#man we need to get art for the blank dining room wall though like really

[deermouth]

Been renting this place for almost 5 years, finally framed and hung some art in my bedroom (incl 2 cool shadowboxed bugs I've had in my closet for like 2yrs)

[joaquinwhorres]

Blank Out - Ch. 2 (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

[ Masterlist ]

SUMMARY ››››› Bucky Barnes has a list of names–amends he needs to make. When he gets to yours, he finds the amends process a bit more…difficult than it should be.

WORD COUNT ››››› 3,550-ish

WARNINGS ››››› language

A/N ››››› I’ve decided that this story calls for alternating perspectives. Also, lemme know what you think about how this explores post-End Game life.

"You know Bucky Barnes?!"

Rocio was upon you before you had even fully entered the dining room. Despite the fact that it was probably cutting off her circulation, the eight year old was still proudly wearing her "Soldier Arm". You were surprised she could even put it on anymore, a thought that brought on the bittersweet feeling of nostalgia. When the two of you had constructed the costume four years ago, you had needed to roll the ends of the glove up and then safety pin it to the top of Rocio's sleeve to keep it from sliding off. Now it didn't even reach her shoulder anymore.

"I never mentioned that?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No!" Rocio exclaimed

"Oh," you shrugged, rounding the table and passing by a wiggling Ravi in his booster seat.

Rocio fell into step behind you letting out an indignant and frustrated sound. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

She had an amazing and irritating talent for both shouting and whining at the same time. You breathed out your annoyance through her nose.

"Rocio," you said, flatly. "Do you really think I know Bucky Barnes and kept it a secret from you?"

The little girl pouted for a second as she thought it over before slowly shaking her head. "You're not very good at keeping secrets."

"Hey," you pointed a finger at her.  "I never told anyone about your crush on Spider-Man did I?"

"I was six!"

"And yet, old enough to propose," you grinned, remembering finding the letter Rocio had addressed to Spider-Man with haphazardly spaced and sized letters. It had taken a few attempts to decipher some of the spelling, but it had proven excellent material to tease Rocio about for the past two years.

Your niece scowled at you and marched back to the table, dramatically throwing herself back into her chair.

You turned back to the stove and the probably cold eggs, smiling to yourself in victory. It was a brief moment of peace as you dished eggs onto three plates because the moment you popped the first one in the microwave, the interrogation started back up.

"Well, if you don't know him, why was he here?"

"He wanted to talk to me and your mom," you said, watching the eggs spin round and round.

"About what?"

"The weather."

"Y/N!" Rocio hit her hand against the table, causing Ravi to jump in his seat and stare at his sister with wide eyes.

You whirled on your niece. "Rocio Ishani, you know better."

"Sorry," Rocio mumbled, casting her eyes down to the table--one of her tells of genuine embarrassment and regret. The microwave beeped, and you sighed, switching the plate out for another one.

"I don't know what he wants to have a conversation about. He was here for three minutes and you did most of the talking. And even if I did know," you added on, stopping Rocio before words could come out of the little girl's open mouth. "I don't think it's a child friendly conversation. Which means when he comes, you're going to your room."

"He's coming back?"

You nodded. "When your mom comes to pick you up," you said, stopping the eggs with six seconds left on the clock. You took the two plates to the table, setting the hot one down in front of your seat and the warm one in front of Rocio. You raised your eyebrows at your niece, gesturing with your head to the kitchen before turning back to get Ravi's plate. Rocio trailed you in, pulling out the silverware drawer to get forks for the three of you and tearing off three paper towels as napkins. She still hadn't quite grasped that Ravi wouldn't be using a napkin however much he needed one. Instead, she ripped one half sheet into a quarter, as if that would convince him to use it in the same way that the small bright green fork convinced him to be somewhat civilized in his eating instead of using his hands.

It was a few more minutes before you were all at the table, ready to eat.

"Your arm, please," you said, gesturing to Rocio's glove. The little girl put up no fight, shimmying out of it and lightly laying it on the empty chair next to her, signature side up so she could admire it all of breakfast.

While the interrogation seemed to be over, talk of the Avengers was not. Most of the breakfast conversation revolved around ranking the Avengers from most powerful to least powerful, and most helpful to least helpful, and the ever ambiguous "best" to "worst." And then, as it did with young kids, talk bounced from subject  to subject--connected only by the vaguest semblance of eight year old logic. It ended with a request to watch Wild Kratts after breakfast.

You did.

You did a lot of other things after breakfast too.

You made and played with play dough and stopped when you noticed Ravi was alternating between building with his and eating it.

You each drew pictures for Lilly with varying degrees of realism, had a fashion show turned impromptu dance party, and played hide and seek during Ravi's nap. (Rocio was such a good hider that you hadn't found her until after Ravi woke up, and you were definitely looking very hard and not reading a book.)

You painted each other's nails, and built an epic race car track for Ravi and made individual pizzas.

You raked leaves outside and picked a few favorites to press in books and even found time to fit in a small hurt self/strong self activity before Lilly arrived.

You were in the middle of deconstructing eating your creations when the front door opened.

"Where is my family?"

You looked up with a smile and gestured towards the door, but Rocio remained put. "We're in here!" she shouted, fingers sticky with peanut butter and fluff.

Lilly sauntered into the room, her emerald green suit still pressed and wrinkleless despite a day on the job. She arched her perfectly threaded eyebrows as she looked at you and daughter and the table all covered in graham cracker crumbs. "Looks like you three had a good day."

"Yep!" Rocio chirped, and Lilly clicked forward and into the corner of the room where Ravi was playing with his two cars on a section of the track.

"How is it my two year old is the least messy of the three of you?" she asked, bending over to press a kiss to Ravi's head. He squirmed away, continuing to move his cars along the track.

You laughed as Rocio licked a finger clean of peanut butter. "Because Ravi takes after you, and Rocio takes after me," you said, grinning at Rocio. Lilly frowned and crossed back over to the girls. "Don't worry though, I think we're all adventured out, so tomorrow we're just going to sit and stare at the walls."

"No!" Rocio shouted, and Lilly hushed her.

You tilted your head as if thinking. "I guess we could wash my car," you said, tapping your chin with a finger. "And the baseboards do need some dusting."

Rocio let out a dramatic groan, and you laughed, picking up a napkin to rub away at the spot of marshmallow fluff on her chin.

"Well, if you're not going to clean my house, you can at least clean your hands."

Rocio gave you a look of exasperation that she should have been much too young to even think about giving. Nevertheless, she slid out of her chair and headed to the sink, Lilly stopping her en route so she could press a kiss to the top of her daughter's head.

"How was work?" you asked as Lilly sunk into Rocio's vacated chair.

"People are idiots," Lilly rolled her eyes, giving a sigh.

"Says the literal genius," you returned, and Lilly snorted, shaking her head.

"It doesn't take a genius to follow simple instructions. I'll lay everything out for them, and even with pictures, they can't complete a single build without running into some potentially catastrophic error."

"That's not what you want to hear from the lead engineer at Stark Energy."

Rocio skipped back to the table, and Lilly scooched out her chair, gesturing for Rocio to come sit on her lap. The little girl veered off early though, instead attempting to climb into your lap. You shook her head, casting a quick glance at your sister who dropped her open arms.

"Your mom's missed you," you said, gesturing with her head across the table.

"I live with her," Rocio whined.

"And?" Lilly asked, moving her chair back up to the table. "I still miss you when I work."

"Really?" Rocio asked, walking over to the chair next to Lilly, and claiming it.

"Really," Lilly assured, placing an arm on the back of Rocio's chair, gently combing through her daughter's hair with her fingers. She looked up at you offering a small, weak smile before looking back down at her daughter. Her brow creased. "What are you sitting on?" she asked, tugging at something underneath Rocio. The little girl joined her mom in looking down, her eyes lighting up as she recognized the object.

"My Soldier Arm! Oh yeah! Guess who we met today!"

"Who?" Lilly asked.

"No, guess!"

You would have to teach your niece about the art of not playing a guessing game after making the answer so obvious. Then again, it still seemed so surreal that Bucky Barnes would turn up at your doorstep, that even with the "Soldier Arm", you doubted that Lilly would guess.

Lilly pursed her lips, putting on a show of thought. "Was it--"

There was a knock at the front door interrupting Lilly's guess. Rocio practically launched herself from the chair, already halfway out of the room by the time she could scream "I'll get it!"

"No!" Ravi shouted. His usual reaction when Rocio was too loud, too energetic, too Rocio.

Lilly exhaled a laugh at her son before turning back to you. "This was too much sugar," she said, circling a finger around Rocio's half-eaten creation. You laughed and Lilly smiled, and it felt nice for things to be normal between you--easy. Even if it was just for a moment.

A moment that was brought to a screeching halt by Rocio dragging Bucky Barnes into the combined kitchen and dining room by the hand.

"We met Bucky Barnes!" she chirped.

Lilly's face went slack, only managing to get out a small "Holy shit." Your eyes didn't linger long on your sister though. Instead your gaze was drawn to Bucky Barnes who looked vaguely amused at Rocio.

"Rocio, release your captive," you prompted, and reluctantly, Rocio released his hand, taking a few steps back towards her mother to give him some space.

"Is this--are you--what is happening here?" Lilly asked, looking between Bucky and you and Rocio, as if one of you had a reasonable explanation for this.You had only ever seen your sister this flustered twice before. Both of the previous occasions had been heartbreaking and traumatic, and you'd never quite gotten to experience how funny flustered Lilly was.

"He wants to talk to you and Y/N about something!" Rocio filled in.

Lilly's head whipped to you. "You know him?" she whispered, as if this was some secret conversation for your ears only.

You shook her head. "No, he just came by this morning and asked to speak with us."

"About what?" Lilly asked, furrowing her eyebrows and looking back to Bucky.

"I don't know."

For all of the differences between Lilly and Rocio--and there were many--their brain processing was eerily similar.

Bucky cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to him. "I um--I don't know if you want--" he gestured to Rocio. "Here for this."

"Rocio, go to your ro--the playroom," you corrected.

"I promise I'll be quiet if you let me--" Rocio started, and Lilly cut her off.

"Rocio, take your brother and go up to the playroom please,"

"But--" Rocio's face melted into the start of a complaint, but there a sharp cut of her mother's eyes stopped her dead. You remembered being on the receiving end of that look quite a few times while she was growing up. If anything it'd grown in power.

Rocio stomped forward, taking Ravi by the hand who whined and complained until she let him pick up a few cars to take with him, and the two exited the room, heavy footsteps echoing up the staircase.

You turned back to Bucky who was staring over Lilly's head, at the wall of family pictures.

The idea had hit you four years ago after Rocio woke up crying from a nightmare. Together, you spent the night going through old photo albums and Facebook albums, searching for the best pictures of the family. You ended the night with about forty pictures that needed to be framed, and the whole project took about a week to finish.

Every time the two of you ate lunch together over the past four years, Rocio would choose a picture, and you would tell her the story behind the picture. Your eyes flitted amongst them now.

There was the first time Lilly held you as a baby which was also the first time you smiled. Lilly's high school graduation--one of the few pictures with both of your parents in it, hovering on either side of Lilly as a six year old you sat on her hip. Lilly and Hector's beautiful wedding day. Lilly and Hector at your high school graduation. Lilly and you at the baby shower for Rocio, and Lilly and Hector at the shower for Ravi. There was one of Rocio's grandparents meeting her for the first time, and a good number of photos documenting your visits out to the family. Before the blip.

During your four years together, you and Rocio had also taken pictures of memories the family couldn't be there for and hung them on the wall; reminders of stories to tell should they ever return.

Rocio and you moving into a new house.

Rocio's first day of Kindergarten, first, and second grade.

The two of you and Rocio's ill-fated hamster, Churro.

Birthday parties and day trips that the rest of the family should have attended.

Bucky stared at the pictures, his frown deepening.

"Would you like to sit?" Lilly invited, allowing her collected professional persona to seep into her voice and straighten her spine.

The super soldier nodded, choosing the chair at the end of the table, closest to the door. He wet his lips, his eyes drawn from the pictures and down to the wooden table. It was strange seeing an Avenger--someone who had fought Thanos--seem so nervous in the company of two ordinary women.

He reminded you of the fourth graders who entered your office.

The fourth graders were always so hesitant to work with you--terrified of opening up and showing even a glimpse of vulnerability. It took three sessions just to get them to admit that they weren't fine and a few more before they lost the skittish look in their eyes. You doubted Bucky would be pried open by bags of chips or any of her fidgets, but figured you could at least try.

"Can I get you something to drink?" you asked, and Bucky shook his head.

"I don't want to take up too much of your time."

You nodded, and Lilly cocked her head. "So what brings an Avenger to my sister's house?"

He wet his lips and then looked up at the pair of you. "You're part of my efforts to make amends." Bucky made an attempt at a smile.

Across the table, Lilly's chest constricted with barely suppressed laughter, and the corners of your lips twitched in and out of a smile. Whoever had advised him to smile, surely hadn't meant for him to smile like that.

"What are you here to make amends for?" Lilly asked, her voice steady and betraying none of her amusement.

"I…" his eyes drifted back to the wall of pictures looming beside the group. "I'm the one responsible for your parents death."

You felt the world stop.

Or maybe it wasn't the world, maybe you stopped. Maybe every single atom within you stilled for a moment. Maybe your brain shut down and heart paused its beating, keeping you from thinking or feeling anything other than the numbness of shock. Because as surprising as it was for Bucky Barnes to show up on your doorstep at ten in the morning, you never expected he was responsible for changing your entire life.

"I know there's nothing, I could ever do to truly make amends--"

"You don't need to make amends."

Everything seemed to restart then. Your heart picked up its beating and brain whirred into action, sifting through memories and thoughts you'd long ago pushed to the back of your mind and locked there to remain untouched even by years of therapy.

Your skin prickled with flashes of images. The dark figure at the top of the staircase, the glint of metal you'd assumed was a gun in his hand, the cold blankness of his stare as his eyes bore into yours. And then the horror and sick relief of finding your parents in the moments after his disappearance.

"They were horrible people, and I'm glad they're dead. Thank you for salvaging my childhood"

"Y/N," Lilly gasped, horrified.

"You hated them too," you argued back. "Don't pretend you're not glad that Rocio and Ravi never have to meet them."

"Our relationship with our parents aside, they were still our parents. The least we can do is not thank the man who murdered them in their sleep."

Bucky for his part looked completely bewildered as his eyes darted between the two arguing sisters.

You shook your head. "You were more of a parent to me than they ever were."

"And it's because of that that I remember you waking up screaming every night for three years. So if you're not going to ask for amends for our parents' murder, at least ask for amends for what you had to go through because of him."

"My nightmares aren't because of him," you dismissed. Lilly would never believe--let alone understand--the reason behind your nightmares.

Seeing the argument was fruitless, Lilly tsked and dismissed you with a flip of her hair, turning instead to address Bucky. "Why?"

"Why…" Bucky stumbled along, confused by the conversational whiplash or the vague question.

"Why did you kill our parents?" Lilly demanded.

"Does it matter?" you asked.

"It matters to me."

You stared at your sister for a solid thirty seconds before, and shutting your eyes and bowing your head in surrender. Lilly didn't understand. If you had it your way, Lilly would never understand. You would never burden your sister like that.

Bucky swallowed hard. "I wasn't told the specifics of every...assignment. All I know is that your parents were working on something HYDRA wanted, and when they were offered a chance to join the cause, they declined. I was tasked with eliyoution and retrieval."

"Retrieval?" Lilly pressed

"Of their research."

Lilly gave him a single nod before looking down at the table in front of her. "I didn't even know they were conducting their own research."

You felt her skin prickle, an icy hot sensation shooting through your veins. Carefully calm, you reached across the table, palms open for your sister's hands. Lilly placed her hands into yours. "They never let us get to know them," you said gently, squeezing Lilly's hands. "That's why I'm angry and you're hurt."

Even as you said this, you could feel Bucky's gaze on you, intently studying your motions and facial expressions.

You looked back at him. "Thank you for coming to tell us. I'm sure it wasn't easy."

He nodded, his brow still slightly creased as he looked at her. And then his gaze flicked to Lilly, and you released a breath.

"I know it doesn't mean much--it doesn't change anything, but I'm not the person who did that anymore. I am no longer the Winter Soldier. I am James "Bucky" Barnes."

Lilly nodded, releasing your hands and looking Bucky square in the face. Her own expression was completely neutral, not a trace of a tear or any of the hurt she'd voiced.

"If you want to make amends, you should come here for Thanksgiving."

Neither you nor Bucky had been expecting that. Your instinctive reaction was to snort out a laugh as if it were a joke, and Bucky looked like the very dictionary definition of confusion: brow knitted together, eyes narrowed, mouth hanging open.

"It would mean the world to my daughter. You can think about it as replacing a memory of my daughter meeting her grandparents. you's right, this will probably be a happier memory anyway."

"You have to come!" Rocio rushed into the room, you and Lilly shouting her name in a mixture of surprise, horror, and reprimand. The eight year old made no excuses or explanations. Instead she stood by Bucky's chair, peering up at him with a bright intensity only a child could muster. "Please."

Bucky looked away from Rocio to Lilly and then you. "Ok."

[iron--spider]

sharp corners (whumptober - secret injury)

Tony keeps watching as newly minted one year-old Morgan toddles around her own party, gazing up at all the adults that are here, chronicling her every move. Pepper invited a few Stark employees with children around the same age, and it’s like watching a herd of baby deer muddle around, with no real intentions of going anywhere in particular. They’re just walking because they can. 

 But they have one very formidable foe in their paths. Sharp corners. Tony didn’t realize how many they had in this room, one of the living rooms with a kitchen and dining space—there are all kinds of coffee tables, side tables, weirdly shaped chairs. Danger at every turn. Or corner. 

 Peter swoops in so Morgan doesn’t run into the table beside the couch again. They’ve already got one crying baby being comforted on the couch, and every other second there’s another close call. Everybody’s on high alert. No baby is safe. 

 It’s getting under Tony’s skin.

 It’s becoming an unspoken thing, like everybody is afraid to say Tony Stark throws a shitty birthday party for kids, but they’re all standing in front of the corners and pretending they’re not. Peter is the only one being genuine, as always. And Tony can see everything May is thinking on her face. 

 Morgan stumbles into Peter’s arms, shrieking happily when he settles her in his lap. Since she started walking she usually doesn’t wanna stop for anybody, not even him or Pepper, but she’s had a special soft spot for Peter from moment one. Which doesn’t surprise Tony in the slightest. 

 He kneels down next to the two of them just as Peter is blowing raspberries into Morgan’s chubby little cheek. 

 “Can you hold court for a minute or two here?” Tony whispers, so Pepper can’t hear. 

 “Uh, yeah,” Peter says, giving Tony a look. “What are you gonna go do? Because more Barbies could really, like, liven this thing up. You don’t have the submarine Barbie down here and that’s her favorite one.”

 “I’m not gonna go get more toys,” Tony scoffs, shaking his head at him. “I’m gonna go deal with our little situation here.”

 “Situation?” Peter asks. Morgan is grabbing at the collar on his shirt, holding onto one of his fingers.

 Tony taps the corner directly behind Peter’s head. 

 Peter narrows his eyes. “What are you gonna do? File them down?”

