#scb stuff

[soulless-computerbug]

Toby:

Oak, birch, aspen trees, sunlight filtering through the leaves, the rush of the north wind. Babbling brooks and creeks, a trout jumping and splashing on the surface. Campfires, woodsmoke, ash and dust rising from a glowing plume into the starry night. Bonfires. House fires. Dumpster fires in the cold icy streets. Car exhaust and drunk drivers on empty lonely highways, flat energy drinks in the cup holders. The sound of splitting wood, cracking ice, falling stone. Granite sparkling in the dusk light. Icy cold fingertips pressed against your palm, nails gently biting your skin.

Kate:

Stale cigarette smell in old musty carpet. The clack of billiard balls against each other, quiet chatter and laughter, low blues music crackling through old speakers. Blues, classic rock, hard rock, headbanging to old punk music in the car with your friends, parked in the lot after a highschool game. Smiling so wide your cheeks ache. Pounding throbbing feet on concrete, the rough grooves of brick and mortar under your nails. The chokehold of terror in your chest, the moon through douglas firs and redwood trees. February breeze at 3am, cold air seeping under your jacket, the flannels of your pants. Cold fingers, cold toes, steaming hot water that stings like pure bliss. The taste of medicine that follows the ringing of an alarm.

Liam:

Larks and robins at 5am. The smell of black coffee and old books, the rustle of papers and shuffle of feet. Linoleum tile under leather doc marten soles. Rye grass and blue river water, stormy gray skies. The thwap of latex gloves against your wrist like a second skin. Bubbling, fizzing, foaming, colors shifting from green to gray to blue to orange. Apple slices as you scratch note after note onto old notebook paper. Losing your voice after screaming for hours, dull migraines and illusory palinopsia. Lyssavirus, crutzfeldt-jakobs disease, marburgvirus, all neatly labeled in perfect little vials. Lying in wait.

[scrollypoly]

Some omitted cuz they either look the same or I have a hard time drawing them. Just looking for both inspo and motivation to post something ^^

[silvsarts]

more scb au i’m really head over ass in this au aren’t I

Featuring: Graecie and Magic but theyre 100x less chill because in this au, people actually have feelings about their friends turned incendiary assholes (lookin at u owen and krow) and will not take any of their shit lying down

Also for extra angst: it’s never addressed but my personal hc is that c!soup feels guilty for saving c!owen during the coma arc after he’s revealed to be a terrible person. not expounding on that but play with the idea if you’d like :)

[dreamescapeswriting]

Under the Starlit City ~ SCB

⤜ WORD COUNT: 2.9K

⤜PAIRING: Changbin x Fem!Reader

⤜ GENRE: established relationships, a comforting fic, reader having a stressful time so Changbin takes her for a nighttime drive, soft, fluffy, cute! Romantic, kisses and “love you’s”

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - July 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

It'd been a long ass week for Changbin and he'd been desperate to see you when it was finally over. So desperate in fact that as soon as he left work that night he rushed home to his place to grab everything he knew he was going to need that night. Life had been kicking you both down as of late and he knew just the thing that was going to put a smile on both of your faces if he could find your helmet that was. 

The two of you used to go on motorbike rides all of the time before life got in the way and you were both too busy to even so much as glance at one another from your spots on the sofa but tonight was different.

Tonight, Changbin was going to make you feel relaxed and unwind from everything that had been stressing you out as of late. You worked two jobs and barely got to see him but he knew you had tomorrow off which meant tonight was his only shot of wooing you before you were once again off your feet busy.

"Where the fuck is it?" He grumbled, shuffling through the many boxes in his garage that he'd yet to unpack from the move he'd made to his much bigger home. As he reached up onto one of the taller shelves he kicked one on the floor, knocking over and spilling the contents onto the ground. His heart practically lept into his throat as he spotted the leather jacket and helmet that belonged to you inside and he ripped it up from the floor.

God, it had been so long since either of you had gone out that the box everything was in was collecting dust, it might have even had dust bunnies on it to but Changbin wasn't going to let it deter him from his mission of the night, and he grabbed everything before making his way back into the home.

Standing beneath a lampost in front of your house might have made Changbin look like a stalker to someone. He was dressed in all leather with a blacked-out helmet covering his head, if it wasn't for the bright pink helmet he was holding in his hands he might have worried he looked too intimidating. Changbin pulled his jacket around him tightly, glancing down at his phone and up again for any sign of you. Normally you were home long before now, it was almost 6 and he worried something might have happened to you.

