#museum tickets are being discussed

[delicatepoets]

i fucking miss new york

[yoongihan]

Happenstance - SCB - OneShot

pairing: 3rachaChangbin x femcharacter

genre: travel au, fluff, smut, little angst, strangers to lovers,

romantic trope: love at first sight (inspiration from this reel)

word count: ~18k

rating: M

warnings: mc invites strangers to dinner amongst other things (DO NOT RECOMMEND), kissing, penetrative sex, ridiculous amount of haggis discussion, food and drink, some language, changbin with fluffy hair, dressed in hoodies. honestly, i don't think there's too much concerning in this one, apologies if I've missed something.

a/n: fic #4 in skz as romantic tropes collab with @jl-micasea-fics. in case you read my answers to asks, this is the first story i started that i didn't finish until yesterday (I apologize for every single mistake that i probably missed). which means, this took me over seven months. i have no idea why something as 'simple' as love at first sight required me to write nearly 18000 words!! anyway, um, hope you like it.

--------

You don’t really mind being alone. It’s a lot easier to just pack up your stuff, yourself and go on your adventures when you don’t have to consider another person and their preferences.

It gets lonely, but it works for you.

At the train station with your backpack and one rolling suitcase, waiting for your train in London at Kings Cross station that will take you to Edinburgh. It’s a long journey, over eleven hours, but you saved up and for the very first time, got yourself a sleeper cabin. There weren’t any singles available, as the classic cabin comes with twin bunk beds, but you figure the extra space can’t hurt. 

Who’d go with you anyway?

You bounce on the balls of your feet, waiting for the train. This experience is less about the scenery as it’s mostly at night, but the getting to sleep in a bed (the sleeper seats aren’t horrible, but they aren’t exactly great if you really want a good night’s rest) on a train is something you haven’t gotten to do yet. 

You like Scotland and you haven’t been since you started this work. Inverness sits at the top of Loch Ness, and there are so many picturesque places to visit once you’re there. Then you’ll take the train back, but during the day, so you get to see what you couldn’t on the overnight train. 

You have one earbud in, listening to a soft playlist you made mostly full of Sufjan Stevens, Fleet Foxes, and Band of Horses. Only one earbud as you need to make sure you hear any important announcements and you also really enjoy eavesdropping, especially when everyone has a much more interesting accent than you. You’re glancing back at the announcement board as though something might have changed in the last minute (it would just be the worst luck if it got canceled…what would you do in London…go to a museum or something?). 

The train is arriving and you just want to dance around like a fool. No one should be this excited to sleep on a train, but you are. As you queue behind a few others, you glance down the track, taking in the people who will presumably be sleeping near you. It seems like a diverse group, some people dressed nicer than you, as though they are having a work meeting on the train (with computer and phone cameras…maybe they are), some look like they might already have on their pyjamas. There are heads of grey and white, long plaits of blonde and red, fluffy short black hair. 

All types. 

You board and glance at the signage, looking for the arrows to connect you to cabin 25. Slipping past a family of three who are speaking in what sounds like German to your unknowledgeable ear, you glance at the descending numbers. 

There’s a small scanner on the door (how far tech has come), and you scan your phone over it, the QR code for your ticket allowing you access. As you open the door, you look down at the male voices coming from the other end of the carriage. 

There are three of them. 

In your travels, you see a lot of people, but unless it’s a commuter-type train during work or drinking hours, you don’t run into men of a certain age, and certainly not on an overnighter covering the length of England. 

Certain age being mostly like twenties, mid-twenties if you had to guess. And though you’ve definitely seen a good-looking man a time or two, it’s rare to see them en masse like this. One is carrying two duffle bags, his hair a wavy platinum blonde. He is attempting to pull out his phone and scan like you just had. The second one is whining about the first one taking too long. It’s not really complaining, because he wears a smile in between the pouts. In fact, when he glances over the third’s head, he sees you and smiles brilliantly. 

You smile back, embarrassed at being caught staring, but if you blushed every time you did something socially forward, you would be a permanent tomato. 

The door finally opens for them and that’s when the third one turns around, presumably because he noticed the second one looking at you. He’s the shortest, and even before he turns, you notice that he’s very broad from the back, despite the guitar case blocking your view. 

When his eyes meet yours, your brain definitely tucks away the recognition that he’s wearing black-framed glasses, eyes a warm brown, black hair curly and fluffy, completely dressed in a black t-shirt, black joggers, and black sneakers (a motif one might say). You see all of that, but it doesn’t really connect.

Because something happens. 

No lightning from the sky, or voice, or whatever occurs when something big changes. You’re just oddly aware that your heart is beating at a rate that only occurs when you're winded, that your anticipation has gotten more like anxiety, and you would very much like to ask his name. 

So you disappear into your cabin, not sure of anything anymore. 

“It said four.”

“Well, there’s two, Chan.”

“But it said four.”

You sit on the bottom bunk, watching the fading sunlight out the window, your heart rate seeming to slow down. The fact that you can hear your neighbors’ conversation doesn’t bode well for your sleeping tonight. 

But you always pack earplugs. 

“Must be a mix-up. Find a…what do they call them?”

“Station agent?”

“Porter?”

“Train guy?”

You cover your mouth so you don’t laugh too loudly at the final suggestion. You stand up and start to unpack your few things; pajamas, toiletries, two books, and journal. You can hear one of them opening the door and calling down the corridor. 

“Yes sir.” It’s a few minutes (you’ve actually journaled a whole page by this point) when there’s footsteps and a response. 

“I booked for three people, for one of the cabins with two sets of bunk beds.”

“Ah yes…” There’s a clearing of one throat. “We only have a small amount of those, and unfortunately the original train set for this journey had to be changed at last minute. Mechanical issues. You were refunded.”

“That’s not very helpful as I still have only two beds and three people.”

Another clearing of the throat. 

“Yes, well, the train is fully booked. I can supply another set of sheets and pillows.”

“You’re saying our only option is one of us to sleep on the floor?”

“I am very sorry, sir.”

There’s a couple of very very deep sighs. 

“Thank you anyway.”

The ���train guy’ must leave because you hear furtive discussion; with foreign words you aren’t sure about, but it seems like ‘rock, paper, scissors’ has the same rhythm no matter the language.  

You are on the top bunk, eyes moving from your book to your door. 

It’s dumb, even for you, but you feel like you have to. You have decent intuition about people, at least on a level if they are dangerous or not. And none of your neighbors set off your warning bells or mental red flags. 

So you jump down and open your cabin door, leaving it open in case you need to run back in and like, hide due to extreme embarrassment. 

One deep breath and you knock on their door.

It opens and the blonde stands there, you can see the other two behind him. 

“Hey neighbor,” the blonde greets you with a weary smile, but a smile nonetheless. It makes you grin more easily.

“Hi,” you introduce yourself. “Sorry to eavesdrop, but I heard…” You wave with your hand at the beds in their room. “I have an extra bed.”

All three of them sort of freeze at your words. You don’t blame them. You are an unaccompanied female on a trip, talking to three men you don’t know. Offering a place to sleep to a stranger. 

“You…aren’t serious?” The one who had been whining earlier spoke up first. 

“I think she is,” the third one…the one you actually can’t look at closely right now (though his voice is enough to set your heart rate back up to jumpy). 

“I am.” You shrug. “I know it’s weird. I don’t know you guys. But there’s dinner in the dining car in like an hour. We could have dinner? Chat? Make sure none of us is a serial killer?” 

Are you asking three men out? 

“One of you needs a bed. I have one. It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” says the blonde. “But…” He looks at his friends (you assume, maybe they’re all together which makes your proposal of dinner even more awkward), “We do need a bed.” He looks back at you. “I’m Chan. We’ll have dinner, and no hard feelings if you decide to take it back.”

His smile is warm and you would swear in a court of law that this man is one of the safest humans on the planet. 

“Deal.”

“Jisung,” He points to the one that had smiled at you so brilliantly. He grins again, but it’s shy. 

“Changbin.”

Oh. 

So you meet his eyes again for a second time, hoping you’re prepared. 

It’s still there, maybe less surprising because you are expecting it. You know his name now. You know that he still hasn’t smiled at you (which feels tragic somehow), but doesn’t look angry or disgusted by you (a triumph to be sure).

He seems perplexed, which you can’t blame him for. Your offer is certainly perplexing.

“Nice to meet you,” you stutter a little, but deliver your name without too much embarrassment. “So, I’ll see you in an hour?”

There are verbal affirmations and some nodding and you hurry back, wondering if you can even focus on anything other than the fact that you might be sleeping with in the same cabin with one of them later. 

–

You question yourself as you walk to the dining car (you did your makeup and now you think you’re a little silly), wondering if they’ll even show. Like how damn strange are you to offer a bed to three men you do not know? They probably don’t even want to be near you now.

There’s a host at the front of the carriage and you give him your cabin number. 

“I’m waiting on someone…s.” And your ability to speak has been hijacked by your nerves. You’ve spent the last hour in your cabin, earbuds in so you don’t eavesdrop on anything you might hear from next door (not that they only speak in English, but still. It feels invasive). Your mind has tumbled over itself trying to understand what you had done, had said, and the eeriness of how the third man affects you.

Changbin. 

He isn’t your type, as pointless as you think having a type even is. You’ve never found impressive muscles all that impressive.

But...

“Someones? How many?” The host asks you and you feel weirdly interrogated by him, like maybe he doesn’t believe anyone would be sitting with you. That you’d lie about something like that. For what? A table to yourself?

“Um, I think, three.” Confidence would probably be a handy thing right now. 

“Three?”

You open your mouth to reiterate the number of guests when you feel a presence behind you. And you know, even though this is the closest he’s ever been that it’s him. 

“Three,” he states, voice scratchy. You feel his gaze on you. “The other two are coming.”

You swallow and look over. 

But…he is really attractive. 

He’s wearing trousers and a button-down. The dining car does encourage more formal dress and you’ve even slipped on a skirt and nice top for it. His hair is still fluffy and he still wears the glasses, which makes him look way more scholarly than he had just an hour ago. 

“Hi.”

He hasn’t given you much to go on if he feels the same strangeness when you meet eyes or even if he is aware of you beyond that you exist. But there’s a lift at the corner of his lips, a hint of a smirk or smile and it’s devastating. 

“Hey,” he replies, still with that half-grin. “You look nice.”

Oh god, he complimented you?!

“Um, thanks.” You try and pretend that your brain can engage quicker than it is currently. “You do too.” You gesture vaguely. “I like the glasses.”

You do not know this man and yet when the half-grin grows into a full grin, maybe a touch bashful, it feels very familiar and comforting. Like you’ve never seen him smile before and it’s beautiful, but also, that’s exactly how you feel he should smile.

What the fuck is going on right now?

“Jisung can’t tie a tie to save his life, so Chan’s doing it for him,” he explains before looking at the host. “Can we sit or do we have to wait until they get here?”

“We prefer the parties to be all present when–”

“Sure thing.” Changbin makes eye contact with you again and you know that he’s amused at the level of formality the host is emanating. “We’ll be here.” He gestures for you to move over to the side so the next people waiting can move up. He follows and leans against the carriage wall next to you. 

He’s not uncomfortably close by any means, but there’s not ample amounts of space in trains, so he’s close.

He smells good.

“So, what brings you and um, your friends to Scotland?” you begin, willing confidence into your voice and posture. He’s watching the entrance to the dining car but glances at you, the mirthful turn of his lips coming back. 

“Ah, well, inspiration.”

You straighten up. You don’t know what you expected, but that wasn’t it. 

“Really? For what?”

He regards you for another second or two, like he’s seeing if you’re really interested, or if you can be trusted. 

“What’s your guess?”

Way to put you on the spot.

“Damn, that’s unfair.”

He chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest (ARMS). “Yeah, how so?”

“Anything I say will be based on stereotypes. Like I met you an hour ago.”

“Still invited one of us to bed.”

His voice drops with those words and you wonder if he can see the shiver that goes through you (you try and not visibly react, but holy fuck). 

“Yes, well, no red flags.”

His eyebrows raise. “Really?”

You shrug. “Yeah. Unless my detection skills for serial killers are rusty.”

The half-grin again. “Hmm. How do you know your skills are even competent?” His eyes widened. “Have you met a serial killer?”

You laugh because he seems to legitimately think you might have. And there’s something really refreshing about the fact that he has no idea what field you’re in. Maybe you have.

“You first.”

He eyes you with concession. “Musicians. You?”

“Musicians? Really?” 

“No…” he points at you. “You have to say what you do.”

“No I don’t.”

That’s when his friends arrive, with you and a man you don’t know staring at each other in a mock-battle of wits.

“Interrupting something?” Chan says, nearly laughing.

“She…” Changbin starts then his shoulders drop. “I don’t even know.” He glares at you with no malice before going back to the host. 

“Hi again,” you greet them both. Also dressed in somewhat formal attire, Chan and Jisung are as handsome as the man you are thrown by. 

“Hi,” Chan replies and behind him Jisung waves in tiny . 

All of you are ushered to your table. You sit next to the carriage window even though it’s nearly too dark to see outside. There’s a moment of awkwardness as the three of them seem to nonverbally communicate as to where to sit. 

Changbin sits next to you. HIs arm brushes yours as he gets situated and it happens again: the heartbeat, the anticipation, but it’s mellower, more familiar. 

A server comes to the table and the next few minutes are spent in ordering food and drink. You all decide to get a bottle of wine to share.

“So, Changbin says your musicians?” you begin before taking a sip of the merlot, swishing it around in your mouth as though that would tell you something. You’ve done a wine tour or five, and you kinda get it, but you don’t really. It’s just wine. 

You can see both Jisung and Chan look at Changbin in surprise. 

“Oh, he did?” Chan asks, something underlying the innocuous remark. Teasing of some kind; as guys often do. “Yeah.”

“I saw a guitar.” They all look at you and you flush a bit. “I mean, when I saw you guys coming down the hall. There was a guitar case.”

“Observant.” You can just tell Changbin is paying attention. If only to figure out what you do.

“A bit.”

“Musicians…” Chan begins. “Is a little misleading. We can all play, but…” He takes a sip of wine. “We don’t play, like, one of us on drums, a bass, and an electric guitar.” 

“So, non-traditional.” You rest your chin in your hand. 

“We rap,” Jisung says, twisting his wine glass by the stem. “Me and Bin mostly, Chan does the beats, mixes.”

“Ohhhh.” You straighten up. “Okay, that’s awesome…so, do you have a gig in Edinburgh?”

“No, just to write,” Chan sighs. “We’ve been a little stuck lately and yeah.” He looks so despondent about it, so you pat his hand before taking another sip of your wine. He smiles at you like the physical comfort is normal.

“We have a deadline for a full album and we’re way behind,” Changbin explains further and you look over at him. 

“You all are represented and everything? That’s amazing.”

He waves it away as the other two verbally dismiss such an accomplishment. “What about you? What do you do?”

You grin at Changbin’s apparent annoyance that you’ve kept it from him for this long. The corner of his lips lifts in an almost smirk.

Fuck, it’s attractive. 

“Um. Content creator.”

There’s a collection of laughs from them.

“So are we,” Changbin says, leaning a bit closer. “Wanna be more specific?” 

You know you don’t have a great poker face, so when he gets that close, you’re sure all three of them can see that you’re affected. Your face heats, and your breath catches just for a split second.

When have you ever been this partial to a stranger before?

“Travel. Writer, vlogger,” you answer with a lift of your shoulders. He leans back and it’s like you can breathe easier. “I’ve never done a sleeper train before, so here I am.”

There’s a moment where they are all quiet, looking at you with various expressions of incredulity.

“You get paid to travel?”

You laugh at Jisung’s question. “Kinda? I mean, I go and make the content before I’m paid, hoping that someone will want it…monetize it, etc.” It’s always an interesting thing, to see what people think when you explain how you make a living. Some think you must be famous (not even close), or full of shit (maybe you are, but not about work), or some place along that spectrum. 

“That’s amazing,” Changbin speaks next, his tone more thoughtful than sarcastic or derogatory. 

“I’m jealous. I’m so freakin jealous,” Jisung pouts and then sips his wine. “Wait, so when you took a picture of the wine bottle and glass with your lipstick stain on it…it was for work.”

You nod. “It’s honestly the only time I wear lipstick. I kind of hate it most of the time.” You add credence to your words by wiping off your lips with a tissue from the tissue pack you always keep in your purse. Then doing the same to the glass. “Lipstick residue never comes off in the dishwasher…I used to wash for the local tavern in my hometown. The worst.” 

They’re all three looking at you again with various expressions. You think the expressions are positive, but you’ve only known them for an hour and most of that hour you were in your cabin, journaling. 

“Do you have a niche?” Chan asks, “Like a specific type of travel or anything?”

You shrug. “I like train travel. This is my first sleeper cabin, so that’ll be of some focus. But I have a few places in Edinburgh to capture as well.”

“And you can live off of this?” Changbin answers. “Why the fuck are we writing music?” 

You laugh with the others at his thunderstruck question. You turn a bit more toward him, watching how his gaze drops to your now-naked lips then back to your eyes. 

“Because you love it. I assume.” You feel your cheeks heat when he smiles at your sentimentality. The waiter returns to receive your orders, and you try not to smile too large that everyone orders something different. You hope they’ll let you photo each meal. 

“Why Scotland for inspiration?”

Both Changbin and Jisung look at Chan who shrugs, a bit sheepish. 

“Always wanted to. We spend most of our time in South Korea or Australia, so this seemed like something different.”

“‘Stairway to Heaven’ was written on Loch Ness, too,” Jisung offers.

“Yeah, in the house of the creepy af Aleister Crowley…” You lean forward and drop your voice. “You’re not going there, are you?”

“No,” Changbin chuckles. “But you know that story?”

“I’m full of useless knowledge,” you answer. 

“How long have you been doing this?” Changbin asks you. “The traveling and vlogging?”

“A while. The living off of it, only a few years.” You shake your head when he opens his mouth. “My turn. Tell me about how you three became rappers, musicians, a crew.”

“Gonna use it in your content?” Chan asks, a touch of amusement, but also more caution. 

You shake your head. “Not without permission. And usually my stuff is less with people and more places, food, drink. I will totally ask if I can take a photo of each of your meals.”

“I guess that’s okay,” Changbin says. “If you get part of my hand, though, I expect compensation.”

And with that joking remark, your eyes immediately focus on his hands. That’s not a feature you usually think much about in your attraction to men. It takes more about personality and smile, and maybe a lanky form. 

But it says everything about this whole strange experience that when you look at his hands, you actually shiver.

God, this is so damn weird.

“Of course,” You answer. “Also…you didn’t answer. How did you three meet?”

Again, both Changbin and Jisung look at Chan.

“You’re in charge, huh?”

Chan blushes, which is adorable. “I mean…kinda, but just cause I started us…”

“What he will never say is that he studied music production and then found us at the same school, basically said ‘fuck school let’s do our own thing’ and we’ve saved money on tuition and made money…though nothing like insane.” Changbin leans back in his chair, his arm falling to the back of mine before his eyes widen and he drops it. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’ve already invited one of you into my cabin…What are social rules at this point?” You just have no filter today, but the answering laughter from them is comforting. “Since you asked me, what is your niche? Like love songs?”

“Rap love songs?” Jisung asks, mildly disgusted. 

“Love songs is a pretty wide spectrum,” you argue. “From unrequited, to innocent, attraction to just sex, broken hearts, betrayal, cheating. It’s all over the place.” Your question isn’t all that random. Out of the corner of your eye, you’re watching Changbin the moment you mention ‘love’ as though he might say or do something that’ll give you indication that he’s also feeling the same lunacy that you are undergoing.

Nothing. Nothing but just him listening and having a piece of the rustic bread dipped in olive oil the server placed on your table. 

“She has a point. We do write love songs if that’s the umbrella,” Chan says and Jisung pouts again, but while he’s chewing on the bread, his cheeks full, and he looks just like a small woodland creature. “But I wouldn't ever market them as love songs.”

“Doesn’t fit the hip hop crew vibe?”

Changbin snorts. “Not so much.”

“So. What do you write about?” You plop your chin in your hand. “I admit my rap and hip hop knowledge is less than my obscure trivia about Boleskine House.”  

Jisung speaks up, “Just stuff we’re dealing with.” He glances at Chan. “Probably more about growing up and figuring out who you are more than anything.”

“Relatable,” you reply on an exhaled breath. All three of them smile. “Sorry, that was pretty obvious. I guess everyone is still figuring it all out, huh?”

The food arrives a few minutes later and after you get the perfect shots of all the dishes (there are a few with their hands because it’s too aesthetic not to do so) the conversation turns to places to see and visit in Edinburgh and the surrounding areas, things to do, etc. 

“Oh, I’ll definitely try haggis,” you say. 

“Really?” Jisung makes a face. “Isn’t it like…gross?”

“I tend to try most food at least once. I’ve already done blood pudding.” Which means you have to explain it to them. The trio of disgusted faces makes you laugh. “It’s not bad with ketchup.” 

“Bin would probably do the same, though.” Jisung points at him with a beef-laden fork. “He eats anything.”

You turn to Changbin, noting the slight reddening in his cheeks and narrow-eyed glare he gives to Jisung. 

“It’s called being adventurous,” you say in support. “And food is a gift.” You gesture to your plate. “Case in point.”

“A gift?” Chan prompts. 

“I mean, we didn’t have to have taste buds, right? Like we could just have evolved or been created, whatever your origin stance is, without. Food could just be sustenance, something we do without thought, like breathing. But we have all these receptors that give us pleasure.”

“Or disgust,” Jisung says before taking another bite, the cheeks filling out again. 

“Is there pleasure without pain?” 

“Jeez, we got deep,” Chan says, chuckling.

“Could be your next song. The listener will think it’s about life or sex or whatever, but it’s just the three of you debating about food.”

“Life or sex or whatever?” Changbin repeats, turning a little toward you. You make eye contact (maybe you’ve had too much wine), eyebrows up in curiosity. He gestures that you should continue. 

“All literature, and I’d include lyrics in that, boils down to being about love or death. Or simply sex or death.”

Again, it might be the wine, but you swear that when you mention sex his eyes focus more on you. There’s just a slight flicker. 

“And that’s not an original,” you quickly say before going back to your meal. “I learned that in the infinite amount of Lit classes I took in college.” 

“I guess that’s true.” Chan looks thoughtful. “Our songs about identity and growing up is pretty much about doing what you can before death.”

“Speaking of getting deep,” Changbin says. “We should go back to talking about food.” 

“Or pleasure?” Jisung teases. 

Chan cuffs him on the back of the head. He just grins at his friend like being physically chastised is commonplace. 

Probably is. 

It’s brief, the moment of melancholy that hits you when you think of this three-person friendship and how so much of what you do is solitary. 

You blink it away and take another bite of your sea bass, listening to them discuss Edinbrugh castle and the village they have an AirBnb in after two days in the city. 

“Please?” Jisung whines. “We can share the molten chocolate cake?” 

Chan rolls his eyes. “But I don’t want any.”

“I’ll share it with you, Jisung,” you offer. “That or the cheesecake sounds really good.”

“We could do both.”

You giggle at his excited expression. “We could do that.”

“Amazing,” Jisung is thrilled. “You are amazing.” 

“I am often lauded for my sweet tooth.” 

“Only for your sweet tooth?”

The lower tone makes you look at Changbin again. Chan is ‘scolding’ Jisung on the other side of the table about too many sweets and how he’ll be hyper and not sleep, so for the second time this evening, it looks like you and Changbin are speaking alone. 

“Only?” you ask to clarify.

He grins. “I mean, you just used the word ‘lauded’ in regular conversation. I feel like you might get compliments in general.”

“For using big words? Or weird ones? Not really.” 

“Well.” He regards you for a few seconds, eyes not leaving your face. “It’s impressive.”

Your face heats before you can deflect and you drop your gaze because his is overwhelming. 

“Thanks.” 

Dessert is ordered and when received, devoured (even by Chan). When the bill comes, there’s an argument about letting them pay for you, which is won by Jisung saying that since he ‘bullied’ you into getting dessert with him, they should cover it all. You acquiesce only because you convince them to let you get breakfast tomorrow morning (wow, isn’t that suggestive). 