 Tony glares at him. “Just trust me, please. Stay your interesting and endearing self and entertain the masses.” He taps Peter’s nose, ruffles Morgan’s untamed curls.

 “Uh, okay,” Peter says, and Tony glances back to see him watching him worriedly, craning his neck.

 Tony finds the tennis balls in a broom closet. He bought a lot of random shit when Morgan was born, a lot of shit they didn’t need, or didn’t need at least for another couple of years. He remembers Pepper’s face when he and Peter came back with the ten pack of tennis balls, among other unnecessary things. Tennis balls? Is someone making a career change? Are we getting a dog? Then Peter talked about a dog for twenty minutes, and appropriately distracted her from the roller skates and VR headset in the basket.

 Tony gets overzealous, he knows this, everybody knows this. He’ll probably never even use any of the shit he bought in his baby-induced stupor, because he can usually get something better or invent it himself. But he’s glad he got the tennis balls.

 He sneaks out of the closet, sliding along the wall like he’s on a covert mission, and that other baby is still crying. Jesus, he knew a one year old’s birthday party might be a miss, but these guys are gonna go away thinking Tony can’t babyproof his place. He marches deep into the kitchen, and thankfully, nobody’s gonna be in here for another half hour or so because that’s when the lunch is gonna arrive. He briefly wonders if everybody is judging their appetizers too, and shakes his head, getting back to the task at hand.

 Pepper babyproofed the set of knives, of all things, like Morgan was gonna climb up on this counter three times her height and choose a knife as her new toy. Tony unlocks Fort Knox, and takes out the sharpest one, glancing down at his feet to make sure one of the babies isn’t down there searching for something sharp. He’s alone, thankfully, and he pops open the tennis ball container like a can of cat food, and pulls the first one out. He puts it down on the counter, holds it with two fingers as he lines up the knife, and as soon as steel touches down on nylon, the ball pops away from his grasp and bounces across the kitchen.

 “Jesus Christ,” Tony mutters, knowing if Morgan hears that she’ll come zooming in here like an out of control mini-bus, and Peter definitely will, considering the enhanced hearing. He puts the knife down—scoots it closer to the wall just in case—and walks over to the offending tennis ball.

 “I am Iron Man,” he mutters, snatching the tennis ball off the ground, popping it from hand to hand. “I can, and will, conquer this foe. No more baby heads bumping into hard corners, oh no, not today.”

 He puts the ball back down on the counter again and tries to saw through it.

 “This shouldn’t be this fucking hard,” he groans, gritting his teeth. 

 The ball threatens to jump out and roll away again, and Tony’s getting a little too recklessly angry, the small voice in the back of his mind telling him to settle down.

 But that kid is still crying in the other room.

 Tony holds the ball in his hand and cuts away at it with his other hand, and it absolutely shouldn’t be this goddamn hard, and he reminds himself to pull his hand away when he gets all the way through the ball—

 But it falls apart like a newly cut apple a lot quicker than Tony expected, and he slices right through his palm like it’s what he’d been aiming for all along.

 “Shit,” he hisses, white hot pain shooting through him, the blood bright and horrifying red, not something he’d ever wanna see in the middle of his daughter’s first birthday party.

 “Oh, goddamnit,” Tony says, grimacing. He glares down at both halves of the ball, and moves over to the sink, quickly running the water over his injured hand.

 He knows immediately that this isn’t the kind of wound he can just wash off and walk away from, and he’s seen a lot of shit in his life. He knows he needs to take care of it, and that means Pepper will notice his absence. Then Pepper will find out the dumbass thing he did, and Pepper will be pissed. Nobody ever wants Pepper to be pissed.

 Tony watches the blood flood down the drain and chews on his lower lip.

 “Hey,” Peter’s voice says, as he comes around the corner. “What are you oh my God.”

 It’s like Tony’s heart is sucked directly into his throat and he whips his hand out from under the water, flinging droplets and blood fucking everywhere. And yet, he still hides his hand behind his back. 

 Peter stares at him. Looks down at the ball, cut in half, the drops of blood surrounding it like some half-assed modern art, and then back at Tony, the guiltiest man in the world. Peter narrows his eyes. “What did you do?”

 Tony scoffs, shaking his head. “What did I—nothing. I didn’t do anything. That’s always been there.”

 Peter stares down at the tennis ball. He looks up at the bloody knife on the counter. Jesus Christ. “You tried to cut the tennis ball in half to put on the table corners and you cut yourself.”

 Tony sighs, holding out his hand. It stings and the cut is still dripping. “Yeah, Pep is gonna be pissed if she finds out I did some dumb shit today of all days. Usually I get a pass—she gets irritated, yeah, but today is not a pass giving day.”

 Peter sucks in a breath and nods, moving into a mode that Tony has seen him in on more than one occasion. He opens up the second cabinet, takes out a glove—no, three gloves—and puts one on, depositing the other two on the counter. He grabs both pieces of the ball and tosses them in the trash, giving Tony a withering look. Then he grabs the Windex and starts cleaning up the blood.

 “Tony, like, do something, stop just standing there—”

 “Right, right,” Tony says, even though his brain is drawing complete blanks, because they’re still too close to the party itself and he’s fucking something else up for Pepper, as fucking usual, because that’s who he is and who he always will be.

 “Keep running your hand under the water,” Peter says, a little softer now. 

 Tony nods, rushes back over, and sticks his hand under the still-running water. Peter cleans the blood up best as he can, ignores the water that was sprayed with Tony’s sad attempt to hide his hand. 

 “Okay,” Peter says, throwing away the paper towels and the glove he was using. “Okay, okay, we’re gonna make a little compress, then we’re gonna put the gloves on your hands—”

 “Explanation for that?” Tony asks. 

 Peter shrugs. “I mean. You’re the one that can think on your feet. Remember the time I threw the bag of money out of the window?”

 Tony narrows his eyes. “How could I possibly forget?”

 Peter shrugs again, more dramatically. 

 Tony blows out a breath. “Okay, I’ll—I’ll think of something.” He’ll think of something stupid, that’s for sure, but Pepper is pretty used to that, so he might be able to pull it off.

 “Okay, I’m gonna go to the upstairs bathroom and grab the bactine—” He stares at Tony’s hand anxiously, and looks up at him. “I think we might need stitches.”

 “We?” Tony asks. “Can you feel it too?”

 Peter narrows his eyes at him. 

 “No time,” Tony says, waving around his free hand. He turns off the water, gesturing dramatically for a paper towel. Peter hands it to him with a big sigh. “You go get the bactine and the better bandages, I’ll do the compress for the time being—”

 Peter keeps looking anxiously at his hand. “Okay, okay, but Tony—”

 “Stitches tonight, promise, cross my heart, I’ll let her be pissed at me later, not now.”

 “Okay, okay, back in a flash.” Tony watches as he speeds through the hallway, and once he’s out of the danger zone he immediately crawls up to the ceiling and disappears towards the loft. Tony quickly makes a thin strip with a couple paper towels, and presses it on top of the cut. The blood still seeps through, and Tony rolls his eyes. Why in the hell did something like this have to happen today? He should be able to cut a tennis ball in half. It should have been too easy. He should have been able to cut them all in half.

 “Tony?” Pepper calls.

 His heart shrivels up in a panic. “Yeah, hun, I’m, uh, getting some more of the little—the little vegetables, and the, uh, the peas Mo likes! Yeah!” He doesn’t know why he added the last yeah in there, like a moron, and he definitely didn’t say any of it like a normal human being. 

 “Bring the carrots she likes too!” Pepper calls back, and Tony wilts in relief.

 “Yeah, gimme—couple minutes, I got this, I got this.” He shakes his head at himself, how he made bringing in vegetables sound like some immense task. He holds the paper towels to the cut, his fingers soaking with blood, and he thinks his body is being fucking overdramatic right now, he’s been cut worse without this much blood, it’s just gotta be bleeding like this—

 “TONY.”

 Peter’s voice, hushed but loud enough for Tony to hear. He turns around, inches from the fridge, and sees the kid standing there at the top of the stairs. In a flash, alright, but how, with the amount of shit he’s holding, Tony doesn’t know. Peter has bandages, bactine, Neosporin, rubbing alcohol, gauze, three of Morgan’s Barbies, including the newly purchased Black Widow one, and...the Hulk Smash hands. 

 Tony sees where this is going. Peter grins happily when Tony shakes his head at him, and he starts down the stairs when Morgan herself waddles into the hallway.

 Both of them freeze. 

 She stands there, keeping an unsteady hold on her stance, and she looks back and forth between the two of them, letting out a small, nearly silent squeal. They don’t have the baby guard over the stairs today, which is another negligence, but Peter shifts all of his loot into one arm, and rushes down, scooping Morgan up with the other. She grins, babbles something quietly to Peter as he moves fast into the kitchen.

 “What are you doing, little monkey?” Tony asks, bending down to look at her. She paws at his nose.

 “Tony, you got her?” Pepper yells. “She got away from Diane—”

 “Got her, got her, no help needed here, we’re good!” Tony yells back.

 “You keep sounding like someone is holding a gun to your head,” Peter says, putting all his supplies down on the counter. Morgan notices the Barbies, and looks at Peter in delight.

 “Yeah, I’m—I don’t hold up well under Pepper pressure,” Tony says, tossing away the blood-soaked paper towel and starting the work with the real first aid.

 “You got this?” Peter asks, swinging Morgan back and forth, making her laugh.

 “Yeah, kids,” Tony says. “Enjoy yourselves. Dad’s just bleeding.” He pushes everything down towards the sink, like on a conveyor belt, and the Surf Instructor Barbie tries to come along for the ride. “I assume I’m wearing the Hulk hands.”

 “Yeah, I thought that would be good, better than stupid cleaning gloves,” Peter says, holding Morgan against his hip. “You know like, none of her toys are age appropriate.”

 “I know,” Tony says, wincing at the Neosporin. “I go a little crazy with shopping for kid shit. I’ve got you to supervise.”

 “And no one’s taking Barbies away from little princess,” Peter says, kissing Morgan’s cheek. She loves that, and she laughs joyfully. Tony’s still got a gaping wound, but he peers over his shoulder to admire them, anyway.

 ~

 Peter cuts up the tennis balls and puts them on all the corners. Tony entertains as the Hulk for almost half an hour, and only slips up about his injury once, which he turns into a dilapidated roar. Everyone has fun, Morgan receives some toys that are more age appropriate, they eat, no more babies run into hard corners.

 Peter and May are showing Morgan her new dog guitar when Pepper peels the Hulk hand off Tony’s injured one. She raises her eyebrows at the wrapping which, thankfully, isn’t covered in blood.

 The dog guitar plays one long, mangled note, and Morgan claps.

 “I knew you’d done something to yourself,” Pepper says, raising her eyebrow at him. “I didn’t know what, but I knew you’d done something.”

 Tony grins, and absolutely does not look at Peter.

 “And this one helped,” May says, touching Peter’s knee with her foot.

 “How do you know?” Peter asks, accusingly. 

 “I just know,” May says, giving them both the same look.

 “Yeah, they work as a team,” Pepper says.

 Tony clears his throat. Well, it’s true. “I’m totally fine,” he says. “Just. Dandy. Just a scratch.”

 “You need stitches, don’t you?” Pepper asks.

 “Yeah,” Tony says, his shoulders slumping. “Yeah, I think I’ll probably lose the whole hand if I don’t get them within the next half hour.” He shrugs with his remaining Hulk fist. “Thor got these for her, right? Or was it us? I know it wasn’t Bruce.”

 “Yeah, it was Thor,” Pepper says. She leans in, kissing him on the cheek. “You’re a moron and I love you.”

 “I love you too,” Tony says, a little wary of her tone. “You’re gonna make Peter contact Helen, aren’t you?”

 “Oh, absolutely,” Pepper says, looking down at Peter. 

 “Got it,” Peter says, pressing a long kiss to Morgan’s forehead as she grasps at his chin. “Totally fair. Totally.”

 Peter and Tony walk towards the main door, shoulder to shoulder. 

 “I think we got off easy,” Tony says. 

 “Yeah, I was thinking she’d make me stitch it up myself,” Peter says. “Then we’d both be in trouble.”

 “I love you and I trust you, but yeah, no,” Tony says, patting him on the shoulder with the Hulk fist. He hopes the whole process goes quick. The five of them have a date with Barbie in Swan Lake tonight to cap off Morgan’s birthday. Hand or no hand. 

[hongism]

finding beauty in your darkest places - chapter 3

Pairing: TBA (ot7 x reader potentially in the future, unsure at the moment)

Genre: Psychiatric Clinic!au, Heavy Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 6947

Warnings: strong language; deals with mental and emotional illnesses and disorders as a heavy theme of the story, future graphic depictions of disorders - please do not read if this makes you uncomfortable

Rating: PG-13/Mature

Summary: Everyone has their issues, and everyone deals with them differently. Jungkook thinks that avoiding his problems is the best option out there.

aka

Jeon Jungkook is the newest patient at the Omelas Specialized Psychiatric Clinic, and he just wants to get in and out as quickly as possible so that he can go back to university and be with his friends again. Of course, that doesn't work out according to his plan.

a/n: i know jungkook doesn’t have a younger brother named hyungsik, but he does in this fic. remember it’s a work of fiction!! i’m taking lots of creative liberty with this

Chapter:

2 | 3 | 4

Finding Beauty in Your Darkest Places

Chapter 3: Cracking the Mask

Jungkook is moving as fast as he can without running, because the possibility of someone seeing him sprint past or worse, knocking someone over as he runs, is too present at the forefront of his mind. His notebook — the sole reason he went to his room in the first place — lies forgotten on his bed. He doesn’t need it anymore. Something else occupies his interest and attention, and he needs to remedy that before anything else. After seeing Hoseok, Jungkook feels dirty inside, as though he witnessed something meant for no one else’s eyes. He can’t shake the sensation no matter how hard he tries. At this point, there is only one option he has, and that is to seek out answers from the one person Jungkook trusts to ask.

So, for that reason, Jungkook bursts into the library with the expectation to find his target there, and it doesn’t deceive him, because there Namjoon sits. His thick framed glasses have made a return, and as he jerks his head to look at Jungkook, a few loose strands of hair fall over the frames.

“What happened?” He asks, eyes not leaving Jungkook’s. Jungkook must look a complete mess because there’s a thinly veiled look of panic in Namjoon’s expression.

Jungkook’s chest heaves as he struggles to catch his breath, only now aware of the anxiety attack that plagues his body. He tries to speak but his voice fails him, and he’s left making strange motions in the air. 

Namjoon shuts the book in his lap, and the snap of the pages resounds through the room. The sound flips a switch in Jungkook’s mind. He returns to reality a moment later, head still spinning and heart still racing.

“Ho-Hoseok,” Jungkook manages to stutter. “What’s wrong with him? I need answers, please. I need to know.” 

First, a sigh in response. Then, Namjoon doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, simply staring at the wall with pursed lips that accentuate the dimples in his cheeks. 

“This isn’t going to be the answer you want, but I’m going to remind you again that it isn’t your business to pry, Jungkook. I’m not doing this out of spite or to purposefully keep you in the dark. Simply put, I can’t share information about the conditions of the patients here.” Namjoon sets his book to the side. Jungkook watches the movement as he gnaws the inside of his cheek. But why not? What’s the big issue here?

“Fine,” he bites back, leaving Namjoon a bit shocked. “Then tell me what Yesung meant about Yoongi and Y/N.” He knows that he’s testing his luck, and Namjoon will most likely shut him down again, but Jungkook has too many questions to care. 

“Jungkook…you already know what I’m going to tell you.”

“You’ll say it’s not my business, but it is. It became my business when I witnessed the fight in the dining room. As a matter of fact, shouldn’t it be everybody’s business now?” Namjoon leans forward, hand finding his forehead, and he rubs the skin there while laughing weakly.

“You’re too damn smart and persistent. If you aren’t careful, you’ll do just fine as a troublemaker here.” Jungkook smiles to himself at the words. “Look, anything I tell you from this point on does not leave this room. You keep it to yourself. Don’t tell Taehyung, Y/N, nurses — no one. Got it?”

“Loud and clear.”

“When Hoseok came in, I was already a patient. At the time, I was assigned to be the person to help Hoseok get settled in and figure out how things work around the clinic. We were close early on because we’re the same age, so I used that as a common ground to get to know him better. I made a lot of effort to maintain that closeness with him, but as time passed we grew apart because Hoseok needed to be alone or away from other patients. It progressed quickly and in a bad way, to a point where no one would see Hoseok for days. Whenever we did see him…it was like a blank slate. All the effort and progress seemed to be erased. I can’t in good conscience tell you exactly what Hoseok is struggling with, but it’s nothing good. It’s not right to compare, especially here of all places, but I believe that his case is the worst out of everyone at the clinic. There isn’t much Omelas can do for him in all honesty.”

“Why is he here of all places then? There are other facilities and hospitals he could be at.”

Namjoon glances past Jungkook, eyeing the door then scanning the room. He motions for Jungkook to come a bit closer, and the younger does as asked, squatting beside Namjoon’s chair. “Again, this is between the two of us.”

“Of course.”

“I have a theory that Omelas keeps certain patients here to be an example to outsiders and potential patients. I think the Clinic operates in a way that wants to have patients coming back time and time again rather than actually helping over time. The way Omelas gains its good reputation is by having a state of the art facility and the best residential style clinic there is, but the staff themselves are no better than anyone else out there. There…we have — Omelas has a history with nurses and issues among staff, but they sweep it under the rug and act like nothing happens. If the public were to find out about those issues, Omelas would lose credibility and patients and money, which is the biggest concern for them.”

“I expected that much, to be honest,” Jungkook says.

“Do not argue with me, Mr. Jeon. I am making this decision because it is the best decision for you right now. I ask that you try the medication for at least one to three months before switching to something different again.”

“Just based on my meetings with the doctors so far. They changed one of my meds to something I’ve tried before, but I noticed that some of the other patients have that medication.”

“Saving money by ordering the same pills for multiple people,” Namjoon explains. “When the most important case needs a switch, other patients get the same switch as well. Omelas gets away with it too. It’s not like we have a voice to tell anyone, right?”

“Then…the issues with staff…is that why the nurses took so long to separate Y/N, Mingyu, and Yesung?”

“The nurses like to let things happen from time to time because it teaches the other patients a lesson. If Y/N and Mingyu get in a fight, the rest of us see the consequences. In unfortunate cases, people like Taehyung are affected negatively because of those “lessons”. Even Mingyu suffers from it because of his condition. It’s a domino effect for the Clinic. The first domino falls with a fight, then there’s a reaction, a lesson, and consequence. Because of the negative effects on certain patients, nurses have to take a few steps back with them and redo treatment. Then they’re extending the stay of the patients and making money all the while. They know they’ll never run out of situations like the one that happened today because of the radical instability between patients. Perfect system really.” Jungkook squints at the older man.

“How do you know so much about all the patients?”

“Research and experience.”

Experience from what? He said he’s never been to another facility. Omelas is the only one. Jungkook sits back on his heels, gaze finding the floor.

“We currently have two patients who have been here for almost six years now, but that’s the longest anyone has stayed.”

Six years would give you plenty of time for research and experience… Seeing people come and go so much, you’d really learn a lot, huh?