Just before he was about to phone you he saw you coming, your head buried deep in your phone with a frown embedded between your eyebrows which made his stomach drop. Maybe he'd messed up the days you were supposed to be working.

"Hey hot stuff," He called out, unable to contain his excitement anymore. The thrill of going out on a ride with you again excited him more than he could ever put into words. You jumped slightly, your eyes widening as your phone slipped from your hands and you raced to catch it.

"Jesus Christ!" You panted heavily, hand holding over your chest as you took in who it was standing there. You hadn't expected anyone to be lingering around outside your apartment building this late in the night, you figured Changbin would be home in bed already after the week he'd been having.

"Didn't mean to scare you, darling." Changbin winked putting on an extra flirting persona as you shook your head at him, your eyes taking in the bike as your mouth dropped a little. You hadn't seen this thing in almost two years, you were almost sure he'd sold it long before now and you smiled a little.

"Sorry, I have a boyfriend." You smirked playing along with the role he had in his head, glancing up at him as he pushed himself off the lampost and made his way over to you holding out the helmet for you to take.

"How about you leave the boring one behind and join me?" He wriggled his eyebrows at you as you laughed softly to yourself, you couldn't even remember the last time you'd been on the back of that thing.

"Boring? I think he's rather sweet and mature." Changbin grunted, holding his chest and stumbling a little at the mention of the word "Mature." His younger self would have cringed at the thought of him growing up.

Now he was older and drove a car more than he ever drove his bike and it hurt him inside. He'd always wanted to keep his rebellious years with him.

"You wound me, fair lady!" He cried out dramatically before you laughed through your nose, taking the helmet from his grasp and staring down at it. You could still remember the day he'd got this custom-made for you, you'd been having a bad day in University and when you came out to meet him he was standing there with the painted pink helmet and a leather jacket to boot-

"Remember this too?" As though he'd been reading your mind he produced the pink leather jacket from the trunk box with your name and his stitched into the back of it. It was something he'd had done since the two of you were constantly out on the bike, it didn't matter where you were going, you just headed in any direction the bike took you. Sometimes ending up at a beach or even just a wooded area, going for a walk together and enjoying the silence.

"I thought you threw it all out," You admitted through a whisper, stepping closer to him as he helped you slide back into the jacket with ease, his heart practically skipping a beat as he saw you dressed in it again. 

"Never, baby. Never." He breathed out, pressing his lips to your forehead as he slipped the helmet from your hands and you stared up at him. For a fleeting moment, it all of a sudden felt as though you were back to your old times together, with no stress and nothing there to cloud your mind. Just the two of you on his bike.

"Where did you have planned?" You questioned slowly but a smirk had begun to tug on the corners of your boyfriend's slips as he slipped the helmet onto you, his eyes finding yours through the open visor.

"It's a surprise." He offered you the only response, shaking your head at him you nodded.

"I can't wait," You said softly, your heart racing as you thought about escaping from everything, even if just for a little while.

Changbin helped you onto the bike, making sure you were perfectly comfortable before he twisted the key making the engine roar to life. Instantly you wrapped your arms around his waist, smiling at the sensation of finally doing this again.

"Do you remember the rules of being my backpack?" He asked, his voice muffled through his own helmet and you nodded, tightly squeezing his sides in a trusting manner. Feeling you like this set a warmth through him that made his heart race.

"Always," You giggled a little before he took off into the night. Leaving your worries and stress behind you. 

Changbin was always an excellent driver when it came to being on the bike but he was even better when he had you on the back of his bike. He put it down to the fact that he wanted to be careful - more so than usual - since he was carrying precious cargo with him. Your head rested on his back slightly as you looked around while you drove, your head already trying to come up with where he was taking you for the night.

The road leading up to the mountains that Changbin had planned on taking you was winding and narrow, he'd not realised that when he'd looked it up earlier in the night but he navigated it with complete ease. The air was cool as it passed you both, carrying the scent of the pine trees in the forest around the mountains surrounding you. You leaned into Changbin, the cheek of your helmet resting against his back as you listened to the steady rhythm of the bike and his breathing.

As you climbed higher through the mountain on the back, the city lights below began to twinkle like a scattered necklace of stars, the view expanding into a breathtaking view for you both and you already loved where he'd bought you. You reached a lookout point near the summit, and he slowed the bike to a stop, cutting the engine. The sudden silence was deafening, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves and the distant call of whatever wildlife was surrounding you.