You’ve never been walked to your door before by three men. Granted, they’re just next door and you’ve also never been walked to a train cabin door before. But you recognize that if anyone paid attention to your little party, they might be envious.

You’re kinda envious. Of yourself.

Three of you pause at your door. Jisung continues to the cabin before realizing that everyone else has stopped and readily looks abashed as he comes back the six feet. 

“So,” you begin, scanning your phone over the pad on the door. “I don’t think any one of us is an axe murderer.”

There’s a collective chuckle.

“Who uses axes anymore,” Jisung says before considering. “I don’t suppose that really helps my case.”

Chan pops him lightly on the back of the head again. “I think,” he says to you. “That whoever can just sleep on the extra bed. We’ll keep all our stuff and such in our cabin. If you’re still okay with this. It’s really alright if you’re not. Ax murderers or not, it’s your space.”

You glance at Changbin, remembering the warmth of his arm when it pressed against yours randomly through dinner. 

“That’s fine. I guess brushing your teeth in front of a stranger is pretty weird.”

You hear Changbin’s snort of amusement before looking at him again. It’s hard not to stare at him. It was actually good he sat next to you during dinner, so you had to make the effort to look at him, so it was easy to tell and force yourself not to. Because that’s what you want to do. Memorize everything about him. The line of his jaw, the placement of his dimples when he grins, the rapid-fire of his laugh. 

God, you’re going to need some serious time to process what is going on with you. 

“Yeah, just knock whenever,” you continue, forcing yourself to look away from him. “I’ll probably stay up for a bit to journal and take some notes.”

You don’t ask who will be using the empty bed in your cabin. It’s too weird, beyond what this already is, but you are trying not to give away the way one man keeps stealing your attention and focus. 

You have never done a one-night stand and you don’t think that in a train cabin next to his friends would be a good place to start. 

You bid them a good night and enter your cabin. You lean on the closed door and let out a huge sigh before hurriedly getting ready for bed in the worry that maybe one of them will show up soon.

Also, you probably don’t need all your underthings just out to be seen.

You settle in your pajamas (sweatshirt and shorts because you always forget to buy fun pjs) and situate your laptop and journal in the bottom bunk. More time passes than you think it would take a guy to get ready, but it is kind of early to go to sleep, so you work on just focusing on organizing and writing copy for what you captured today. 

You’re working on describing your supper in good detail when there’s a knock on your cabin door. 

You almost fall in your stumble to get to the door, opening it and staring.

“Hey.”

Changbin, dressed in a sleeveless t-shirt and nylon shorts, stands there, the half-grin in place. He has a small backpack over his shoulder. 

“Hi.” You step back to let him in, watching as he closes the door behind him. “It’s a good look.” You speak before thinking. 

He laughs, leaning on the door. “Thanks, I try.” His eyes drop to take in your sleepwear. “Also, a good look.”

“Scantily-clad lingerie is so overrated.”

“Is it?”

God, you really shouldn’t have wine.

“Um, I took the bottom bunk.” You point to the beds. “Hope that’s okay.”

“It’s your room. I’m just grateful to not have to sleep on the floor. Or try and drown out Jisung’s snoring.” He moves easily toward the beds, climbing up to the top, slinging his bag on the mattress. 

“No axes in there?”

He plops down, legs having over the side and his grin widens. “Just a tiny one. In case I need to defend myself.”

“From me?” 

“Or Dementors.”

It’s easy to laugh and it decreases the tension a little especially when he swings his legs as you move back to your little nest on your bed. 

“So. What’re you doing?” He moves so he’s laying down and looking over the side of the bunk at you. You look up, finding the fact that you chose to put the man on top of you (with space and a bed in between but still) probably a dumb dumb idea. 

“Working. Or more like brainstorming. I still need to figure out where I want to go, when, how, etc. I make itineraries, but really flexible ones because if I’m too rigid, I don’t have fun.”

“Makes sense.” He goes quiet for a second. “Can I…be really self-involved for a second?”

“Absolutely. It’s encouraged.”

He grins again and hurries down to the floor next to where you have tucked yourself in. He gestures to the open space at the foot.

You nod and he sits before offering wireless headphones. 

“Want to listen to something we finished last week?”

“Absolutely,” you say again, reaching out with almost ‘grabby hands’. He laughs at your enthusiasm and leans in to place the headset over your ears. Your smile fades with him that close. It’s a move, it has to be. There’s no way he doesn’t know what he’s doing. His face is about a foot or so away from yours and you want to touch his cheeks and feel if they are soft and smooth like they appear. He meets your eyes once the headphones are in place and there’s a softness in his curled lips. 

You absolutely want to kiss a stranger. 

He sits back and opens his phone to press play. “Too quiet?”

The instrumentation is soft, so you nod and he presses the side of his phone a few times before you nod again. 

You aren’t sure what you expected, but it wasn’t this. It’s not hip hop, with its intense beats and rhythm. There is synth and piano at a much softer, flowy-ier tempo. 

“Oh it’s pretty,” you say quietly. He smiles but then looks down at the phone as you listen. You wonder if he can sense where you are in the song with just watching the time counter move along. 

You wonder who does the higher notes, whose voice is harsh and rough, who sounds more like he could be in a choir. 

The song ends abruptly and you startle at it, glancing at Changbin. 

“We don’t have the ending quite right yet.”

“I think it should fade out,’ you say, again without thinking. “I mean, I know nothing about how to put a song together–”

“But you like music, so noted.” His smile is warm. “You liked it?”

“Very much. It’s…what I could understand cause I assume Korean?”

“You assume correct.” 

“It’s about dreams changing? Like how you wanted one thing and you realize that what you wanted has changed into something perhaps less impressive, but still matters to you?” Your eyes widen as you remove the headphones. “Or I could be projecting.”

He chuckles and reaches out for the headphones, his hand touching yours and you try to not shiver at the errant contact (can you still blame the wine?).

“No, that’s there. Maybe not as thought out as what you just said.” He fiddles with the headphones. “You’re really smart.”

“No. I just overthink.”

He makes a face at you, disapproving. “You’re smart. Take the compliment. The lauding.” 

You look away, feeling flushed. “Thank you.” Then you look back. “It’s really beautiful, Changbin. Like I was going to search for your music anyway, and listen and then decide how to tell you what I thought without being like super judgy or whatever, but wow.”

“Thanks.” He nods to your computer. “I showed you mine, you show me yours?”

The terminology (innuendo, wtf) makes you feel more than you should about trading work content with someone, but you nod and turn your laptop around, finding your YouTube channel and choosing a video from last year when you were in Barcelona, walking around to see every Anton Gaudi piece of architecture. He watches, occasionally glancing up at you.

“You don’t show yourself much.”

“Oh, yeah, well, it’s not about me. It’s about the experience. No one needs to see me to see the food, the sights.” 

“But they can hear you.” You do narrate quite a bit.

“Well, that’s done mostly after because then I can figure out what I want to say, clearly.”

“You have a nice voice.”

“Oh. Thank you.” You point to his phone. “Which voice are you?”

“Which do you think?” 

“That’s not fair. Our speaking voices don’t always match our performing ones.” You pout and he grins. 

“Guess.”

You sigh as though it’s a burden and he chuckles, eyes back on the video. 

“The low one. Like the raspier one.”

He smirks. “Good guess.”

“It’s nice. Like rough, but soothing too?” 

He stares at you as the video ends. 

“What?” Now you’re even more flustered. 

“Dunno. Kinda fascinated.”

You want to ask him. Does he feel it too? This weird something between you. But you actually think that might make the strange occurrence of him sleeping above you even more awkward. 

You turn your laptop back around and look at the screen like you can focus on anything but him. 

“I, uh, won’t be up much longer,” you begin, stuttering a bit as you can still feel his eyes on you. “So you can sleep soon.”

“We tend to late hours, the guys and me, so it’s more like I might keep you up.”

Your eyes dart to his, the tension back so strongly that you actually curl your fingers into the bedding as though it might keep you from reaching out to touch him. 

“Oh.” Smooth, very smooth.

He sits back, but doesn’t make any move to remove himself from your bed. “So…I feel like you should definitely see us at some point. Like come to Linlithgow when we’re there.”

“I should?”

He nods, resting on the opposing wall. HIs feet are still off, but the rest of him is on your bed. It’s intimate, a sleepover with a friend. 

A really attractive friend.

“Like after you do what you need to in the city…?” He glances at his hands then at you. “If you want.”

“I wouldn’t not want.”

He laughs.

“Sorry, that was terrible English,” you wave it away. “I wouldn’t want to disturb you guys though. You’re doing this to work.”

“Inspiration comes from all types of things. Including new people.” He looks like he might say more, but moves to get off the bed and you feel it acutely. “Besides,” he says as he starts back up into his bunk. “It shouldn’t all be work, right? All work, no play and all that?”

Why does he have to look so appealing saying the word ‘play’? You are so very tempted to say something about him staying in your bed, to play, to tease, to taste.

Too much. 

“Something like that.” If he hears the tremor in your voice, he doesn’t comment. 

You hear him settle in the bed above you and you try to focus on your work, though it’s not easy, hyper-aware of him as you are. 

“Hey.”

“Hmm?”

“This is dumb, but I’m really glad I got to meet you guys.”

There’s rustling and you look up to see him peer at you over the side of the bunk. He’s grinning. 

“It’s not dumb. And same.” Again he looks like he might say something else, but he just winks at you. “G’night.”

“Night. Sweet dreams.”

“Yeah, I hope so.” He laughs and rolls back over. You continue to do what you can; listening to the tinny sounds of whatever he’s vibing to on his phone, hearing each shift he makes in bed. You make decent progress and plan to record the audio sometime in your hotel room tomorrow night. You close down all your electronics, before getting up and moving to turn off the lamp light on the small table by the door. You carefully make your way back to your bunk.

“Again, night, neighbor.” His voice is impossibly lower and it makes you jump even if you assumed he wasn’t asleep yet. 

“Good night, Changbin.”

You curl up under the duvet and look outside at the pitch-black dark night before pulling the cord for the blinds and closing your eyes. 

–

When you wake up, the sun is just peeking over the horizon, the light diffused through the blinds right next to where you sleep. Despite being a little concerned that you might not sleep since you have a cabin mate, you actually wake feeling decently well-rested. Not that you are happy that the sun is making itself known in your face, but it isn’t the worst wake-up call. 

You stretch before reaching for your phone. You hear a deep inhale and it makes you freeze in your movements.

Right. A near-stranger slept in your cabin.

You stare up at the underside of the top bunk, mentally reviewing everything that happened yesterday. 

You are no closer to understanding why you feel so drawn to the man in your cabin than you were yesterday. 

With a sigh, you push yourself out of bed, stretching again once you’re on your feet. You move to the other side of the window, moving the blinds just enough so you can see out. 

It’s hard not to smile at the landscape that rushes by. The rolling hills, the sparse trees, the rock walls and hedges that provide simple borders. 

You hear the shifting in the top bunk and quickly drop the blinds.

He says your name, voice low and rough from sleep.

It takes you a second to respond, to make your voice not sound at all affected by just how much hearing him say your name in that tone warms you to near scorching. 

“Morning.”

You see him peer over at you, face flushed from sleep and eyes all squinty. 

It’s as devastating as when he’d been dressed up last night. 

“Time’isit?” he slurs, voice low and rumbly. 

“Not quite seven.”

He groans and rolls to his back. “Why up?”

You chuckle at the sleepy caveman speak. “Just woke up. Go back to sleep. I’ll be quiet.”

He snorts, rolling back over and propping himself up on one elbow, cheek to hand. “It’s your room. I can go back next door.” He blinks a few times as though you might be finally coming into focus. He smiles, as sleepy and cute as can be. “Though Ji and Chan might be violent if I wake them up.”

“Wouldn’t want you harmed,” you reply, and waves dismissively. “Go on, go back to sleep.”

He nods slow before letting his arm drop with the rest of him. You wait to see if he’s going to say more, but you hear the even breathing after a few seconds and it makes you smile. 

Seems like he’s good at that.

You gather your things for the day to take to the bathroom compartment down the hall (having showered the night before, but you aren’t about to change in the same room even if he is asleep). When you get back, you do some simple skincare and makeup before starting to pack everything up for disembarking in a few hours. 

There’s a loud thump sound from the other side of the wall, then muttered words (not English, you assume Korean) before another voice joins in and it’s not horribly loud, but it is noticeable. 

The other two must be awake.

“Changbin?” you say softly, not wanting to shock him awake. You move over to the bunks, again saying his name. Then you lightly touch his shoulder.

He hums before blinking his eyes open. He grins at you. 

“Missed me?”

“Of course.”

His eyes widen because you don’t argue and that makes you laugh. You point toward the wall. 

“Your friends are up.”

He turns, hair sticking out in all directions as he listens to the muted voices of his bandmates. He nods before sitting up. He searches the bedclothes before finding his phone. He points down toward the small nightstand. You grab his glasses as he opens his mouth.

“Can you–” He stops when you hand them to him. “Oh.”

You chuckle again and walk back to your suitcase, zipping it up and starting to fill your backpack with your journal and laptop and other vlogger accessories. 

“Hey.”

You look over to see him climbing down. He runs a hand through his hair, before shrugging.

“Thanks.”

“Oh. You’re welcome.” You feel your face heat with embarrassment. “Truly not a problem. Thanks for not being an ax murderer.”

He laughs before grabbing his bag from the carpet and moving toward the door. He pauses as he opens it then offers you his phone. 

“I…I can text you when we head to breakfast? If you want?” He is blushing slightly and you feel an immense amount of gratitude that he initiates the exchanging of contact information. You had been mulling over and over about the best way to make sure you could keep in contact with your next door neighbors (especially Changbin) and how not to make it obvious that you are interested (unless you should make it obvious…cause you are…right?…this weird connection is just…attraction…of some strange degree?) or awkward.

You nod to ease his discomfort and take his phone, fingers brushing and that definitely elicits some frissons. You input your number and hand it back. 

“Okay.” 

“Okay,” he says before giving you a large grin and heading out into the hallway. You look around the door to see and make sure he gets into his room. The door opens after he knocks and there’s a loud ‘Hyung!’ before he’s pulled in. 

You let out a breath.

Breakfast (preceded by a short ‘hungry?’ text from an unknown number - now not unknown) is much more relaxed than dinner was, the guys chatting about the cabin and decent sleep though Chan does complain about Jisung’s snoring to which Changbin who sits next to you again, says that you don’t snore with a familiar grin, discussing if they should store their bags and immediately go to Ediburgh castle, or check in at their hotel first then go.

As Jisung rants about how heavy their equipment is after prolonged carrying, Changbin leans over to you.

“Kinda silly, but promise me something?”

Is this it? Is he going to say something about the weird link that you feel…that he feels it too?

“Maybe.”

He scrunches up his nose at your cryptic response. 

“Don’t have haggis without me? I need moral support.”

It’s so not where your brain went that you have no idea what expression is on your face, but you laugh at the surprise of the request because only you are spiraling about this whole thing. He seems blissfully unaware.

Lucky him.

“I can keep that promise.”

He smiles back, squeezing your arm which repeats the tingles from earlier but more of them and you watch him, to see if anything in his face or reaction gives anything away.

Are you just the one losing your mind?

Perhaps it’s good that you’ll be on your own for a few days in the city before deciding whether or not to go meet up with them in Linlithgow (you refuse to admit that it’s 100% likely that you will). Maybe time away from him will fix your brain. Or whatever has you in such confusion. 

You all return to your respective cabins as arrival time is ahem, arriving soon. 

Changbin pauses by your door as the other two continue to their cabin. You stop half-way into the room. 

“Yes??”

He presses his lips together. “Nothing. Just seeing that you get in safely.”

“Going for the knight-in-shining-armor role?”

He doesn’t answer your teasing immediately, expression more contemplative. 

“Maybe.” There's a quick smile at the end of that, like he knows he’s being as cryptic as you were earlier. He takes a step closer, probably the closest that he’s been face-to-face with you. “That okay?”

Your breath hitches at his nearness and he has to hear it. His smirk is subtle, not as confident, but far more enticing. His eyes drop from yours to your mouth and back up so quickly that you almost believe you made it up.

But when he steps back, you’re sure you didn’t. Which means the butterflies in your stomach are not alone. 

Maybe he has a few too.

“Yeah. That’s okay.”  

He nods before walking to his cabin, looking back once then entering. You do the same. 

The train reaches Edinburgh Waverley station within the next twenty minutes and soon you are back on solid ground, less than 24 hours later, but, as you stand with the guys as they check their phone GPS, it is a very different you than previous. 

Even if it’s only you and not him. 

“So…” Jisung begins once they have decided they know where they’re going. “We’ll see you?”

You smile. “Most likely.” You glance at Changbin who raises his eyebrows. “Probably yes. I’ll let you know.”

“Have fun, then. Be safe, yeah?” Chan says and comes over to hug you like that level of familiarity has been established between all of you. You don’t mind. Not a bit, and you’re grateful that he is so unawkward about it. He’s warm and smells good, like sun-warmed grass. He releases you before hefting the guitar over his shoulder and heading toward the street level. Jisung, notably more reserved, waves at you before following Chan. 

You look at Changbin who hasn’t looked away. Feeling bold because ‘what the hell’, you open your arms in a blatant hug invitation, and he laughs before sliding off his shoulder bag and coming up to wrap his arms around you.

Oh god in heaven, wow. 

Chan was warm, but Changbin is searing. The weather this far north is chilly and though you’ve dressed for such a change, Changbin is far better as a heater than your hoodie. You hope you’re not being creepy when your eyes close and you breathe in; spicy and floral. You feel him turn his head a bit, his arms tighten, but then he lets go almost abruptly. You feel a whine at the back of your throat but you swallow it down. 

He tucks his hands into his pockets.

“Text once and awhile. Okay?” His smile is sheepish. “So this knight doesn’t worry.”

“Will do, Mr. Knight.” 

He jogs off, bag back on his shoulder, after his friends and they soon disappear among the crowd of morning commuters. 

You have many things to do but you don’t immediately start because if only for a moment, you feel bereft.

–

You spend four days in Edinburgh. You go to the castle though you’ve been before because it really is one of the loveliest sights in the country. You take your camera to The Writers Museum, showcasing it because it’s super interesting and also free admission. Not free really because you buy a ridiculous amount of souvenirs from the gift shop. You tell yourself and your followers that you’ll use them as gifts, even offering a few as a giveaway. 

You (on encouragement from a few comments) decided to do one of the haunted walking tours (there are several to choose from), checking with those in charge that your recording will not be a problem. They seem delighted for the free publicity and some spooky tales or shots will be a lot of fun.

You temporarily forget that you don’t like scary things.

It’s halfway through the tour and you are doing your best to record, listen and not gasp in terror or cover your ears like a child who doesn’t like what they are being told. You know your heart is pumping so fast because you feel it and why did you do this to yourself?

There’s a split second of you wishing Changbin was with you and hugging you again because that is your most recent memory of feeling safe. Hugs are naturally just a wonderful thing, but his had gone beyond that.

In your time alone in the city, you’ve given some thought to the strange draw you have to a stranger (though less of a stranger now). You definitely have found random people you run across in your travels as attractive. You aren’t blind. Beauty in people is just as soul-reviving as beauty in landscape and architecture. 

You’ve dated, but not lately. Your job can keep you away for periods at a time and though you’ve never been seriously tempted to be unfaithful, your partners have been more paranoid. That lack of trust bothered you more than any idiosyncrasies in dealing with combining two lives together. 

You have never seen someone in passing and felt like if you didn’t meet, didn’t talk, didn’t have a moment to interact; that you would spend your days living in regret. The desire to know someone has never possessed you at any point that you can remember. And now that you do know him a little? It just makes you want to know more. In a mental list, you have questions you want to ask him. 

He’s texted you. Photos of their time in Edinburgh; the castle and classic tattoo performance, all the food and drink, the statues that he and his friends sometimes pose like or with. You’ve texted back comments and suggestions. You’ve sent photos you wouldn’t use on your platforms; silly ones that would make the blooper reel if you had one for your life, ones that are just moments in your wanderings that you think he might like. You exchange song recommendations. You didn’t know he’d also like ballads, and softer songs. 

You’ve looked them up on youtube (they never mentioned their group name, but a search of ‘chan, jisung, changbin’ only brings up one group) and listened to their songs. It’s not your typical listening, but you like it. You buy an album digitally and when you just walk through the streets, you pop in your earbuds and listen to them. You look up lyrics when you have a moment, Korean being the dominant language in all their songs. You mull over the themes of their work, it makes you add new mental questions to that list. 

You get a photo of their little Airbnb when they are in Linlithgow. There’s pictures of the sun reflecting on the loch, the castle in the distance. Chan in front his laptop with music making paraphernalia. Jisung with his forehead furrowed, scribbling something on paper. 

Changbin making a duck face selfie.

>>Haggis soon?

The text comes in when you are in your inn room, editing more recent footage. Your time is coming to an end in the city and you’ve not said anything because you aren't sure they, or he, will still want you to come visit. Your original plan was to stay only a few days, maybe a day trip somewhere near, and then get back on the train to London. 

Plans change.

<<if you still want to? you’re supposed to be writing great masterpieces.

>> (pout emoji) 

<<not going well?

>>it’s okay. it’s really peaceful here and i get distracted by just sitting on a bench, watching people. 

<<i know for a fact that’s good for inspiration.

>>you’re avoiding answering my question. Are you coming to see us?

<<I booked a room for tomorrow night. Celebratory haggis for dinner?

>>YES

You’ve adjusted your train ticket back to London, giving yourself more time, but you can’t help but wonder what will happen when you go back home and he goes back to Korea. 

–

When you first ran into the trio, you weren’t nervous because you didn’t know. This time around, your heart is prematurely thumping like you’ve run all the way from Edinburgh. You’ve checked into your room at the pub/inn you’re staying at, then back on the street to view the centuries old architecture. It’s definitely a wet day, the clouds are ominous, so you’ve thrown your umbrella into your backpack and layered under your hoodie. 

You have plans for dinner with them; a local restaurant that the owner of their Airbnb recommended. There’s no reason for you to see them before that. But despite that knowledge, you keep your eyes peeled (what a weird phrase, honestly) for any familiar sightings. 

You walk along the street, trying to remember to look down because the streets are not even in these old villages and you wouldn’t say you’re clumsy, but you wouldn’t say you’re grace personified either. The buildings are magnificent though. The style sends you back to books you’ve read about tiny villages and murder mysteries that never scare you, just make you want to live in a cozy place and live a cozy life. 

You pause in front of the third pub you’ve passed by, wondering if going in for a drink would settle the buzz of nerves currently rippling through you. 

You hear your name.

You turn to see Changbin jogging up to you with a grin on his face, and he’s pulled you into a hug before you can piece together that he’s on his own, without his friends. 

“You didn’t say you were here yet,” he says, voice muffled by your hair before he draws back, still grinning. 

It’s stronger, the tether that you’ve felt since first laying eyes on him. You want to kiss him. 

Like really really want to kiss him. 

The urge startles you and you take a second to smile back, to cover that insane desire. You barely know him. What you know, you like, but you need to chill. 

“Hi.” 

Good job. Real eloquent and normal.

He laughs and squeezes your arm before letting go. He’s wearing sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a backwards snapback. 

It’s so casual and normal, and you feel a bit light-headed.

You almost move to hug him again. 

“Where’s the rest of 3racha?”

He shrugs. “Ji is currently down the rabbit hole of youtube, and Chan is frustratedly working on a track and does not want any outside input at the moment. I decided to go for a workout.” He smiles again, tugging on the straps of his gym bag that’s hanging on his shoulder.. “And I found you.”

His smile drops when you don’t say anything. 

“I mean, unless you’re working right now? I’m sorry. You probably are and–”

“No, I’m sorry, I just…” You trail off, trying to figure out how the simple ‘I found you’ with that amount of sincerity destroys you, in all the best ways, and you can’t share that with him. “I’m kinda always working, so please, distract me.”