“Anyways, enough about that. Did you need anything else?” Namjoon asks. He tilts his head to the side slightly, and Jungkook blinks up at him.

“I’m still curious about what Yesung meant earlier. You know, the whole Y/N and Yoongi issue? It seemed like such a specific insult that there must be something behind it.” The warmth in Namjoon’s eyes drops, quickly turning cold, and he stands up before Jungkook can even blink.

“Quit asking, Jungkook.”

“I’m so-sorry, I was just c—”

“I don’t want to talk about them so you shouldn’t bother.”

“Talk about Yoongi and Y/N?”

“Drop it now before I have to say it again.” 

Jungkook’s jaw stutters a bit, moving along with his mouth but no sound comes out. He pushes himself to his feet and tries to ignore the shaky weakness pulsing through his legs. “S-Sorry,” he stammers at Namjoon’s back. “I’m sorry for bringing it up again. Sorry. I’ll, uh, I’m gonna go.” He can’t tell himself that he isn’t running away from his problems because he ditches Namjoon where he stands and bolts down the hallway. He could’ve waited to see Namjoon’s reaction, or tried to explain himself further, or even apologized a bit more. Although, as he makes his hasty retreat back in the direction of his room, Jungkook thinks that there was nothing else he could’ve said to Namjoon. The hostility in his tone and the sudden anger at Jungkook’s mention of Yoongi and Y/N came out of left field, but Jungkook was facing right. He hates that he’s leaving with more questions than answers. 

At the very least, he got a good amount of information from Namjoon before the conversation turned sour, and Jungkook plans to scribble it all down in his journal before he forgets it. He normally waits until the end of the day to put those thoughts to paper, saving it for when no one can interrupt him or intrude on his secret compilation of information about Omelas and the patients within it. It would be horrible and embarrassing if anyone saw those pages because Jungkook has notes about everything he knows about each person in the clinic, as well as general information about what he’s noticed between patients (such as the connection between Yoongi and Y/N that he still has no insight on). Now he can add Namjoon to that equation though, because the hostility came from somewhere, and Jungkook just needs to figure out where and how its linked to the others. 

Jungkook slows his pace as he walks through the hall of bedrooms just to look at Hoseok’s door.

“It’s not right to compare, especially here of all places, but I believe that his case is the worst out of everyone at the clinic. There isn’t much Omelas can do for him in all honesty.”

He makes another mental note to add that bit of information to his journal as well under Hoseok’s name, alongside the comment you made when Hoseok walked into the dining hall this morning. Those plans may have to wait for awhile though, because as soon as he steps into his bedroom, he is greeted by three faces instead of the zero he expected.

“Uh…” He freezes in the doorway, hand still resting on the handle, and blinks from face to face.

“I told you we should have done this in my room.” You speak first. You cross your arms over your chest and send a pointed glare towards Jimin, who stands beside Taehyung’s bed in a similar stance. Jimin responds with an equally heated glare, then rolls his eyes when you don’t relent.

“Should I come back later?” Jungkook offers, motioning over his shoulder. You drop your arms to your side and sigh. As you move, Jungkook notices the white bandages the encompass both hands, tucked neatly around your palms. You clench your fingers around the bandages when Jungkook’s stare lingers. “I can go,” he offers again. You shake your head then look towards the bed where Taehyung sits, knees tucked to his chest and arms hugging them closer. Taehyung doesn’t look in Jungkook’s direction, and Jungkook fights to swallow the lump in his throat. Still ignoring me…acting like I don’t even exist.

“It’s fine. We were just finishing up,” you explain and make a move to walk out the door. A strangled noise escapes Taehyung’s lips, and he jerks his head up when you start moving, leaving the rest of them to wait for him to say something. He never speaks though, and so Jimin pushes past you to snatch Jungkook by the arm and tug him into the hallway. He slides the door shut before anyone can say anything in protest.

“Just a few minutes, I promise,” Jimin explains when he releases Jungkook’s arm. Jungkook blinks at the shorter man, skin stinging where he grabbed him.

“Is something wrong?” he asks.

“No.” A sharp inhale, prolonged exhale, then — “Well, actually, I have a question. If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Go ahead!” As long as you don’t ask me anything personal, Jungkook adds to himself, biting down hard on his lower lip. Jimin scratches the back of his neck and blinks at the door for a few moments before continuing with his train of thought.

“Do you — do you think badly of Taehyung for what happened the first day you were here? Like, the whole thing with the nurses and that incident? Taehyung has been worried about it ever since it happened honestly. He brings it up all the time, and even though I try to reassure him, he still believes that you think he’s crazy. I mean, I know we’re at a mental health clinic, but — no one here is crazy. Not the way Taehyung thinks he is.” 

“Oh.” The sound leaves Jungkook’s mouth without him wanting it to, and he doesn’t mean to sound so shocked at the revelation from Jimin. Rather, he gets the same sensation he felt when he witnessed Taehyung’s breakdown on the first day. The feeling of looking in the mirror and seeing himself in Taehyung, seeing a reflection of who he is and what goes through his head every day. And the irony of it all is that as much as Taehyung has been avoiding him, Jungkook has been doing the same despite not wanting to admit it. 

“I—if you do, you know, hold it against him…could we not mention it to him? I don’t want this to make anything worse—”

“Wait, no! I don’t hold it against him, I promise! In all honesty, I-I thought the same thing. I was worried about him thinking I’m crazy and that I was being intrusive when that happened. I really don’t think badly of Taehyung in any way.”

“Ah, thank goodness! I knew Taehyung was overthinking it, but it’s so hard to get him to think straight again after something like that happens.”

“So, uh, then was that what you guys were discussing at breakfast?”

“You mean what caused the fight? Yea, we were talking about that before you got here as well. Taehyung is a bit upset with Y/N for making a big deal out of it. I don’t blame him but, well don’t tell Y/N I said this or else she’ll get salty about it, but she was right to start a fight with Mingyu and Yesung. I think one of them is the culprit too, so if she hadn’t confronted them, then I would’ve done it myself.”

“If it’s so important to Taehyung, why wouldn’t he want to make a big deal out of it?”

“It is important, yes, but Taehyung hates conflict. The last thing he wants is to be the cause of conflict, so he feels responsible for the fight this morning. Can’t convince him that it’s not no matter what though.” Jimin shakes his head, dirty blonde hair falling over his forehead. 

“Why is the bear so important anyways?” Jungkook inquires. Jimin doesn’t acknowledge the question, acting as though he didn’t hear what Jungkook said despite the fact that they were having an active conversation less than a minute ago. Jungkook blinks at the man’s profile for a few moments and waits for him to snap back to reality, but Jimin stays quiet. “Uh, why is the bear important?” He repeats a bit louder. Jimin looks at Jungkook with wide and clouded eyes.

“Oh, it helps keep Taehyung’s thoughts in order.” Jungkook nods slowly. 

“So what does Y/N have to do with it?”

“The bear was a gift from her.” Jimin says it as though the fact is common knowledge and Jungkook should already know this. Jungkook has more questions, wants to know why Y/N gave Taehyung the bear and how the bear helps keep his thoughts in order when it’s only a stuffed animal, but he doesn’t get the opportunity to ask. The door slides open all the sudden, startling both Jimin and Jungkook. You stand behind it, eyes on Jimin.

“Let’s talk, Park.” You brush past Jungkook, not sparing him a glance, and start walking down the hallway without waiting for Jimin to respond or follow.

“Ah, wait up!” He rolls his eyes as he calls after you, but you make no signs of slowing down. “I’ll see you later, Jungkook. Bye Tae! See you in a bit!” 

With that, Jungkook is left to the silence that is contained within his bedroom. Even though Jimin confirmed that Taehyung isn’t ignoring him, Jungkook cannot prevent the overwhelming sense of anxiety that rushes through his system now that he’s alone with Taehyung. He could turn and leave rather than facing Taehyung, but that would seem too suspicious. Also, he doesn’t want to risk hurting Taehyung’s feelings any more than he already has, albeit unintentionally. So, he pushes the anxiety down and steps into the room, quietly closing the door behind him and going to sit on his bed without looking in Taehyung’s direction. 

The bed squeaks as he sits on his mattress.

Taehyung hasn’t moved an inch from the position he was in when Jungkook first got to the room, and he doesn’t make any effort to move now. Neither of them speak, or look at each other either, even though Jungkook is facing him. He knows that he should be the one to make an effort and breach conversation, but he can’t think of what to say. 

The bed keeps creaking as Jungkook fidgets, moving his legs under him then dropping them off the side of the bed again and repeating the process five more times without any release from the discomfort. Then all the sudden it isn’t Jungkook’s bed that is creaking because Taehyung shifts and climbs out of bed, and Jungkook panics more than he already is, which shouldn’t even be possible at this rate.

“Are you feeling any better?” He blurts at Taehyung’s back. Taehyung hesitates, stopping in his tracks to glance over his shoulder. Jungkook regrets opening his mouth now. “I-I mean, I hope — I was hoping that you’re feeling better.”

“Do you think I’m strange or crazy?”

“Hmm? What? No, not at all!” Jungkook shakes his head as Taehyung sits back down on the edge of his bed, still making an effort to not look in Jungkook’s direction. “I…well, I thought you saw me as weird and strange and crazy. I thought you were ignoring because of that.” Taehyung tilts his head to the side.

“I never thought that actually. Really I’m just embarrassed about having an episode in front of you, and I feel bad that it had to happen on your first day.”

“I hope they’re able to find your bear,” Jungkook says. “If there’s anything I can do to help…” Taehyung’s chin finally turns in his direction, and his warm brown eyes meet Jungkook’s. He grins, lips forming a rectangle, and the skin around his eyes scrunches up. 

“Thanks, it means a lot. I trust that Y/N and Jimin can find it, but I need to tell myself that it won’t be the end of the world if they can’t find it. Oh, by the way, uh, do you know what I have?” Jungkook suffers a lapse of judgement in that moment, because he blinks at Taehyung with a blank expression and no clue as to what he’s talking about. Taehyung laughs then points to his head, tapping his temple while smiling. 

“A-Ah, sorry! I don’t know. It’s not really my place to ask though, is it?”

“I guess, yea. Y/N always tells me that when I ask somebody that. Personally, I don’t really like to talk about my problems, you know? I’d much rather act like nothing is wrong with me even though I know that there is. It’s easy to pretend nothing’s wrong sometimes. And avoiding people who witness my episodes and switches is a way for me to cope with the stress of it all. The bear…the bear helps a lot too. It made things better for awhile, but I think that recently things have gotten a bit worse. I mean, even before I lost the bear. When I first got here, it started out as Cyclothymia, but I’m not sure what it is anymore.” Cyclo—what? “Well, I need to leave for my afternoon appointment. Thanks for talking to me and humoring my rant.” 

Taehyung is up and out the door before Jungkook can react. That afternoon, while Taehyung is gone and he has the room to himself, Jungkook writes down every bit of information he can from the fight in the morning to the word ‘cyclothymia’ that he has barely any idea how to spell.

∞

“Mr. Jeon, you have some visitors in the reception area.” The nurse in the doorway interrupts Jungkook as he’s tugging a sweatshirt down over his white t-shirt.

“Huh?” He says in response, needing a confirmation on what he thinks he heard.

“You have two visitors waiting for you in the reception area.”

I do? Is it Sunday already? Jungkook follows the nurse out the door after tucking his journal back under the mattress. Taehyung left minutes ago for his morning appointment, and Jungkook was going to head over to the entertainment room to play the piano for a bit, but this must take precedence over that. 

The nurse doesn’t speak as he leads Jungkook to the reception area, leaving him in the dark about who might be visiting, although Jungkook has a vague idea about who it could be. His suspicions are confirmed the minute he steps through the white door with the small rectangular window that he hasn’t seen since his first day in the clinic.

“Oh, Jungkook!”

He wasn’t expecting to be hit by such a strong wave of emotions. It’s only been a week after all, but seeing his mom jump up from the stiff white chairs and lunge for him with arms open wide makes his eyes sting within an instant. She grabs hold of him as soon as he’s within arm’s reach, pulling him into a tight hug and running her fingers through his hair that he forgot to brush this morning. Hell, he would’ve made an effort to look more put together if he had known she was coming to visit. She didn’t come alone either, as Jungkook can see when he looks past her shoulder to spot his younger brother standing a few feet away, scratching his neck and staring at the floor as their mom smothers Jungkook. She pulls back for a moment only to press her hands on either side of his face. She scans his features over and over before the tears start flowing.

“How was your first week? Is everything going okay? How are you? Oh, goodness, Jungkook, my baby, I missed you so much already!”

“Mom, I’m fine. My first week was fine. It’s okay, you don’t need to worry so much. It’s only been a week!” He sighs as she keeps fussing over his hair and face but can’t keep the smile off his lips. “Hey, Hyungsik.” 

“Hey, hyung. You’re looking thinner.”

“Oh, are they not feeding you enough? You’re a growing boy, they should be feeding you lots! Do I need to talk to them?” 

“Everything is fine. I’m not losing weight, I’m being fed plenty, and if anything, it’s just the stress of the first week.”

“Stress? You said it was fine!”

“Just settling in! The stress of settling in, that’s what I mean.” Jungkook struggles to reassure his mom that things are alright. He nudges her back towards the chairs, falling into one himself.

“Has anyone been mean or harsh towards you? Making friends? Good roommate?” She continues to grill him with questions as she sits back down, hand finding his and holding it in a tight grip.

“Everything has been great. I’ve been making a few friends, and my roommate is great. You really don’t need to worry about anything, mom.”

“You’re my baby. Of course I have to worry!” Then why did you stick me in here? Jungkook knows he can’t ruin the moment with the question, so he forces his next smile.

“Hyungsik is your baby! He’s the younger one, after all. Besides, I’ll be out in no time and back home before you know it.”

“Usually, no one leaves in less than a year because of a willingness and a drive to continue treatment.”

Nurse Irene’s words haven’t left his mind, but Jungkook can’t imagine having to stay here for more than a year. He’ll say and do anything to get out in less time than that. His mom frowns at his hopeful statement. She doesn’t say anything to discourage him even though her thoughts are clear in Jungkook’s eyes. 

“Uh, where’s Dad?” He inquires, trying to shift the subject. “Why didn’t he come too?”

“It was work, honey.”

“He doesn’t work on Sundays though.”

“A business trip. He left on Friday.” Jungkook drops his gaze, lips snapping together. “I didn’t tell him we were planning to come! If he had known, I know he would’ve come along to see you.” No he wouldn’t have. He probably knew before Friday and just took the trip to have an excuse to not be here.

“I shouldn’t keep you guys too long,” Jungkook says. He pulls his hand out of his mother’s grip, wiping his palms against his sweatpants as he gets up.

“We’ve barely talked, honey!”

“I…I have an appointment soon,” he lies with a crooked smile. His mom’s frown deepens, but she doesn’t argue with him. Instead she gets up and envelops Jungkook with another warm hug.

“I promise that we’ll come back again soon, okay? I’ll bring Dad next time too.”

“Yea, that sounds good. I’ll try to visit when I’m able to start going out. Drop by from time to time or something.” Her hand cups his cheek again, bringing his gaze back to her somewhat bloodshot eyes from the earlier tears. 

“Remember to eat well, and get lots of sleep! Try to get as much fresh air as you can too. Don’t stay in your room all the time either. Talk to people and socialize, okay? I hope you’ll put on a little weight by the time I come back. Your brother’s right: you look a bit skinnier. Be honest with the doctors and nurses!”

“Okay, okay, Mom. I get it, yea? Eat, sleep, socialize, fresh air.”

“Good. Ugh, I already want to come back to see you and I haven’t even left! I’ll let you go so you can get to your appointment! I love you, honey.”

“I love you too, Mom. See you, Hyungsik.”

“Bye, hyung. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Jungkook turns around first. Heads for the door and joins the nurse who still stands in the threshold of the doorway. He steps through without looking back, because he knows that if he looks over his shoulder, the tears pricking the corners of his eyes may start to fall, and that’s the last thing he wants his mom and brother to see before they leave. He needs to be put together for them. He has to have his shit together so they think he’s fine. Because he is. Maybe it’ll make them realize that they shouldn’t have dumped him here and they’ll pull him out before he gets sucked deeper. The white door slams shut. The sound echoes through the hallway. The nurse at his side doesn’t stick around any longer, heading off without Jungkook and leaving him feeling even more alone. 

He can’t stave off the tremble in his hands as he walks, even as he presses them against his legs in attempts to control it. The walk to the entertainment room feels longer than it actually is. Thoughts running at a hundred miles per second, and Jungkook can’t pick out a single coherent one. His mind is a jumbled mess. He wants to feel relieved at the fact that no one is in the entertainment room, and he has the chance to be alone, but the loneliness seeps through his skin. It burrows into his system, hides itself in his feelings, and leaves a growing sense of dread to spread through every fiber of his being.

The ivory keys of the piano are cold when he presses his fingers against them. He doesn’t put much thought into the notes that reach the air as he plays, tapping away to a rhythm only he knows. And after a few minutes of that mindless playing, he starts to hum to himself, then turns the hums into words. It starts out simple and basic, but as he keeps playing, Jungkook feels the screws beginning to loosen. The walls are crumbling. He’s losing the minimal grip he has on reality and sanity. The moistness of tears touches his cheeks, and his hands stutter on the keys, hitting unnecessary flats and sharps. The jarring break of the music flips a switch in Jungkook.

Why did they come? Why? They didn’t need to, it’s only been a week. What did Mom think was going to happen? Does she think I’m some sort of loose cannon? Four institutions, failure after failure. Maybe she assumed I would be done for within the first week this time. God, Hyungsik must be embarrassed to have me as a brother. I’m supposed to be a role model to him. The older brother. The person he looks up to. I can’t even keep my mind straight for five seconds, let alone long enough to hold a conversation with him. Four clinics. Maybe I’m a hopeless case. They can’t fix me because I’m another level of crazy they can’t treat. 

He slumps on the bench, elbows slamming against the keys. A sob tears through his chest.

Shit, dammit, fuck. I can’t do it. I can’t recover this time. I won’t be able to. It won’t last, it never has. I won’t even be able to fake it well enough to get out of here. 

If anything, the first week has sent Jungkook further into a downward spiral, and he isn’t quite sure where he is going to land in the long run. Balling his fists, he increases the pressure until his nails dig into the skin and pinch there.

I thought I had a grip, a plan, an idea of what the hell I was doing here. Why is it already falling apart? Why is the world crumbling around me?

“Oh, sorry to interrupt!”

Shit. Jungkook covers his eyes even though whoever stands behind him can’t see the tears. He doesn’t move a muscle after that, gnawing on his tongue to gain control over his unsteady breathing.

“Ah, it’s you! Sorry, I can come back later. I know you like to have some time to yourself.”

“No, no, it’s okay! I was just finishing up.” His voice sounds hoarse and croaky. Any attempts or hopes to seem fine just went out the window with his shaky tone. And the newcomer picks up on it too.

“Are you alright? Did something happen?” Her voice is soft, a quiet tone filling the silence ringing in Jungkook’s ear, and he can’t handle it right now. It’s too much.

“Fine! I’m fine! Really, fine,” he insists. He tries to prove his point by standing up, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie, and faces the person behind him. He nearly doesn’t recognize her upon first glance, but he has no name to put to her face, only a vague memory of seeing her sit at a table alongside Mingyu and Yesung during meals.

