eyes would remain fixed, letting his gaze do the talking for him. He would have let his content smile grow larger, he would keep his head up, stand straight with his shoulders back, not a speck of insecurity to be noticed. But not with her. With her, he averts his attention to the horse next to him, gently running his hand through the gelding’s mane, unable to keep his posture. Why does he do that? He was doing just fine the first time they locked eyes last night. Hell, he stared for so long, that she didn’t know what to do with herself. He was in control, until he settled down on that barstool next to the cowgirl. Until she told him ‘no’. Until she took the reins.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part four here