That pretty rose color lightens his cheeks and you wonder if maybe your words carried more underneath them than just a casual ‘let’s hang’ vibe.

“Wanna go work out?” he asks, teasing. You look down at your all-terrain boots and jeans then back at him. “No?”

“I guess these aren’t god-given?” You poke his arm, trying not to laugh when he flexes. You think it’s probably instinctual. 

He eyes you suspiciously but there’s still that hint of smile on his lips. “Nope. Requires maintenance.”

“My maintenance is just the walking I do for work.”

He nods. “Wanna walk then?” He zips up his windbreaker, seeming okay with the change in plans. 

“You don’t…don’t you want to go build muscle or something?”

He shakes his head. “Not right now.” He nods in the direction you were heading. “Come on. I’ll show you a nice spot.” He takes your hand and starts walking. You don’t resist.

Why would you?

His hand is warm, a little rough with calluses (probably from those beloved barbells). He’s speaking but for a few seconds you don’t comprehend because it’s been ages since you’ve had your hand held; nothing beyond a handshake or someone maybe helping you in and out of a mode of transportation. 

And it’s just so nice. 

“We haven’t tried there yet.” His words finally come into being understandable, even though you are still fixated on your hand in his. “But I want to. I think pubs might be one of my favorite things about the U.K.”

“No pubs in Korea?”

He takes you down a narrow street, cobblestoned and a little smelly. The wind picks up because of the condensed space and you shiver. 

“You’ve never been?”

“To Korea? No. Not yet.” It’s on your list. As is most of east Asia. Perhaps now, knowing them, you might put your focus on affording that type of trip. 

“Pubs aren’t really a thing. Not like here. There’s bars, restaurants that you drink in, but it doesn’t quite have the same laid-back feel.” He pauses at the curb, waiting for a cab to pass. Then he continues on, still holding your hand and you think it’d be really easy for him to lead you anywhere. 

“Same. I mean, for the States. We have bars, clubs. I feel like coffee houses are close to the same vibe, but generally no alcohol.”

He’s led you to a small park, complete with wrought iron benches and trees that if it was spring or summer, would be full of green. Full of leaves and would block the view of the still lake beyond the bank.

“Oh.”

“Right? It’s really pretty.” He tugs you toward one of the benches that faces the lake, where the reflection of the local castle is near perfect, minus a few rolls that warp the shape of the towers when wind touches the water. He sits and you sit, staring at the picturesque beauty. 

He lets go of your hand and you have to hold yourself back from taking it again.

You pull out your GoPro, opening it before getting up to find a few angles. 

“I watched some of your videos. When are you putting up the Edinburgh ones?”

You frame the castle reflection before capturing it digitally. “Probably in a day or two. It takes awhile to edit and do the voiceover. Also…” You glance back at him. “I don’t like to post when I’m in the same place. In case there are any–”

“Ax murderers?”

You smile. “Yeah.”

“That’s smart.” He leans back on the bench, letting his small gym bag fall to the ground. 

Manspreading is something you normally despise, especially on public transportation, but as with everything else, Changbin is the exception. 

An image of you climbing onto his lap flashes through your mind, and you spin around to look back at the castle, mortified at your own thoughts. It seems invasive to think of him like that. 

“Which videos did you watch?”

“Some of your first ones.”

You turn back to him in horror. “You didn’t.”

He grins, as though pleased that he’s made you embarrassed. “There’s a lot more of you in those. How old are you then?”

“Gah, right out of university.” You shake your head as you walk back to sit on the bench with him. “I knew nothing.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“The editing is mediocre, the shots and angles are pedestrian, my voice is–”

He’s laughing. 

“I can’t believe you went back that far.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t listen to our first songs?”

“To be fair,” you begin, caught but ready to defend. “You have less songs than I have videos, because your songs take more work…” He’s still grinning and you shrug. “‘Wow’ is especially enjoyable.”

Now it’s his turn to look away and grimace in pain. “Yeah. If fans didn’t love it, ironically probably, I’d make that disappear.”

“Shows how far you’ve come.”

He looks back at you, eyes warming. “Same for you.”

The warmth is unnerving and you look back at the perfect view of water and architecture. “You come out here a lot?”

“I’ve been twice? Since we’ve been here. I don’t usually just sit and stare out into nothing. That’s more Ji’s thing. He’s the introvert.”

“And Chan?”

He sits up and rests his forearms on his thighs, watching a lady push a stroller while talking on the phone. “He’s a workaholic. Even more than Ji and I. Sometimes I have to wrestle him into bed so he can get some sleep.”

“Can you take him in a fight?”

He smirks. “He’s taller, but I’m stronger.”

You mimic his position, watching the branches seesaw with the wind. “Who wrestles you into bed?” The moment you say it, you recognize what else it could mean. That perhaps just being around him layers your words with implications that hint and tease and lure. 

You feel his gaze, but you stubbornly look at the trees, even though you’re sure he can see the heat on your cheeks.

“No one. Lately.”

You swallow and let your eyes drift to him. He seems undaunted by your words or even his response. You think you could ask him, right now, if he’s having the same feelings as you; a practical stranger. You think he would tell you the truth. 

But you hear the sound of a vibrating phone and he jolts at it, letting out a huff before pulling it out of his pocket to answer.

“Yeah?” The conversation moves into Korean and you do hear your name, but the rest of it is lost to you. You sit up, messing with the settings on your GoPro, taking a few shots, trying to capture the quiet in a photo.

“That was Chan.” Changbin tells you. “It’s early, but Ji is starving.” He rests his arm on the back of the bench, his fingers centimeters from your arm. “Hungry?”

“I can always eat.”

He smiles at that, standing up to grab his bag and fit it on his shoulder before offering his hand. “Same, really.”

If you post those castle photos, you aren’t sure what you'll caption them, as your biggest impression of that hour was holding Changbin’s hand. 

–

“You didn’t!?” You cover your mouth as you laugh, hilarity infecting Jisung and Chan as well. Changbin looks pained as he stares at his plate. “You looked it up. You shouldn’t have.”

“I always check what I’m about to put in my body,” he answers, lips in near pout. “I knew it was going to be unusual, but…”

Haggis sits on his plate, awaiting a first bite, and you think, it looks a bit sad that it hasn’t been partaken yet. 

It might be the beer you’ve all had, but the giggling doesn’t cease. You lean over and cut it open, taking a forkful without even asking him. Later, you’ll blame intoxication. 

“See?” You take a bite, chewing and grinning at him. Then you pause. “Okay, that’s excellent.” 

He doesn’t look very convinced. “I…”

You grab his fork, do the same and offer it to him. “No regrets. If you hate it, at least it is an informed opinion.”

His lips part at the beckoning expression you give him. The other two are still laughing, teasing him, but the way he looks at you seems to drown them out. Like it all fades and you swear you can hear how his breathing changes, as though his heart speeds up.

“Come on, you’ll never know unless you try.” 

He lets you feed him, something you’ve never done outside a few gigs babysitting as a teenager. And it wasn’t like this.

It takes far too long for you to drag your eyes from his lips, to look up to his eyes, to see if he liked the Scottish delicacy.

His thoughtful face is cute. 

You set the fork down, drawing back, as though you’ve finally realized just how forward, how flirty you’ve been. You know there’s nothing wrong with it, if he’s not bothered, but you feel bashful nonetheless. 

You aren’t usually this person. Not since you were in school, when opportunities to meet and date seemed endless. 

“So?” Jisung pipes up. “Verdict?”

Changbin swallows, turning from you to his friends. “It’s actually…pretty good.”

Jisung takes that as permission, grabbing his own bite, as does Chan. You coerce yourself into watching them, not him, as they make similar confused and pensive expressions. As you do, you muse that you aren’t sure how three friends could all be so handsome, each in their own way.

Why only one of them seems to be bewitching you.

He’s sitting next to you again, but it’s in a booth not separate chairs, and though you aren’t touching, you can feel the heat of him in the few inches between you. 

“Maybe not something I’d eat all the time,” Chan says. “But certainly not gross.”

Jisung nods. “Especially if I don’t think about what it is.” He even takes another bite. 

Changbin fiddles with his fork before taking a swallow of his pint. 

“I like it.”

You smile. 

The guys mostly talk music for the rest of the meal. Chan even apologizes to you, but you wave it off. You’re fascinated by artists of any kind, how they create. You sip your cider, listening to them, even when they forget you and speak in Korean. It’s a nice, hazy feeling. The coziness of the pub, the talking around you, voices with different accents, the music filling in any lull in conversation. 

Perhaps the cider is stronger than you thought.

“You falling asleep?” 

You tilt your head toward him. He’s removed the snapback, run his hand through his hair a few times and you want to do the same. 

“No.”

“You sure?” 

You are slumped against the back of the booth, warm and comfortable. In a distant part of your brain, you chastise that you haven’t taken more photos or video of the meal, but it’s nice. Nice to be here. 

“I think she’s fading.” You hear Chan. You shake your head. “How early did you get up today?”

“Not early…I just haven’t slept super well since the haunted walking tour thingy.” It isn’t until Changbin touches your bottom lip that you realize you’re pouting.

And that he’s touched you. 

“Was that fun?” Jisung asks, animated. 

“No. Not by myself.” You watch Changbin who has gone back to his food and beer. “Probably would be fun with someone.” 

He glances at you and holds your gaze for a few seconds before saying something to Jisung about his horror film obsession. 

You don’t fall asleep, but you are definitely close when you fight them for the bill. You win this time. 

The walk outside into the night is a good wake up, the air far chillier than when the four of you entered the establishment. You wrap your arms around yourself, not too cold, but not warm either. 

“Nightcap?” Chan asks. “I don’t think I can go back to working just yet.”

“I want to,” you say. “But I think I need to go to bed.”

“Rain check,” he says, smiling fondly. “Come on, Ji.” He wraps his arm around his younger friend. “First one’s on you.”

“Why me?” He complains as the two of them cross the street to a pub that sounds and looks lively. They both wave at you before disappearing through the doors. 

“I’ll walk you back.”

“You can go on,” you protest, shivering a little. “I know how to get back.”

He pulls up the hood over your hair, tightening the strings. “I’m walking you back.” He states again, taking your hand. 

You aren’t about to refuse.

“Don’t you want to go with them?”

He gives you a look that you can’t really decipher. When he lets go of your hand, you open your mouth to argue, but he wraps his arm around your waist to pull you close. It’s a second later that you feel a group of people walk by, nonverbally explaining why he does so.

You look up at him, your hand on his chest.

“They were–I mean–” He is blushing, before releasing you. “I didn’t want you to get bumped into.”

“Thanks.”

He nods, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep going. You loop your arm with his. He almost stumbles but doesn’t say anything.

Neither do you.

It’s a few minutes more until you’re in front of your lodging.

“Well…” you begin, but he enters. “Changbin I can…”

“I know you can, but I want to.” There’s a stubborn set to his jaw and mouth and you resist cooing over it because for someone who could probably lift you with ease, he’s adorable. 

You wave at the innkeeper, trying not to look shameful that you are bringing someone up the stairs with you. Not that there's anything wrong with it, but it does feel cheap, as though this person you’ve met days ago is just a fling. Not someone making sure that you are safe in your room, not someone that you find yourself thinking about hourly. 

Not someone important.

You stop in front of your room, pulling out the skeleton key and unlocking it before turning to your bodyguard. 

“Thank you for seeing me to my room, Mr. Knight.”

He smiles at the reference. “You’re welcome.” He moves to slip the hood off your head, smoothing your hair. “I hope you sleep better.”

“Me too.”

He swallows and you watch the movement of his throat with avid interest. “I’m gonna���I’m gonna work out tomorrow morning, but do you want to do anything? Together? I could help you record or whatever, if you wanted.” He’s got his hands in his pockets again, his windbreaker zipped all the way up, eyes wide and inquiring. 

“Fuck, you are so cute,” you breathe. His eyes get even wider. “Like, sorry, that’s…you are. Really attractive.”

“Oh. Thanks.” He’s so taken aback by your words that you giggle. That smirk returns, painting him far more confident than he just was. He moves a few steps closer. “Is that a yes?”

He is so close.

“Yes?”

He grins even more. “To tomorrow? Hanging out.” He takes one of the strings of your hoodie, tugs it lightly and wraps it around his finger. 

“Sure. I’ll put you to work carrying my stuff.”

He tilts his head down, his eyes dropping to your lips. “I can do that.” His nose touches yours. “And same by the way.”

“Hmm?” You can’t look away from his mouth.

“You’re also really cute. Attractive.” He pauses to let that sink in. “Pretty.” He moves so carefully and your eyes fall shut, sure to feel his lips on yours, but you don’t.

He kisses you on the cheek. Your eyes flutter open and he’s watching you, searching. He starts to pull back, but you grasp the collar of his windbreaker, halting his retreat. 

Your name falls from his lips, and you figure what the hell.

You kiss him. 

It’s a bit forceful, perhaps your coordination is off from the drinking, but his little grunt when your lips meet makes you soften immediately. Your grip relaxes, your hands seeking out the curls at the nape of his neck. You feel him tremble, then you feel his hands on your hips.

Your head falls back against the door as he licks into your mouth, apparently no longer caught off guard by your forwardness. He tastes a little bitter from the beer he imbibed, but the heat, his tongue curling with yours makes your fingers tighten as though holding onto his shoulders might keep you from collapsing. 

One hand captures you by the jaw, a gentle maneuvering so he can kiss you deeper. You hear his hat fall to the floor when your greedy fingers card through his hair, soft and silky. He takes a step in, and his hips align with yours.

It’s like fireworks explode under your skin. 

In case you questioned whether or not he was interested, you aren’t questioning now. He’s hard, pressed against you in a way that makes you hungrier than you’ve ever been. 

You absolutely crave him. 

His mouth leaves yours, and you whimper at the loss. There’s a dark chuckle, arrogant, before he graces your neck with soft pecks, ending with a nip and a suck, right near your collarbone, your hoodie pushed aside to let him taste. 

You stutter his name. 

There’s a pause in his ministrations, his thumb running along your lower lip. He raises his head as your eyes open. You can see a reflection of your desire in his eyes, in the focus of his gaze. 

His thumb pulls on your lip, as though seeking the wet heat of your mouth. Your tongue flicks the tip and his eyes go even darker. You think maybe he growls before slotting his mouth back over yours, tongue stroking and enticing. 

There’s a creak of footsteps coming up the stairs and you break apart, chests heaving with breathlessness. His face is flushed, hair and eyes a little wild, and you wonder if this is how he looks post workout, post other exertions.

A runaway thought about licking the sweat off his neck ping-pongs in your brain, but you won’t ever verbalize it. 

You both wait until the guest passes down the hall to their room before either of you speak. He leans down to grab his hat.

“Do we blame the beer?” you ask softly.

“You had cider.”

It’s almost petulant, his words, and it surprises a laugh out of you. His answering smile is soft, and he cups your cheek in his hand. 

“You should go sleep.” His index finger taps lightly on your ear, playful.

You want to protest, to invite him in, but this evening has already sped past any rules you’ve ever had in place for dating and sex. 

A moment to process, to think. 

“Yeah.”

He kisses you again, but it’s chaste and sweet. A good night kiss as though you two are familiar with each other. 

“Message me when you wake up?” His voice is barely a whisper. His nose slides along yours before he drops another kiss and backs up. “Sweet dreams.”

“Yeah.” You are incapable of anything more eloquent than that at the moment. He grins, squeezing your hand before heading toward the stairs. You open the door, still with your back against it, resistant to look away. 

“Night.”

“Good night,” you answer before finally shutting the door behind you. You allow yourself the cliche romantic moment of leaning and sliding down to the floor, completely enamored.

–

You wake and check your phone out of habit. 

Wanna do breakfast? 

It was nearly an hour ago that it was sent, but you hope it’s still an option. The overabundance of cider ensured you slept hard last night, which given how much the man at the other end of this text filled your brain, you are grateful. Because it’s a new day. Sun’s coming up and things that are easy and make sense late into the night, under the influence of alcohol, sometimes feel rather foolish in the light of day.

You want to see him. After last night, after kissing, touching…just feeling; you feel like the one time you’d had a crush in middle school.

The beginnings of crushing. That quickly turned painful and awkward (the epitome of middle school life), and even thinking of it dampens your present joy.

You shove it away, intent on appreciating that the strange inclination that appeared at just seeing Changbin seems to be somewhat reciprocated.

Yes. This pub has breakfast. Wanna meet me?

Give me 15. Have to shower and I’ll be there.

You did not need that mental image.

You may spend a minute more on your face this morning, but then your brain is taken over by thoughts of what to see and what to do for your channel. You keep a decently consistent upload schedule (the only way to keep viewers sticking around), and you posted the last one of your last excursion.

It’s time.

The worry from two seconds ago reappears. 

You find a table downstairs in the pub and order a tea (when in the UK). You check your instagram and TikTok platforms. You’d posted just the castle reflection (no location mentioned) yesterday and just looking at it again warms you.

“Hey.”

You look up from your phone to see Changbin sliding in the chair across from you. His hair is damp and curly, reminding you of that mental image you do not need to have. He wears not all black today, but a pale pink hoodie and dark jeans. He smiles once you make eye contact.

“Morning.”

You reply the same, your own gaze falling to his lips, which flusters you immensely, so you sit up, put your phone away.

“I didn’t know if you were coffee or a tea person.”

“Oh. Coffee. But,” he looks at your cup. “That actually looks good.”

You offer it to him. “Try. You should at least try good breakfast tea while you’re here.” 

He takes it from you, sipping it before staring off as he contemplates. 

“You can have it just plain. I always add milk and sugar. It’s good without too.”

He smiles. “Oh I can?”

You fluster yet again. 

“It’s cute. You’re like a tea missionary all of a sudden.”

He sets the tea back on your side as a server pops up for your order. Changbin orders a full Scottish breakfast (and tea), and you get porridge. 

“Good workout?”

He nods. “I haven’t really been diligent about it.”

“You’re traveling, of course you haven’t.” You rest your chin in your hand. “You enjoy it?”

“Yeah. I mean…” He blushes. “I could go on and on about everything to do with training, eating, all that. I don’t want to bore you.”

“As a person who knows very little, except to get some exercise to be healthy, I won’t be bored.”

He looks doubtful. “No?”

“Try me. I like learning stuff.”

He does know a lot. As much as you don’t think you will ever desire to be a gym rat in any circumstances, you find his enthusiasm wonderful. It’s perhaps one of your favorite things about traveling. A lot of it is solitary, but you do meet people, have conversations that only two strangers on a plane, train, or in a restaurant could have. People have passions, and they light up when they get to talk about them, or share them. 

You once had a two hour conversation with someone about red milkwood fruit and the best areas in South Africa to get it. 

It was really good. 

Food is delivered and Changbin’s commentary about leg day tapers off. You hide a smile as his focus becomes solely his meal. 

“I’d like to look at the castle today. I’m sure you’ve already gone?”

He chews slowly, but shakes his head.

“You haven’t?”

“All three of us had stuff to work on. Or wanted to work, so sight-seeing hasn’t happened yet. So, yeah, let’s go.”

“You don’t mind? I mean, I don’t want you to not work if–”

He interrupts you, saying your name. “You think I don’t want to spend time with you? After…” He’s the cutest thing when he blushes. 

You don’t suppose you look as cute when your face heats too. 

“So,” you save him from continuing, even though your voice definitely cracks, “The castle, and maybe a boat ride at the Canal Centre, the museum there too?” You meet his eyes. “You don’t have to do all of that with me if you don’t want to.”

He leans in a little (there are still two meals between you two). “I want to.” 

You can’t really find anything to say to that, not with that resolute tone that makes you want to crawl over the table (pretty sure the beans on his plate would stain your pants for eternity but it would be worth it) and continue where you left off last night. 

It’s a craving that your very nice porridge will not satiate.

And it’s a lot for you in your not very long time on this planet. 

He seems to feel the same if the way he’s looking at you is any indication, but he drops his gaze to go back to his meal. 

You do the same. 

When you’re outside after eating, he tugs on your backpack. You turn and he pulls it off you, sliding it onto his shoulders. His smile is a little cheeky and bashful. 

“You did say I could carry your stuff.”

“I did.” Can’t really argue with him about that. You open your phone to find the best walking route to the castle and let that lead you both. His hand slips into yours. 

You’ve never gotten to travel as part of a couple. This phase of your life started because you had wanted to see more than your state, and no one in your life was able to join you (commitments to jobs, partners, now kids). Traveling alone means no one puts any sort of expectations of what you do, when you do it, and where. It’s freedom.

But it’s terribly nice to walk hand in hand with someone down a cobblestoned street as you record the simplicity and antiquity of your surroundings. 

“Say hi!” you turn the camera on him and he doesn’t even hesitate, but gives a peace sign and a huge grin. You laugh that he’s so at ease with it, but remind yourself that he performs fairly regularly. 

To see them live would be an experience. 

“Did you know this palace is the birthplace of Mary Queen of Scots?” you ask him, camera still focused on his profile.

“I did not. Nor do I have a clue who that is.”

You laugh again. “Why would you?” You turn the camera back toward the castle in the distance. You do a quick speech about the little you know of British royals and history. “I’ll add more later,” you turn the camera to your face. “Edit this out, but keep in Changbin.”

“Wait, why?”

“Cause you’re cute and look good on camera.”

The blush is redder with the brisk wind. 

“I see how it is. You just want me for my looks.”

“Absolutely.” You may blush when you say it, but his answering laugh is worth it.

The castle is as castles are: drafty, wet-smelling, but still hold some sort of mystique due to age and grandeur. There’s a tour you follow, listening and taking the occasional note on your phone. Changbin is fairly quiet, though he mutters the occasional comment to you which makes you laugh a little too loudly and interrupt the tour guide. 

You really do try not to be the loud and rude American when you travel. 

“When I was little, I wanted to live in a castle,” you say to Changbin when the tour is over and you are just filming to get footage and B roll. 

“You don’t anymore?”

“Oh god no. It’s too cold. Too big. Too much to clean.”

He laughs and adjusts your backpack on his shoulders. “That’s not very romantic.”

“I’m not very…” You trail off, glancing at him as he looks out across the pond. The wind is up, ruffling his hair, and you think you might be a little romantic because your heart does swell when you look at him. 

“Hmm?” He looks back, and smiles.

“Never mind. Wanna head to the Canal Centre?”

“Sure.”

As you both walk that way, you see a group of people (possible power-walkers, is that a thing in Scotland?) coming down the road toward you. He takes you by the elbow and pulls you into a tiny alcove under the footbridge. You stumble into him as his arm wraps around your back. You look up to see him watching the crowd pass by before seeing your gaze. Pink tinges his cheeks in a faint blush. 

“There was–” He gestures with his other hand toward the now absent crowd. “It wasn’t a move, I promise.”

“It’s okay if it had been.”

One corner of his lips shoots up in a smirk-smile. “Yeah?” His arm tightens around you, pulling you flush against him. 

As you lean in to brush a kiss to his lips, your brain is reminding you that everything is on a deadline, and you should mention this to him. But the kiss (and he) is distracting. His hand is splayed in the middle of your back and he’s so warm. The kiss, that starts fairly chaste, morphs into heat, tongue and at least one moan. 

The moan is you.

“Public indecency charges in a foreign country are probably really difficult to get out of,” you mumble, mouth barely touching his. 

He chuckles, hand stroking down your back. “We probably shouldn’t find out.” He rests his head on the stone wall behind him.

You open your mouth to say something about your train leaving tomorrow, but he takes your hand and pulls you from the alcove to head back into the muted sunshine. 

The Canal Centre has options for 12 or 40 people, and requires advanced booking, so you and Changbin just wander through the museum before finding a spot in the tearoom to watch the boats pass. 

“It feels slower here,” he says softly as you look through the footage you’ve taken. 

You lift up your head and raise your eyebrows in question. He shrugs and takes a sip of tea in the dainty teacup. You gesture for him to hold that position as you snap a quick photo of his large hand wrapped around that delicate porcelain. 

“Just. Stopping for tea. Staring out at people. It’s all very calm.”

“We are kinda on vacation. Working here would be different.”