“I-I’m Hyewon. I’m not sure we’ve officially met, but you’re Jungkook, right?”

“Yea, I am.” Jungkook eyes the door over her shoulder, ready to make his escape, but Hyewon keeps him rooted to the spot as she continues to speak.

“You don’t seem okay, even though you said you are. Is there — is there anything I can do to help you? I know the first week is super stressful, and it isn’t any easier trying to handle it on your own. Well, maybe, if something is bothering you—”

“I am perfectly okay. Thanks for asking though.” Jungkook brings his hands up to his chest. The pale haired girl frowns in response, pushing a clump of platinum hair over her shoulder as she tilts her head. “It’s fine.”

“Okay, well, if you ever need to talk or rant about anything…you can talk to me? It would be a little easier than talking to the nurses or doctors, at least I find it easier that way.” 

“It’s fine. I don’t need that.” Jungkook keeps shaking his head as he sidesteps around Hyewon. The words can barely leave his lips thanks to the constriction of his throat and the leaden sensation coating his tongue, but it’s enough to make his getaway. He’s out the door and running down the hall faster than Hyewon can react. 

Her interruption didn’t halt his breakdown, only paused it for a few precious minutes, and Jungkook knows the worst of it is yet to come. Now, the cold creeps into his fingers and toes, the wobble reaches his knees. The white of the walls and floors bleeds together into one mess of blinding color. He can’t see straight now, and the lack of a grasp on reality pushes his panic further forward. 

Tears again.

A sharp collision with the wall of white over his vision.

Cold tile under his hands.

I’m not gonna make it.

All the strength leaves his body in that moment. He can’t pick himself up off the floor, if that’s even where he is, because everything is sideways and askew in his mind; he may as well be laying on the wall with gravity tumbling him from surface to surface. 

He hears a strangled sob leave his lips, but he doesn’t feel it.

In fact, he doesn’t feel anything. Even the cold has ebbed away.

The tears don’t stop. Now that he’s lying on his side, they stay out of his vision and give him the opportunity to try to discern reality from hysteria. Head against a door maybe? Curled up on the tile floor? No, not right. Curled up in a fetal position on the door that acts as the floor in Jungkook’s mind. The sound of a door sliding open brings bile to Jungkook’s throat. He wants to hurl as the reality around him distorts further.

“Oh god.” The utterance may come from his mouth, but he isn’t sure. 

No, not me. Sound of shoes against the floor. Not me. He wants to hide his face. He still doesn’t have the strength to. Something makes contact with his shoulder. A dry heave follows, and all the moisture gathered in his mouth finds a new home on the floor — or the wall, he still isn’t quite sure of his surroundings. 

“Fucking hell, Jeon.” Your voice drifts in and out of his ears, tugging at the strings of reality. “Hey, someone could come at any minute. Let’s get you up.” You touch him again, a harder grip on his shoulder, and ball the fabric of his sweatshirt into your fist. Jungkook heaves again, and bile hits the floor now. “Kid, please.” The desperation in your voice gives Jungkook the slightest bit of incentive and strength, and he stands up with your help. The floor returns to normal, walls becoming walls again in his mind, and he sees the blur of your face out the corner of his eye. As soon as you start trying to walk, however, Jungkook feels the weakness return and stumbles. You tuck one arm across his back and under his armpit, the other still gripping his sweatshirt. You don’t say anything else, not commenting on the clamminess of Jungkook’s skin or the sweat balling in the pits of his sweatshirt.

It takes quite a bit of effort on your part to drag Jungkook to his room, but he feels like he’s flying at high speeds, still queasy from throwing up moments ago. Later (when Jungkook regains a grip on reality), he’ll be grateful that Taehyung isn’t in the room now, but that bit of information doesn’t process as you’re lowering Jungkook onto his bed. You heave a deep sigh, hopping onto the bed as well and slouching against his pillows. 

And then silence.

You don’t make an effort to speak, and he’s trying to pull himself together again. After a few minutes, you resituate and kick your legs out on the bed behind Jungkook’s back. He watches you with a careful gaze, eyeing the way you pick at the white bandages over your hands. Either you’re unaware of the stare or you choose to ignore it, because you continue your ministrations without pause. 

Jungkook can’t wrap his brain around what the hell just happened to him, and the quiet gives him no release from the confusion. You don’t have answers, he knows that, but right now, that’s all he needs. That’s never happened before. Not that bad. Not so…real and vivid. The only ti— 

You’re humming.

And it’s a song only Jungkook should know, because he made it up in the entertainment room a few days ago. Somehow it grounds him, brings a sense of control and ease back to his system that he so desperately needs.

“What are you doing?” He asks. You stop humming.

“To be honest, I’m debating a nap but I’m not quite sure yet.”

“What?”

“Well, as nice as a nap would be, I think I’d much rather ask questions about why you were on the floor in the hallway crying and puking. That’s…much more intriguing, don’t you think?” You cock your head to the side, and even though a smirk doesn’t play at your lips, you bear a playful gleam in your eyes. “Don’t worry so much, kid. Your heart can’t handle that much stress in one day. I just want to make sure you aren’t gonna break down or keel over.”

“Ho…How did you — you know I was out there?”

“I could hear you sobbing from the room I was in.”

Somewhere in the haze of lying on a door, Jungkook recalls the sound of a door sliding open, one that sounded close. But he barely made it into the hallway, definitely didn’t make it past the first set of rooms, so that means —

“Hoseok’s room. It was Hoseok’s room wasn’t it?”

“Whose room? Anyways, why were you having a breakdown?”

“I-I, uh, I — well, um…” He trails off. He couldn’t tell you that even if he wanted to, because he himself has no clue where the breakdown came from or what instigated it. 

“You see, Jungkook,” you say as you sit up, folding your legs under you, “I thought I made myself clear on the first day. Don’t pry into business that doesn’t involve you. It’s not something spiteful or any intention to keep a veil over your eyes. Rather, it keeps you out of trouble. Something like the fight yesterday wouldn’t be good for you. It also prevents you from being dragged into things you don’t want to know about.”

“I’m sorry,” he responds. The heat of embarrassment creeps up his neck and ears.

“Don’t apologize. Just don’t do it again, okay? I’m not here to poke and prod you like a doctor would. That’s really not any of my business, but I do want to make sure that you don’t look weak in front of people who could use it against you.”

“What, like you?” He bites back, a huff of forced laughter following the words. You grin like a cheshire. There’s no hint of playfulness or malice behind it; rather, it is simply a smile, and it’s the first genuine one Jungkook has seen cross your lips. 

“Alright, Jeon Jungkook. Let’s make a deal.”

“What kind of deal?” He squints at you.

“I will make certain that no one breathes a word about your breakdown today, whoever may have witnessed it. I’ll also make sure that no one finds out about it. It’ll be just between the two of us. How does that sound?”

The deal is tempting, yes, but Jungkook doesn’t know you well enough to trust whatever you might ask for in return. And yet…Hyewon saw Jungkook crumble. She sits with Mingyu and Yesung. If one of them were to find out, Jungkook doesn’t doubt that his life would quickly turn into a living hell.

“And in return?”

Your smile folds into a smirk, the coyness slipping in, and it sends a chill down his spine.

-

written by: jungtaeyoongles

please do not copy, repost, or otherwise steal this work

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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

[shadowsof-thenight]

Where our story begins: Chapter two

Story summary: This is a victorian era AU Home is where our story begins, but how does one know where home is? 


Julia has a good life. A calm life. She really doesn’t have much to complain about. That is, until a handsome stranger steps into their home in the country and all that calmness seems to disappear instantly. Who is this man that seems to terrorise everyone with his haugthy ways?


Ship: Bucky Barnes X OFC-Julia

Warnings: none for this chapter

Words: 3331

***

A/N: Today was my first day back at work. And though it was simply to say hi to everyone, it was very tiring. I slept through most of the afternoon. Which means that despite the chapter being nearly done, I still barely made it today.

Forgive me for any mistakes as I work without a beta for this one. Feel free to point them out though, feedback of any kind is always appreciated.

Also, if you wish to be tagged for this story, let me know.

edit april 13th 2020: I switched the text out with the beta-ed version! Also changed the mentioned painting, to make the explanation fit better.

***

Masterlist                                             

Story Masterlist

***

Chapter two

“Please, call me James,” his deep baritone voice sent vibrations through her chest, and she stood stock still for a moment. It was a rather strange sensation, and Julia didn’t know what to think of it. It wasn’t good or bad, just peculiar.

The man smirked at her once more, and she was brought back into the moment. His grin unnerved her. Not necessarily the act itself, but rather the blank eyes above it. While his smirk alluded to emotions, good or bad, his eyes appeared completely void of them. They were a beautiful icy blue that could have mesmerised if they had not been so empty. It made her wonder if there was perhaps something dangerous about this stranger that her parents had invited into their home.

She gave a pointed look to their still connected hands before returning her gaze to those blue eyes. His smirk didn’t waver as he finally released her, standing up straight again and, without missing a beat, turning back to the lady of the house.

If her mother had noticed anything, she wasn’t showing it, and this reminded Julia that she should try to be more stoic in her interactions. While her parents allowed her to show her emotions in private, they were not to be seen so clearly in public. Apparently, it wasn’t ladylike, and Josephine was very proper. Julia wanted to be the same for her mother. Though she often wore her heart on her sleeve. She found it difficult to keep her emotions hidden from others. They were simply too strong sometimes.

In courtly life, things had been different. She had been younger then, not particularly involved in that world. Her tutors had instructed her to keep her face blank, but it hadn’t really stuck with her, and her parents didn’t mind so much at that age. Instead, she had been able to play with her friends, free of the straitjacket that life seemed to be for most ladies. She was grateful for it, even if that made it harder for her to adhere to society’s demands now.

Josephine took the arm that Lord Barnes—no, James—offered, and Julia followed a few steps behind. As they moved through the hallway towards the dining hall, Josephine pointed to art that hung on the walls. She explained how they had come by the pieces—babbling to fill the silence, Julia realised. Perhaps she had noticed the tension earlier. James barely responded to her words and simply looked in the directions she pointed with a blank stare, offering the occasional nod.

When they arrived at the dining room, Julia hoped that this man could feign some enthusiasm for the interior of the place. Her mother was very proud of it. When they had first moved in, it had been in disarray and Josephine had worked hard to create the vision that was in her mind. Julia truly thought it was a beautiful room, though she wondered if the seemingly cold and unfeeling man held the same ideas of beauty.

The high ceilings of the room were made of elaborately decorated plaster. There were bands of entwined leaves that framed the ceiling, and within those bands, the family crest was hidden between beautifully crafted flowers. The leaves of those bands returned in the soft green wallpaper that adorned the walls, a way to bring it together without creating too sharp a contrast with the white plaster. The dark hardwood floor finished making this into a warm room where Josephine loved spending time. She would arrange and rearrange the flowers that stood on the tables every other day, finding joy in choosing fresh flowers and putting them in various vases. It brought life to the room, her mother had once stated. The young Julia hadn’t understood it then, but she certainly did now.

The same leaf pattern in the ceiling and wallpaper made a reappearance in the lamp design. Lamps were placed strategically around the room to highlight the best parts of the decoration and douse the lesser bits in darkness. In daylight, for instance, you could see some water damage in the far right corner, above the large doors that opened into the garden—damage caused by the never-ending rains that had fallen last winter. In this moment, however, none of that was visible.

“I like to think of this as a warm room, cozy and a perfect place for dinner with friends,” her mother boasted as she finished explaining her choices and pointing out little details in the ceiling. Julia smiled as she watched her mother speak so effortlessly. It was a pity they did not entertain guests more often, for her mother certainly loved it. In that moment Julia could see how much she missed life at court, even if she never spoke of it.

Julia also noted that her mother carefully avoided the subject of those lamps, which were oil lamps still. The household was yet to move on to kerosene. This wasn’t necessarily wrong or strange even—plenty of households had not made the change. However, for as long as Julia could remember, her mother had followed modernisation, and it had taken her by surprise that she did not do so on this occasion. When she had asked her mother about it, she was told that such a change took time and several adjustments that her parents had simply deemed unnecessary at this point in time. Julia had accepted this explanation and her questions had ceased. 

James barely responded to her mother's words; perhaps he wasn’t seeing the grandeur that Josephine had envisioned when she began to renovate this place. To the untrained eye, her mother seemingly brushed off his silence, but Julia could tell it was bothering her. Obviously she had hoped for something more. Julia felt that it was rather rude of the man to remain quiet. The least he could have done was say something noncommittal, polite. Such an act was even expected in their circles. He would know that—he simply decided against acting accordingly.

His refusal to adhere to social conformity was an insult to his host, and it angered Julia. Her mother had been nothing but welcoming, she deserved better. She would’ve been able to look past his behaviour if it appeared to have been unintentional. As it seemed, however, the slight was definitely on purpose. Her mother quickly moved past it, playing the gracious host and keeping on a mask of kindness.

“James has travelled all over the world,” Josephine said, turning her eyes on her daughter as she moved towards her chair. Dinner was currently being placed on the table, and Julia saw her mother had gone all out. It was a grand feast; her mother clearly wanted to impress their guest.

“Now that he’s finally back in the country, we simply had to invite him,” Josephine added after a few moments, as it became clear that she was the only one trying to keep a conversation going.

“Indeed,” Julia agreed, placing a bright smile on her face. She hoped that the tinge of red that found its way onto her cheeks went unnoticed. She had been so wrapped up in the stranger in their home that she had forgotten how to behave in the presence of others. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that she needed to support her mother and perhaps ignore this rude lord. After all, she was no better than him if she could not keep up appearances.

So in that moment, Julia decided  to work extra hard on her etiquette, simply so there would be no blame placed on her if this situation went south. She would be the perfect host, no matter how trying it proved to be. If the expression on his face was any indication, he was not about to make things easy on her. He raised his eyebrow as if challenging her in a battle of wills when he pulled out her chair for her.

“And how do you find this part of our beautiful country?” Julia asked, offering a smile and lingering above her chair, effectively making him stand there, waiting.

“From what I have been able to see it is beautiful, sanguineous,” he replied, that aggravating smirk back on his face as he emphasised the last word.

His voice was melodious, waving through the air and clinging to her skin. She had never met anyone with such an intriguing sound. Julia realised that he’d probably enamoured quite a few people with it. She would probably love to listen more, if he were kinder—or more outspoken for that matter, he had been rather quiet. 

James smiled as he watched her mull over his reply. It was a double-edged sword, premeditated. Julia realised that he was probably aware of the unease he was causing and was delighting in it. She knew she had never been as good at hiding her emotions as she should have been. Analysing his smile, she realised that it had been as empty as his smirk before. It did not reach his eyes.

“I do hope you’ll get to see some of it in the sun, rather than this dreary weather we have now,” Josephine spoke softly, nearly inaudible over the sound of thunder. Lightning joined the party, illuminating the room in a bright flash. James just nodded with a shrug. A man of few words.

With all three of them seated in their chairs, Julia looked back to the hallway behind her, wondering where her father was. He was never late for dinner, especially when one of his guests was joining them. In polite society, it was expected to wait for the host before being seated, but since her mother had taken on that role, they were not left waiting for him to arrive. Or they were, but at least they were able to sit.

Her mother pointed out some more features, bringing his attention to the beautiful painting that hung on the left wall. It was called the Among the Waves by Ivan Aivazovsky. A piece that showed both the destructive side, as the beauty of the ocean. Her father had been a sea captain on a merchant vessel when he was younger and when Julia was born, her uncle had gifted them the painting. Julia loved it, often imagining her own character as the ocean it so beautifully depicted. Both wild and calm at times. A comparison her father had also made at times—usually when she got a bit headstrong.

James barely replied to her mother's words, and Julia began to feel resentment. She vowed to herself that she would be polite, though she would never be friendly. He did not deserve her friendship; that much was obvious. She saw her mother deflate just the tiniest bit, and anger grew in the pit of her stomach. Lord Barnes didn’t seem to notice, which she understood. The difference was nearly invisible. However, when someone grew up with a mother that showed little emotion in public, they often created the habit of seeing even the most minute changes. Julia was no different in that regard.

Some short moments later her father, Lord George Fitzgerald of Hertfordshire, finally joined them in the dining room. He looked a little pale, and it took some self-control not to jump up from her chair. He seemed a little under the weather, and she worried. His hands were shaking as he took one of Lord Barnes’s hands in his own to shake. Apologising profusely for his tardiness, he explained that he had been caught up in work and swiftly forgot the time. Julia knew this wasn’t true, though she refrained from commenting on it.

George was jovial in his greeting and welcomed their guest as an old friend, shaking his hands for an extended period before finally letting go and walking to his own chair. Lord Barnes simply called him by his first name, uttering a small thank you and bowed his head ever so slightly. A weak greeting by all accounts and Julia wondered just how well they really knew one another.

Julia realised that, as highly as her parents thought of this man, he thought much less of them. Which surprised her, confused her, and made her wonder how this could possibly be. In her humble opinion, her parents were fine people, and he would be so lucky to have them as his friends and not simply acquaintances.

“Now, let us eat. James must be weary of his journey, and it is getting late,” George said, a bright smile on his face as he looked at their butler, Jones. Jones then signalled the footmen to start serving.

As they ate, her parents opted for light conversation, to which Julia tried to reply as best she could. This wasn’t easy with Lord Barnes staring at her between bites. He stared so openly, that she could only imagine that he was purposely making her uncomfortable. She shifted in her seat and wondered how to deflect his attention. She even glanced at her mother for help, though the silent communication didn’t work, her mother either missing her meaning or ignoring her entirely. Julia feared it was the latter and realised that they perhaps wanted him to look, to be enamoured by her. That her parents may have brought him here as a bachelor for her.

She had known this was a possibility, though it still caught her by surprise now, perhaps due to the unease she felt around him. Previous bachelors had at least tried to charm both her and her mother, knowing that her parents had to sign off on any connection. This man had been rude and uninterested thus far. It was why, until that moment, she had simply assumed he had come to attend business with her father.

Julia bit her cheek to keep from showing her wish to scream at him to stop looking at her and forced another smile on her face. She let him watch, smiled and played the dutiful daughter, wanting to make her parents happy. However, she also decided that she would speak to them at a later time, needing an explanation for this turn of events. What was it about this man that made them think he was fit to be her husband? They had been very hard to please so far, and the men that had come before him had worked for their approval.

***

Later that night, while Julia was getting ready for bed and ranting to Mary, her mother had walked into the room. Her ranting instantly stopped and Mary composed herself, wiping all remnants of her laughter from her face. She hadn’t taken Julia’s complaints seriously. In her opinion, most men were like Lord Barnes, she had said, and Julia had just been spoiled by her father’s much kinder disposition. Julia wondered if perhaps she was right. Then again, he was not the first bachelor to be placed at the dinner table. She had some experience.

Josephine was calm as she took the brush from Julia’s hand and began to weave it through her soft locks. Her mother was gentle, careful not to pull, and Julia regarded her through the mirror. She noticed the serious look on her mother’s face, and she turned towards her. It was a rare occasion that her mother came into her room, especially after she had retired for the evening. She had wanted Julia to have a space that was all her own, claiming that this wasn’t a luxury everyone had and that her daughter should enjoy it. A place where she could truly be herself and forget all proper etiquette.