This was exactly why he'd bought you here, it was too quiet you wouldn't have to listen to car and house alarms, or neighbours that yelled all of the time. Here the two of you could be in silence and sit in complete and utter peace.

He helped you off the bike, your hands practically shaking with excitement as you took off the helmet and got to have a proper look around.

As you walked to the edge of the lookout, Changbin stayed behind to grab the blanket he'd packed into the trunk box and watched you carefully. He could barely tear his eyes away from you as he watched your body completely relax, your shoulders were no longer bunched and tensed and he could see you physically chill out. 

Slowly he made his way toward you, the city below you both a seat of lights that made it look as though there was another set of stars down there. 

"It's so beautiful," You whispered, your voice filled with awe as you continued to take in the scenery that was around you, barely able to take your eyes away from it. 

"Yeah," He said softly, looking only at you as his heart swelled with a mixture of pride and love for you,

"It really is," He breathed out, laying the blanket down just behind you before he made his way over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and laying his head between your neck. Your body tensed for a fraction of a second before completely melting against his, your head rolling back against him as you both stared out into the city.

It was then that you'd only just realised that the whole time you'd ridden up here you hadn't once thought about work or the bills you had waiting for you back home.

"You always know just what I need," You breathed out to him, your fingers finding his as you threaded your fingers through his and squeezed softly. Changbin had always been that way, if you needed him he was there no matter what, even if you didn't know you needed him he was always there.

"You'd been stressed lately and you needed a break so I helped," He chuckled, even though the break had been mostly for you he couldn't deny the fact that this had been really relaxing for him also. The whole ride he'd felt you close to him and he felt the most relaxed he'd been in a very long time and he owed it to you. 

"We need to keep doing this...to drive and get away from everything," You almost sounded as though you were begging for it and Changbin smiled to himself, his heart picking up as he thought of all the possible places the two of you could go.

"I'll put a bucket list together for us," He promised, his lips kissing your shoulder softly as your body shuddered a little and you felt your body heating up at the sudden attention.

"Are you hungry yet? I have some food in the trunk box and I made sure to grab some sugary sweets too," You practically melted into him and groaned.

"You own me, heart, body, stomach and soul, Binnieeeee!" You cried out, turning around in his arms and throwing your arms around the back of his neck, kissing his lips softly as a blush settled onto your boyfriend's arms completely.

"Let's go eat and stargaze," He chuckles, pressing a soft and gentle kiss to your lips before taking you by the hand and leading you back over to the blanket.

After the two of you had eaten you laid down together, your head resting against his chest as you stared up into the clear sky of the night. His jacket was laid across you for extra warmth and he kept you close to him the whole time as you pointed out different constellations and told him the stories of what each of them were.

"There's Orion," You said, pointing towards the southeast and smiling, your eyes lighting up as you stared over at them. Changbin's heart was already singing as he stared at wherever you were pointing. Even though he didn't see it all clearly he was still happy to listen to something that clearly made you very happy to talk about. You stared at the hunter with his belt of three stars before your eyes scanned over the sky again. "The big dipper!" You cried out, excitement evident in your voice.

Changbin stretched out his arm, and you nestled closer, resting your head on his shoulder as you felt your eyes getting heavier the longer you stayed there, but you didn't want the night to end yet. The warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart were comforting to you as you fought yourself not to sleep.

"We can head back if you're tired." You tensed against him, your hands clutching at his shirt as you shook your head at him,

"Please, no. Going back means going back to the stress of it all..." Changbin nodded, running his hand up and down your arm in a soothing motion, if it meant keeping you longer then he didn't care if you wanted to stay all night long.

"What if we could lessen your stress load?" He approached the topic gently, he'd been meaning to ask you for a while but with everything going on he hadn't known where to begin with anything. Moving in together would fix a lot of the bills issues for you both, everything split between you would be easier than normal. 

"Hmm?" You titled your head a little, resting your head on his chest and looking up at him. His cheeks were now as dark as they could get and you could have sworn you saw a little bit of sweat beginning to form on his head.

"Binnie..." You breathed out, worrying a little that he was starting to get sick out here but he sat up a little, leaning back on his arms as he stared at you.

"Move in together...We could move in and save on a bunch of bills..." It was why he'd moved into a home in the first place, when he'd been shopping around you'd helped him of course and he'd chosen somewhere you loved and he'd planned on asking you sooner or later.

"Really?" It would be a lie to say you hadn't thought about it already, but you'd been too worried to suggest anything to him. 