“I’m sure. But even that…people are out for lunch, just heading to the pub and spending time eating and socializing. We do that in Korea, but usually after work, late, for supper and drinks.” He sets the cup back down. “Just different.”

“America never seems to stop. Just get into your car, drive, work, eat as fast as you can, drive home, crash. Maybe go out, but I couldn’t usually muster up the energy post-work.” 

“I’ve never been.” 

“No gigs in the US of A?”

“Not yet.” He meets your eyes before looking back at the boats. “I’m a bit bummed we didn’t get to ride in a boat.” He points at you, with excitement. “We could book for tomorrow if you wanted.”

It’s an anvil on your chest.

“What about your work?”

He gives you a look, like ‘are you kidding?’ “For a boat ride? With you? I think I can take a few hours.” He leans forward, resting his arms on the table, one hand seeking yours. “More content for you, ms. vlogger.”

You let him take your hand and then you take a deep breath. “My train leaves tomorrow.”

His thumb, rubbing over your knuckles, stills at your words. 

“It does?”

You grip his hand in case he thinks of letting go. “I have to get back. Money wise, content wise, just…life.” 

He stares at you, expression unreadable. 

“I’m sorry. I would stay if–”

“You need to get back.” He nods before letting go. “And I have songs to write.”

There are several other people in the tearoom and you want to say things, but it feels way too private for this public venue. 

“When do you guys head back to Korea?”

“End of next week.” He takes a deep breath, eyes back on the boats. His jaw tightens and he turns again back to you. “Come to Korea.”

“What?”

“In your travels, come.”

“I mean, I would like to. It’s on my list.”

“Move it up the list.”

You laugh, bewildered at his insistence. “I’ll try. It’s not like it’s easy to get to from America.”

He takes your hand again. “Come. Please.”

It’s a lot. To not look away from the intensity of his gaze, those brown eyes entreating. 

“You gonna come to the States?”

“Yes.”

No question, no hesitation. 

“Oh.”

He says your name, then looks around. “Can we go somewhere and talk about this?” He takes out some British pounds and leaves them on the table. “Please?”

You gather your things and follow him out. He takes your hand and leads you back to the park from yesterday. He pulls you next to him on the bench, sliding your backpack onto the ground.

But he doesn’t speak. He stares back out across the water, his hand in yours. 

“Bin?”

He turns with a smile. “First time you’ve called me that.” He moves closer, his smile faltering. “Maybe I’m completely off, but this is something.” He gestures to the space between the two of you on ‘this’. “Right? It’s not, it can’t be just a hookup. I…don’t want to not see you again.”

It’s hard to speak. To follow the rapidity of what he says. 

“Right?” He forces a smile. “You weren’t just gonna fuck me and leave?”

You hide your face, embarrassed at his words. “I hadn’t even…I mean, I thought about…oh god.”

He rests his hands on your shoulders, saying your name again. “Talk to me. I realize I am not being at all cool and detached about this. But, when I saw you on the train, I…it’s so cliched and just bad romance movie shit, but I felt something.”

Your head raises up so quickly, his hands tighten in surprise. “You did?”

“Yeah. Like, I mean, you’re cute as fuck, but it was more than that.” He watches your face. “You did too, didn’t you?”

“I thought my heart was going to beat itself into exploding.”

He grins. “I don’t think that makes sense.”

“Yeah, well, it’s my first time.”

“Mine too.” He presses his lips together before speaking. “It’s big, right? Like I don’t know everything about you, but…”

“It feels like it? Yeah.” You feel your face heat. “It’s both super familiar and safe, but also, all the butterflies and anticipation and–”

He kisses you. “That.”

“Yes.” You kiss him back, and he holds you so close that you’re almost in his lap. 

He moves his hands to your face. “We travel, the guys and me. Perform. Then we lock ourselves in the studio for the rest of the year. You can be there, for any of that. As much as you want.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “We’ve wanted to go to America for a couple years now, we have fans there…”

“I could travel with you guys?”

“Yeah. When you can.” He makes a face. “I mean, I’ll talk to them about it, but they know.”

“They know?”

He doesn’t let go of you, but his eyes do dart away, embarrassed. “They know that I’m into you. That something is going on.” He rolls his eyes. “Ji is especially annoying about it.”

You smile. “I bet.” You encircle his wrists with your hands. “So…long distance, huh?”

He swallows. “I’m game.”

“Me too.” It settles your heart and nerves to hear it. To hear that he feels and has been going through the same as you. That you aren’t alone in this. 

You aren’t alone, at all. 

His thumbs sweep along your cheekbones. “Okay.” His shoulders lower, relaxing. “Okay.”

You kiss him, letting go of his wrists and fully moving onto his lap, arms around his neck. He holds you close, mouth opening to taste you. It’s horribly public, but you don’t really care. 

How could you, in his arms?

When his hand slips under the back of your pants, he mumbles something against your skin.

“Hmm?”

“Thinking about those public indecency laws,” he says. 

You giggle as he looks up at you. “You say the sweetest things, Changbin.” 

He snorts but stares at you. 

You comb his hair off his forehead, staring back. “Pretty.”

He makes a face at you, but doesn’t look away. “I think we’re getting sappy.”

“Maybe a little.” 

You kiss his nose. “I like you.”

He smiles wide. “Yeah?”

“A lot.”

His wayward hand takes one grab of your ass, making you yelp and him laugh. 

“I like you too,” he murmurs, mouth tracing down the shell of your ear. “A lot a lot.”

—

Supper is with Jisung and Chan again, no haggis this time. The four of you opt for curry, and you are given a front row seat to Changbin’s ability to handle spice and how Chan and Jisung don’t handle it.

Though all three do way better than you as you ask the server for the least spicy curry on the menu. And even then, you make good use of the naan in the middle of the table. 

Changbin sits next to you, thigh flush to yours. His hand finds your leg often, resting on it, tapping a rhythm on your knee, fingers slipping to your inner thigh; hints of more, both casual and intentional. 

“You don’t mind?”

Chan glances at you from taking a swig of his pint. “Not at all. It’d be nice to have someone along. We have roadies, of course. But like…” He shrugs. “We put up with Ji, so you’ll be a breeze.”

Jisung glares at him. “I’m an angel.”

“I would check with you about anything I post, of course.”

Chan smiles warmly. “I trust you. Pretty obvious the moment you offered us a bed.”

It feels like years ago.

“I still can’t believe I did that.” You shake your head. “I’m lucky I’m not a True Crime podcast episode.” 

“Or Bin isn’t.” Jisung says. “All you’d have to do is get him working and like, you could sneak up on him so easily.” He chews then swallows. “Not that I’ve thought about it.”

“Feeling’s mutual, Ji,” Changbin volleys back, unbothered by his friend’s comment. His fingers lace with yours, resting on his leg. You try not to show how affected you are, but Jisung meets your eyes and winks at you.

Chan gives you a big hug after supper, outside the restaurant. “I’d say I’d get up and say goodbye, but I don’t want to lie.”

You hug him back, chuckling. “I appreciate the honesty.” 

He squeezes your arm. “Have a safe trip. We’ll see you soon.” 

“Yeah, you will.”

Jisung hugs you this time, long arms wrapped around you. He also wishes you a safe trip and elicits a promise from you that you’ll bring Flaming Cheetos with you when you come to Korea as he really wants to try them.

It’s an easy promise to make. 

There’s no excuse or question as to whether Changbin will walk you back to your room. He follows you in the main door, both of you not speaking. When you get to your room, he covers your hand as you try to unlock the door.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” he asks, voice no more than a whisper. “I’m afraid I won’t get up to say goodbye and–”

You turn around to kiss his cheek, silencing his stammering. “Yes.”

“Yes?”

You open the door. “We’ve already shared a cabin. Might as well share a bed, right?”

He enters, a bit timidly, glancing around. “You’ve already packed?”

“I barely unpacked.” You take your backpack from him, setting it on the floor of the wardrobe. You take off your shoes, setting them next to your backpack. You reach out for him, grabbing his hoodie to yank him to you. 

“I wasn’t…I wasn’t assuming that we’d…”

“You did ask if I planned to fuck you and leave.”

He coughs a laugh, hands settling on your hips. “I did, didn’t I? I was panicking a little.”

You kiss his chin. “I’m not assuming anything either. I just want to kiss you again.”

His eyes soften and he slides his hands under your thighs, the unspoken indicator to jump into his arms. You do so, legs around his waist as he covers your mouth with his. He moves you both to the bed, laying you down carefully, leaving your lips to taste and suck down your neck. He only breaks away when you pull on his hoodie in an effort to disrobe him. His laugh is light when he pulls it off, his t-shirt clinging to him in ways that should be illegal. He takes off your layers, peeling off the sweatshirt, t-shirt, then camisole. 

He stares.

You whine a protest. “What?”

He leans down, lips at your ear. His hands slide along your side, almost tickling. 

“I like your shape.” You tremble at the puff of his breath on your ear, shiver more when he nips at the lobe. He continues, pressing kisses along your jaw line until he’s back to your mouth, urgent. Your legs fall open as he lowers himself, a sharp intake of breath when you feel him. 

“I like yours, too,” you sigh into his mouth. 

There’s a rumble of laughter. “Which shape?” He lifts his head to grin at you. “My body or my dick?”

You slap his arm, flustered. 

He rests on his forearms, dropping soft pecks on your nose, cheeks, eyelids. “Just trying to clarify here.”

“Ridiculous.”

“You aren’t answering.”

You open your eyes, now to glare at him. “Both, obviously.”

His smirk is so satisfied, you kind of want to hit him again. He sits back on his knees and starts to undo the button of your jeans.

“Okay?”

You nod. “Your shirt first, though.”

He pulls it off, and you think your mouth actually waters a little. You sit up and he groans because he can’t undo your jeans now. But you have to touch. You have to map every line and curve of his body with your hands, taking in that warmth and softness. You kiss his chest, unable not to.

“I fully support all the working out.”

He giggles before trying to usher you to lay back down. He’s mostly successful though you have to kiss him again, taste his tongue and mouth again. 

He’s single-minded, returning to your jeans and dragging them off you before doing the same on himself. You’ve sat up, legs crossed, eyes just marveling at him and every reveal of skin that you get. 

“I guess it’s kind of late, but I haven’t been with anyone in months. I’m clean.” Just clad in his boxer-briefs, he sits next to you, his hand on your thigh, drawing up and down the length of it. 

“Years,” you admit. “But yeah, clean.”

He grasps you by the chin, bringing your mouth close. “Years?”

“I’m not a sexy rapper.”

He kisses you lightly. “True.”

You punch his shoulder and he doesn’t even flinch. He’s laughing into your mouth, kissing; his other hand cupping the back of your neck. You scoot closer, knees on either side of his hips. You roll your hips the moment you sink down.

His groan is music. 

“You have protection?” You ask in between kisses. He rests his forehead on your collarbone when you repeat the motion, biting your lip so you don’t echo his groan. 

“You don’t?”

“Years,” you repeat. He lifts his head to smile at you. 

“I do.”

“See…sexy rapper, with groupies all ready to throw themselves at you.” You tousle his hair, jerking when his hand drifts under your underwear, palming your ass. 

He rolls his eyes at you, but leans over to pull his wallet out of his discarded jeans, seeking the one condom he has. He hands it to you, freeing his hand to help lower you both back to the bed. 

Underwear tossed aside, latex rolled on; there are more kisses, and explorations of each other. He pushes in so gently, with whispered compliments and soft touches. It’s a different tone and color than his performative rapping. 

Softer, quieter. Private. 

Perhaps since it’s been years, it seems to happen all too quickly. You first then him. He’s collapsed on you, his breath harsh pants. You give into your earlier fantasy and lick away a drop of sweat off his temple. His hold on you tightens. 

“We should get some sleep,” you say, playing with his hair. 

“Don’t wanna,” he mumbles into your skin. 

You smile sadly, recognizing that it’s only hours left. He rolls off of you, planting a kiss on your shoulder. His eyes are half-open, sleep oncoming.

You roll to your side, curling up next to him. “I’ll wake you.”

He turns his head, meeting your eyes. “You better.” His eyes flutter closed. “I wanted to sleep next to you that night on the train.”

“Me too.”

–

“Hello friends,” you greet the camera with a smile. “I just arrived and have made it through customs, which is way better streamlined than in the States. It was a long flight,” you nod at some passengers you pass on your way to the arrival area. “But pretty uneventful. I think I slept nearly all of it.”

You look around once you go through the automatic sliding doors. 

“I can’t believe I’m here. It’s been almost six months and–” You break off when you hear your name above all the pandemonium of the Seoul International Airport. Your camera turns with you as you try to follow that shout. 

On Youtube, the video loses focus and there are muffled voices. The shot is of a far-off baggage claim and dozens of walking legs and shoes. When the camera is righted, it frames two faces.

You’re no longer on your own.

----

(c) yoongihan 2024. please do not steal, translate, repost, or whatever. stray kids belong to themselves and all idols used in this piece are just the inspiration for characters and do not in any way reflect the actual humans.

[mrs-stans]

Sebastian Stan Appreciates Taking Things 'A Little Less Seriously'

The actor caught up with L'OFFICIEL at the CFDA Fashion Awards to discuss wearing Thom Browne and his transformative roles in A Different Man and The Apprentice.

by Carrie Wittmer

Sebastian Stan in Thom Browne for the CFDA Awards 2024

Photography: Ryan Lowry Stylist: Michael Fisher Grooming: Amy Komorowski

On camera and off, Sebastian Stan is always aware of what he is wearing, whether he's suited up as the Winter Soldier in Captain America or sporting jeans and a T-shirt on a day off. The actor— who stars in and is winning over buzz for his transformative performances in A Different Man and The Apprentice—represented Thom Browne at the 2024 CFDA Fashion Awards on October 28 in New York City at the American Museum of Natural History. For the event, Stan wore a full Thom Browne look: a classic ticket pocket tuxedo with self-tipping in black, 3-ply mohair; a knit vest in black cashmere; a classic button-up shirt in white oxford; a necktie in black silk faille; and penny loafers in black patent leather.

In A Different Man, Stan plays an aspiring actor with neurofibromatosis who has facial reconstructive surgery that dramatically alters his appearance. In The Apprentice, Stan plays former President Donald Trump in a film that follows his rise to power, focusing on his mentor-mentee relationship with lawyer Roy Cohn, portrayed by Jeremy Strong from Succession. Stan received critical acclaim for his performances in both films, and is now a likely contender for the upcoming awards season.

At the CFDAs, Stan told L’OFFICIEL about his look for the night, his connection to Thom Browne, and how clothing and costumes impact his performances. Read on for the interview.

Sebastian Stan in Thom Browne for the CFDA Awards 2024

Sebastian Stan in Thom Browne for the CFDA Awards 2024

Sebastian Stan in Thom Browne for the CFDA Awards 2024

L’O: Tell me about your look for the CFDA awards.

Sebastian Stan: Thom Browne’s take on black tie-not traditional, polished in a new way and comfortable while being structured. I appreciate taking things a little less seriously, especially during awards season. I love my straight tie and knit vest—less serious, but certainly not less appropriate.

L'O: How would you describe your off-duty style? What do you wear on a day off?

SS: Jeans and a tee shirt.

L’O: What character that you’ve played is most likely to wear Thom Browne?

SS: Carter Baizen would wear the hell out of a Thom Browne suit.

Sebastian Stan in Thom Browne for the CFDA Awards 2024

Sebastian Stan in Thom Browne for the CFDA Awards 2024

L’O: Your roles in A Different Man and The Apprentice are very physical performances... and so is Bucky Barnes. How do you approach creating a character’s physicality?

SS: It all actually starts from the inside out. Muscles have memory. We wear our pains, our pride, our truth: the ones we project and the ones we keep hidden from the world. It all depends on what’s driving somebody…The need for love, the need to be heard, the need to prove, the need to hide, etc. Everything influences how you move and you walk. Obviously when you’re playing real people the clues are already there to study. Like an instrument. With something like A Different Man, there’s a backstory and the prosthetics influenced everything. Similar with Bucky Barnes. His past is always in his body.

L’O: How do clothes and costumes enhance your performance?

SS: I love costumes because they speak for themselves. When you walk in a room immediately people look at you and what you’re wearing tells a story. The choices one makes in terms of portraying themselves to the world are very revealing. So costumes are a big piece of the character before any words are even said. They also influence the way you walk. I’m particular about shoes. What kind of shoes a character wears. Sneakers make you walk a certain way boots a totally different way. Maybe you stand up taller as a result and so on. Same with clothes. A suit affects everything. So does a pair of jeans you’ve lived in for a decade.

Sebastian Stan in Thom Browne for the CFDA Awards 2024

Sebastian Stan in Thom Browne for the CFDA Awards 2024

[selarina]

Bleeding Heart Dove (Part 3)

-> Nanami Kento x Reader

Summary: After acquiring two tickets for a play by the docks, you and Nanami get ready with anticipation.

Tags: angst, slow burn, marriage au, hurt/comfort, miscommunication, unresolved tension (they need to fuck nasty), smoking (discussion of quitting)

Word Count: 2.5k words

Read on AO3 | Part 1 | Part 2

Light seeps through the thin curtains of your hotel room window, stirring you awake. It’s a weak light, but it’s insistent, and you turn away. But the curtains are wide open—no doubt a result of Nanami being out on the balcony.

He was always an early riser, which prompted you to do better in that regard.

Your hand brushed against the cold sheets beside you as you shifted in bed. Slowly, you got up and headed to the bathroom, knowing that bathing right now would be your only chance today. The day was busy. Markets, museums, restaurants—exciting, but a little daunting.

Emerging from the steamy bathroom, the cold air pricked at your damp skin. Pulling your bathrobe tighter around you, you grabbed your lying pack of cigarettes and an obscenely bright yellow lighter, making your way out to the balcony.

You leaned your forearms on the railing, and as you turned, there he was— just as you expected. Nanami was sat on the jute chair, reading glasses perched on his nose, eyes fixed on his lap.

He had been there for a while, wrestling with a pesky crossword puzzle.

He looked up as you joined him, his eyes catching the wetness of your hair and the flimsy towel loosely perched atop your head. You slipped a cigarette between your dry lips and flicked the lighter.

The first drag was deep, the smoke accompanying the two of you this morning.

“Filthy habit,” he tutted, his voice a gentle chiding.

You turned, a soft smirk playing on your lips as you exhaled a thin stream of smoke. “Good morning to you too,” you murmured.

“Morning,” he says. “There’s some orange juice,” he points to the table with half a jar of orange.

“Yes, yes—Gimme!” you said, sitting down and pouring some into the empty glass beside it. Freshly squeezed orange juice after a smoke. Perhaps life wasn’t half as bad as you made it out to be.

Nanami watched you again, the cigarette between your lips, the smoke swirling around you as you took another drag.

“I wish you’d quit,” he said aloud. He’s disapproved of your smoking for a while. – a filthy habit you picked up two years ago when you got prompted and the workload tickled into your stress. He had tutted and thrown away countless packs, yet never before had he asked you to quit outright.

“You want me to quit?” you asked.

He nodded. He knew you wouldn’t see it, but this was the first time he had directly asked you to stop. He wasn’t sure what effect it would hold.

“I guess I can,” you said, taking another puff. “I’ll quit.”

“You’re serious?”

“I mean, if it bothers you— plus, it is the healthy thing to do, no?” You chuckled.

“You’re quitting because I asked?”

You turn around, smiling reassuringly. “Yeah, Kento.”

He wonders if you would’ve quit earlier if he just asked. He wonders if it’s the same way with other things. I wish you’d take some day off, you deserve it. I wish you’d be there beside me when I go to bed. I wish you’d fire that arrogant assistant of yours, he stares at you at you in ways I don’t like.

“Thank you,” he says simply.

You turned to him. “Can’t promise you this will be my last cigarette. But here goes—last puff for a while.” You took one final drag, the smoke filling your lungs before you stubbed the cigarette out. “Oh,” you said suddenly. “Hold on—”

You disappeared inside, returning moments later with something in your hand. “Here,” you said, dropping two slender, golden-striped papers into his lap.

He glanced down at the papers lying still on his open crossword book. He picked them up, holding them aloft and adjusting his glasses for a better view. “What are they?”

“Tickets.”

“What for?”

You take one from his hand, turning it to reveal bold, black lettering. “For a play. It’s tomorrow evening.”

His eyebrows lift in surprise. “Oh,” is all he murmurs.

Upon that, you elaborate. “It’s in the auditorium by the dock”

The Rose Auditorium was known for its top-notch productions—musicals, plays, and even orchestra and choir performances. The venue’s proximity to the beach made it a costly affair.

He wonders how much you spent on these, but most importantly, he wonders more about why he hadn’t thought to arrange this himself.

Observing his muted reaction and ensuing silence, you grow a bit uncertain on your feet. Shifting your weight, you speak up. “I should have asked though. We didn’t have anything planned for the evening, so I thought—”

“Yes,” he says at once, a warm, appreciative smile twitching on his lips. “I’d love to go with you. I was just thinking I don’t have anything appropriate to wear.”

At that, you laugh aloud. “Now, I know that’s a lie. You practically live in suits. We’ll find something fitting.”

He simply smiles back at you. He knows, he simply didn’t want his own wife to feel like she needed to ask permission to book something for the two of them. That would be absurd. That would be rock bottom.

Your eyes flit down to his lap where the tickets flicker against the book, and you notice the familiar crossword book. “Having trouble?” you ask.

“Huh—” He follows your eyeline, back down to his lap. “Yeah,” he says, as he watches you walk closer, moving his arm so you can plop yourself down on the arm of his chair. “7 letters.”

You lean closer, “What’s the clue?” you ask as you peer down at the crossword book nestled in his lap.

He moves the tickets, holding them in his right hand as he wonders what he should do with his left. Usually, it would rest on your waist, your thighs, or in your hand, but now it feels awkward. You no longer plop yourself freely into his lap, and he can’t help but leave his hand cold against his thigh.

"Something about a bird," he murmurs. "A tropical bird with colorful feathers. The middle letter is ‘c’”

You think for a moment, then grin, as you bend down to pick up the pencil, and you write down the word.

"Macaw?" he asks.

You hum, “It fits.”

He’s immensely better than you at this, but you always had a talent for picking it up when he can’t. Just one of those things.

“Guess it does,” he says with a smile.

—

Nanami sits on the edge of the bed, adjusting his cufflinks with his practiced steady hand, his feet tapping away profusely against the carpeted floor.

As soon as he hears the door unlock, he’s lifting his chin and drinking up the image of you stepping into the room. You’re wearing a dark olive dress, with a black lace bodice cover. The material looks satin, silk-like, and it flares out from your hips, where it’s girded by a dark black satin belt, cinching the dress where his hands have so often rested. He hasn’t seen this one before. It must be new.

“Help me with the necklace?” you ask, as you bring your hand up to show him a thin chain with a drop pendant.

He simply takes it from you, and the two of you move back into the bathroom.

His eyes flit down to the marble countertop, a myriad of makeup products and jewelry spread out. He should help you clean up before you two leave, he notes silently.

Standing in front of the mirror, you move your hair to the side, exposing your neck and back to him.

He steps closer, his hand brushing against your back. You draw in a breath.

"Cold," you murmur.

He hums in acknowledgment. His hand reaches in front to draw the necklace around, pulling it up until it rests neatly against your chest. Pretty, he thinks as he bends down, the lack of glasses making it harder for him to find the clasp, but after a few moments, he succeeds.

He looks up, meeting your gaze in the mirror. You’re watching him intently, curiously. He sees your lips, plump and lathered up in some shade of pink.

He straightens up, before bending down— his eyes still locked with yours as he presses a soft kiss to the bare skin of your back.

“You look beautiful,” he murmurs.

“Thank you,” you swallow, your shoulders rolling back. You break eye contact, turning to reach for a black clutch as you speak up. “We should leave soon.”

—

Nanami’s starting to wonder if he’s the biggest idiot in the world. Why couldn’t he think of this first? You loved this — the theatre, the whole ceremony of greeting and entering. Why didn’t he think of bringing you here? He had even seen a poster on one of your walks in the city yesterday.