Julia was ready to ask her mother more about Lord Barnes, opening her mouth and deciding on the first question, when her mother silenced her without a word. Josephine spoke instead, complimenting her daughter on her charming disposition at dinner. She voiced that perhaps Julia had been charming enough to ensnare Lord Barnes, or James as she kept calling him. After his behaviour that evening, Julia struggled to call him by his first name.

Josephine informed her daughter that she believed that he was a good catch. For the second time Julia was surprised and rendered speechless. Not even a month ago, her mother had told her that she was allowed her own choices. Josephine had said that neither she nor her father would try to sway her. What had changed? Why was she suddenly voicing her preference for a man that had been less than amiable during the few hours that they had spent in the same room?

In her confusion, Julia remained silent, prompting her mother to tell her all about his properties, his yearly income and his heroism. Apparently he had been awarded a good portion of his lands by the queen herself. This wasn’t something the queen did often, so it did impress Julia somewhat. She wondered what he had done to deserve it. Her mother seemed more impressed by the knowledge that with this awarded land, coupled with the land already in his family, Lord Barnes was the richest man her parents had ever met.

Josephine took another moment to explain just what he was worth, urging her daughter to understand and to act accordingly. Julia still didn’t say a word as she listened to her mother, processing the meaning behind her words. She wondered if she had understood correctly—had her choice been taken from her?

Leaving a stunned Julia behind, Josephine walked out of the room as abruptly as she had entered. Julia wasn’t sure what to make of this situation. There was so much information that was kept from her, she realised now, and she was curious. Far too used to being told, Julia immediately began to think of ways to find out just what was hidden from her.

She wanted to know what the connection between her parents, herself, and this man was. Who he really was, and what she was supposed to think of him. She wondered if his behaviour tonight had been a correct representation of who he was. Or if something had been on his mind to cause his apparent impertinence. Julia could only hope, for she did not want to disappoint her parents and they clearly saw an agreeable match between them.

Julia was so caught up in her thoughts that she hardly noticed when Mary left her room. All she saw was the moment replaying inside her mind over and over again. The moment that had solidified her belief that this man was crass, and that nothing her parents said could erase that from her mind.

It had been just as dinner ended, Julia and her mother had stood from the table to retire to the drawing room, giving the men room to converse. Julia had been relieved to leave the room, for the stares of their guest were unnerving. His smirk never left his features as he regarded her, yet his eyes remained cold. He had stood to open the door for them and took her hand in his once again. Julia couldn’t help herself and shivered at his touch. An action he seemed to take in with glee, causing her stomach to drop and nausea to ensue. He was enjoying her response to his attentions and he wasn’t afraid to let her know.

Lord Barnes had bent his head to kiss her hand before repeating the gesture with her mother. Josephine had been much less inclined to pull back, a smile fixed on her face. Lord Barnes was gracious as he thanked her for inviting him into her home, finally giving her a compliment by stating that the home painted a beautiful picture against the decor of their surroundings. With an elated Josephine, Julia finally moved towards the drawing room where they would spend the remainder of the evening doing embroidery and reading.

[sparkledeerfr]

Castle Snoopin’

Some vignettes of the first day of everyone getting to snoop. We learn a little about Gren and it doesn’t surprise anyone. We learn a little about other people that might.

And yeah, there is a bunch of stuff in there. That’s just what happens if you leave Gren out of sight for long enough.

Warnings: Death mentions (we didn’t know ‘em it’s cool), a swear or two. 

It was honestly weird seeing the giant doors- things nearly the size of the main gate- open on the front of The Castle, weirder still to see people milling in and exploring out of curiosity. Booker and Hex were keeping an eye on things, making sure no visitors went inside until the place was good and cleared out. Between Daniel (traps and mimics that Adeline swore were now breeding new varieties of their own accord. There was no way the man remembered how many he had), Grenfell (definitely had things in there, would flat out refuse to say exactly what until they found it, of course), and the place itself deciding to move things it could be dangerous, especially for anyone unused to the oddities of the city. Pattel had been good enough to offer to help and March would likely be wandering somewhere with Kylie.

That combined with the Shielders meant there was more than enough people keeping watch that hopefully, really, really hopefully, someone wouldn’t blow themselves up. Or get a hand or foot eaten.

---

Grenfell was wandering upstairs intending to check on something, but in the meandering way of one who didn’t want to go directly to his destination and possibly lead someone else there. He also rather enjoyed seeing people walking around, making little comments about things. Yes, he knew the place was dark and creepy. It was supposed to be. It was also supposed to make him stand out though yes, looking back on it the place was a bit dreary and poorly laid out, but that could be easily changed.

Gods he was becoming domesticated, wasn’t he? He was actually looking forward to planning and revamping with Sparks, possibly with some snippy input from Katsu. A hand reached up to absentmindedly pet Pietro who was in his usual place- slung across his shoulders like a cat, or more accurately the bodies of at least three pets gelled together. Perhaps it was parental instinct to improve the nest. His son did deserve to grow up someplace nice, maybe with some potted plants decorating-

“Hey,” a voice said, and there was a light slap on his arm. Grenfell paused his thought process and looked down to see the slight but athletic frame of Crunch.

“Yes, darling?” he asked. There was a momentary scrunch of her face, easily visible even with the travelling hood and goggles. Crunch wasn’t fond of his tendency to call everyone pet names, but she also knew he meant nothing by it and was unlikely to change. It was simply habit, a thing he did to signal that he liked you, or could at least stand you.

“There’s somethin’ I’ve been wantin’ to ask you about for a while,” she said, putting a gloved hand on a hip. “You mind?”

“Not at all.”

----

“Alice, be careful,” Samuel said and she tried not to snort. He was still rail thin and looked about half dead, dragging his left foot slightly as it hadn’t regained all of its feeling.

“Me be careful?” she asked good naturedly, coming up and putting a shoulder under one of his arms. “We should find you a chair. You need rest.” He was on the trail of something in this place, and his curiosity wouldn’t let him stop until he found what was bothering him and examined it. Unfortunately he couldn’t just manifest in The Castle and relax- there was some kind of odd warping magic that as he put it it ‘made it feel like there’s wind stinging my eyes.’

“Just a few more minutes,” he said, trying not to let wear enter his voice. He was grateful to be able to actually move again, to have a body, but why did everything have to be so slow and tiring? “And yes, you’re the one most affected by sudden magic surges.”

“Hush fuss bucket,” she said, sticking her tounge out. “I’ll be fine for a few m-m-m-” Alice shook her head, though Samuel caught it, the slight blinking skip in her form. “-Minutes.”

“Ah,” he replied. He’d apologized repeatedly about what had gotten them into this state in the first place but still felt poorly, perhaps because it seemed she could never be mad at him. She was just happy that he was alive and recovering, which didn��t exactly relieve his guilt. Odd that it would be easier if she’d yell at him a little.

“Skip?” she asked when she saw his face, even half covered in rot and bandages it was easy to see what he was thinking. He never was any good at concealing feelings.

“Skip,” he nodded as they continued slowly forward and found themselves in another open hall. What was this one supposed to be? A grand dining area? Formal living? It just looked like a large fancy room with peeling black and gold wallpaper.

There were more stairs, some leading up and some down. His instincts said down, but externally he sighed. This place seemed to be made of stairs, and Alice was right, he was getting tired. “Man, finding our way back out is going to be a nightmare,” she said, looking up to the decorative tin ceiling that didn’t seem to reflect much of the low lighting in the room.

“I believe that was an intentional design decision,” Sam said, making his way slowly down the steps. “But we’re close to whatever it is, I can feel it.”

---

Adeline walked, hands in her pockets and feeling over the small rocks she’d placed in there to toss at things that seemed suspicious. Already she’d found three rug mimics and a brand new fun breed- a painting mimic. That one was at least easy to spot as it was a splotchy purple that almost looked like an impressionist painting, until you realized it was a bit too thick and its ‘frame’ was also purple.

She heard an irritated sigh coming from an open room down the hall (at least this hall was average sized) and recognized the voice: Santi.

Adeline poked her head in. “What’s-” she started when she realized what the room contained. In the center was what could be considered a statue. The thing was enormous and looked to be a mass of skeletons all carved of grey stone, each crawling over each other and reaching out with bony fingers almost plaintively, jaws open in a silent cry.

Then she saw what the mass was reaching for- statues of the gods against the walls, faces barely lit. It could resemble a very inclusive prayer room if you didn’t notice that the gods were all twisting over each other, constricting as though swimming in a strong current, and each face was a mocking and angry mask. She found Stormcatcher whose mouth was open and baring fangs, mantis arms lifted as though intending to take a chunk out of something larger in front of him.

She wasn’t exactly religious, but there was no damn way she was going in that room. Santi was a bit braver in this regard and was currently standing in front of Lightweaver, the heels of his hands pressed against his eyes in irritation. “It’s all enchanted, isn’t it?” she asked him.

“MmmmHrM,” he said as an annoyed noise, nodding and standing as though attempting to give himself the will to push entirely through his own face.

She pointed to the mass of carved skeletons. “And there are actual bodies in that?”

“MmmHRM.”

“Welp,” she said, hands still on the frame of the doorway as she looked back up and caught the face of the Arcanist, needle sharp teeth coming from a strange alien form. “Just uhhhh….let me know if you need something. And thank you. A bunch.”

----

“So”, Crunch asked Gren as she looked up at a giant stone face that slightly resembled a porcelain mask with its eyes shut. They were in a lower area, near what one would call the basement if it weren’t for the tunnels even further below them, but this place looked unfinished, especially as it had hard packed dirt floors. The giant mask, easily more than ten feet in height, was placed high above them between two sets of stairs leading upwards. “What’s it do?”

“Oh that thing,” Grenfell said, waving a hand and walking over to a blank grey brick wall. “Where is it where is it?” he asked mostly to himself as he looked the bricks over, trying to remember. “Ah yes, here.” He reached a hand through the stone as it if were water and Crunch tensed, ready to run if there was the slightest thing off, but still she was curious.

The face opened its eyes, revealing they were made of painted ceramic with bright blue irises. She waited but it just...blinked. After a few more seconds when Gren had stood back next to her and was watching it with her, she realized that was it. “I have been looking at that damn thing for years,” Crunch said as the face blinked again with a slight grinding noise of stone against stone. “I was like ‘man that’s gotta do some bullshit’...and you’re telling me that’s it?”

“Yes!” Grenfell said happily as Pietro hissed at the unfamiliar sight. “Not everything has to do something. That’s the art of it, Crunch. If everything does something then nothing is frightening. It’s all about ambiance.”

“So it's all made to scare people?”

“Most things in the Castle and some of the city, yes.” Grenfell said, bouncing on the balls of his feet and clasping his hands behind his back. “You see any fool with a knife can make someone afraid, but to do it simply through environment without them setting eyes on you? Now that I would call a skill. You want a sense of creeping dread, so that when you do finally arrive, it has settled into their bones.”

“So its kinda…” Crunch stopped and looked back up at that stupid face. Yeah, she guessed if she was crawling around in an unknown place and saw that thing she would be put right off. “Tactics?”

“Oh no no,” Grenfell said, happy to share his thought process. “My very favorite thing is when I finally corner someone and they know, they absolutely know that they are going to die and there’s nothing they can do about it. You can see it in their face. It’s artistry, really. Environmental storytelling followed by force.”

“Right,” she nodded, not really getting it but understanding the idea. “But you’re fine with us? I mean your favorite thing is murder and all.”

“It is,” he said, and his hand went back up to pet Pietro. There was something very reassuring about his strange purr and the way he rubbed his head against his hand. He was such a good child. “And perhaps if different people had taken over my city there would be a very different story happening. But...I have friends. I have my son. Let us enjoy this collaboration while we have it. Time marches ceaselessly on, and I can afford to wait.”

“Yeah,” Crunch said, crossing her arms before looking up to his face. “You’re alright for a crazy person.”

“Thank you!”

---

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather be exploring, dear?” Nimue asked Kylie, who was currently holding a child in her arms as they stood in one of the few rooms Jamison had re-done completely. There was actual paint, color, light and furniture.

Of all the things Kylie had expected to find in this city, the fact that the giant creepy castle was home to parents wasn’t one of them. It wasn’t that they had kids, it was just that they exuded...parent...ness. It was probably that Nimue was lounging on a padded bench by the window with Yuki and Jam had offered her sandwiches. You also kind of felt weird cussing around them.

“Oh heck no. I am not touching anything in here until Santi’s looked at it first,” Kylie said, bouncing the kid in her arms. Apparently the boy had earned the nickname ‘Near’ for his tendency to stay out things and instead observe them from a distance. Well, when you had a sister like Yuki you probably let her take care of the action. “Why do they call you Jam and not like...James?”

“I’ve changed my appearance quite a few times over the years,” Jam replied. “One look contained a lot of purple, and the nickname stuck.” He noticed that March was attempting his usual passive mode of lounging with his back against a wall, ankles and arms crossed, but his tail was twitching. “Are you certain that you wouldn’t like to sit?” Jam asked him. He’d said hello to March a few times before now, so what was making him be on edge? Nimue? The new environment?

March shook his head before tilting it at Jam. Ah. “Relax big guy,” Jam said to him, wanting to go over and clap him on the shoulder but knowing that wasn’t the right move. He’d settle on his own. “Been retired a long time now. Longer than Walter, actually.”

Jam felt his wife’s eyes suddenly on him, boring a hole straight into him as Kylie asked: “Who’s Walter?” Oh dear. March put a hand out and traced something onto her shoulder, causing Kylie to gently set Near on the ground. “Excuse me I need to go right now. Just uh...forgot something. Be right back.”

Jam looked up at the ceiling and sighed, knowing who was going to be behind him if he turned around. It was a thing you got used to. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m used to it just being us in here.”

“Great,” Walter said, walking around him and picking Near up from the floor. “Everyone’s going to know in-”

“WHAT,” the voice of Jack came from down the hall. “It’s been TEN GODDAMN YEARS YOU SHIT.”

“-thirty seconds.”

----

Samuel was feeling about how Adeline had felt about the god room, standing just outside the doorway and peering into something he wished 1) wasn’t there and 2) that he hadn’t seen. He was a naturally curious person and something of a magical researcher, but there was no way he was stepping more than a foot in there.

He knew what the strange glowing thing in the center of it was- silvery rings twisting and flitting around each other like a child’s toy. A Rifedel’s Compass, an item meant to slowly leech magical energy from an area and then later be reversed to expend said energy. A handy thing when you were working with say, magical items that could be dangerous. Arcane energy in particular had a tendency to do what it wanted if not properly contained.

But he’d only ever seen ones with three rings, and he also knew the more power they leeched the more chaotic and potentially dangerous the compass itself became. The world’s energy wasn’t meant to be stuffed into a container, after all.

This thing had twelve rings, it was spinning wildly and there were inscriptions all around the conical room that he could feel were moving the energy around, expending at least some of it. He was also aware that the city itself was sitting on a Shadow leyline. Grenfell had put this stupid thing on a goddamn leyline and left it there. There was an obsidian circle set in the floor below it, which probably did something he didn’t understand quite yet. Sam put a hand to his face. No wonder this whole city was constantly flooded with magic, and if he attempted to turn it off there was a very, very large chance of it exploding and a possible chain reaction with the leyline.

For someone so clever Grenfell could be really dumb. Or maybe the entire point was mutually assured destruction. Samuel straightened himself and looked back to Alice, who had her hands over her mouth and nose and was breathing slowly, concentrating on not skipping. “Let’s get you away from here,” he said.

“That would b-b-b-” she looked towards the ceiling and gave a frustrated sigh as her entire body flickered like candlelight in a breeze, threatening to blink away somewhere in time. “BE good.”

“Really, really sorry about that,” Samuel said, wincing slightly. Maybe he shouldn’t be so hard on Gren for trying things that were very stupid in hindsight. It seemed a habit of Arcane dragons to push the limits and occasionally have it snap back into your face.

“I know, you don’t need to k-k-k-....ugh.”

“Yeah, I do.”

[oria-eska-misfits]

Misfits Chapter 2 Rough Draft

Art of Oria and Eska, the two heroines from my story Misfits, done by @cherryvunilla Vunilla on deviantart. See the original post here.

Once again I want to point out that this is an extremely rough draft. Much has changed and some scenes don’t even exist anymore. This is the last chapter I wrote the first time I tried to write this story and it’s unfinished too. I’ve since rewritten it from scratch. However, I wanted to share it anyway in case it sparks anybody’s interest and gets them interested in this tale that I’m trying to tell. Enjoy!

Synopsis | Chapter One

Oria awoke to a maid opening her blinds. The light from the street lights flowed in and lit the room a warm yellow.

Oria sat up and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes with one hand.

               "Good morning miss. I've laid out a clean outfit for you," she said gesturing to the end of the bed.

A very fancy dress, much like the one Isbeil had worn the day before laid before her. It was white however and did not have a high stiff collar. Oria felt the fabric in her hands. It was so soft.

The maid helped Oria slip into the dress with ease and she put on a pair of white silk dress shoes.

               "We're washing the clothes you came in now."

Oria looked in the mirror and tied her hair to one side with a bow. She was amazed at how pretty she felt.

The maid led her to the dining room. As the approached she could hear Isbeil and Abhi speaking in in a tongue that she did not understand but recognized as Hindi.

As she entered the room she saw them sitting at a long dinning table. Abhi sat at the head of the table and Isbeil on his right hand side.

               "Ah, good morning Oria," Abhi greeted.

               "Good Morning," Oria greated.

Oria moved to the seat across from Isbeil and lifted her dress, careful not to sit on her bustle, as she sat.

               "This is a nice spread," Oria said eyeing the spread out in front, "I don't recognize any of these fruits though."

               "Try these, they taste like strawberries," Abhi said passing a tray of small orangy green fruits to her.

               "He's always going on about strawberries," Isbeil said as Oria accepted a few, "I think the reason he's most excited about us having contact with earth again, is that he'll be able to have all the foods that he grew up with.

               "Hush, you have no idea what you're missing dear. Tell her Oria."

               "Yeah, they're pretty delicious," Oria smiled endearingly.

Eska entered the room wearing a dress shirt, dress pants and a pair of brown boots.

               "Good morning sleeping beauty," Isbeil said.

               "Only because I get to see your face," Eska winked and plunked herself in the seat beside Isbeil.

               "Flatterer."

               "So Oria," Abhi began, "Now that we've all had some rest, tell me, what has happened on earth since we severed contact?"

               "Um well... it was 100 years ago during the second world war, right?"

               "Right."

               "When exactly did you loose contact?"

               "Right after they dropped them bomb on Hiroshima."

               "Okay, well, they dropped another one before the war was over. The allied forces won. There's no longer a royal line in Japan. They're a democracy now. Germany had it's army taken away for a while.

"A couple years later there was the cold war between the U.S and Russia. Everyone was afraid they'd nuke each other that the sky would be fill up with ash and dust. That never happened though.

               "Um, when I was 7 terrorists crashed two planes into the world trade center towers. A bunch of people died and they had to evacuate New York for a while. Then they sent a bunch of troops to the middle east and they're still fighting those wars unfortunately.

               "Other than that, cars have gotten faster, we put a man on the moon, a rover on mars and I think we even have a satelite outside of the solar system too.