"My lease is up in a month..." Your voice trailed off slowly before you looked back at him, his eyes already boring into yours as he waited for you to give him an answer.

"Yes! God, a million times yes!" You yelled before throwing yourself at him, giggling as you kissed him all over his face. 

A year later since your night under the stars and many times of coming back to the same mountain at least once a month, you were back once again, only under different circumstances this time. Everything in your life was still stressful only a little less now that you had someone to share your hardships with, the two of you fought through everything together to make sure you had everything under control. You were stood looking out at the same lookout while Changbin nervously waited on one knee behind you.

Everything had been planned to perfection, you'd had a wonderful picnic under the stars, all of your favourite snacks and unbeknownst to you, a bottle of champagne was waiting in the space of his bike. 

"Binnie, you have to come and see this-" Your breath hitched in your throat as you saw the ring box in his hand.

"Yn," He started, the box opening to reveal the ring inside, a diamond that caught in the sunlight.

"I have spent every single day of our time together loving you, every time we're away I feel my heart reaching out for yours, crying when we're not near," Tears began to gather in your eyes as you stared down at him.

"Every day with you has been the best day of my life, from every moment we've ever shared to every moment we're going to share, I know you're the only one for me..." He smiled a little, doing his best not to cry.

"Will you marry me?" You barely let him finish as you threw yourself around him, kissing him deeply and whimpering a little as tears streamed down your cheeks.

"Yes, Binnie, Yes." You cried as you continued to kiss him, your bodies moulding together perfectly under the starlight.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @choisoorin @straykids5star @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lensfilm @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopsstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @niktwazny303 @moonlight-the-writer @armystay89 @hadassahchan @yxngbxkkie @myyouthdonut @extrhotjne @ca11me3mily @elissasimp @piercedddriver

[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.

[hwajin]

#! — ᴍᴇᴢᴢᴀɴɪɴᴇ | scb

genre: fluff, angst (tiniest bit suggestive)

pairing: knight!changbin x afab!princess!reader

wc: 9.6k

warnings/ contents: slow burny, arranged royal marriage stuff, forbidden love, friends to lovers, chracter death

note: this is my fic for @hyunverse 'war of hearts (until kingdom come)' collab!! it was SO fun to write this and especially with all the ppl participating in the collab, make sure to check all of em out!! this was my first every royal au thing to write so be kind on me 🤞🏻🫶

Ten in the morning. You had bathed, had gotten your hair prepared for the day, had been put into an outfit, too tight and insufferable. Had eaten breakfast, had conversed shortly with your parents, catching up on the latest news, boring and little informative. You had gone back to your room, had taken out a book to read which you couldn’t concentrate on. All too little happened, far too little time has passed.

Meet me after supper, by your balcony.

Changbin’s signature under the short note, and the message drove you to insanity. You hadn’t seen him in a while, his work occupying him and his time more often than it was to your liking; knights came home bruised up and injured, their horses distressed and tired. Changbin being the grand commander of his battalion never missed to take the most damage – the determination and his well-intended, devoted persona, as much as you loved him for it, always prone to trouble him.

Changbin and you had started a friendship a few years back. It was unlikely, unusual, for a princess and a knight to be as close knitted as the two of you were. Yet, when Changbin had started to work directly under your father, the king himself, and had gotten higher in his position of knight, you and him had chances upon chances to converse and mingle; be it on royal circulars or ascots, when discussing other kingdoms and the safety of your own, or inner economy and politics. It had been impossible to not acquaint the other, and your characters had seemed to connect naturally, much like two pieces of a puzzle, seamless, fitting to the other. Changbin was one you held dear to your heart, one you wouldn’t bear to lose – though your father didn’t approve of it. Had warned you countless times that your relation was of ill quality, that his direct commander was of no good influence to his child, no one you should converse with let alone call a friend – hence why tonight — much like all night, any time he wished to see you, speak to you —, Changbin offered your balcony as a place to catch up. You barely met elsewhere whenever you did, as it was by far the only place in the palace not watched by soldiers – those of who had told on you and Changbin often enough in the past for the two of you to grow cautious and careful. Seeing each other in the halls or the ballroom occasionally yet never speaking much, only conversing with eyes and sheepish smiles, reserving actual conversations when you were in lonesome. When it was the two of you only, left to talk about deeper-lying subjects than the ones you were used to with people other, than Changbin ever had the chance to. On your balcony, it was always the very pure of you both; no facets, no obligations. Him and you, in your most utter nature.

You missed your friend dearly.