This place—it's overwhelming in its opulence. Nanami was quite familiar with how metallic luxury tasted, a remnant from his early twenties, but even he could not help but feel somewhat dwarfed by the grandeur and extravagance of the architecture surrounding him.

He turns towards you, his smile somewhat wistful. He can tell you seem just as impressed as he is, even if your reaction is restrained and taut — a simple pursing of your lips indicates enough to him.

He sees beyond you, noticing how the ceilings are adorned with glass chandeliers that seem to drip gold, a place fitting for a woman of your stature, he can admit as much.

You smile back at him, as your hands come to encircle his bicep as you two move.

You produce two tickets from your clutch and offer them to one of the many attendants. Nanami watches as a smile brightens the attendant's face.

“Thank you,” he says. “Please turn right at the door and meet the usher at the elevator. From there, someone will escort you to your seats.” He hands you a program sheet and points to the right as the two of you make your way in.

Nanami murmurs a “Thank you” to the man and then you feel his hand on the small of your back, warm, guiding you towards the red ropes.

“Not too bad,” you say as you make yourself comfortable, smoothing down your dress in the seat next to him. Well, technically, it’s one seat. One long red seat for two, so there are no barriers between the two of you, apart from the ones you’ve built by placing your clutch and program sheet.

“How do you feel?” you ask.

“Yes.” His elbow brushes your forearm, as you turn to find that he’s already looking at you, wearing a fond expression. One you haven’t seen in ages. “I should have thought of this.”

Ah, you think. That’s what this is about. “Next time,” is all you say, with a warm reassuring smile, knowing that this is his battle.

“So, you never even told me what this play was about,” he says.

You perk up. “Oh, right. It’s about romance, marriage, heartbreak, war… you know the gist.”

He nods, not particularly interested in hearing more, and you know as much because you don’t seek to elaborate. He always believed it best to go into these things blind. The most effective experience.

The seats below and around you continue to flood with people as it nears seven, and by the time it’s fifteen the show begins, as was announced by a man in a silly tophat on stage. It was brimming full of people.

“I guess it’s about to—” He says, as he turns to find that your face glistening with red. “You’re bleeding,” he says, as he immediately gets up.

“Nanami, it’s about to start,” you protested softly.

“You’re bleeding,” he repeats, sternly this time. His hand grabs yours as the two of you dash out. You manage to trail behind him, grasping onto your clutch, as you tilt your head back, relying on his touch to guide you.

You hear him converse with who you assume is one of the attendees, asking for a bathroom.

You see the pristine white floor, and you’re so nervous — you don’t want to stain it red.

He points to the marble countertop. "Up," he commands, pointing to the marble countertop. You hop onto it, spreading your knees to make room for him as he situates himself between them.

Gently, he dabs at your nose with a tissue, getting rid of the excess blood dripping down to your nose.

“You haven’t had nosebleeds in a while,” he notes with quiet concern. “Are you feeling okay?”

You nod slightly, trying to smile despite the inconvenience, trying to steady yourself. "I’m fine. I think it's just the dry air."

You feel a bit embarrassed by it all. You’re grateful you didn’t see any of the onlookers’ faces.

“Here, let’s get this under control,” he says, handing you thinly molded tissues.

You carefully insert them into your nose, hoping to stop the bleeding.

"I'll get you some water," he says, and you nod, as you’re left to stew on the countertop, feeling somewhat foolish with tissues up your nose. Not at all how you expected the night to go.

He returns with a bottle of water, and you uncap it to take a sip. Even the water here tastes luxurious.

You take a breath in, removing the tissues wadded up your nostrils. “I ruined the night,” you say, with a frown.

"It's barely started. We can still go back in," he assures you.

"I don't want to," you sigh. Tired. "I just—"

He hums, squeezing your thigh gently in reassurance, urging you to continue.

"I want to go back."

"Are you sure?" he asks.

You nod, blinking in reassurance. “Unless you want to watch the play.”

"No," he says softly. "Let's go back.”

—

It is not often you walk away from commitments. Not work, not hangouts, not meetings, not runs. And especially not paid events.

You must be very tired, he thinks.

“Chicken and rice?” you asked, as the two of you made your way back.

Nanami’s blazer is draped over your shoulders. The night isn’t too cold, and you watch his white shirt flutter against the muscles underneath. You feel loopy.

“Chicken and rice,” he affirmed, his tone steady.

“Some dessert?”

“Tiramisu?”

“Eh,” you reply, disinterested, the idea of sweetness somehow too much, too indulgent.

“I want some,” he says, a bit insistent, like a child.

You smile. “Then we should get you some.”

Back in your hotel room, your heels and stockings are discarded onto the floor as the two of have finished eating.

“That was good,” you say, you’re seated on the couch, your hand resting on your full stomach as you stare back up at the ceiling.

He hummed beside you, his glasses abandoned as he stared at you. He lifted a hand to run by the bridge of his nose. “You look beautiful,” he says.

“You’ve said that today,” you say, turning back to look at him.

He hums, again.

At that, you turn back to the ceiling, not particularly certain what you can do with that response.

“We should do this again,” you say, still affixed on the bland off-white ceiling. You felt heavy and light all at once.

“A date?” he asks.

You turn back to him now, smiling. “Oh, was this a date?”

“I would assume so,” he says, matter of factly.

"I guess so," you said airly as you got up, turning back as you said. “Just attend things together. I miss it.”

Nanami smiles with a nod as he watches you walk into the bathroom. He misses you too.

[theitgirlnetwork]

Better

Ch. 7: 772 Miles

Note: I'm lateeee but I'm here nonetheless! Thank you all so much for all of the love and support. I love all of the likes, reblogs, comments, notes! I hope you all enjoy this one. We're making some headway and I hope to have more out soon. Some people have asked me about a taglist, which I'm gonna be real, I don't know how to do, but I will learn and then I will add whoever wants to be added to it! There is an awkward entry to a little explicitness in here so MDNI fr. Feel free to skip that part if you are an adult and just don't want it, anything important that is discussed during it will be brought up again! Once again, thank you so much <3

Picture Lip Took of Charlotte at the museum:

“You know, I’m starting to get a little offended by how you’re not excited Kev and I scraped together the rest of the money to get you home.” V says, pushing into Charlotte’s bedroom, plopping onto the bed next to a pink suitcase. “Did you get a lock for this?”

Charlotte pulls her white top over her head, careful not to let her makeup smear onto her outfit and smooths her hair again. “I’m very grateful, V, I’m just gonna miss you and Kev.” 

“Bullshit, me and Kev.” the woman grumbles, helping smooth out the back of her cousin’s shirt. “It’ll be good for you two to spend a couple of weeks apart, cool off a little.” 

The younger woman sighs, slinging her bag over her shoulder and stopping briefly to look at her cousin. “I’ve got to go. You’ll have shipped me off to Virginia and away from Phillip by tomorrow, okay?”

V softens at the look on Charlotte’s face. The girl had been so excited to be going home for Christmas when she and Kev surprised her with the other half of the money. She hadn’t even minded buying a one way ticket, considering she’d be going for a couple of weeks. But as the date of her departure pushed closer, the excitement turned into sadness and worry. 

She would hear her and Lip in the room throughout the week, on the nights he slept over, mumbling reassurances, arguing in hushed tones, exchanging promises. V doesn’t like raining on her baby cousin’s parade, but if she doesn’t ground her, who will? Charlotte’s always been a dreamer, her parents treated her like a little princess, and for good reason. V would only see her when her mother would take her to Virginia, her auntie and uncle refusing to let Charlotte come to Chicago. They kept her sheltered from the rest of their family, even watching closely how she and V played together. So Charlotte was not very…experienced. She didn’t think twice about people asking favors of her, borrowing money, leering at her. She lives in fairytale land, expecting everyone to be kind, accept apologies, have good intentions. And V watches her cousin be absolutely devastated when the world proves her wrong. 

Now that Charlotte was getting older, it was important that Charlotte learned to care for herself, it was necessary that she learned how to live in the real world. V loves her cousin, so she volunteered to take on that project. It was never part of her plan to throw her into the deep-end that is Lip Gallagher. V feels personally responsible for the inevitable fallout that would come from this relationship. All she can hope for is that these next few weeks will let the two young adults fizzle out, and clear their heads.

“I’m not against you, Lottie.” V says. Charlotte turns at that, going over and pulling the other woman into a familiar hug. One that reminds them both of being little girls, seeing each other for the first time in a year.

“I know, V.” she whispers.

“It’s only a couple of weeks, babe.” The older cousin soothes, rubbing her hand over Charlotte’s hair. The two of them hear the front door open, and Kev’s voice starts filling the living room.

“Not a scratch on my baby.” They find Kev in the living room, towering over Lip, who’s simply looking forward, clearly spacing out and ignoring what the older man is saying. “Or Charlotte. And get her to the airport on time.”

“Got it. Total the car and make sure Charlotte misses her flight.” Lip jokes, standing and reaching for the keys, sighing when Kev pulls them away. “Alright, man, I’m kidding. Thank you for this.”

Charlotte saddles up next to him, throwing her arms around Kev, hugging him tightly. “Thanks, Kev. I’ll miss you! I’ll be back soon.”

Kev looks down at her, brows softening and sighing as he makes eye contact with V. “Sure, kid.” He says, ruffling her hair. “Get goin’, traffic.”

Lip and Charlotte make their way outside, V and Kev watch from their porch as Lip opens the passenger door, boosting Charlotte in before nodding at them and going around to the driver’s side. As the car pulls off the couple looks over to the porch next door, finding Fiona sipping a beer, shaking her head before nodding them over.

“Are you excited?” Charlotte damn near bounces next to Lip as he studies the map at the front of the museum, determined to map out a route that will keep them away from the exhibits he had deemed not worthy of their time. He drags his finger along the line he intends to follow, his other hand clasped in Charlotte’s.

“Uh, yeah.” he says, deep in focus. Charlotte just smiles as she watches him mumble to himself about the most time effective way to get them through everything. Yeah, he is, she thinks to herself, letting him guide her to the first stop.

This whole thing is not really Charlotte’s style. Most of the exhibits are focused around science and that had never been her thing. She had been more of a social studies and reading girl herself, those subjects told more stories than required her ability to understand formulas. But she was so fucking happy she’d bought these tickets. Even though his expression is schooled into a nonchalant, moderately interested look most of the time, she could tell from how Lip’s eyes light up. 

He’s been looking at her differently since that day in the park. At first she’d thought it was the tickets. Then she’d thought it was the fact that she was leaving for a while, but neither seemed to describe how those bright blue eyes study her. Whatever it is, Charlotte wants to keep causing that look. 

So she leans against his chest and listens as he points out the different parts of the submarine exhibit, attempting to describe the mechanics of putting together something he’d apparently researched in his own time.  She asks, she’ll admit, stupid questions when he tries to explain the physics behind one of the displays, just sticking her tongue out at him when he looks away, snorting before composing himself and actually answering her. 

She gives him space as he observes the portraits of different scientists of all areas, reading the little bios. Charlotte wanders to the side, finding a picture she finds a little interesting and stopping to read the little paragraph on the plaque beside it. The sound of a camera phone clicking makes her turn around and look at him. “Did you just take a picture of me?”

“You look pretty.” he smiles, stepping forward and pulling her into his arms. “Gotta add to my collection, have somethin’ to look at when you’re gone.” 

Charlotte looks up at him smiling crookedly, “You have a collection of pictures of me on your phone? What’re you obsessed with me or somethin’?”

“Nah, you just won’t fuck me and I gotta do somethin’ to help me and my hand along-ow!” he laughs when she punches his chest, wincing at his muscle against her hand. Lip wraps his arm around her shoulders, bringing her in for a kiss. “Yeah, I’m obsessed with you or somethin’.”

The tenderness of the moment makes the ache that formed in Charlotte’s chest as soon as she’d purchased the ticket throb. She sighs, scrubbing her hand along her watering eyes. “I’m gonna miss you.”

Lip groans, running a hand through his hair before cupping her cheeks, thumbs sweeping across her cheeks. “Stop, bunny, we said we weren’t doing that anymore. Because if you cry, I’m going to say something you won’t like, and then we’ll start fighting and shit and I don’t wanna fight right before I drop you off.”

“I can’t help it!” she whines.

“Don’t go.” he replies.

“Stop saying that!”

“Stop crying-” Lip glances around at the other patrons of the museum retreating toward the front, the speaker letting them know it was closing soon and Charlotte silently sobs dropping her face to his chest. “Bunny.”

“Excuse me, sir, we’re closing soon, you all should start making your way to the exit.” A security guard says, approaching.

“Yeah, okay just gimme a second.” Lip sighs, rubbing Charlotte’s back.

“And now I have to go to the airport.” she cries into his shirt. “And you’re gonna leave me there.”

“Sir-”

“Alright man, give me a fucking second.” The blond yells at the guard, who was still grumbling about them holding up the museum closing up. “Charlotte,” he says softly, pushing her away lightly, looking at her large, teary eyes. “Hey, hey, we’ll talk right? I call you, you’ll call me. And it’s only a couple of weeks right? You promised you’d come back in a couple of weeks.”

“I am.”

“Okay, then we’ll be fine.” Lip relaxes a little as the girl slowly stops crying. He wipes away the remainder of the tear tracks on her face. “Right?”

“Right.” Charlotte sniffles. “Okay, I’m ready.”

The car ride to the airport is a quiet one. Both afraid to upset the other, they sit silently as music plays lowly on the radio. Lip’s hand rests on Charlotte’s thigh, squeezing reassuringly every couple of minutes. One of her hands is on top of his, playing with his fingers as the large airport pulls into their sight and the sound of planes taking off fills their ears. 

Lip pulls into the drop off area and puts the hazards on, facing forward and watching other poor fuckers wave a somber goodbye to their loved ones and is embarrassed to say that this is about to be him. He never envisioned himself to be the ‘drive you to the airport, kiss you all over your face, call me when you land no matter what time it is’ type. But here he was, murmuring those exact words into Charlotte’s ear after doing the first two things. He takes a deep breath after releasing her from his embrace and letting her walk a little ways away before shouting in front of the rest of the travelers, staff, and his fellow sad fuckers,

“Aye, Charlotte, tell that pilot to fly safe, alright? My fuckin’ girlfriend’s gonna be on that plane.”

He laughs as the girl pauses for a second before shoving her suitcase into one of the employee’s hands and running toward Lip, slamming into him so hard his back hits the car as she kisses him. Onlookers aww at their display, causing Lip to turn a little red as Charlotte continues to kiss him before finally letting him take a breath. She leans in, nuzzling her nose against his, sing-songing “Boyfriend~” and kissing him again. 

Charlotte fully pulls away a second later, Lip lets her literally slip through his fingers as she backs away toward the terminal, laughing when she calls back, “No take-backs, Gallagher! You’re mine now! Better still want me when we’re not a couple of miles apart!” she jokes.

Lip’s bright blue eyes follow her as far as they can until she disappears into the building. “772 miles. A couple.” he snorts despite himself, climbing back into the car and pulling off, cursing when he realizes he’s gonna have to face the exit traffic by himself.

The next morning Fiona’s few hours of sleep is interrupted by the sound of pots and pans clattering. At first she’d sleepily rolled over, assuming that it was Charlotte starting breakfast for the kids. She shoots up when she remembers that Lip had dropped her off the night before at the airport so it couldn’t be her.

Creeping along the hallway so as to not wake her siblings she grabs the bat, holding it up, ready to strike in case it’s an intruder. Or Frank. When she sees a bunch of random drawers pulled out, and the pillows for the couch on the floor, she grips the bat, preparing to swing when she sees a man’s form, sifting through the drawers. “Get the hell outta my house, motherfucker-!” she yells while swinging, stopping just short of Lip’s face.

“Shit, Fiona!” he yells back, catching the end of the bat in his hand and lowering it. “What the fuck?”

“Jesus.” she sighs, dropping the weapon altogether and running a hand through her hair. Fiona pushes past her brother, starting a coffee pot before turning around to look at him. “What the hell are you doing creepin’ around the house?” 

“Lookin’ for the money for phone minutes. I need to use it on mine.”

“Sorry.” Fiona says, pouring a mug and passing it to her brother and repeating the process for herself. “That became the acid fund when Monica and Frank stole it last month. You already out of minutes?”

Lip curses his parents under breath, shaking his head as he gulps down the coffee, slamming the mug down when he’s done. “Awesome. Well, when was the last time you heard from uh, Steve? Think he’ll have some work for me I can do like, today?” 

“Really? You think work from Steve is a good idea?” Fiona asks, pulling out the frozen waffles and plugging in Kev and V’s toaster. “I don’t want you mixed up in his shit, I’ve told you that before. Anyway, no, sorry, haven’t heard from him.” Her brother scratches his hair irritably, pulling a cigarette from his pocket and putting it between his lips, leaning forward when his sister produces a lighter for him. “You didn’t come home last night. You go out after droppin’ Charlotte off?”

“Drove around for a little bit, dropped the truck off and uh, went on a walk.” he blows out the smoke, working his jaw. “Fuckin’ road the bus up to the college to talk to Youens, trying to see if I could get an advance on the next few weeks and all the fucker wanted to do was lecture me about finding another internship. Wouldn’t front me the money.” 

“Well, what do you need the money for?” 

“Don’t worry about it.”

Fiona observes her brother, watching the stress rolling off of him, tense shoulders, chain smoking, eye doing that twitchy thing it does when he’s upset. There was no question of what was bothering him either. He’s checked his phone at least three times since this conversation started. “She’s comin’ back.” She puts her arms around her little brother’s shoulders. “She call to tell you she landed?”

“Yeah the flight is only 2 hours and 7 minutes, she called me 3 minutes after that. And again once she got to the house.” He sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face.

“Little much, huh?”

“Uh,” Lip shrugs, embarrassed to admit that he felt the opposite, mumbling “Not really. I just uh, need some money to put more minutes on my phone, for the next few weeks. You know?”

Oh. Fiona thinks. She sees how miserable her brother looks and realizes she hadn’t really considered that he might be taking this seriously since this whole Charlotte debacle started. She and the rest of the kids are used to Lip getting himself wrapped up into semi-serious relationships, either thinking he’s in love or making someone else fall in love with him every couple of months. Each time something ruins it, whether it be his crippling commitment issues, nasty habit of cheating, unaddressed rage and on and off alcoholism, you name it. Or the occasional husband that the woman of the month has. It was shocking to think he’s run into that situation twice while he’s still so young, but Fiona couldn’t judge. 

She’s not sure what the nail in the coffin will be for Charlotte and Lip, and she still thinks that they’re a bad idea. But something about how upset the kid is makes her go into the coat closet, reaching up onto the top shelf and grabbing one of her old socks. She reaches in and produces a small wad of cash, dropping it into Lip’s hand. “It’s not much and I was gonna use it to get a jump on the heat bill for next month, so it’s just a loan.”

Lip looks down at the money before looking at his sister. “Yeah, okay, thanks.” He stands and gives Fiona a side hug, pressing a kiss into her hair. “Seriously, uh, thank you. I’ll pay you back.” He smiles to himself as he pulls his coat on, going to the door immediately to go to the store, pausing to look back. “I asked her to be my girlfriend by the way.”

As the door closes and she goes back to making food for her other siblings, Fiona wonders to herself what this go round will mean for her brother. And prays to whatever god that will listen that it’ll be something he can make it back from.

“And um, Kev and V are thinking about trying for kids soon. So that’s cool.” Charlotte shifts in her seat, trying to get comfortable. Her father doesn’t even bother to look up from his menu, his glasses low on his nose as he scans the booklet. Her mother offers her a small smile, putting up a finger and gesturing for her to wait. 

“That’s very good honey, just give us a second while we figure out what we’re getting.” 

The young woman nods, taking a sip of her water and looking around the restaurant. She hums quietly along to the instrumentals they were playing in the background. She’d told her parents that she didn’t need to go to a fancy dinner when she got home, that she’d prefer eating something at home with them, but they’d insisted saying they ‘didn’t know what type of nutrition she’d been getting in SouthSide with Kevin and Veronica’.  

“So you got a job?” Her dad finally asks as he snaps the menu closed, lifting his hand and summoning the waiter over with his finger. Charlotte hates when he does that. “Where?”

“Um, a restaurant, it’s actually pretty fun working there, Daddy, I like it-”

“He’ll have the filet mignon medium rare with the baked potato, none of the dressings, really, he has a cholesterol issue, don’t let them drown it in butter. I’ll have the snapper with a salad, we’ll share it, Charlotte, and she’ll have tomato soup with sliced broiled chicken and again…no butter.” Her mother cuts in. 

“Um, Mom-”

Her mother’s eyebrows shoot up, her eyes fixing on her. “What? Did you not want that?”

Charlotte wilts under the downturn of her mother’s lips, biting her own and shaking her head. Before the waiter can finish writing the orders her father is collecting the menus and shoving them into his hands. Both of her parents turn to her, who is mouthing a ‘thank you’ to the retreating waiter. 

“So Veronica is pregnant? And by that boyfriend of hers? Jesus, Carol what have you been doing?” her father groans, shaking his head in disappointment.

“They got married, Daddy.”

“I don’t remember going to any weddings. Or receiving any pictures of them in a church. Or hell, a courthouse. Veronica could be doing so much better. She’s such a beautiful, smart girl, always has been. Guess she inherited my sister’s habit of giving up opportunities to chase behind men from that shithole-”

“Victor.” Her mom mumbles, putting her hand over her husband’s arm. “Please, Veronica is doing us a favor helping out Charlotte, keeping an eye on her. Besides, she’s only in her twenties. She’s still got time. Now, Lottie, baby, what else have you done? Made any friends?”

Charlotte takes another gulp of her water, squeezing her phone in her lap as she thinks about how to approach this topic. “I um, the girls at work are really nice most of the time, so we talk. And V’s friends are great, like Fiona and her siblings. She has this brother Ian who’s really great and I have fun with him-”

“Not too much fun.”

She sighs, smoothing her hand over her hair she has slicked into a bun. “No, Ian is gay, Mom. He has a boyfriend. Mickey. Who is also…nice” Sorta. 

“Good.” her mom chirps.

Taking a breath, Charlotte’s mouth opens and closes as she fights with herself internally. She missed her parents so much. She was reunited with them after being apart for the longest time, and she doesn’t want to ruin it. But she knows what they’ll say if she tells them about Lip. How they’ll act. What they might do. But then she reminds herself of the whole point of her moving to Chicago. She was supposed to be growing the fuck up, and that included telling her parents she was was in a relationship. “And I’m, now I’ve-”

“Have you found a doctor out there yet?” Her father’s question takes all of the wind out of Charlotte’s sails. She immediately deflates, looking down at the table and huffing out a breath in irritation. “Baby, it’s important. I’ll look up some names and give them to you before you go back in a couple weeks. Don’t let me forget okay?” 

“Okay, Daddy.”

“Good. Now, I wonder how long it’s gonna take for us to get some damn food.”

Charlotte hears her mother head out for the day, the front door closing and immediately dives for her phone. Her dad had gone to work early that morning and for the first time in the two and a half weeks she’s been home, she hasn’t been home alone. 

It was cute at first. Watching movies with her dad, baking sweets with her mom. Going to the mall together, church, the country club that she’d always hated because they were just barely rich enough to go and her parents always felt the need to overcompensate. It was embarrassing to say the least. And Charlotte was tired. 

But most of all, she missed her boyfriend.

So she runs up the stairs to her childhood room, closes the door and flops on the bed, dialing her new favorite number.

Lip picks up on the second ring, and a smile spreads across her face as soon as she hears the familiar, “Hi, baby.”

“Hello, boyfriend, you busy?”

“Uh…” On Lip’s end he’s balancing the phone between his cheek and his shoulder, his hands busy with hurriedly unscrewing the rims from an expensive car that someone made the arrogant choice of parking too close to the line where SouthSide begins. “No.”

“You sure? What’re you doing?”

Lip grunts as he loads the rims into Mickey’s trunk before closing it, slamming it closed and patting the back, letting him know he was good to pull off. “Just got finished stealin’ the rims off a car.”