               "Um... what else...? I think I'm blanking now sorry. Oh, and global warming! The atmosphere is warming up because of all the carbon emissions from cars and power plants and stuff. It's effecting the enviroment and all these different species are just dying off. There have been heat waves that kill tons of people, I think there was a sea that dried up too and it's putting a hole in the ozone layer."

               "That's insane. How is that possible? How do people allow that to continure?" Isbeil exclaimed.

               "I- I guess people are just too comfortable to care, or at least do anything about it," Oria replied.

               "I see that things still haven't calmed down," Abhi cut in, "Humanity has always been a passionate and fearsome race. Thank you dear for enlightening us. It was all very fascinating. Sometimes it doesn't feel like I've been away for that long at all, " he reminisced, "But so much has happened on both sides. Having you here is like having a little piece of home."

Oria's heart warmed a little.

               "Thank you. I'm glad."

               "Now my dear, would you tell us more of the reason why you're here."

Oria took a deep breath.

               "It's my mother," she began, "She has terminal lung cancer. The doctor has given her little more than a year to live."

               "That's quite serious," Abhi said solemnly.

Oria nodded and leaned forward.

               "But Eska's Uncle tells me that it's possible to cure her. It's just-"

               "The problem of getting her here," Abhi finished for her.

               "Yes, and I thought, since you were originally from earth, maybe you would have some experience with these kinds of things. That maybe you could help me."

Oria was speaking so fast but stopped when Abhi put his hand up and took hers.

               "Oria, I will help you in anyway I can," he said sincerely.

Oria smiled.

               "Thank you," she said with gratitude.

He let go of her hand.

               "We'll need to go to immigrations in the home world. Yours is a speccial case so I think things will go well. However, I don't want you to get your homes up too high. Home world is very by the book. We'll need very good lawyers to get you through the loop holes."

               "Lawyers?" Oria asked.

               "Oh yes, we're going to have to go through many court cases and get on the good side of many of politicians. Lucky for you I've already got that covered," he winked.

They finished breakfast and then prepared to depart. Isbeil helped Oria pick out a decorative sun hat, that had sashed that came down the side and tied under her chin, and a pair of white satin gloves that went up past her elbows. She also gave her a small coin purse which Oria put her phone, I.D, and some of her makeup in.

As Isbeil helped her accessorize they smiled and laughed and joked. Isbeil kept telling her how pretty she was and how much the clothes suited her. Oria felt really relaxed around her. Like they had been friends for years. But she guessed she was just on of those kinds of people.

When they got outside a carriage was waiting there. Eska was wearing a long trench coat that she left open. To her right Abhi looked very dapper in knee high boots and a long dark coat. He held the door open while the girls entered and followed them in. He signalled to the driver and they were on their way.

They drove slowly down the hill. At the bottom, rather than turning left or right, they did a 180 and turned into a small tunnel that Oria had not noticed the day before. Lanterns hung at the sides. THey lit the place up with yellow flickering light.

They were in the tunnel for no more than a minute when it let out into another part of the portal world. The houses there were still nice. Women of lower status walked the streets selling flowers, bread, milk and other goods.

They made their way down the street at a decent pace. Eventually they turned and began makinf their way to the closest wall of the cavern. Finally they made it to a slightly larger cave.

This one was lined with nicer, more advance lights. Oria didn't recognize the make but they almost looked fluorescent.

The tunnel was also lined with video frames that showed many sorts of ads for products that were unrecognizable and alien to her. As they moved down the tunnel suddenly the road was glassy looking and lit a pale green. It was transparent and showed lit blue wires like a microchip. It reminded her of Tron.

Soon the tunnel began to brighten as the pale glow of sunlight began to mix with the florescent lighting. Soon they exited the tunnel and Oria practically cried out when they were left hanging in mid air. However they did not fall and continued to hover as the carriage moved forward. Oria looked out the window at the wheels and saw that the air glowed green below them. She soon realized that the road was not gone but had just become transparent. She could tell it was still their by the slight sheen of light bouncing off of it.

She looked down and saw a grand city looming far below them. It was silver and white and far more advanced than any she had seen on earth. Vehicles flew through the air and more vehicles lined transparent roads below her.

               "Amazing," she breathed, too awestruck to say more.

Eska smiled over at her and Isbeil smirked.

They descended downwards slightly and soon came upon a moving platform. It took them down past the top of the highest buildings and soon Oria could measure their height in the amount of floors they went down. She counted 80 under her breath and still they were so high up in the sky. The buildings were enormous and impossibly wide to boot.

When they got off the moving platform they exited the carriage and got on to one of the flying vehicles that was waiting for them there. They took off into the sky and Oria white knuckled the seat.

She had flown once before in the helicopter that had taken her to the Toronto hospital after one bad self injury session she had when she was younger. She still remembered how her cheek stung and the pain in her mothers eyes after they had stitched her up and stabilized her. She had never done it again.

Soon the landed on a platform in front of the tallest building in the city. It was attached 10 stories down from the top of the building.

               "This is where the council is," Isbeil began, "Immigrations is located here too a few floors down."

They stepped out of the vehicle onto the shiny white floor. It pulsed bright like where her feet applied pressure. She almost felt like she was in heaven.

They walked towards the building though the beautiful park and garden that surrounded them. There was a sitting area and a fountain and even a playground that had been taken over by small children from races she had yet to know.

The walked through large grand glass like doors that needn't part but one could simply phase through. The technological advancements stunned Oria. She hadn't the words to describe the complete awe she was feeling.

The room that they were in had a high ceiling like a stadium and many booths lined that walls that could be reached by more floating platforms. A long line trailed from a large reception desk at the front of the room.

They walked past all this and reached a grand staircase in the center of the room. The descended and walked down a long hallway along the side of the building that was lined with a large window that spanned the length of it. At the end they reached an elevator that spanned the length of a full room. They went down 20 floors and exited into a smaller but no less grand room than the one before.

They were greeted by a woman in full business attire there.

               "Welcome Sir Rana. What can I help you with today?"

               "Immigrations business," he replied, "I'd like to speak with Vito if at all possible."

               "Certainly Sir, right this way," she lead them down a hallway and spoke on an ear piece as she did.

               "He's just finishing a meeting right now, he'll be with you shortly," she said as they approached their destination, a small waiting room.

               "If you would please take a seat," she said gesturing to the couches and coffee table.

               "Thank you," Abhi said.

She bowed slightly. She left for a minute and returned with a tray of tea. She place tea cups and saucers down in front of them all. She served them all tea and bowed again before leaving.

They waited no more than five minutes before Vito entered the room with his personal assistant. They were both the same kind of humanoid creature as Jules and the woman in the painting back at the mansion.

Abhi and Isbeil rose so Oria did too. Slowly Eska did as well. It was apparent that she didn't care for the mannerisms of the high class.

               "Good to see you again friend," Vito said as he shook Abhi's hand.

               "And it's good to see you."

Isbeil stepped forward.

               "Hello Vito," she said grasping his hand, "These are my friends Eska and Oria," she gestured to the pair.

               "Nice to meet you both," he nodded first shaking Eska's hand and then Oria's.

"So Abhi, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" Vito asked. "It's a matter of great import," he replied.

And that’s all I wrote of Chapter 2! I hope you enjoyed. Here are some bits that I had on the end of the file that I wrote down that happen later in the story.  

About him paying a lot to fast track her case- "My dear, I have so much money, I don't know what to do with it all." (When she thanks him)

 "This is my idiot brother" "Is that any way to treat your older brother?" "By five minutes." "And I'll never let you forget it!" "Isn't that my line?

 "These are my best friends," Oria said showing her a picture on her phone, "Jamal, Peter and Nina. I go to school with Jamal and Nina, and I met Peter at ballet lessons when we were little.

“Who’s that?” Eska asked as she scrolled past a picture of her ex.

“Oh- that’s Hwan.”

Eska seemed to notice the briskness of her answer and side-glanced at her as she continued to go through pictures.

“And these are my three little cousins Cara, Steebeth and Vea.”

“Aw they’re adorable little runts.”

Oria chuckled.

  "Tell me something that I don't know about you" "I sang in a choir when I was a child." "Really? I can't see you doing that" "I'm full of surprises" "Sing me something," Oria requested. Eska tucked a strand of hair behind Oria's ear. "Are you going to Scarborough FairParsley, sage, rosemary and thyme Remember me to one who lives thereShe once was a true love of mine....."

Scarborough Fair is just a placeholder song until I can think of some lyrics of my own.

My Main Tumblr | Buy me a coffee

[chelseaapproved]

I’ll Sing a Song Beside You

Read on Ao3!

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9  | 10  | 11  | 12  | 13

Chapter Five

“Would you rather lick the floor of the metro or lick a public toilet?”

“Ew! Neither!”

“You have to choose one, M.”

“I wouldn’t want to do either of those though.” Marinette looks up from painting her toes to glare at Alya.

“That’s the whole point of the game,” Alya groans, clearly frustrated with Marinette. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so bad at this.”

“You keep giving me gross ones!”

“Ugh fine.” Alya switches from the green polish to the blue one. She’s going for some fancy marble effect that Marinette is jealous of. For all Marinette is creative and artistic, she has yet to master the art of painting nails. “Would you rather marry Adrien or have a successful career designing clothes?”

Marinette feels her face warm up at the idea of marrying Adrien. She might be a little pathetic. “Both,” she says, once she gets control of her pounding heart.

“You can only choose one.”

“But they’re my two life goals, how am I supposed to choose?”

“As previously stated, multiple times, that is the point of the game. It’s not supposed to be easy. How have you never played this before?”

“I don’t know,” Marinette shrugs. “Can we play something else? I’m clearly not cut out for this game.”

Alya definitely says something but Marinette doesn’t pay attention—she’s too distracted by the very familiar ‘thunk’ she hears on her balcony. Marinette freezes, her back stiffening as she realizes she forgot to lock her sunroof. Which means—

“Good evening, Mari! How are… you…?” Chat stares wide-eyed at a slack-jawed Alya.

Oh no.

“Chat Noir,” Alya exclaims, breaking the silence. “What are you doing here?”

“I—er,” he glances at Marinette, panicked.

“Cookies,” Marinette blurts out.

“Cookies,” Alya repeats.

“Yes! He, um, orders cookies from us sometimes. And if he gets here after my parents go to bed, he’ll come up here to get them!”

“Right,” Chat says, throwing Marinette a look that clearly tells her the lie sucks. “So, do you have my cookies ready for me?”

“Um.” Marinette glances around her room but there are obviously no cookies to give him. “I must have gotten distracted by our sleepover that I forgot to bring them up. I’ll be right back.”

“I can get them if you want,” Chat says quickly.

“No, you stay there. Just give me a second!”

Marinette flings open the trap door and races down the stairs. They usually have a few sweets at the end of the day but most of their leftovers get donated to soup kitchens and homeless shelters. She scrambles to find a few cookies and rummages through the cabinets to find an extra box to put them in.

She grabs a marker and writes ‘For Chat Noir’ in fancy calligraphy. It’s already been too long so she doesn’t bother with string or ribbon.

Rushing up the stairs, she can hear Alya questioning Chat. Marinette flinches before bursting into the room. Chat is awkwardly standing in the middle of the room with Alya beaming up at him.

“Here are your cookies! Sorry to keep you waiting so long.”

“No harm done little lady.” Chat grabs the box out of Marinette’s hand, brushing her fingers as he does so. It sends a tingle down her spine that she ignores. “The sweets from here are well worth the wait.”

“Right. Well, I hope you enjoy them. Bye!” She all but pushes Chat back toward the bed so he can escape through the sunroof.

“Don’t forget our interview,” Alya calls as Chat starts up the ladder. Marinette winces; Alya must have cornered him into an interview while she was getting cookies. She makes a mental note to bring it up to him the next time they meet.

“I won’t. Take care of yourselves. Thanks again for the cookies!” Then he’s gone.

There’s a beat of silence.

“How long has Chat Noir been visiting you and why haven’t you told me earlier?”

--

Chat doesn’t visit for the rest of the weekend. It should be good because after the very awkward and uncomfortable conversation with Alya, they spend the entire weekend hanging in Marinette’s room. Marinette thinks Alya was hoping to catch another glimpse of Chat but thankfully the cat knew to stay away.

Unfortunately, Ladybug is able to beat the only akuma of the weekend before Chat even shows up. Normally, Marinette would consider this a good thing but it’s been days since she last got to speak to him—really speak to him, without any third-party members present—and she misses him.

“Hey Marinette.”

Marinette startles and jumps in her seat, hitting her knee against the bottom of her desk. Already embarrassed, Marinette can feel her face growing warm while Adrien watches on with concern.

“Are you okay,” Adrien asks.

“Y-yeah,” she forces out. “You’re fine. I mean, I’m fine. Me. Is fine.”

“Okay…” he says with a hesitant smile. One of these days Marinette is going to have a conversation with Adrien that doesn’t make her want to bash her head in a wall. “Uh, anyway, I was wondering if you had any plans for lunch?”

Marinette blinks at him. “Me?”

“Yeah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Would you—Do you have any plans?”

Marinette looks around but everyone has already fled from the classroom. She has no lifelines. “I—I was just going to go back home. Alya and Nino are going on some weird date-not-a-date thing and I usually eat at home anyway because the food is fresher and warmer and it gives me an opportunity to talk to my parents. But I don’t have to do that! I am always open to other things and eating with new people and doing whatever during lunch. I mean, not whatever, I still want to eat but I just meant I don’t need to eat at home.”

Adrien stares at her, a small smile forming on his lips that gets her heart pounding. He’s too beautiful for her to handle.

“I have to go home and wanted to know if you’d mind coming with me?”

The next few minutes are unclear to Marinette—she thinks she might have blacked out—but suddenly she’s in the back of the limo with Adrien beaming at her.

“Thanks again for coming,” Adrien says when he catches her eye.

Even in her daze, Marinette can recognize it’s a weird thing to say. “You don’t need to thank someone for hanging out with a friend,” she says.

Adrien shrugs. “I know but… I had a rough weekend and this morning was even worse and I just… really needed a friendly face?”

Marinette’s heart goes out for the boy sitting next to her. Her biggest regret about her interactions with Adrien is that he seems like the kind of person who really needs a friend but she is wholly underqualified to be that person for him.

“I’m sure Nino would have rescheduled his thing with Alya for you,” she says.

Adrien looks down at his lap. “I didn’t want to ask him to do that just for me. Besides, he’s still not allowed in my house…”

Marinette closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She is going to get this out properly the first time. “Adrien,” she starts. When he snaps his eyes to her, she feels bold enough to hold his hand. “Friends like helping each other. And Nino, especially, is a wonderful human being who will always be there for you. You could have asked him for help. But I’m glad you reached out to me.”

He squeezes her hand. “You’re really important to me, Marinette.”

And here comes the blushing. She pulls her hand out of his and anxiously plays with her hair. “Ahh… y-you’re important to me, too.”

Adrien’s colossal bodyguard thankfully cuts off their conversation by opening the door. Marinette squeaks out a ‘thanks’ but the man stays stoic and silent as usual.

Adrien leads Marinette to the dining room where two plates are waiting for them. He must have called ahead and asked the chef to prepare a meal for her as well and it just… melts her. She doesn’t think she is going to survive this afternoon.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, picking at their salad.

“D-do you want to talk about your weekend,” Marinette finally asks. She stays looking at her food because that’s the only way she can have this conversation without panicking.

“It just wasn’t a good weekend,” Adrien shrugs. “Not much to talk about.”

“Okay,” Marinette says. “I’m here if you want to talk.”

“Thanks, Marinette,” he says with more gratitude than she can handle. This entire lunch is more than she can handle, in all honesty.

They lapse back into silence. Marinette wracks her brain for something to say and break the awkwardness between them but her mind is unsurprisingly blank.

“My father overbooked me again this weekend so I barely had time to breathe, let alone relax,” Adrien says. Marinette puts down her fork, intent to give Adrien her full attention. “I was supposed to go over Nino’s to help him test out some new software he downloaded but I had to bail last minute. He said he understood but there’s only so many times you can ditch someone before they give up on you, you know?”

“I’m sorry you missed out on the weekend. Nino understands your father is…particular,” Marinette settles for a much gentler word than what she’s thinking. “We all do and none of us judge you for it.”

“I feel like a horrible friend.”

“You’re not. I bet if I called Nino right now he would agree that you’re an amazing friend, Adrien.”

His cheeks turn the faintest tinge of pink, which is absolutely adorable and has Marinette blushing like crazy herself.

“You’re an amazing friend, too,” he mumbles.

Her face grows even hotter so she decides she should move on from that particular subject. “Y-you also mentioned today wasn’t too great either.”

Adrien sighs. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.”

“I have a fencing match tomorrow and Father said he would try to make it this time but when I woke up this morning, he was gone on a week-long trip.”

Marinette stares in horror at the poor boy in front of her. She can’t imagine what it must be like to live with a father like Gabriel Agreste. Super-talented and awe-inspiring fashion designer, but unfairly neglectful father.

“I’m so sorry. That must feel awful.”

“I’m used to it.”

“Is there anything I can do,” Marinette asks.

“Just being here is enough,” he says. Somehow, Marinette doesn’t faint on spot.

--

Despite the incident on Friday, Chat drops into her room without any warning. She supposes he isn’t the one forced to interact with a suspicious Alya all the time now.

“Hey,” she says, barely glancing up from the banner she’s working on.

Chat leaps off the bed and stands next to her. “What are you working on,” he asks.

“My friend has a meet tomorrow,” she explains, “and his family isn’t going so my friends and I are going to go and root for him instead.”

“You’re making a banner for him?” His voice sounds off but Marinette doesn’t bother with it.

“Of course. What kind of fan would I be if I didn’t make a sign?”

“You’re so nice,” he says. “I can’t believe you’d do this for him.”

“It’s not a big deal. I’d do it for any of my friends.”

“You’re a really wonderful person, Mari.”

Marinette puts down her banner and properly looks at him. He has tears in his eyes and is looking at her like there’s no one else in the world that matters.

“Chat, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he says, blinking rapidly.

“Come here.” She leads him to the chaise and pats the spot next to her to sit. He immediately sits and leans into her, letting his head rest against hers.

“What happened,” she asks.

“I needed this,” he sighs.

“You’re making me nervous, Kitty.”

“The past few days have been crappy and I didn’t get to see you, which made it even worse. I had a friend cheer me up earlier today but I really just needed this.” He nuzzles the top of her head to drive his point home.

Marinette reaches up to scratch behind his cat ears, a spot she knows he’s weak for. “You want to talk about it?”

“Not really. It wasn’t anything bad and I already talked to my friend.”

“Want to watch anime and cuddle on my bed?”

“Absolutely, I do,” Chat says, leaping off the chaise.

Marinette grins at him and grabs her laptop while he runs up to the bed. She glances at the half-finished banner she abandoned, then back at Chat. It’s going to be a late night, but both her boys deserve it.

[kashmiresims]

Morning After

First Post | Previous Post | Next Post

Illyana couldn't decipher between a memory and a dream when her eyes gingerly blinked open. The sunlight had been hitting the outside of her eyelids and they were warm enough from the heat to rouse her. She felt like her head was a watermelon--heavy, and over-sized. Her bladder seemed like it was going to explode. She made a small moan of discomforted annoyance and arched her back, managing to pull herself up and overcome the gravity. She had to rub sleep out of her eyes before she realized that nothing around her was recognizable.