Charlotte sits up abruptly, eyes widening. “Really? Phillip-”

“‘M kiddin’ bunny. I’m just headin’ home, how have you been?”

“Since we last talked this morning? Missed you, got my nails done with my mom, had lunch with some girls I used to cheer with, missed you some more, called.” she shrugs. 

Lip smiles at that, keys jangling in his hands as he pushes into his house, mouthing a ‘hi’ to Debbie and taking Liam from her arms. “Yeah? Your other boyfriend not keepin’ you entertained?”

“Now, if I play along, you know it’s like you pissed yourself off right?” Charlotte says. 

Liam’s head lifts at her voice and he starts trying to take the phone. “Who’s that? Who’s that, buddy? Baby, say hi to Liam.”

“Hi, Liam!” she says sweetly. “I miss you!” making kissing sounds into the phone.

“Lottie!” the little boy giggles, blowing a kiss back.

Lip places his brother in his playpen and rubs his head before walking up the steps. “Okay, enough of that, you wanna keep talkin’ to Liam, you better call his phone. Or better yet, come home.”

“I’m working on it. I talked to my Dad today about some return flights earlier this morning, so we’re making progress. Before, he wouldn’t even let me work it into conversation.” 

“Yeah, I guess that’s somethin’.” Lip sighs, closing his room door behind him and sitting on his own bed. He’s been trying to be as patient as possible, especially since he didn’t know them, but Charlotte’s parents were doing exactly what he’d thought they’d do, drag their feet on sending her back. Hell, it’s what he would do. It took every ounce of selflessness he had, which was not much, combined with the fear of what V would do if her money was wasted, for him not to purposefully make her miss her flight out there. He’d understand them never wanting her to come back. But it’d fucking suck for him. 

Charlotte hears the other side of the phone go quiet and knows Lip is worrying about the same thing she was last week. What if her parents changed their minds? What if they decided they didn’t want her moving away, regardless of whether V was checking on her or not. “Careful, Gallagher, I might think you miss me or something.”

“You’re funny.” he scoffs, staring at his ceiling. “And I do.”

“Well, how’s that photo collection working for you?”

“It’s uh, a lot more effective when my bed smelled like you, but the pictures are pretty fuckin’ hot, so, s’working pretty well.”

Charlotte feels her cheeks heat up and rolls her eyes as if he can see her. “They’re mostly candid shots of me walkin’ around your house or mine, they can’t be that hot.”

“They’re of you.” Lip says matter of factly. As if it wasn’t something to be discussed. Just a fact..

The woman shifts again, playing with the strings of her hoodie absently as she mutes the phone briefly, Lip’s quiet breathing on speaker in her room as she sorts out what she’s gonna say next. Taking the phone off of mute she takes a breath, gathering her courage. “So, does that mean you don’t need any…help?”

She sits, staring at her phone nervously as she waits for his reply. There’s a beat of silence that makes her stomach twist uncomfortably until it dissipates at the sound of Lip’s laughter filling her room.

“Are…are you trying to initiate phone sex with me?” he wheezes, cackling into the phone. Charlotte yelps, taking the phone off of speaker and putting it to her ear.

“Fuck you, not anymore!” 

Lip smirks to himself on the opposite end, trying to choke down his laughter. He wasn’t laughing at her per se. Well, actually, he was a little. But aside from that, the fact that she was nervous was what made him laugh. The irony of it all. Lip had been all but begging her for a crumb of pussy since he’d met her. Once they had gotten to that weird limbo of pretending to be just friends, she’d opened the door to making out and heavy petting, but Lip was letting her take the lead. Even now, he never wants to push, he’s always pushed, but now, he was happy with what they were doing. Well, not actually, but he was willing to wait for her. 

The fact that she’d be hesitant, or think they live in some kind of alternate universe where Lip might not want it, was hilarious. Either, she doesn’t know him very well, or his girl doesn’t know how sexy she is. Both options seem ridiculous.

“No, I’m sorry, come on, set the mood, bunny, m’ready.”

“No,” she whines, “I already don’t know how and now you’ve laughed at me. You fuckin’ do it.”

He chuckles lowly again as he pushes off of his bed to lock the door. “Well, I really miss you. I miss seeing you. Touching you. Waking up to you in the morning, being on top of you.” Lip listens for the change in Charlotte’s breathing, trying to focus on the task at hand and not let this end almost immediately because he’s envisioning what she’s going to be doing on the other end of the phone. “Take your pants off for me, bunny?”

“Already did.” she breathes. “And if you laugh, I’ll hang up.”

Lip starts undoing the buttons on his own pants, nodding as if she could see him. “Nothin’ to laugh at. Good job, baby.” A sound on the other side of the phone makes his brows go up as he spits into his hand. “Yeah? You like me tellin’ you how good you are? Gotta talk to me, sweetheart.” 

“I miss you too, how you take care of me,” Lip bites his lip and takes himself out of his boxers as she whimpers into his ear. “Kissin’ you.”

“Fuck.” Lip groans quietly, rubbing his hand along his dick, smoothing his thumb over the tip, sweeping over the precum forming there. He hears every lilt in Charlotte’s voice as he feels himself already building. He keeps trying to remind himself to talk to her, trying not to be too dirty because he doesn’t know her style yet and not just moan into the mic. He grits out praises lowly. ‘Good girl’ ‘C’mon baby’ ‘So fuckin good, so fuckin’ sexy’.

But he keeps being distracted by the sounds that she’s making, the sound of his name. He’s never been so thankful to Monica and Frank for naming him Phillip because the sound of that name rolling off of his girlfriend’s tongue could make any man nut. 

He hears her voice pitch even higher and he knows that she’s close. That delicious pressure is building in his lower stomach and sinks his teeth into his lower lip. “K-keep talkin’ baby, a little more, let me hear you bunny. You takin’ care of yourself over there”

“Yes, fuck Phillip, m’gonna cum.”

Shit does he want that. He’s never wanted anything more. But then that goddamn number starts floating around in his head. 772 goddamned fucking miles. Fucking two weeks. No, don’t think about this now. Focus. He begs his own mind not to piss him off. Sweat slides down his temple as he tightens his grip on himself and lets her whimpers ring in his ears. Lip groans, pleading with himself not to miss this opportunity. Something is fucking missing. This isn’t fuckin’ enough. I need…I fucking-

Lip puts his phone on speaker, Charlotte’s cries fill the room and he literally edges himself as his fingers fumble with his phone in his free hand. Blue eyes light up as they find what they’re looking for. “Okay, come on baby, cum with me.” he grunts.

Lip’s abs clench as he comes into his hand, trying to contain the mess as much as possible and muffle his moans so his siblings can’t hear what he’s doing. He settles into a groan of Charlotte’s name, biting back following it with three words that have been rattling around in his brain for a while now. He tries to commit the sounds Charlotte is making to memory, feeling pride in his chest at knowing he caused it, and a paired feeling of emptiness knowing he couldn’t pull her to him now that they’re done. 

Sitting up, he reaches on the ground, grabbing a discarded t-shirt, wiping his hands off on it and putting it back on the floor. 

“Phillip?” a small voice calls out. His attention is brought back to his phone, briefly smiling at the picture he’d left open on it before frowning again as he hears something strange in Charlotte’s voice. “Are you still here?”

“Yeah, m’still here, bunny.” The weakness of her voice forces a softness into his own. 

“Can we talk a little now?”

“Yeah, yeah, I can talk to you.” Lips says, furrowing his brows at the sound of Charlotte’s voice. There’s a meekness that makes his stomach drop as he scoots up on his bed, suddenly feeling the need to both cover himself and rob someone for the little bit of money to buy a ticket to fuck ass Virginia. “You okay, baby?”

A shaky breath is released on the other line and there is silence for a moment, the blond pulls the phone from his ear to check to see if the call disconnected, hurriedly placing it back when he hears her again. “M’fine. I…um, like that you call me that. I like bunny too.”

Lip releases his own breath as he hears her voice become a little more normal, letting himself smile again as he lights a joint. “I know you do.” 

“So fucking full of yourself.” she giggles, the sound making Lip feel like the sun shining directly into his room. 

“Aye, watch your mouth. You must have some bad influences out there, what happened to my sweetheart?” he says, trying to light the blunt quietly.

“You curse every other word.” she hums. “But, I was thinking.”

“Interesting.”

“Phillip.” 

“Okay, sorry, Charlotte, go.” He snickers, reaching for his ashtray on his nightstand, flicking ash and relighting the blunt. Lip grunts, pushing off of the bed, unlocking the door and peaking out to listen to hear if Liam was crying, satisfied to close it again when he isn’t.

“You need a nickname,” Charlotte says, the sound of her rustling around in her own bed making its way through the phone. “I’ve got like five. Baby, sweetheart, bunny, sweet thing, and the mean one-”

“Woah, what do I call you that’s mean?” 

“Um, brat?” she snarks.

Lip rolls his blue eyes, settling back on his bed, unable to contain the smile on his face. “That’s not one of your nicknames, that’s more like an uh, assessment of your behavior.” 

“Regardless! I wanna give you a nickname. How about Lippy?”

His lips curl in disgust, the actual shock at the name making him cough on the smoke, breathing it out through his nose. “Yeah, I will not fuckin’ answer to that.” 

She laughs again mumbling a, ‘yes you would’  and Lip is irritated by the fact that despite fucking hating it, he would answer to whatever she called him as long as she kept calling. “Pookie? Pooh Bear?”

“Am I Liam?”

“Bubba, or bubs, or bub! For short!”

“What happened to boyfriend, huh? You liked that?” he groans.

“Boyfriend isn’t going away.” Charlotte says, and Lip can basically picture the smug smile on her face she always makes when she’s about to get her way. “He’s just gonna be joined by bubba.” 

The blond is humiliated by what he’s become. Cringing to himself he prays to any god that will listen that Ian and Mickey never manage to hear Charlotte chirp out his newfound pet name and mourns the version of himself that would never let a girl call him anything but Lip. “Bubba, that’s what you like?”

“And babe. Mostly bubba and boyfriend. What’d you think I was gonna call you? Daddy?” she says in a playful seductive voice. Unaware that on the other side of the line her boyfriend was adjusting himself.

“Not unless you’re down to go again.”

“Hmm, unfortunately my mom should be home soon.” Charlotte sighs. Lip immediately feels that ache in his chest again, never really thinking about the lows of her hanging up that come with the highs of their phone calls. “I miss you, bubba.”

He nods as if she can see him, mouth opening and closing, he wills down the want to beg her to stay on the phone. “Miss you too, princess. You forgot one.”

“That one’s Mickey’s.” she laughs.

“Nah,” Lip says softly into the phone. “They’re all mine.” 

The couple reluctantly hangs up and Lip’s head is racing. Full of thoughts of Charlotte, distance and new territory. He’s never been here before. He doesn’t know how to navigate being the type of boyfriend Charlotte deserves. He doesn’t think he’s ever been a boyfriend before, and now he was going to have to be a long distance one?  He couldn’t do this. He needed her to come home. Charlotte needs to come home.

He’s shaken from his thoughts by the sound of his phone vibrating again. And because he’s fuckin’ whipped now, a smile immediately spreads across his face as he grabs it without looking, happy that Charlotte missed him enough to call back so fast. “Missed me already, bunny?”

“Oh..um, is this a bad time, Phillip?” 

Lip pauses, unable to register what’s happening as he holds the phone against his ear as the only other woman he’s ever let call him Phillip waits for him to say something. Anything. 

“Phillip?”

“Helene?”

[squishosaur]

um outline for my event but do not look too closely for i will eventually rework it AGAIN.

PART 1:

1: A Thrilling Invitation

Azul, Jade, and Floyd receive invitations to see a performance of the Royal Choir's annual concert back at home in the Coral Sea, each being able to "bring a friend or two!"

2: A Chilling Realization

The three merfolk wonder who to take with them and Azul dreads having to go back, much less choosing to bring someone to see him in his miserable state (being an octopus).

3: Unusually Bothered

Azul goes to Alchemy with Jamil, who is startled by his change in character. Azul tells him about how he doesn't want anyone to see him in his merform, and Jamil cautiously offers to go with him, saying that Azul's already seen him at his lowest (referring to overblotting), so he has no place to judge him. Begrudgingly, Azul agrees. After a moment, he asks Jamil if he'd switch dorms if he only pouted in his direction more often, and Jamil jokingly says he can still retract his offer.

4: To Explore Underwater

At Lunch, Floyd is grumbling about who to invite when he sees Yuu, Grim, and Silver, who he decides to invite on an impulse so he does not have to put any thought into it. Silver remarks that it would be an honor to go see the Coral Sea because he'd finally have a place to tell his father about that he hadn't been yet (Everyone else is like "Wow, Silver!! Your dad is so cool!!") Yuu has a dialogue option to either say "I'm SOOOO down for that!!", "After last time...?", or "I thought you said 'one or two'?" Any of these will prompt him to say that he can totally get more tickets so that all three of them can go because 1) he has cash from the lounge, 2) Azul probably will refuse to take anybody, and 3) if that doesn't cover it his parents' business is always booming (laughs evilly at this part). Silver and Yuu look at one another confusedly and Grim mutters "These fishy guys are way too creepy..."

5: What's on the Menu?

Jade has been invited to help out with the science club because they are going out and identifying different mushrooms around the school and what conditions they live in. He's excited and says that it's too bad there aren't any back at home and then WOEFULLY rambles about going home. Of course, Trey and Rook are curious and ask about his home, and Trey specifically asks what they eat. Jade looks him dead in the eye for a moment and says "Fish, of course. 😊" While Trey is thrown for a loop and mildly disturbed, Rook asks why Jade is going home, and he explains the situation and then extends an invitation to both of them. They politely accept, with Trey asking if he could get Riddle to tag along because she has been so stressed and could probably use a break (this is ok-ed because Jade also believes Azul will not take anybody), they both say they look forward to seeing the culture and where Jade came from.

6: A Royal Venue

Azul, Jamil, Floyd, Silver, Grim, Yuu, Jade, Rook, Trey, and Riddle all get together (the twins are shocked that Azul picked anyone at all, especially Jamil and tease him about it), and Azul complains that the twins both brought too many people and it was like they *wanted* them all to stare at him. They deny this and then begin discussing the plan for the weekend. They'd go Friday night and see the sights. On Saturday, Jade would take Rook and Trey to museums to learn about the science underwater and the cultural history, Floyd would take Grim, Yuu, and Silver (he asked for Riddle and she exclaimed "NO" so loudly that everyone jumped back) around to do Whatever He Wanted because he was not making plans, and Azul would take Jamil and Riddle to where they grew up and the surrounding area on the first day, then they'd meet up after lunch and see the rehearsal, before hanging out and then then going to the actual show the next day. Jade tells them Prince Rielle, their former classmate, is going to be a soloist in the show and that it will be held at the castle. Everyone is shocked because they failed to mention it was a royal affair.

7: In for a Spin

Floyd ignores their shock and says they can't go looking like that because they'd all get stared at more than Azul used to be (Azul is upset by this) and tosses them all potions to turn them into merpeople, saying that it wasn't weird that they had potions that go from human to merfolk if they had merfolk to human ones. They all take the potion and head down into the Coral Sea.

8: Flippin' Your Fins

They are underwater now and we do that thing in events where they show off all of the new outfit sprites so that takes a sec. Also, the humans cannot maneuver well in water at first and get frustrated because That's what NRC students do. Azul has shrunk back behind a rock somewhere and Jamil bumbles his way over to him to get him to come out, but the conversation is cut off as they hear someone shouting.

9: Dress Rehearsal Disaster

A redheaded merperson darts past the group, followed by a smaller blue-haired one, and then finally a crabby merfolk scrambles across the sand, shouting for the two of them to get back to rehearsal. Jade offers to chase them down for him. (INSERT TWISTUNE!! where the three Octavinelle students are swimming after them, holding the others by the hand bc they still have no sense of direction).

10: Just Swim Faster!!

They cannot keep up with the redhead but do catch up with the little guy, Cas (Short for Caspian), who explains that he and Rielle (humans + grim collectively gasp, "THAT'S RIELLE?") were trying to get out of rehearsal to see the shore.

11: A Dream of the Shore

Cas explains that Rielle has been visiting the shore to look for someone up there who he's in love with and that he says he'd rather be up there than in the ocean and had been trying to tell his parents that, but never found a good time, but thought that they should be allowed to be together like the princess from the legends.

12: Wishing for More

Rielle returns and swoons, saying that he "saw her again, the dreamiest person in the world..." Cas tries to explain that he's not always like this and the group all tries to head back when suddenly royal guards arrive, shouting at them to give the prince back. There is a twistune to outswim the guards, but Rielle is taken and Caspian takes the group to a secret cave to escape no matter what the outcome is.

PART 2 BEGINS HERE:

13: A Hidden Cove

The group is shocked by what happened and Cas tells them that they've been really hard on Rielle lately because this is his last year in the youth choir and they want to make sure its perfect, because chances are that Rielle will refuse to join the adult choir when that time comes. He also tells them that they are near the former treasure trove of the legendary princess and that he can take them back to explore later, but he needed to find Rielle. The NRC kids decide to go rest and get ready for the next day. 

14: The Treasure Trove

The next day, they split up into groups, and Floyd and his group go with Cas to see the treasure trove, where they find that most things are gone, but some random junk remains in corners and crevices. Silver and Grim find a spoon and ask about it (Yuu is given the dialogue option of it's a... Dinglehopper OR fork, and choosing dinglehopper will prompt Floyd to say, "Nice, Shrimpy! Guess someone's been paying attention in Trein's class!"), Floyd and Cas tell them more about the princess. The entire time, Cas is intimidated because Floyd jokes about eating him, and Grim says he is hungry and they go out to eat.

15: Love on Land

While they're over there, Jade, Trey, and Rook are at a museum, where Jade is telling them about all of the trinkets in it. They're in a section on land and Jade lets them guess what each thing is (normal stuff like dishes and the like), and then explaining what they were called and the assumed use. He also explained how love between humans and merfolk was seen as taboo, but that it was getting more accepted by people, especially for those who choose to live on land. He also says that he's not sure if he wants to come back to the sea or live on land in the future, Rook assures him that he has plenty of time to decide and so much to explore still, so he doesn't have to decide yet. Jade agrees, and the three of them go to the next section of the museum, all teasing one another the entire time.

16: A Walk in the Sand

Azul has taken Riddle and Jamil to a shipwreck because merfolk tend to avoid them and it would be quiet. Riddle and Jamil are trying to assure him that he doesn't need to be so self conscious, but he ignores them, saying that he ISN'T. Jamil says he's never seen Azul lose his cool like this and, despite constantly telling himself he wished someone would knock Azul off his high horse, he doesn't actually feel good seeing Azul upset. Riddle agrees, and they try to talk to Azul again. Azul is so wrapped up in his own head that he does not notice his surroundings and accidentally leads them towards a shark. We have a battle to scare the shark off. ALSO AT SOME POINT IN OR AROUND THIS CHAPTER AZUL REVEALS THAT HE HAS A YOUNGER SISTER WHO LIVES WITH HIS FATHER BECAUSE I DID WANT TO INCLUDE A MORGANA BASED OC BUT FEEL LIKE AZUL’S BACKSTORY WORKS BETTER AS AN ONLY CHILD

17: Role Reversal

Riddle chases off the shark, especially mad that it underestimated her as being the weakest because she was the smallest member of the group. Jamil turns to Azul and they have a heart to heart that ends with Jamil awkwardly praising Azul, who says "Now I know how you feel when you say you dislike flattery..." to which Jamil argues that he was genuinely complimenting him. They fall silent until Riddle gets back, which confuses her, so she asks if Jamil had scolded Azul. Jamil says yes and that he is "worse than Kalim sometimes..." Azul feigns hurt and quietly thanks him.

18: Another Rehearsal

The time rolls around for them to meet up at the rehearsal and everyone is in awe of the instruments and such. This whole chapter is a reference to Under the Sea in its dialogue. They hear the same crabman arguing exhaustedly like before with Rielle.

19: Act Like a Fish

The crab is formally introduced as Stephan, the royal conductor. He is complaining that Rielle keeps disappearing and that he will have to tell his father if he has his head up in the clouds and out of the water. Rielle is clearly unhappy after being scolded again.

20: The Prince's Wish

Silver approaches Rielle, understanding his issue, explaining that he too has gotten in trouble for being mindless sometimes when he genuinely cannot help it. Rielle sighs and explains that he's really jealous that Azul, Jade, and Floyd got to see the land and had so many adventures and probably met cute girls up there too... He says he'd give anything, even his voice, to go to the shore. Silver says that he also understands what it's like to want to give anything for someone, and they connect over that, going on to exchange fun anecdotes about their fathers and siblings (Silver talks about Malleus and Sebek here).

21: The Perfect Protégé

The rehearsal starts and everyone watches excitedly, but it all goes down badly when Rielle doesn't know any of the cues because he wasn't in it. Frustratedly, Stephan walks off, saying that he wants to take five, saying he doesn't care what they do until then. Rook curiously grabs the baton and tries to direct them himself, and his liveliness makes the singers and band more energetic. Stephan overhears this and comes back immediately, saying that Rook is a natural and inviting the other NRC kids to join the chorus. There is a Twistune here.

22: I Just Can't Stay

Azul feels his former classmates watching and recognizing him. He panics as he hears this and dashes out of the rehearsal. Everyone is shocked and begins searching for him. Um this one is more dramatic than my 3 setence overview.

PART 3 BEGINS HERE

23: Going Home

Azul goes home and is met by both his worried mother and the Leeches parents. He tells them that he hates this form and he wishes he were back on land where he feels like himself in the right body. Transcoded moment. His mom offers her hand in consolation and he begins to ugly cry.

24: Leave Me Alone!

The twins determine that the only place Azul could be is at home and lead everyone there. They meet the Leech parents who fawn over them and thank them for being kind to their little babies, especially Jade, who is a little troublemaker sometimes. The NRC kids are shocked that Floyd isn't considered the problem child, but their parents say that Floyd has always been a nice kid, but he's just a little shy and quiet. They turn to the twins who just smile. They tell them where Azul is, and everyone goes to check on him, but he refuses to come out and face them.

25: A Slippery Situation

Unable to reach Azul, they sit in defeat, wondering what to do. They then turn to his mom, who suggests that they all cook for him together in order to brighten his mood. We get another Twistune with everyone making a plate of fruits de mer with Trey and Jamil being the main actual cooks alongside Azul’s mom. The cutscene in the middle involves the Leech parents demonstrating their knife skills to Riddle who jumps back into Floyd’s arms (which he laughs at and Riddle complains about).

26: A Delectable Creation

They tell Azul they cooked and they all eat together with everyone telling Azul that in either form, they still see him as himself, and that if anyone bothers him, they’ll kick their asses because that’s just how they do it at NRC. He tells them if they really want to help, they should start working at the Mostro Lounge when they get back to school. Everyone laughs, glad that he’s back to normal.

27: Something to Lose

With that sorted out, they go back towards the concert hall to find Stephan to apologize for interrupting, but run into Rielle first, who apologizes for the others making Azul uncomfortable and for setting the rehearsal back a bunch himself. He says he will put aside what he wants for the sake of the show.

28: Who I Choose…

Rielle offers to take everyone to see Stephan, but Jamil grabs Azul, saying he wanted to talk to him first. He tells him that he’s very grateful that he got to go on this trip because he finally feels free from all of the responsibilities he has on land, and that he understands what Azul is feeling underwater because it is what he feels on the surface– resentment. He says he wants to get to know the real Azul, and he wants Azul to get to know him too. Jamil extends his hand and Azul takes it as they swim off to join the group.

29: Helpful and Nice!

When Jamil and Azul rejoin, everyone is helping to organize for the event the next morning. Riddle is barking directions like a stage manager, Trey is telling people where to go, Floyd and Jade have both joined the band section, Silver is helping Rielle and Cas with organizing the seats and marking off the reserved ones, Rook is assisting the conductor, and Yuu and Grim are just helping out with everybody where needed. Jamil remarks that it's surprising to see everyone on the same page, but Azul says it must be the spirit of benevolence going around.