Where the plumbobs was she?

The room had brick walls, covered in different art canvases. Paintings, she realized at seeing an easel against the wall with a canvas half complete with a similar style as the completed ones. Was this a dream? She shivered a bit and realized a breeze was blowing on her through an open window. When she looked down at herself she let out a gasp. Where were her clothes?

She put her hand to her foggy head as a small pang of panic pricked her in the gut. She didn't remember any detail of how she got here. Wherever this was, it was not a dream. She began to feel anxious and closed her eyes. 

One breath. 

Two breaths. 

Three.  

She felt a bit calmer but no less concerned at her predicament.  

The bed was a queen, the blankets looked like they were a dude's. She spied hair ties on the night stand and reconsidered her former thought.  

She quietly slipped out of the bed and tip-toed on the wooden floor, over to the dresser to further investigate. The top drawer was a mix of unmatched socks and boxer briefs. Okay, so it was a dude's room? Who's? That blond guy from the frat? She remembered some intense flirting from him, what was his name? It started with an ‘M’. Her last clear memory was that Alarie and her went to visit Rafael but then after that, details started to blur.

She pulled open a middle drawer and found a collared shirt one might wear to a party. It was long enough anyway to cover her decently, made for a tall man's torso and ended at her upper-thigh. She threw it on and buttoned it up, feeling a bit better about investigating the strange domain all the while racking her brain for clues or memories to where she was.

Alarie had kept insisting that a rebound would bring Illyana out of her post-breakup moping but if she couldn't remember any of it what was the point? She really hoped she hadn't randomly hooked up with a stranger. She closed the window and decided she needed to find a bathroom.

There were two doors in the room. She cracked the left one open and found the toilet and sighed in relief. After using it, washing her hands and bit more of sleep out of her eyes she continued on her quest to find her clothes.  

She searched around the room and got a bit distracted by the paintings. They were very good. Colorful, fantastical, enchanting even. They looked like something in a dream. That reminded her that presently, this wasn’t a dream, and she still needed to find her clothes.

After looking everywhere, she concluded that her clothes were not in the bedroom.  

She found herself outside the second door, in a hallway with a stairwell and the first thing that hit her senses was the smell of something delicious. Pancakes?

The stairs creaked as she descended into a main room. She saw a drum kit and a stand up bass, also a computer desk. To the left was a living room and the right was the dining room, and beyond that she assumed a kitchen. She had the feeling it was not the frat she had visited with Alarie. 

She stopped and tensed with utmost apprehension--someone was there in the kitchen, she could hear them shuffling around!

"Hello?" She asked with a hint of nervousness, feeling a lot like Goldilocks inside a stranger's house and not knowing what she was about to run into.

"Good morniiiiiing Sunshine," she heard the drawl of a vaguely familiar male voice and then he stepped out from the kitchen to reveal himself.

So many things did not make sense to Illyana in that moment.

Nicholas Hart, someone she knew for a fact wanted nothing to do with her, was standing there and smiling.  He looked like some kind of model, wearing nothing but bright green pajama pants, with his very long hair loose and hanging around his shoulders. He was holding a plate of pancakes.

Maybe it was a dream after all.

Or a nightmare.

Had she drunkenly hooked up with him of all people!? Her cheeks flared red in horrified mortification as she imagined what had transpired between them.

"I bet you're hungry," he said and placed a plate of food on the table, gesturing her over to eat. She was in fact, ravenous, but made no move to join him. Her mind was still jumbled.

"Wha...what's happening?" she finally asked, trying to remain calm.

He cut into his stack of pancakes with a smirk, "Breakfast."

She frowned; that was not the answer she was looking for and he knew it! She wanted to know why she was there, why she had woken up in a state of undress, and why she couldn't remember anything. She knew he could fill in the blanks. She stood stiffly with the smell of pancakes beckoning her to eat. 

His smirk melted and he took on a more serious air, "Come here and eat. I'll explain everything."

That was acceptable.

She dug into her stack of pancakes and listened intently as he made it clear, to her relief, that they had not slept together. Then he began to recount the night that had slipped through her memory.

It was hard to keep her eyes off him because Nick looked so different with such long hair. He’d always let it grow to shaggy proportions when they were younger but nothing this drastic. It wasn't a bad look on him though, it was actually rather attractive but it was inappropriate for her to be checking him out while eating breakfast. Yet, she found that her stare kept wandering back to him as he told her about Marshall Cosgrove and the Torporia, her following disorientation, and her alarming need to undress herself. 

"So you saw me in my underwear then?" She asked with a startled tone, her heightened anger flaring, losing focus on his features and interrupted his story.

"Well, yeah but it's not a big deal," Nick shrugged. She scowled, her cheeks turning red again.

"I mean, I saw you in your underwear all the time when we went swimming in my pool," he cocked his head to the side and widened his eyes innocently.

"Yeah, but I was like eight, didn't have a real swimsuit and I didn’t want to get all my clothes wet!" She protested, recalling those summers, years ago when they were kids. She was already livid that someone like Marshall Cosgrove thought he could drug her and get away with it and also couldn’t help but feel discouraged that she had such awful luck in picking men.

"See? Not a big deal," Nick nodded like his point was made and popped another forkful of pancake into his mouth. “Anyway, I called the police and told them what I saw him do.”

“Did you mention my name?”

“No, I didn’t think you wanted to be dragged into an investigation; you’ve been through enough.”

"How do you do it?" She asked, frustrated and still amazed, setting down her own fork with a little too much force on the table-top.

"What?" He raised an inquisitive brow.

"Sit there and speak to me like we're still friends," she finally looked away and crossed her arms. What he had done for her last night--it was something a friend would do. Or at least, what someone who cared about her would have done. She couldn't figure him out anymore. The summer before their senior year of high school, they had begun to mend their friendship and then it was all destroyed within a night, and she never understood why. He didn't speak to her after that. He hadn't cared anymore, and to be honest, it hurt her immensely. "You told me we aren't."

"I was also really stupid back then," Nick said in an obvious tone. She snapped her gaze to him and her hard, scrutinizing expression demanded more of an explanation so he continued, "The reason my set sounded so bad during Battle of the Bands was because someone sabotaged my amp settings and I assumed you had gotten a little too competitive and messed them up."

Illyana's eyes widened in shock, her mouth opened to protest but Nick already knew it wasn’t her fault and held out his fork to shush her before she began.

"I realized later that you didn’t do it but I also realized I was a bad friend anyway for jumping to conclusions and blaming you and that's why I stopped talking to you. I figured you didn't need someone so immature and selfish in your life."

She winced, remembering those were the words she had once said to his face to summarize his character. He really must have taken her critique to heart for him to have such consideration for her well-being. Last night was proof he wasn't so self-centered after all; here he was making her pancakes even. He had changed. He did care. "I guess I owe you a solid then, for seeing me out safely."

"You don't owe me anything," Nick insisted. He stood and picked up his empty plate. She had eaten her share minutes ago so he stacked his on top and took it too. She gave him a smile, the first he'd seen in years and it was breathtaking. Seeing this girl he'd known all his life, who at one time he knew like the back of his hand, and now he knew so little about, beaming up at him like that while wearing nothing but one of his shirts. It was enough to make him take a chance to try and know her again. He put on his smirk,  "Though, if you feel so inclined, you can still let me take you out on that date."

Illyana mirrored his smirk, thinking back to how he assumed his band would win the Battle of the Bands and he would never suffer the consequences of that bet. If he were to win, she had to let him take her on a date.

“You lost that bet," 

He knew it. So did the whole school who had seen him streak as a consequence of losing it. That was her brilliant idea.

She remembered sitting in study hall that day when suddenly Alarie shrieked and pointed out the window and they all looked up from their homework to see Nick sprint past in all his glory. She had honestly forgotten about their bet by the time school has started and was impressed he still went through with it even though he had stopped talking to her at that point. Nick was always good for a laugh, he rarely took anything seriously and was an unapologetic flirt.

Nick dumped the dishes into the sink and turned around to face her, all hint of that signature smirk wiped away, "Really though, I'd love to take you out sometime and catch up." 

The laughter fell out of her lively eyes; she stood from her seat abruptly and blurted,  "What? That's dumb. Are you really being serious?”

He paused before holding his arm and sheepishly asking, "Why is it dumb?"

It more of a knee-jerk response to any of his ideas that she didn't agree with, but it was dumb because he could pick any other person to ask out on a date. Not someone who was so fundamentally and mentally unfit to be involved in anything romantic at the moment.

"I'm...I have a lot of issues I need to work through. I'm not really...I...don't..." She stumbled over her words feeling her cheeks start to get warm again.

"I'm not your type?" He tried to make her rejection of him easier, and she could detect a note of disappointment in his words despite the smirk that reappeared on his face.

His type--that long hair, pale, freckled, bluish-green-eyed jock was something she could find herself attracted to, but it was still Nick. He of all people knew how to stoke the fires of her temper, sometimes even unintentionally.  Their chemistry could be quite volatile. 

Even more importantly, she was rejecting him because she was still trying to mend from her breakup and she didn’t need any new romantic complications. She felt like she couldn't just sit down and tell him all of this now and pour her issues onto him, she didn't even know him that well anymore. So she mumbled, "I just can't."

He didn't call her out for her vague reason, and she appreciated it.

"You can't blame me for trying though," he teased and pointed toward the living room, "By the way, your clothes are in there. I also found your phone in your back pocket, it kept buzzing me awake this morning and you have about a hundred texts from Alarie."

He pulled open a kitchen junk drawer and found a spare hair tie which he used to gather up his hair to it's usual style so it wouldn't get in his face as he washed dishes.

Illyana considered going to fetch her clothes and phone but she didn't want to leave that awkwardness of rejection hanging between them. She watched him scrub the plates clean with his back turned on her, noticing his shoulders were slumped but his back muscles subtly rippled as his arms moved. She didn't know why the view caused a little shiver to run down her own arms, but she did know that she was greatly appreciative for all he had done for her last night. She couldn’t imagine that she was the easiest person to deal with in such a state.

"Nick?" she said his name and stepped a little bit closer. He wiped his hands on his pajama pants and turned around only to make a surprised grunt as she suddenly grabbed him into a hug.  “Thank you,” she said quietly; the words muffled into the skin of his shoulder.  After a moment of stunned silence, he wrapped his arms around her and returned the embrace, “Hey, what are friends for?”

[jinkisbelly]

Colors 4/?

Pairing: Jongyu

Rating: mm pg

Warning: Age gap, (but everyone is legal)

w/c: around 2.3k,   First part here [x], second part here [x], third part here [x] can be read on aff also here [x], the part below is about their first kiss :D

Jinki happens across a small period diner with a flirty, young waiter who is full of color.

When his phone began to vibrate at 8 Jonghyun cursed. He had only managed to fall asleep around 5. He grumbled as he rolled over to squint at the light coming through the crack of the bedroom door. When he pulled the thick comforter up over his shoulder it was then he remembered he wasn’t in his apartment. Jinki had invited him over. Fuck. He wasn’t going to make it to his first class on time after taking the bus home to get his stuff and change.

He scrambled out of bed and his cheeks turned a little pink as the shirt Jinki laid out for him reached his mid thigh, and the pants covered all but his toes. While ruffling his hair and gathering the courage to go face Jinki he caught the scent of bacon. His tummy rumbling was the driving force of opening the door the rest of the way and following the sound of sizzling breakfast meat. Down the hall opened the living room, which was completely dark, so he followed the light to the left. Through the small dining room he could hear Jinki softly humming, little mumbled words every so often, and Jonghyun’s heart swelled.

His happy sigh gave him away though and Jinki quickly turned around surprised. Both were blushing as Jinki asked, “How long have you been standing there?”

“Mm not very long.” Jonghyun gave a soft smile, pushing up on his tiptoes to see what the other man was making. “Can I have some of that?”

“Huh?” Jonghyun pointed at the stove and Jinki laughed, “OH! Heh, of course. I wasn’t sure with what you liked as a side so I went with a classic.”

“Never can go wrong there.”

“Sit! I’ll get you plate.” Jinki beamed over at him. “For once let me wait on you.”  

“I can’t stay too long,” Jonghyun softly said, “I didn’t wake up early enough to calculate the bus ride home to get my stuff in time to get to class before it starts.”

“When does your class start?” Jinki asked over his shoulder as he slid the omelet from the skillet onto the place in his other hand.

“11:30.”

“And how long does it take to change, get stuff together?”

“30 minutes or so,” Jonghyun ran his tongue over his lips quickly, confused, “Why?”

“I don’t think we need 2 and a half hours for me to get you to class on time.” Jinki answered as the plate was pushed in front of him with a smile. “You look very lost right now Baby, what’s wrong?”

Jonghyun had almost forgot about the proceedings the night before, and his brain short circuited for a moment before he remembered how to speak. “I assumed I was just going to take the bus like I normally do. And it’s usually an hour long bus ride from my apartment to the school.”

“Well,” Jinki laid his own plate on the counter across from him with a smile, “I owe you a ride home, and if I remember correctly you go to the same college my son did. It’s on the way to my work.”

“Oh.. well thank you.” His cheeks were a little pink as he moved his piece of omelet around with his fork. After eating it it dawned on him that Jinki usually was on his way to work now. “Speaking of work… shouldn’t you be in your suit and like leaving?”

Jinki softly chuckled, “I texted my secretary, informed him I wouldn’t be in much before noon. I wanted to make sure you got home okay and I wasn’t sure how late you sleep on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

“Oh..” Jonghyun’s face was warm as he cut more of his omelet off. “Do you have coffee?”

“AH, yes.” Jinki gave a sheepish smile. “I made it, but forgot about it. Its right over there. Help yourself.  Mugs are in the dishwasher. Cream is in the fridge and sugar is in the cabinet just above the coffee maker if you need it.”

“Thanks,” Jonghyun jumped off the stool and shuffled over to make him a cup. Jinki followed his movements with his eyes, a soft smile pulling at his lips at how cute the younger man was in his clothes. When Jonghyun glanced over and noticed he blushed and dipped his head. “What?”

“Nothing. You’re just really cute,” Jinki honestly answered, before heat rose to his cheeks as he said, “I like seeing you wear my clothes.”

“I like it too,” Jonghyun giggled softly for a moment. “They’re soft.”

Jinki could have probably looked at him for a little while longer, but Jonghyun wasn’t paying attention to getting his coffee knowing he was being watched. “Make your coffee quickly, your food is getting cold.”

“Okies~”

——

As Jinki put the car in park in front of Jonghyun’s apartment building he expected to just wait outside for him, but the man dipped his head back into the car after stepping out. “Do you want to come in? It’s a little cold out and I don’t want you needing to have your car running to keep warm.”

“Ah,” Jinki ran his fingers over his thighs, “Are you sure? I’m fine just waiting here.”

Jonghyun smiled sweetly, “Come on. It’s not great like yours, but it’s home.”

“Okay,” Jinki turned the car off and grabbed his jacket before slipping out of the car seat. When he rounded the corner Jonghyun curled their fingers together and led him into the building, “My ex wife lived in these in college.”

“That doesn’t seem like a good omen for me.” Jonghyun softly said with a laugh as he punched in the code to open his mailbox. He grabbed the couple envelopes before heading toward the stairs, “Elevator is broken.”

“Don’t tell me you live on the 9th level.”

“Ha! No, I don’t.” Jonghyun beamed over at him as Jinki was able to walk next to him on the stairs, “Just one floor up.”

As Jonghyun slid his key into the door Jinki quipped, “And she never stood a chance. I didn’t know I was gay then.”

“Ah,” Jonghyun opened the door just a little and turned to smile up at him, his back pressed against the door frame. “So I have a better chance to not become an ex wife?”

Jinki looked from his eyes to his lips for a moment, “Very much so.” His voice was low in volume and deep in tone.

“Hey Handsome,” Jonghyun whispered.

“Yes?”

Jonghyun’s hair was falling into his eyes as he looked up at him, “Can I kiss you?”

Jinki’s gaze was warm and his voice even more so as he took a step closer, hand coming up to hold Jonghyun at his waist. “Of course, Baby.”

It was slow, and hesitant, but Jonghyun pushed up to meet him. He pulled away quickly, a rush in his chest, but after a quick glance they were connecting again. His arms around Jinki’s neck as the man curved an arm around his waist to rest his hand on the middle of Jonghyun’s back. When they parted both were blushing, eyes avoiding contact for a moment. Jonghyun hummed then, “You’re a good kisser.”

Jinki’s heart soared a little. “I’m a little out of practice.”

“If that’s you being rusty I don’t know if I can handle you when you’re a well oiled working machine at the top of his performance.” Jinki swooped down to give him one more and Jonghyun smiled, “I like this.”

“Practice makes perfect right?”

Jonghyun grumbled about how rude and attractive he was as he pushed open the door all the way and let Jinki into his apartment. The place was small, but it was warm and colorful. Everywhere Jinki looked he could see something that told him more about Jonghyun. The white, blank canvas across the room against the wall, the paints on the small dining room table, the curled up apron on the coffee table covered in art media, and the finished pieces on the wall that he could see Jonghyun’s name signed at the bottom. He walked over to the one closest to him to the left of the door. Jonghyun softly spoke behind him, “I painted that after seeing the koi fish at the pond in front of the art building at the school.”

“It’s gorgeous Jonghyun.”

“It’s not my best work.” The man admitted, “The colors are all wrong. It was my first time using oil paints.”

Jinki hummed, “Well, I think it’s amazing,”

“Thanks,” Jonghyun rocked on his feet for a moment when Jinki looked back at him. “You should see what I can do now though. It’s a lot better than that.”

“You should teach me some day.”

“To paint?”

“Yeah,” Jinki gazed over at him, “I might end up as me just watching you paint, but I’d enjoy that a lot too.”

“Maybe next week sometime.” Jonghyun ran a hand through his hair flustered, “I’m going to go get changed now… make yourself at home.”

——-

Jonghyun walked around the car and was about to walk into the building when he turned back and jogged to Jinki’s window. With a big smile he waited for the window to be brought down. Jinki looked concerned for a moment before Jonghyun was leaning into the window and pressing a kiss to his lips. “Have a good day Babe, I’ll text you after ceramics.”

“O-Okay.” Jinki stuttered. He smiled up at him and took a deep breath. “Bye Baby.��

He waited until Jonghyun was in the doors before pulling from the curb. Minho was expecting him in 20 minutes to go over things. He didn’t want to keep him waiting for longer than he already had.

—–

When Saturday rolled around it ended up snowing a lot more than anticipated and when Jinki showed up at Jonghyun’s apartment to pick him up to go to the Zoo’s light show neither were looking forward to padding through the thick snow to look at lights. Jonghyun pouted slightly as he hugged his sweater tighter to his frame anxiously. “I don’t know what else we could do. Most places are closing because of the snow.”

Jinki slowly smiled and asked hopefully, “We could stay in. You have to have something in the kitchen we can make for dinner.”

Jonghyun’s face brightened, “Is that okay?”

“Maybe we could nap,” Jinki beamed, proud of himself for his joke, “I’m old remember, I need my cat naps.”  

“We’ll see,” Jonghyun giggled as he took Jinki by the arm to lead him into the kitchen to look for dinner options. “After food.”

“Of course. Best time to nap is after you’re full.” Jonghyun shook his head fondly before letting Jinki’s arm go. “So what’s the chance you have chicken in that fridge of yours?”

“None,” Jonghyun snorted. “I’m a broke college student. I live off packaged ramen and what milk I can get from the school’s cafeteria.”

“Don’t tell me that,” Jinki scrunched up his nose. “I’ll be over in the morning with a car full of groceries.”  

“Oh no no no,” Jonghyun waved his hands in front of his face, “Don’t worry about me. I eat a lot at the diner.”

Jinki squinted at him. “Don’t tempt me.”

“Just look in the cabinets for me hmm?”

“Okay.” But when Jinki opened the cabinets the top two shelves in each weren’t being used and he couldn’t help but laugh.

“What?” Jonghyun’s voice was muffled with how far he was in his freezer.

“Nothing, just really amused at how you don’t use the top shelves.”

“Hey!” When Jinki turned to look at him Jonghyun had both hands on his hips, brows furrowed. “I’m a tiny man and I don’t feel like it’s necessary for me to have a step stool in my own home.”  

“Duly noted.” Jinki chuckled, “Did you find anything to eat? There’s spaghetti makings in here.”  

“All I have is left over pizza from about a week ago that probably is a science experiment right now.”

“Spaghetti it is.”  

Shortly they had the water boiling on the stove and Jonghyun slid the noodles in. Jinki poured the sauce in a pan and slowly stirred it while the other man softly asked, “What type of movie would you want to watch?”

“Anything you want to.”

“You’re not making this easy.”

Jinki leaned over and gently kissed Jonghyun’s hair, “I know.”

—–

They found a movie halfway done after dinner. Jonghyun was sitting up, flipping through the channels as Jinki leaned back against the couch to get comfortable. Once something was found Jonghyun fell back against the cushions, but he was still considerable amount of space away. “Hey Baby?”

The petname still caused butterflies to happen in Jonghyun’s stomach, “Yes Handsome?”

“C’mere.” Jinki lifted his arm until it was laying on the back of the couch, opening up his chest and side for Jonghyun to curl against. “You’re too far away for movie and a nap.”

“Ah-Okay.” With a little wiggle Jonghyun hesitantly curled up next to him. His head was on his chest and when Jinki’s arm fell around his waist his heart thumped. “You sure this is an okay date? You’re having fun right?”

Jinki’s face was so pretty in the dim light from the table lamp across from them as he smiled down at him, and taking his hand with his left one. “I’m spending time with you. You’re all I need to have a good time Jonghyun.”

“Don’t stay stuff like that so suddenly,” Jonghyun whined, “It makes me very emotional.”

“It’s true.”

Jonghyun grumbled, “Watch the movie.”

——–

[homedesign9]

Interior Decorating, Home Design, Room Ideas: October 2012

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Check out these collection of bathroom ideas by Italian company Cerasa. With in-floor bathtubs and deluxe furniture the circumstances they carry about is akin to those gotten in spas. Clearly most of the ideas do need many room and we expect any of these would get room in a special apartment setting. Delpha brings a collection of ultra stylish bathroom interiors for you. The designs are inspired by nature, pop culture, baroque and urban interiors.

Each bath area runs on a central theme where the fixtures and accessories are thoughtfully arranged. Most of the designs sport brightly coloured walls with rich use of textures. Some walls have mosaic tiles which are like jewels studded in a luxurious haven of purity. Going by the images, it looks as though this Delpha collection is targeting the luxury end of the market meant for people willing to pay the extra dollar.

Browse through for more inspiration.

I have a huge style crush on Hans Blomquist, stylist, art director, and author.Whether he’s being moody or lighthearted, masculine or feminine, I get him. Right down to the soles of my feet.  I discovered him slowly, as I found myself drawn to images from various sources, all connected by one name – his. Infatuation. Then I ordered his book, The Natural Home, and…love. Admittedly, his book will not be for everyone. If it’s color and contemporary design that move you, his is not the book for you. But if you love the moody, patinaed, textured, quirky and eclectic, with a distinctly European style, this book is most definitely for you.  What can I say? He’s everything I hope for in a stylist. Personalize your little ones play and sleeping areas with their favorite theme, without the need for time consuming painting or costly wallpaper. In a shared room situation, emblazoning your children’s names above, or on, toy chests and beds provides individuality, and establishing clear zones may help to avoid sibling squabbles. Using stickers to add color and fun to key pieces of furniture could even make an old wardrobe, or plain crafting table, into a child friendly piece. Fill a plain wall with a special nursery rhyme, or highlight a cherished item with a sweet spray of flowers.

Get creative by allowing sticky characters to interact with elements of the room, make a headboard into a perch under a line of cute birds, or balance creatures above door fames, skirting boards and light switches. Try making your own artwork by applying them to card stock and framing, and let matching elements loose on the surrounding wall for a ‘picture come to life’ effect. Wipe clean stickers that emulate note pads are perfect for a teen’s room, they can jot down homework notes, or doodle love notes, and simply wipe clean for next week!

Designing a child’s bedroom can be very challenging considering the fast pace in which kids are growing up these days. It’s hard enough keeping up with endless influx of technological gadgets before finding ways to store all of these “next best things”. But alas, there are fun innovative storage solutions disguised by splashes of color that would make any room look like a three dimensional Picasso! In these beautifully designed rooms below, the perfect balance of practicality and creativity has been achieved and will easily appeals to parents and children alike.

There are many good furniture designs, a lot of different materials that compose a beautiful desk. Some of them save space in the room because a designer created a functional design that would not only deal with your problem of having too little room for a desk but also look incredible in that small space. Some of the desks are suited only for large rooms that accentuate their gorgeous shape. And then there are those desks that can transform from a small, one-man workstation to a large, conferential table. It all depends on your taste and needs.

White is a Royal color – it’s the color of purity and beauty. This amazing color combines with almost any other, with it you can create any interior – from minimalist to a vintage romantic one. A white bedroom looks relaxing, inviting and calm, it’s like sleeping on a cloud. You may use not only pure white, add some colorful accents to make the space more dramatic. Don’t hesitate to use beige – that’s a one more classical color, or dark furniture to highlight that everything is white. Vintage furniture, shabby nightstands and crocheted bedspreads will give a romantic shabby chic touch to the interior. Floor tiles, impressive futuristic furniture and modern accessories give your bedroom a minimalist look. Choose your style, fill the room according to your dreams and enjoy your white paradise!

Chocolate appears to be dripping down the walls at this cafe in Opole, Poland, by interior designers Bro.Kat. With its stunning pool and impeccable style, The Sotogrande House is fit for a celebrity. The credit for its design goes to Spanish architectural firm A-cero. The design is fresh and exciting and you can’t stop but admire how serene the whole home looks. White dominates throughout and except for this minor(?) challenge of keeping it that way we really can’t find anything else to crib about this fabulous home.

This is a gray and white apartment interior designed by Lanciano Design. This apartment has modern design with dark gray and white as the main color theme. The white color used for the walls, ceilings and some furniture, give a clean and modern expression for the interior. The dark gray color is used for floors and some other furnitures. This color give an elegant expression on this apartment. This apartment designed with great views through the big windows, allowing the occupants to enjoy the surrounding view and also let natural light to go inside the apartment. White and Gray Apartment Interior Design In India ink, acrylic, pencil and plywood Jennie Ekström creates a fantasy world of her own where children, strange birds and middle aged women reside in an overgrown fairytale garden. Jennie lives in Enskede where she is working as an Illustrator and artist. The exhibition takes place at Linnman Gallery. Don’t miss it if you’re in the neighbourhood.

I really like the decent color scheme used in this lovely apartment decorated by Mood House. There is a nice combination of old and new decor all over the place and also some very clever styling ideas. Highlight here is for sure the living room with the very cool pendant lights and variable shelving unit but also the work area is very nicely decorated with all the small details like artwork or work tools on wall. Lovely apartment decorated by Mood House

I am very excited and impressed with DaVinci project House of tayone. Delve into the detail unique designs, each decorated in industrial style chic. Look closely to find an array of ideas to add character and whimsy to a blank canvas of space.

I love the brown in these types of rooms! I think it’s like the little bit of yummy sugar in the tea. If you want to minimize brown in your home, what about using rustic woods (woods that are so worn they are almost bluish-gray) as a compromise? That would get you closer to graphite, I had a very hard time picking out just a few of the photos, but I hope you enjoy the massive picture bomb! It sure adds a lot of warmth to the interiors, and that is always nice in the colder months.

Louise Poulsen, the company making lights designed by such a great names as Arne Jacobsen or Poul Henningsen recently presented a new promo shots that were taken in a house of artist Tenka Gammelgaard. And as you can imagine, it looked great! These lamps really fits her style, and as Tenka said herself, she wouldn’t have said no to keeping them all. You can see a behind the scenes story on Tenka’s blog here. If you are in Copenhagen in the coming month, make sure to pop over to Louis Poulsen’s showroom to check out Tenka’s exhibition there, together with more photos of her home.

Today we are featuring Modern stylish kitchen design – An Excellent collection of modern Kitchen design ideas from Italian company Dada. This model is elegant without being affected, and is truly designer-oriented right down to the smallest details of everyday objects.The bedroom is one of those places that takes time to decorate. You can always improve it because you always get bedroom ideas. This time it’s Hulsta to get our inspiration from. We are immensely impressed with their bedroom concepts. Clean shapes, amazing eye-friendly colors and designed for those who need their room to be either beautiful and able to store all their stuff. Would you put something like this in your bedroom? Which one do you like the most?

Your work environment directly influences your mood and ability to generate inspiration and creativity. Creative workplaces usually have interesting and visually stimulating elements throughout the space. Featured here are 10 creative workplaces that would succeed at inspiring any designer.

This 130 square meters large  apartment in Helsinki have a really  nice and cozy atmosphere –  almost country like.  All the wood and natural materials are providing warmth in the otherwise mostly white minimalistic space. Big dining table,  fireplace  and stacked wood piles – what a great place!

Another example of how cool can the small place be, this little beach house belonging to Belgian/South African couple is very  sweet! It certainly have the scandinavian feel – white floors, white walls, very clean and full of light, this combined with nicely selected furniture (those wooden chairs are great) creates wonderful atmosphere as made for summer relaxing.

Today HomeDesign9.com introduce to you are some very sweet pics from the stylist Aaron Hom.I love all the decors and furniture he uses, Eames, Jacobsen, Nelson, Saarinen… there is everything. My fave is the first one – white room with wooden wall unit, but all other places are gorgeous as well!

Happy Monday lovelies I hope you had a fulfilling weekend!. One of the last projects of the wonderful photographer Petra Bindel are these fantastic photos from the new catalogue of the Dutch company Muuto. I really like the nice pastel pink, yellow & turquoise colors that they are using for the line and the styling is so beautiful!  Let’s come with me to Barcelona, Spain, today and take a peek into this beautiful home. The neutral toned color scheme and the high ceilings and windows give this apartment an airy and spacious look. The clean lined place is decorated with modern furniture but the wooden accessories and several rugs give warmth to the various rooms. Can you believe that this lovely apartment in Malmö, Sweden, measures less than 50 square meters? The white walls, high ceilings and white washed gives this apartment (which is for sale by the way) a spacious feel.

This beautiful Mas (a country house or farm in the South of France, usually made of stone) is located in Uzès, right in the heart of the Provence. The house is beautifully renovated and decorated with materials such as wood, stone and metal. I think this is a perfect combination of modern elements and traditional features.

Moroccan riads are always a great source of inspiration. Ryad Sharai is one of the biggest riads in Marrakech. It is hidden behind a weather-beaten door in a narrow street in the Bab Tharzout quarter. A riad is a house with a patio and this gorgeous riad has quite a large patio. It has seven bedrooms, all situated around the patio and the pool. Behind the labyrinth of rooms there is a staircase leading to the terraces. From there you have a magnificent view of the city and the Atlas mountains. The cosy cushions make this place very inviting! Grey can be a bit boring but this color will warm up with a touch of soft pink. These beautiful images are shot by photographer Line Klein. The lovely pink lamps in the image above are from Studio Snowpuppe.

Today some dark colored interiors. I think the dark hues fit the wet and gloomy weather here in The Netherlands. I like these images but I do prefer a bit of color here and there. How do you feel about using darker colors in your home?

I love a beautiful exposed wall. These brick walls give an industrial character to a space. Here some example of an exposed wall in a kitchen, living room and even a bathroom.

Today Japan is known for its minimalism and simplicity because of their Zen culture. But how to make a Zen-home in a girlish style? How to combine calmness and little sweet details? Here is a nice example how to do it. The interior is done in a truly Japanese way: with cherry blossoms, traditional colors, natural wood and simple shapes, nothing bizarre. Despite of it, there are many nice girlish details like pastel colors, beautiful accessories and lots of flowers everywhere. I love the decoration of the wall with hooks. It looks natural and is very functional – you can place shelves or hang some things on them. This interior is an amazing example of exquisite and functional combination of styles.

Teenagers are hard to please, but this gallery of goodies is bound to put a smile on their face; gorgeous spaces for girls, and cool lad pads full of fresh ideas and new colorways.  The attention grabbing storage shelves flank every available space, keeping teenage clutter off the floor and schoolbooks at hand when studying.Unfortunately, teenage life can’t always be about going out with friends and having fun, these crucial years are also a time to shape future careers and hone a craft; so here is a wealth of teen workspaces to inspire those developing minds!  Via Alex GoreThis laid-back attic space utilizes space up to the rafters to house an extensive selection of literature and reference books, with the desk situated to take full advantage of the largest source of natural light. Ideas for teen rooms are something young people looking to refurbish their rooms seek. We had a request at home-designing and we hope this post would help such people out. This cheerful home design, rendered by Denis Khramov, is littered with colorful hits throughout its pure white decor. Carefully placed base notes of black ground the airy scheme whilst still keeping the overall look refreshing and youthful.  Large edgy artwork adorns the gallery white walls, picking up on the homes colorful accessories, such as an extensive book collection and a rainbow of scatter cushions on the sofa. ‘Island Views‘ is an inviting Caribbean villa overlooking a calm ocean scene, and filled with fresh and simple décor, African sapele wood ceilings and artistic lighting.

Add wow factor to your plain walls with these set of tips on creating unusual wall art ideas and altogether unconventional ways to fill up your blank spaces.  Via Cream Bikes and ThingsA huge frame makes a masterpiece out of your old bicycle, or a very arty storage space for your current one!  Looking as though a half crazed artist has just stormed out of this building in a creative frenzy, this hipster loft from B&B Italia is brimming with colorful imagination and eccentric flair. This clever example of interior layout, by the team at Fertility Design, experiments with the introduction of retractable glass doors within the heart of a home, to divide off rooms for quiet and privacy at certain times of the day, whilst still providing the opportunity of creating a free flowing open plan space when desired. The sliding doors in this example provide a barrier around the home office area for times when total concentration is needed away from the hubbub of the rest of the family home. Born in France and raised in London, stylist Marietta Beasley’s current loft in Atlanta, Georgia blends European style with New York ’70s art colony cool — when she acquired her space 15 years ago she was the first person to get a certificate of occupancy in the downtown area. Now it’s both home and studio, with an every changing collection of inspirating pieces from all over the world.

Designed by architectural trio Mårten Claesson, Eero Koivisto and Ola Rune, Widlund House, located on the Swedish island of Öland in the Baltic sea, looks out onto a mesmerizing vista of everchanging blue sky and water. Built to withstand the often fierce weather — fogs and storms are common here — the house takes full advantage of the view while being a snug retreat when it clouds over. Inside, decor is minimal, keeping the focus firmly on the atmospheric surroundings. A Finnish graphic design couple show that having great taste doesn’t preclude having a mischievous sense of humour as well — their stylish home has a playful touches everywhere. So fun — that plaster hippo head is especially awesome.

Love this gorgeous Stockholm home on the Swedish Fantastic Frankproperty site — unsurprisingly it’s sold, but happily we can still admire these lovely photos.

Built in 1862 in the village of Vedbaek, a port located about 20 kilometres from Copenhagen, this former fishing shack is now a peaceful home for a couple who have opted to raise their children away from the city where they work, so they can enjoy a quieter home life. They commissioned Danish architect Jonas Bjerre-Poulsen, founder of the agency Norms Architect Copenhagen, to expand and modernize their tiny home, with an emphasis on light as a major component of the redesign. The extensive use of white, clever storage, minimal furniture and open spaces makes their house feel far larger than it actually is — even on the greyest days it feels light and airy. Lovely.

With its striking design and easy flow between indoor and outdoor spaces, the Bali, Indonesia home of Valentina Audrito and Abhishake Kumbhat and their two children showcases their work perfectly — in 2005 Valentina and Abhishake founded the Word of Mouth design group, where they create objects, clothes and accessories as well as designing commercial spaces (Valentina is an architect too). Fascinating mix of glam, traditional and modern.

I’m loving Sylvie Rochon’s cheerful Montreal apartment, furnished with great vintage finds — particularly mid century modern pieces (something Sylvie has a real eye for, as the owner of Spoutnik, a vintage furniture shop there). With its crisp white background and fantastic use of colour accessories, her space has a fresh and contemporary feel — it all feels very modern, even when you know almost everything in it is vintage. Lovely. 

Artist Carouschka Streijiffert is a Stockholm-based artist who works in a variety of media — painting, sculpture, collage and carpets. When it came to finding a space where she could both work and live, she chose what was originally a series of attic lofts at the top of an early 20th century building — one where the pigeons had taken up residence. After having her application to create roof openings approved, a skylight for the studio and small round windows were installed, while (due to the aging structure of the building) steel beams and poles were put for support and a birch and concrete floor added. When it came to decorating her home, Carouschka chose to play up the industrial style of her space and highlight its interesting architecture. The entire renovation was a lot of work and headaches, but the final result, a lovely, light-filled home that looks out over the rooftops of old Stockholm on the Baltic Sea and Lake Mälaren, is more than worth it. 

Love the fantastic use of colour in this bright Victorian end-of-terrace villa in north London — just amazing. 

Love this pretty cottage in Mousehole, Cornwall — a converted net loft built in the 1800s on 17th-century foundations. Beautiful soft tones and textures, all with details that reflect the home’s seaside location.

I admire the long term view of Dutch felt artist Paula Leen and her partner Kees Middendorp in the province of Friesland, 80 miles north of Amsterdam — they lived in their home for 16 years before they finally purchased and renovated it. The results are poetic and beautiful.Swedish cinematographer Bengan Widell’s rustic cabin on Gotland is a peaceful retreat from his fast paced career in film — days here are spent either in happy solitude watching nesting eagles and spectacular thunderstorms over the bay, or more socially with visits from his five daughters. His cabin is an old fisherman’s shack, over 100 years old and — after some necessary renovations to replace dilapidated wood walls and ceilings — kept in a simple state. There’s no electricity, as Bengan prefers the soft glow of kerosene lamps at night, and a gas fridge and an old wood burner are the only appliances. Surrounding by stunning scenery, Bengan finds it to be the perfect antidote to a busy life filled with travel and people.

The post Interior Decorating, Home Design, Room Ideas: October 2012 appeared first on Home Design.

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