30: I Need Your Advice

Rielle pulls Azul aside and says that he’s noticed that he seems very close to Jamil and mistakes their relationship for a romantic one, asking how he chose between his connections on land and his life in the sea. Azul says he has no idea what he’s talking about, but he thinks that he should follow his own aspirations and dreams. Someone interjects, and they both turn…

31: Conductor's Help

IT IS ROOK! And Yuu! Wow! Rook suggests that Rielle tells his father after the concert and that it may be hard when it feels like you’re letting down your parents, but eventually you have to decide to live your life, instead of the one they set out for you. Yuu agrees, inwardly worrying about how their parents would feel if they were stuck here, or worse, if they Voluntarily Chose to stay…

32: Being Yourself

Rielle agrees to tell his parents that he wants to go to the shore after the concert and goes off to find Cas. Rook then turns to Yuu and tells them that that applies to them too, and that he hopes they find happiness in their future as well in a 4th-wall breaking pep talk to not only Yuu, but also the player. They have the option to either say thank you or stay silent, resulting in either “Du rien!” or “... Take your time, okay?” respectively.

33: The Grand Performance

The actual performance happens! Twistune babyyyy!! I don’t have to write anythingggg

34: The Prince’s Announcements

The show is met with lots of applause and the NRC gang all cheers together. They turn to tell Rielle that he did a good job, but he has gone off to speak with his parents. We do not hear what they say to one another but they nod and hug, thanking him for trusting them instead of running off. In the meantime, we see Azul’s sister actually and they seem to have some sort of rivalry, but there is a fondness to their interaction.

35: The One I Love…

After the concert, the NRC gang goes out to eat and explore with Cas and Rielle, and Trey asks about the girl he was seeing on the shore. Rielle admits that they’ve never actually spoken and he doesn’t know her name. Everyone is confused as to how he knows he’s in love with her, and keep asking questions and we learn what this person looks like and how she carries herself… Most everyone from NRC looks at each other because they recognize this description…

36: FREAKING. UGHHHHH (working title)

Everyone shouts “ROLLO FLAMM??” and Rielle, blissfully ignorant, is like, “Oh do you know her?” They all stare at each other. Grim is the one to exclaim he’s a guy and not actually cute or nice by any standards. Rielle seems completely unfazed by this revelation #bisexual moment 💞 They continue their conversation and Rielle says that he is going to visit the shore during their next break and hopes to visit NRC at some point.

37: Resurfacing

The Octatrio say goodbye to their parents and everyone else, who also exchange their sentiments towards their friends. Riddle remarks under her breath that she would be too afraid to go to a Leech family reunion and they all laugh and smile like “Oh? How come? 😊” and she is completely freaked out and hides behind Trey and Silver, who both thank them for their hospitality. Stephan give Rook his baton and says to continue his search of beauty through the arts. Silver talks to Rielle and we pan to Grim, Yuu, and Cas saying that there’s something similar about the two of them (Disney Princess energy perhaps). Azul’s mother thanks Jamil for taking care of her baby and says she hopes he’ll continue to do so “in perpetuity.” Azul grumbles that she’s being embarrassing, but Jamil says he’ll consider the proposition, amused at how both Azul and his mother used business terms in describing their relationship. Before they leave, she gives Azul a nice, decorated box to open on the shore. Azul’s sister waves goodbye as well. They finally do leave and everyone is delighted to breathe air and have feet again. Jamil curiously asks Azul what was in the box, and he reveals that it was empty.

38: Junk Repurposing

Back at NRC, our group of travellers goes back to the Mostro Lounge, excitedly sharing details about their journey and recounting the things they did. Azul is staring at this box, wondering what to do with it. Jamil suggests that they make fruit de la mer (the chocolate this time) and fill the container with that. We have JUST ONE final Twistune where they make chocolate together in the Mostro Lounge’s kitchen.

39: Part of Your World

Azul and Jamil almost share a kiss, but are interrupted by the twins saying that they were looking for them (reference to the end of Kiss the Girl). They share the chocolate they made together with the rest of the group and decide to serve it as a surprise special at the Lounge for the next week. Azul remarks that they make a pretty good team, and Jamil agrees. After a moment, Azul tries his luck asking Jamil to join Octavinelle again. Jamil responds, “In your dreams… But I guess I wouldn’t mind helping out around here from time to time.” Azul is okay with this, and they sit in a happy, comfortable silence as they take in the chatter and other sounds of the Lounge together.

[jewel9887]

Day 4: experiment

Part 3 to other day prompts. To read them on ao3 or you can just read this one

Logan excitedly walks to the museum where Remus texted to meet up for their date. He still can't believe he had the courage to ask Remus on a date, for some reason being around Remus just made him speak his mind without second guessing himself. Looking up he notices Remus and Roman. Even from a distance, it's easy to tell they're twins especially since they decided to dress alike; Remus is wearing a green shirt under a leather jacket and black ripped pants while Roman is wearing a red shirt under a gold jacket and white pants. It's easy to see how he got them mixed up at first but seeing them together he notices all the differences.

Roman notices him first and waves, jumping up and down, "LOGAN, LOGAN OVER HERE! Oof," Roman stumbles.

Logan watches Remus and Roman start shoving each other as he walks up the steps. 

"I thought this was a date with romantic intent?" Logan questions.

"It is and Roman was just leaving" Remus replies glaring at his brother.

"Remus is right. I have a project for my art history class, so I bribed Remus to bring me along but I'll be in a different part of the museum. Remus will text me when the date is over," Roman explained. "I'll see you guys in a few hours or whenever." 

Logan doesn't have time to respond before Roman walks inside leaving him and Remus alone.

"You look extra nerdy hot today, Lo," Remus says.

"Thanks," Logan says blushing looking down at his blue constellation tie. "So which exhibit are we here for?"

"Well, a little frog and spider told me you enjoy science and puzzles," Remus responds holding open the door. "They opened a new exhibit where you can do experiments hands-on and there's another exhibit that goes through the history of detective stories and how poisons discussed in the stories realistically work. The best part is this museum won't ban me because they said and I quote "You are a walking disaster" so it lets them know how to make things safer for the kids as long as I don't intentionally hurt anyone which I would never do."

"There are so many things to address in that statement. Firstly, how much have Virgil and Patton talked about? Secondly, I heard about the new exhibit but have not had time to come to see it, and am greatly looking forward to doing so with you. Lastly, you keep mentioning bans; how many places have you been banned from and why?" Logan asks.

"I think you're their third favorite person after Roman and I. Glad I picked a great first date idea and you got to wait a few more dates before I disclose that information." Remus rapidly replies winking. 

Remus goes to the desk and pays for their tickets, letting Logan know he can pay for the next one. 

Together they head to the science lab room where they don the safety equipment, which are safety glasses, gloves, and a stained lab coat. Most of the experiments are made for kids although Logan manages to rig a bunch together to create a cascade of rainbow foam, somehow barely making a mess. Meanwhile, Remus creates a Rube Goldberg machine with all the random objects lying around. It goes all the way around and through the room with its ending being a picture of him and Logan captured using a polaroid camera creating a big mess and somehow activating the elephant foam which wasn’t part of his machine.

Next, they head to the detective/puzzle room where Remus learns that Oedipus Rex is categorized as detective fiction. Logan takes his time reading all plaques for each era, story, and author for the history part; pointing out any extra interesting facts or ones he thinks Remus would enjoy.”

Once Logan declares he is finished, Remus pulls him to the other side of the room where there are three puzzles set up. One, a murder case to be solved, another a puzzle using different codes to decode a three letters, and lastly a bunch of different puzzle locks. Remus goes straight to the puzzle locks and Logan tries the code and decodes all three letters in no time, then together they easily solve the murder mystery.

"See it's not always the maid or butler," Remus jokes laughing.

"True but in no story has it ever been the cat who poured the poison in the tea and with no human intervention," Logan argues.

"You're just upset I solved it right before you could," Remus says as he grabs Logan's hand to lead him back towards the front.

"Let me text Roman to tell him to wrap up whatever he's doing," Remus tells Logan pulling out his phone but not letting go of Logan's hand.

"This was the best date I've been. I'm glad I lost the bet and let you pick where," Logan happily says.

"You're one of the first to say that and I am glad. Does this mean a second date is in the future?" Remus asks.

"Definitely, though it is my turn to pick when and where we go next," Logan responds.

"You guys are a mess but sounds like it all went well. Remus didn't scare you off." Roman ask Logan walking up to them.

"Not at all. I enjoyed his company and look forward to spending more time with him," Logan answers smiling at Remus. "Ok, gross," Roman jokes.

"Dad texted saying that he has to leave soon and we need to get home to Virgil and Patton," Roman tells Remus.

"Gotcha," Remus says.

”Do you need us to drop you off, Logan?" Remus asks. 

”Nope, I drove here and just parked farther away. I will be needing my hand back," Logan laughs holding up his hand in Remus' and then tugging Remus to him for a hug.

Remus lets go and returns the hug. Logan steps away and says bye, leaving a speechless blushing Remus and laughing Roman.

@intrulogicalweek

[moonshine999]

Ok literally so sorry to bother butttt🫣🫣🫣 i was wondering if you had any hcs for modern Nyra/alicent with their husband/bestie Cole and their gaggle of children??

Totally ignore my lmao if you don’t!!! I literally love your modern takes on them and honestly just anything about them that you post!!!💓💓💓💓

You’re never a bother love, thank you for this ask (srsly means so much coming from you) 

I’m going to assume that these will be taking place in the old money AU 

🍸 Rhaenyra loves to spoil Alicent and their children so much

When they first started dating and an argument would break out, it was almost guaranteed that a bouquet of flowers would be at Ali’s doorstep the next morning. It grew to chocolates and tickets to concerts and museum tours on valentines and pendants, earrings and watches on anniversaries. And then on their 5th anniversary, Nyra pulled out a box after Alicent gave her a portrait that she made of them together. Ali scoffed and made a joke that Rhaenyra doesn’t remember because she was too busy staring at her dearest’s eyes.  She chuckled. And then got down on one knee.  The rest is history now.

Aegon being the first born in the family, he was one of, if not the most, spoiled. He accompanied his parents on all their pretentious dates, he got showered with kisses from Alicent and Criston, and got the fanciest of birthday presents when he wasn’t even able to walk.

“Rhaenyra.” “Yes love?”  “You realise you can’t give a 1 year old a Rolex, right?”

Basically, no she doesn’t.  They talked it out though when the other children came along. 

(P.s, this is part of the reason why he turned to his “habits” as he did and also the reason he inherited this need to spoil his own family) 

🍸Aegon and Helaena’s wedding 

When Aegon and Helaena were going to get married, Alicent wanted to take her  dress shopping but Rhaenyra insisted that they should try to have the dress custom made. 

“There’s a certain experience in dress shopping, dear.” “There can be a certain “experience” in having it custom made too, dear.”

(Yes both of them are speaking from experience. No their mothers are not dead. Why? Because I said so.) 

Helaena just sits between them, comically darting wide eyes from one mother to the other until Criston comes to the rescue (with Aegon giggling like a maniac behind him)  and reminds the couple that they have a company to run.

They glance at each other, sigh and walk out of the room. The ,still, giggling Aegon immediately crashes into his fiancée, leaving them both in fits of laughter. Criston just shakes his head with a smile on his face.

Some side points : 

Criston walks Hel down the aisle

Daeron cheers the loudest when they kiss

Alicent is elegantly wiping tears while Nyra is full on sobbing with her face in her hands

Aegon can barely say “I do” because he’s crying so much

Helaena’s fine.

Aemond is the most reluctant to dance at the reception but gives in when teased/encouraged (means the same thing in this family) by the newly weds

Oh and some Helaegon wedding vibes : 

Just some other small hcs :

🍸 Alicent and Criston love art museums. While Ali is a painter herself and goes there for inspiration, Criston is more interested in the history of it all. So when Rhaenyra is too busy to come with them, both of them go off to a museum and spend hours there together.

🍸 Rhaenyra and Aemond have a tradition where they go apple picking in the fall and discuss all things books and writing. During one of these ventures, Aemond accidentally lets it slip that he has been publishing his works under a pen name. Rhaenyra is a bit taken aback at first but she just breaks out into a smile and hugs her son. (Bonus points if the pen name is a new author that she is a fan of)

🍸 Daeron often looks to Helaena and Aegon for guidance. The youngest is someone who is not a fan of being in the company, he wants to explore, travel and break the bounds of what the media always perceives him to be. He told this to Hel and Aeg once when he was babysitting the twins. They gave him guidance and assured him that all would be good and their mothers are the most understanding people they know. He hums, smiles softly and goes back to the twins.

these are all that I can piece together rn. You have literally opened a whole new can of worms and I won’t be surprised if I do a part 2 of this. Again thank you for the ask (I really enjoyed it) and your sweet words.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hello, hehehehe, maybe this is something strange. My request is for Hercules. The protagonist is an archaeologist who was helping to restore and excavate a temple in Greece, and found a strange vessel in a part of the temple that, according to the recovered written records, should not exist.

When one of his superiors reported it, he began to behave strangely, as it turns out that inside the sealed vase there was what was left of Neso's blood (intended by some magic inside the vase, but it is still fragile), a centaur who tried to kidnap Princess Deyanira (Hercules' third wife) and that Hercules killed and with his last breath the centaur, wanting to take revenge, told the princess that her blood was a powerful love potion. Well that was a lie, the blood of a centaur is toxic to the level of being a free ticket to the land of the dead. After her painful death because of that princess's jealousy (she gave a tunic soaked in centaur blood to our poor muscle baby), Hercules was promoted to Olympus.

Returning to the archaeologist, she found out that her boss wanted to sell the contents of the vase to the black market, so she decided to escape with the vase and find a new place so that it would never be found. But the smugglers found her and threatened her, but as a last attempt to stop these people who were also planning to loot the rest of the temple and kill her, she threw the vase very high and broke it with a stone or perhaps a gun that she took from one of them. the men. The result was that they were all bathed in blood and began to die in terrible pain. And the woman sees a red-haired man with red marks on his skin approaching them before falling unconscious from the pain the poison causes. (I have nothing else on my mind, <(￣▽￣)ブ )

-You couldn’t believe the discovery, a sealed vase of blood, only enough to fill a teacup, had been found deep within ruins of an Ancient Greek building.

-The blood was still liquefied, which was a discovery in itself, your professor, the man you were mentoring under, was ecstatic to have such a discovery, praising you for finding it.

-You were quick to assist him in deciphering the text on the vase and you were both stunned to learn that this blood belonged to the centaur Nessus, who’s poisoned blood, caused from Hercules’ hydra poisoned arrow to save his wife, Deyanira, killed Hercules, after tricking his wife that his blood, a centaur’s blood, was a powerful love potion that would keep him loyal to her, so she gifted Hercules a tunic soaked in the blood, which then killed him.

-Your mentor was cautious with this discovery, taking a small sample of the blood, which immediately ate through the syringe, the blood hitting the floor and started to burn a hole into stone, like it was acid, releasing dangerous fumes that you both had to quickly get away from.

-You were freaked out, as this discovery, although amazing, was so dangerous, while your mentor had a thoughtful look on his face, one that you couldn’t read.

-The following day, eight men showed up, wearing black suits, looking more like mob men then museum officials, as your mentor told you he was calling the museum you both worked for, to come and get this vase.

-To your horror, you learned that your mentor had been stealing artifacts from various dig sites and selling them on the black market, rather than giving it to the museum, and this vase of blood was going to make him so rich, as this buyer was offering a fortune for this blood, to make into a weapon.

-The men looked at you, his young female archeology student, questioning if you were going to keep quiet and your mentor just laughed, “Of course she will, if she knows what’s good for her, right Y/N?” your breath hitched in fear as they looked at you.

-You could see their weapons as they spoke around a table, discussing the price of the vase as you were sitting on your cot nearby, having been told to stay there, or else.

-The vase was sitting on a stone slab, just in case the vase leaked, which wasn’t likely as it had survived centuries, but no chances were going to be taken.

-The sound of a heavy vehicle filled the air, and the men were quick to go and investigate, seeing another mob family, the leader quickly turned on your teacher, “You double dipping?!” he tried to plead his case, saying that he called that other family first, then this one, as he wanted to do business with them, to save face.

-You yelped as you heard gunfire, dropping down off your cot, covering your head, your breathing becoming harsher as loud shouting was heard.

-You were scared, you never thought you would be in a gang war over a vase of blood that was trying to be sent to the black market, you just wanted to study ancient Greece!!

-You swallowed, seeing the vase and you took the chance, quickly scrambling over and you grabbed the vase, turning tail and run while the men were distracted, taking off into the ruins, with the hopes of getting out and getting to the authorities.

-You bit your bottom lip to stifle a scream as a bullet was shot off, only barely missing you as you heard, “She’s running! She’s got the fucking vase!!”

-Your now ex-mentor shouted out your name, furious that you were running away with his retirement fund.

-You nearly slipped, dashing around a corner, but you kept upright, feeling your ankle scream out as you twisted it, a hiss escaping you as you tried to find a place to hide, with the hopes that you could lay low and then sneak out later.

-You shrieked as a bullet hit your shoulder, nearly sending you to the ground before you heard, “IDIOT! Don’t shoot her! She could drop the vase! Just catch her!”

-You wobbled, barely staying upright, pain blinding you, adrenaline being the only thing keeping you going as you rounded another corner, your eyes widening as your heart nearly stopped, finding yourself at a dead end, trapped.

-You moved to the wall, to face the men who found you leaning heavily against the wall, clutching the vase to your chest, bleeding and panting heavily.

-Your mentor scowled at you, calling you stupid for running, the two mob family members, a total of eleven men there, those who were still alive, were quick to agree with him, thinking you were foolish.

-You glared harshly, holding the vase up like you were going to toss it and instantly they all froze, holding their hands out, one of them panicking, “Whoa there, let’s not be rash here.” And your mentor was nearly beside himself, “Y/N you saw what just a few drops did! If you do that you’ll kill us all!! Don’t be stupid!”

-You inhaled deeply, glaring at him, as you knew their plans if they got their hands on this vase, “I’d rather kill us all then let this become a weapon that will kill thousands!!”

-And with your brave declaration you threw the vase, shattering it at their feet.

-Instantly the screams filled the ruins as the blood began to eat away at their skin, the poisonous fumes filling the air, choking everyone out.

-Your hands came to your mouth as you finally fell to your knees, trying to curl up and away from the fumes, harsh coughs racking your body.

-You heard footsteps and through teary, hazy eyes, you looked up, seeing a massive man walking through the fumes, stepping over the bodies of the fallen men, towards you, with the only thing you could comprehend was that he had red hair and dark markings, tattoos, over his right shoulder, stretching down his body.

-Your breath hitched in your throat as he reached out to you, and everything quickly went dark.

-You’re not sure what happened, you felt weak and really tired, but you could feel that you were on a soft bed, covered by a light blanket.

-You shifted, a soft hiss of pain leaving you, you could feel that both your ankle and your shoulder had been tended to, wrapped up.

-Your eyes slid open before you snapped them shut, your vision swirling, making you nauseous, a soft groan leaving your lips.

-You heard heavy footsteps before the bed next to you dipped down and a massive hand cupped your cheek, “Maiden? Are you with me?”

-Your eyes slid open again, and while not spinning this time, it was still blurry, and you quickly realized that tears were swimming in your eyes.

-This man’s thumb brushed the first tear that slipped down your cheek, your vision slowly clearing, and you gazed up to meet the warm eyes of a huge man, with long red hair, bright blue eyes, and a massive tattoo that stretched down the right side of his body.

-You recognized this man as the man you saw in the ruins right before you passed out.

-Your eyes widened, and he relaxed, tension leaving his shoulders as he smiled, seeing you becoming more coherent.

-His thumb brushed against your cheek again as you spoke, your throat a bit weak, groggy sounding, “What- what happened?”

-He leaned back from leaning over you, his hand moving to take one of your hands, giving it a small squeeze, “You were very brave in those ruins, young maiden. I- we all saw your bravery and I received my father’s blessings to bring you here.”

-You looked around, a bit confused, “Here? Where is-” he stroked the back of your hand with his thumb, making you look back at him.

-You were stunned to learn that you had died, the poison taking you easily, and when you had seen him you had already passed on.

-You were silent for a few long moments, he felt your hand squeezing his, just slightly and only for a moment before you looked back up at him, waiting for him to continue.

-For your actions, killing those men with the dangerous vase of blood, you saved hundreds of thousands of people, at the cost of your own life, made you a hero in the eyes of the gods, and you were brought to Valhalla.

-You were silent for a few long moments, silently questioning if you were being punked, not fully believing this man, before you spoke, “Who are you?”

-He started before a bright grin took over his face, beaming at you, he looked like the sun, “Sorry about that- I forgot to introduce myself, I am Hercules!”

-You deadpanned at him, staring at him with blank eyes which made him laugh lightly, not at all upset that you didn’t believe him before you spoke, “I’m Y/N.”

-You did learn that he had been telling you the truth, you had died, and you were in Valhalla, and he really was Hercules.

-He was amused by your starry eyes when you finally realized this and you began to rapid fire questions at him, asking about his history in Ancient Greece; he was patient and happy to answer your questions, as he knew that you were studying archeology.

-You were a bit embarrassed to learn that the bed you were in was his own, as he was taken by your bravery and actions, having nursed you back to health with the help of the valkyrie nurses, as you had came to Valhalla with the bullet in your shoulder and your sprained ankle.

-Hercules wasn’t bothered, as he wanted you to be near him, as you had saved so many from suffering the same painful death he had fought against so long ago when he was still a human.

-You felt a bit shy, as relationships hadn’t been on your mind for the past few years, as you wanted to finish school, get your degree, and get to exploring ruins, which now you felt a bit disheartened about, as you had worked so hard, but now being here with Hercules, as well as other gods and notable figures of history, you had plenty to learn.

-Hercules could see you were a bit shy with his soft affections, holding your hand, brushing your hair behind your ear, holding your cheeks in his massive hands, but you didn’t push him away, growing to like this giant man who had a heart of gold, reminding you of a puppy at times with his cheerful nature.

-When you were finally back to perfect health, Hercules invited you to remain in his home, to stay with him, growing attached to you.

-You had agreed and that was the beginning of your slow building relationship with Hercules, who didn’t mind waiting, he, and now you, had all the time in the world for your relationship to bloom.

[gwenpoolsaesthetic]

Lucia Stern

American, 1895-1987

Dual Personality, ca. 1945

Mixed media

29 1/2 x 21 1/2 in

90.10.2

Gift of Mrs. Grace Vogel Aldworth

Collection of the Haggerty Museum of Art, Marquette University

Parasocial relationships are one-sided relationships, usually occurring between an individual and a person or persona that they are a fan of. Parasocial relationships are often derided as being unhealthy and isolating—critics argue that they distract and prevent individuals from forming healthy “real life” relationships. However, while that may be true of parasocial relationships taken to an extreme, it would be rare to find someone today who didn’t have parasocial relationships. Stalking a celebrity or spending an entire year’s paycheck on concert tickets are examples of parasocial relationships, but so too are crying over the death of an actor or character and joining a fan club. Benefits of parasocial relationships include finding community though fandom, modeling positive behaviors, and finding validation and inspiration through the success of people we see as being “like us.”

Fanworks do not need to consider the theme that fine-art pieces will be used to discuss; they only need to be inspired by or responding to one piece of art and anything you are a fan of. This fanwork makes me think of Good Omens—the light and the dark overlapping to create a more complete picture. If I were creating a fanwork for this piece, I think I would create a fan edit of Aziraphale and Crowley set to Ben Platt’s “In Case You Don’t Live Forever.”

For more information, to see the rest of the inspirational art pieces, and to sign up for show reminders, visit https://tinyurl.com/y5t2ape7

[enterpris]

An Education in Attraction, Chapter 16

Pairing: Reader x Gojo

Summary: It's spring when you start your Master's degree. As the flowers and leaves unfold, so too do your feeling for Gojo

Warnings: soft Gojo, first date, tooth rotting fluff

Previous Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

Ao3: PlaidSparrow

Throughout the remainder of the week, you divide your attention between your academic responsibilities and thinking about your upcoming date. There’s enough room in your attention to complete the next set of readings, take detailed notes in class, and prepare for your shift at the Eikaiwa school after some of the tension dissolved from the heart-to-heart with Gojo.

Summer vacation is still at the top of your mind, so you work with your class to discuss more advanced vocabulary around hobbies, pastimes, and activities. The new words pair well with the lessons in future tense and goals you had done earlier in the year. While more practical words and lessons are important for future usability, you don’t want classes to be all work and no play, why would the students continue their studies if that were the case?

Classes the second week pass without incident. Apparently your conversation in the gardens has also sated Satoru for now, as he doesn’t stare or sit with you again. Once or twice after class you’ll catch his eye, share a smile, but he gives you the space to plan things without pressure. 

In Japan, it’s common for dates to last hours or the whole day, rather than be quick meetups, so it’s not just a dinner you’re planning, but an entire evening. It’s also customary for prospective couples to formally confess their feelings and intent,  which you suppose you did when you asked him out last week. 

His humor, intelligence, and care for education have all captured your interest, and you hope he’ll continue being open enough with you to learn the other parts of himself as well. You’ve got to create the right atmosphere.

Halfway through the week you decide to set the date for the upcoming Sunday- it seems to be an auspicious day between all the cafe study dates and Satoru’s apology- and ask him to meet you at your dorm in the afternoon. Leaving the activities as a surprise, you feel the flutter of nerves as you send the message. 

Gojo’s double-texted reply is quick and positive, which eases some of your worry, but it’s hard not to overthink. 

Sunday comes again, and you wake up with anticipation rolling in your belly. Instead of the choking anxiety that you had felt at the symposium though, these nerves are the warm kiss of possibilities of your relationship with Gojo. 

Satoru meets you outside your dorm, and you walk to the metro station together. The first stop isn’t far from campus, but the day is bright and warm and you’d rather not work up a sweat walking there. Gojo’s height makes it easy to track him through the crowd, the people part around him on the path to the train car. 

He looks as put together as ever- you’re not sure if he owns anything besides polished button downs and seemingly infinite pairs of sunglasses. You can tell he’s gotten a haircut though, and as you find a pair of seats on the train you get a whiff of his cologne, deeper and more sultry than what he had worn before. 

It’s a short ride to your stop, and you pass the time with light conversation on a safe topic- the two classes you’re in. Before long, you’re exiting the train and walking out into the sun together.

The first stop of the day is the National Museum of Nature and Science. 

You're sure he's been there before (all schoolchildren go on field trips after all), and perhaps it's cheating a bit since you're both in education. 

But walking through the museum and chatting will be a relaxed start to your date, and you're hoping the shared field of interest will give you plenty to talk about. 

You scan the ticket you’d bought in advance and head up to the third floor of the museum, where the natural history exhibits are housed. As you walk through the displays that outline the formation of Japan’s islands and fossils, you turn conversation towards him. 

“So your schedule has calmed down?”

“Yeah, there’s not as many conferences in the fall and winter.”

Your eyes trace the shape of the bones between the outlines of other museum-goers. It would be nice to have Gojo around more often, spending more days like this one together, working together in the library, maybe staying cozy together around a kotatsu. 

“Do you like presenting?”

“Oh yeah, I love it.”

Satoru might posture like he didn’t like the attention, but he certainly didn’t seem to mind the attention. Besides, you’re not exactly sure how he spends his time outside of writing papers and presenting on them. 

“What do you like to do then? You spend all your time jetsetting and doing homework?”

“Well I am a pretty good speaker,” you can hear the grin in his voice. “I keep busy. Plenty of things to do,” he looks back into the diorama.  

The two of you slowly make your way to the lower floors, talking mostly about the exhibits. Gojo seems pleased to talk to you, if not with the actual exhibitions themselves, before concluding your visit walking through the Theatre 360. The room is completely round, covered on all sides by screens that project the educational film created by the museum.

Walking across the suspended bridge in the middle of the sphere, you’re engulfed in outer space. The screens filter through HQ clips of the most remote parts of the universe- the cosmic dust, galaxies, and stars spiraling endlessly. 

It would be easy to feel alone, insignificant when confronted with the grandeur of all existence, and for a moment you’re nearly lost in it. Then Satoru’s hand brushes against yours and the contact from his body brings you down to Earth. 

You walk out of the theater, a bit awed and fragile, but Gojo seems more invigorated than ever. His steps are energetic and you imagine his eyes bright and impassioned behind the glasses.

“Didn’t I tell you Physics shouldn’t be boring? Think if you could have that in the classroom.”

“I think that’d be a little overwhelming in a classroom,” you laugh and lead him out of the museum and towards the restaurant for dinner. 

You had chosen a quiet restaurant a few blocks from the museum, a local shabu-shabu place.

You’ve never been there before, but the reviews online are good and they have an extensive dessert menu. Cooking the hotpot ingredients will give you something to do together, and the pictures online make the interior seem nice but low key, so you can focus on each other. The small restaurant should also be less busy than the Izakaya bars, even on the weekend. 

After thinking long and hard about what Gojo seems to like, it felt like a good fit. He’s clearly paid attention to what you’ve told him, and you think he’ll appreciate the consideration. 

Afternoon has leaked its way into evening, and it’s dim enough by the time you arrive at the restaurant that Satoru takes his glasses off. He tucks them into the top of his shirt and walks you into the restaurant. When his arm brushes yours, you have to repress a shiver, he radiates heat even through the layers of clothes. 

You’re taken to an intimate table along one of the walls. There’s no candles on the table, but the low light and sparse tables creates an ambiance that’s 

The warm lighting inside the restaurant suits him, as does the smile on his face. Even on a first date, he's perpetually unperturbed. 

The waiter introduces themselves and takes your order. You order yourself a little liquid courage, but Gojo sticks with water.

The meals arrive shortly after, the vegetables and meat are tender and flavorful, and the dipping sauces are savory. For the first time, conversation veers in a deeper direction. 

“You didn’t answer earlier. About what you like to do outside of school.”

“I don’t have a lot of free time, honestly. It’s nice to be out today though,” it’s nearly frustrating how charming Satoru can be when he’d like. 

“Really? There’s so much to do here, I don’t think I could see it all if I live the rest of my life in Tokyo.” You sigh. “It really isn’t easy to make time with the academic schedule though.”

“You like the museums in town?” He asks. 

You nod. “I know you’ve probably been to the Natural History one before, but it’s one of my favorites.  

“I haven’t been recently.” He looks at you slyly, “it’s been a while since someone’s asked me out.”

“I guess you’re lucky you didn’t scare me off,” you tease. It had been a rather bumpy start.

“Hey, you won me over.” He shrugs. “If you want to convince me further, I saw they have anmitsu and dorayaki on the menu.”

With the array of plates still in front of you, you’re not sure how he’ll have any room for dessert, but you’re not above bribing him with something sweet. 

“To think that’s all it would’ve taken in April. I’ll bring all my partners sweets in the future.”

“What can I say, I’m easy to please!”

You end up splitting both dessert dishes, leaving you pleasantly full and satisfied. Even though he’d joked about you picking up the tab, when you walk to the front of the restaurant to pay, he trades his card for yours. 

“Let's at least split it,” you say. That's what's most common in Japan anyway. 

“I've got it. You can treat next time.”

The fact that he wants there to be a next time is enough to make your face hot. 

“Soooo,” you lead out of the restaurant, “I thought that next we could walk along Sumida River. The lights from the bridges in the water are supposed to be very beautiful in the evening.”

“Sure, it's nice out,” he glances around the temperate night before turning back to you. “My apartment isn’t too far from here though, if you’d rather.” His voice is still light, but his eyes are dark.

[luninosity]

Not a friend/follower/mutual and I haven't lived in Tartu in years but I spent my youth there and adore the town!

I used to spend all my time at Ruunipizza (restaurant), which is very close to the town hall and university and used to be decent, cheap and have plenty vegetarian options. But that was years ago and very much a place for students to go and hang out at, so Idk if that's something

Me and my American friends also liked La Dolce Vita for pizza back then. There's also a great place for cake opposite the university called Werner and the Gunpowder Cellar is a pretty cool pub.

In my opinion, the most important attraction in Tartu is the giant wooden swing (külakiik) in Supilinn but that might be personal preference. I am also a big fan of the AHAA keskus (science exhibition with planetarium) and I believe the museum of toys (mänguasjamuuseum) is a hidden gem if you have some time to spare. There is also a botanical garden in Tartu that I liked to hang out at. Sometimes they even have special activities; I remember building a bird house for winter there once :)

Definitely try to catch some folk music and/or dancing performance while you're in Estonia, they're really special!

I am taking notes about food recommendations! Cake is always good! And the Gunpowder Cellar looks fascinating! (Who wouldn't want to have a drink in, well, an ancient gunpowder cellar? Sign this history nerd up :D :D )

We have managed to get ballet tickets, as well! I am hoping I will have some time around conference panels to go exploring; the weather should be nice enough in May, right? Not too cold? Awesome Husband will probably also do some exploring without me, too. (He likes sci-fi, but he is not an academic - an engineer, instead! - so being in a room full of scholars Loudly Discussing the scholarship of science fiction is not entirely his thing, at least not for four days worth! He'll come to my panel though.)

For anyone wondering, we shall be in Tartu, Estonia in early May - around the 7th-11th! For the International Science Fiction Research Association Conference, at the university.

We've never been to Estonia, so we are excited! We're actually flying into Helsinki a day (and a night) early and spending a day in Finland, because we have also not been there, and then taking the ferry over. :D :D

[thisislizheather]

Museum of Failure in NYC

“Museum of Failure is a collection of failed products and services from around the world. The majority of all innovation projects fail and the museum showcases these failures to provide visitors a fascinating learning experience. Innovation and progress require an acceptance of failure. The museum aims to stimulate productive discussion about failure and inspire us to take meaningful risks.”

God, I love a fun museum. There’s absolutely nothing better. I went to the Museum of Failure when it opened a few weeks ago in Brooklyn and I can’t recommend it enough. The space it’s displayed in is a bit of a failure in itself (on purpose maybe?), but once you get past that it’s a great way to spend an hour. Some highlights below!

As soon as you enter, there’s the Share Your Failure wall that visitors can contribute to. Best ones I read: not getting divorced, not kissing him, not wearing sunscreen when I was young.

Above Photo: Share Your Failure wall at the Museum of Failure, NYC

Above Photo: If this doesn’t remind you of the Toronto Science Center in the mid 90s, I don’t know what to tell you

Okay, Orbitz was not actually a good drink, but it completely paved the way for bubble tea to take off.

Above Photo: Diet candy AYDS, 1937-1980s

“Why take diet pills when you can enjoy AYDS?" HOW WAS THIS REAL? And how on earth was it successful for decades?? This appetite-suppressant candy was successful with the help of Hollywood celebrities and its popularity peaked in the 1970s. Obviously when the AIDS epidemic emerged in the 1980s the weight-loss product was doomed.

Above Photo: Atari ET Game & Console, 1982-1983

This is basically known as the worst video game of all time and Atari reported a $536 million loss in 1983 because of it. There’s a great documentary about it called Atari: Game Over about the urban legend that unsold copies were buried.

Above Photo: Low blow, museum. Low blow.

Is it funny that there’s a Titanic reference? Absolutely. Horrid, but funny.

Above Photo: Pinky Gloves, 2021

Oh no, these came out in 2021. A male trio of German inventors created gloves to wear when taking out tampons so that women wouldn’t get blood on their hands and have a “discrete way to dispose of the used product.” WOW.

Above Photo: Little Miss No Name, 1965

Firstly, I apologize for introducing this image into your subconscious. I really am. The brand Hasbro designed this unusual doll to be an alternative to the hugely popular Barbie. “In keeping with the climate of the mid-sixties, they wanted to teach little girls compassion and the realities of life for homeless people.”

Above Photo: Trump SECTION at the Museum of Failure, NYC

There’s a whole Trump wing in the museum, which is just *chef’s kiss*.

Above Photo: Spray On Condom, 2006-2008

This German product was supposed to be the solution to the problem of condoms being either too small or too big. Its instructions: “Simply insert penis into an apparatus to coat with melted latex and then wait 3 minutes for the latex to dry.” It failed because the idea of inserting one's penis into the apparatus scared men and the three-minute hardening time proved too long to wait.

Above Photo: Shared Girlfriend, 2017

Developed by Chinese company Taqu Ltd., the Shared Girlfriend service rented sex dolls for $45 a day. They were made of high-quality silicon and dolls were ordered with a smartphone app then delivered to your door. “After each rental, the dolls were disinfected, and the more heavily used and damaged parts were replaced.” ICK.  Amazingly, the service was suspended only four days after its launch due to public outrage.

There were so many other incredible pieces on display (grass skis, the hula chair, the Elon Musk wall), you really should make an afternoon of it and see for yourself. I showed a few videos of the exhibit over on my spring ‘23 highlights on Instagram, if you’re interested in seeing even more. Such a fun time. Tickets available over here.

Now I beg you, world: bring back Pepsi Blue.

[mt180]

this is a really cool real life story i have to tell to the part of the world's biosphere which is being attentive toward the internet page which houses the afforementioned story and is run by myself, it goes like:

so like the other day i went to the ampitheatre where they do really long plays (you know the one) and they did a really long play that had a title that was really long-- something along the lines of "the great undertaking underfolds when in the hands of a man who believes that it shall not do that which has been predisposed to those who are and are not aware of the exhibit at the glassworkers' academy museum's staff lair's staff lounge division"-- which was pretty good but i can't help but be a little bit mad they forgot to include the short (~52 minute) dialogue section where the main character discusses the legality and feasibility of hiking a mountain that is 15 times taller than the person who is planning to take on this task using only the outermost toes and knowledge of special relativity with his forensics analysis officer coworker because it's my favorite part, scratch that, everyone's favorite part which was later realized by the performers shortly after the show as evidenced by their claim that they will "do better next time" and provide each person who was displeased by this mistake with a free ticket to an upcoming show where the missing part will be acted 99 times in a row, followed by a final reenactment by members of the crowd who were particularly displeased this part was missing in the initial show, all of which is, i think, an acceptable response to this mishap, so long as the organizers and performers stay true to their word.

[thetravellingvagrant]

Day 3: In Which I Am Awed By Tentacles

To no one's surprise greater than my own, I was up early and raring to go, sticking - in what must be some kind of record - to my own rules re: leaving the house before 10:30 for more than one day in a row. So early, I was up, in fact, that I even had time for a fairly leisurely breakfast, made from the supplies I had purchased yesterday and mercifully not out of hot dogs and some old wraps; the former of which had all been eaten and the latter developing a nasty, crinkly texture. 

I had, instead, purchased some cream cheese in anticipation of a couple of lovely slabs of morning toast. Upon returning to the hostel that night, I realized that the kitchen did not come equipped with a toaster, but that was fine, a lovely…open face cream cheese sandwich would suffice, I thought. I cracked everything open, salivating uncontrollably as I did and…nope. That was not cream cheese. I don't know what sort of cheese it actually was - my best Google suggests it may have been queso fresco - but it was crumbly and aggressively bland and did not spread well at all. Why the fuck can't I get any nice food, here? It must exist. 

I choked down the first of two sandwiches I had made opting to quietly discard the second in the bin before begrudgingly making two more sandwiches for my lunch - this time with some salami which would, I hoped,though was entirely wrong, would mask the taste of the cheese and heading out into Lisbon once more.

My plans for the day were to take a little train just outside of the city to a town called Algés which housed the Vasco Da Gama aquarium. An aquarium for which every entry in TripAdvisor read “actually much better than the big, proper aquarium of Lisbon, actually” in what was either a real push to emphasize how good it was or, more likely, a half-inflated effort to convince themselves that the time taken to visit wouldn't have been better spent in a far superior fish-zoo. I hoped it was the former - pretty sure it was the latter.

Regardless, I had read on their website that they had an in-tact, embalmed giant squid on display - an incredibly rare creature with which I am mildly obsessed and one which I have never even heard of there being an in-tact specimen of, in a museum, let alone seen for myself - so to be honest, I didn't care if the aquarium was on fire or, worse, in Cumbernauld; I was going.

After a thirty five minute walk up and down and up about three hundred and fifty different hills, I found myself at the appropriate train station and effortlessly - to an almost suspicious degree - had purchased a ticket, passed the barriers and found myself pootling along the tracks to my destination, within minutes. Lisbon's infrastructure is very intuitive and really makes a converted effort to stop any self-conscious travellers having to embarrass themselves or speak to anyone. It is thoroughly appreciated. I hate both of those things.

On the other end of the trip, I walked for around ten minutes a long the edge of a ring-road, thereby legitimizing this vagrancy, and found myself in front of the big, intimidating, closed doors of the aquarium. Remembering my resolution, I steeled myself and headed towards them, like the very brave little soldier I am, ready, in the event they didn't open, to just turn away like “I was only looking at the nice signage anyway, actually” to any bemused onlookers, of which, there were none.

The doors did not stay shut, however, and instead whooshed open in a flurry of glorious victory. I'm just going to walk into every closed set of automatic doors I see from now on. So drunk on the power of entering a public building I was that I didn't even mind that the reception desk was manned by three big blokey men, all having a conversation about tits or something. I waded into their in depth discussion about areolas and loudly proclaimed “I want to see some ruddy fish!”. Cowed by my presence, poise and power, the weakest of the three men was left with no choice but to take my money and issue me with a ticket and safe passage to the exhibits within. God it's good being alpha.

Once inside and once my heavy breathing had abated (a tactic I often employ to intimidate weaker men), I started to have a poke around. The Vasco Da Gama aquarium is actually only half aquarium and half museum; a feature which I did not mind at all. I like getting to look at living animals as well as their badly stuffed counterparts and being able to do both in the same building represented a wild thrill for me, on par with killing a man or doing a really big Frisbee throw.

There were interesting elements to the museum, as well as a couple of choice examples of bad taxidermy

What the fuck are you supposed to be?

Though, on the whole, I found the experience a bit lacking. The exhibits and their descriptions were all a bit dull and dry and around 80% of read along the lines of “I tell you what, this Portuguese king really loved his boat!” Which, while delightful, isn't especially interesting on the third, fourth or subsequent reads.

The aquarium, sadly, also felt a bit sparse with very little variety in their fairly small collection. I sometimes take quick notes on my phone while I'm walking around for ease of blogging later. My single note for the aquarium read ‘...it's just some fish”. Which I know is the point of an aquarium, but I bet you know what I mean.

It didn't take me too long to look around and while I was quite enjoying the thrill of being the only person in an entire aquarium, and there were, admittedly, some pretty cool prawns to look at

Look at them lil legs go!

it just wasn't really doing it for me. All told, I didn't spend more than two hours in the Vasco Da Gama, even including the time spent to do a proper good colouring in with shading and everything on the interactive touch screen panel designed entirely for the use of bored or belligerent children

...Yes, a member of staff /did/ catch me doing this.

And so, after a genuinely really exciting and far longer than I'd care to admit gawp at the giant squid, which was admittedly really fucking cool and probably the most fascinating and great thing I've ever seen in any museum including the animatronic velociraptors in London’s natural history museum

Pictured: The most incredible thing you've ever seen

I was away.

I sat in the courtyard of the museum watching their collection of koi fish (which, squid excluded, were the most interesting thing about the place and the only ones which I could have seen for free) while I ate one of the two sandwiches I had prepared for the day's lunch, discreetly discarding the other in a nearby bin. The salami did nothing to dull the taste, or lack thereof, of the cheese. I'd really like to eat something nice, please.

I decided to undertake the forty five or so minute walk to the amusingly named St. Jeronimo’s cathedral which I had erroneously assumed was up a right big hill, though in reality was in perhaps the flattest portion of the city imaginable, winding past the Belém tower as I went.

The tower was really neat and really very photogenic 

Pictured: Not the most incredible thing you've ever seen.

Though was absolutely lousy with tourists, selfie sticks and, probably, pickpockets, so after taking my pictures - with the correct phone orientation; a castle still counts as a landscape - I quickly moved along, with my hand planted firmly over my wallet as I went.

After not too long at all, I found myself outside of Jeronimo's, which my feet were delighted and my eyes dismayed to learn wasn't up a massive big hill. The cathedral was also neat and photogenic, though short of paying the substantial entry fee to go inside, the idea of which dismayed both my feet and my brain, offered little more to me than a brief photo opportunity.

Pictured: Eh...

By this point my feet were aching and I was all tired and thirsty. I had been out for close to six hours with only a single, awful sandwich for sustenance and so I opted to hop on the train back the Lisbon proper, with only another…thirty five minute walk separating me from a nice bed. Great.

With more than 45,000 steps on my pedometer over the previous two days, I made as brief a job of the walk back as my broken trotters would allow, dropping into a nearby lidl on the way to buy what I thought was Herby cream cheese but actually ended up being Herby laughing cow, instead - what the fuck is it with this country and food? - before I was finally home. A nap and a cry later, I hobbled through to the communal kitchen and had a weirdly spirited conversation about the weather with the receptionist who kept calling me “Mister Lawrence” two days prior which ended incredibly abruptly as I microwaved, what I must admit was quite a pleasant dinner: some traditional Portuguese dish made of all pork and beans and that. I forget it's name, but it was basically quite nice.

Basically quite nice dinner consumed and my reserves of energy running dangerously close to less than zero, I decided to turn in for the night, in preparation for a fairly early bus ride to Faro in the morning, having seen a nice giant squid today and I want everyone to know that.

[alarrytale]

Hey Marte, how are u? Latam fan here, from Brasil, so I saw some askings talking about the prices of louis tickets in here and I want to add some points, I work in international relations- specifically in international marketing- and I think the discussion about the prices are fair but we should take some things in consideration- first of all, I’m only gonna talk about Brasil that’s where I’m currently working, usually the overpriced tickets are related to the internationals artists in general, the majority of the shows we have from these artists are overpriced because in our society things related to culture is still something for “rich” people, as the artists don’t come to countries in latam so frequently when they do, there is a major dispute in the local industry of producers to see who is gonna sell the tickets- this maybe sound silly but for an example, if the price for an artist to come here is x, some producers will offer the double to being the ones selling the tickets- so it becomes a competition and who offers the better fee to the artist wins, and that is passed on the price of the tickets in the end to the costumer.

• Another point, is that we have a lot of taxes, almost 20% of the value from the tickets you are buying just goes for the taxes, so the producers high up the price bcs of course they don’t want to lose money

• secondly thing is that we have what is called “half entry” that’s pretty much a percentage of the tickets (40%) that are sold for students, teachers and other groups for half of the price, it’s a federal law that was created so more people could enjoy culture, it’s valid for shows, museums and etc.. which leads us again to the producers overpricing the final tickets, so they charge the value of a half entry as a full one and the people who can’t get the half entry pay basically almost the double to see an artist, which is “the normal value” of a ticket (the full price of the ticket/entry)

• all the contracts are sealed in dollar, which make the tickets being overpriced because dollar is constantly oscillating and we have to deal with a lot of inflation, so even though the dollar is currently losing value in Brazil right now, bcs of this variation in the marketing we pay more

• we can’t (Or rarely can) compare the price of the tickets, I saw some people comparing Louis to Harry prices but if you see the inflation in last year and now and how the prices would relate to the minimum salary they are the same basically (I know it’s sounds fucked up but unfortunately that’s how our economy works when you have other currency that’s not dollar, euro or british pound).

In add to all of this, I completely agree that louis shouldn’t be marketed as a “low price tickets” artist but I just wanna explain how some things work in here, as almost every day I work with international industries in the marketing, so if you have any doubts I will be happy to answer them (sorry for any english mistakes, I wrote all of this in a hurry)

Hi, anon!

I'm good thank you, and your english is more than understandable. That's all that matters to me. Oh wow, that sounds complicated and sort of a way to go around the system just to be greedy by the industry people. I know inflation has been crazy the last couple of years and that definitly plays a role here. Still, his tickets aren’t as cheap as his management claims they are compared to other artists. That's not just in latam either. It would be cool if they stopped pretending otherwise. Don't lead your fans on.