Supper couldn’t have come any slower. You had been dreading the day and wishing for night, had watched the sun set behind the horizon ever so slowly, taking its sweet time – at least your balcony had always had the prettiest view. The book you had been hoping to finish today was lain forgotten on your vanity, about half read. Your mind had been elsewhere the entire evening, maids having to repeat questions second times to ask of your opinion on hair or attire choices, and you’d apologised each and every time. Your mind's been always in a frenzy when Changbin returned from the battlefield. The utter worry you bore for him, the one you’d call your best of friends, was more than you could manage with a clear mind, the notice of his duties calling always prone to set your heart to uneasy condition, only tranquillising when you saw the man in flesh and bones and with lack of harsh bruises, preferably. Though that was seldom the case.

“Might anything be bothering you, child?”

Your fathers stern voice, and you jolted up from the confines of your thoughts. You had only been poking around in your food, appetite lost if there was any to begin with, thoughts neither in the current nor on any subject talked about, thus not participating in your parents’ conversations. You blinked some before meeting his eyes, managing a smile apologetic.

“Yes- no. Nothing bothering me, I apologize. I’m perfectly fine.”

You’d always been a bad liar. You gifted another smile, hoping the matter would be dropped. You weren’t one to be untruthful to your parents, always speaking your mind when needed, standing your ground when necessary. Though when the name Seo Changbin fell, polite talking always turned into agitated speech and angry voices, and you were all but in the mood for such; so you kept the reason for your state a secret.

“I have just been feeling quite faint since morning, perhaps it’s the weather.”

Going back to your merely untouched food, the additional information surely leaving them convinced. It wasn’t a lie, either, much to your dismay; you had been feeling rather ill, with worry and anticipation for your friend, though neither King nor Queen would have to know of it.

“Oh dear, then maybe you shall be able to rest upstairs, no? Leave the plate full, honey, hurry to bed.”

Your mother had always been the softer of the two. You had grown old without siblings, an only child, your mother always the closest person to your heart. Which never meant you didn’t love your father dearly; yet the bond connecting you and the Queen had always been the stronger one.

Your eyes found hers, despite not having expected her offer you took it gratefully all the same. You knew your father wasn’t fond of your leaving early; arguing that it was high time to start being raised a Queen, a soon to be one, and excusing yourself due to nuisances such as sheer faintness was all but justifiable. Your mother shot her husband a glare, though, comforting hand on his arm; signalling that it was well. You left with a quick bow of the head, hurrying and increasing your step only after the vast doors of the main hall had closed behind you - your father preferred you walked around the hall in acceptable tempo.

Your shoes sounded up in quick manner against the tile floors of the halls, ricocheting against the tall space. Your dress threw waves at your fastened feet, breaking in tides against your figure. It was dark, corridors lit only by occasional candle; it was enough to see staff pass by, maids and already returned soldiers, and whenever they were in proximity you decreased your step. All greeting with a nodded “Princess.”, before passing by to their own affairs, and you merely nodded back, impatient to eventually, finally reach the comfort of your room, your beloved balcony. You weren’t certain if Changbin would be awaiting you already, he was always the last to finish his business with his men, managing to rest later than he’d like himself. He was commander after all, so, prone to overworking.

You opened your dark wooden doors in haste, making room and lighting a candle before struggling with the matches, your hands shaking, your breath hiccuping. Opening the glass doors of your balcony – to see Changbin standing by the edge of it, strong, linen covered arms propped up against the stone railings, shoulders hunched over in manner relaxed, observing eyes watching the view. It had always been a favourite of him, simply laying eyes on the vast space of the palace from above, on nature all around. He said it to be calming, especially in your proximity.

“Changbin.”

The man turned at the sound of your voice, away from his dearly loved sky and to face your eyes. Only now you were granted the ability to see the light bruises painting around his eyes, red, angry scratches by his chin and jaw; though you didn’t have time to pay mind to it just yet, only registering his presence without much thinking – you needed a hug, and if it was the last thing you could wish for.

He’d always had a steady build, and falling into his arms had perpetually granted stability you sought anywhere around, in the loneliness of your occupation and the worries of your future, stability no one except him was ready to grant. It took his steady arms and pouding chest, his pumping heart which seemed to increase in tempo whenever near you, for your mind to come to ease. It needed him on your balcony for you to forget about duties and crowns. With him on your balcony you were you, in your simplest form.

It took both of you several moments to finally discharge from the hug, and only after your bodies parted you got to inspect the state of your friend. Your fingers painted over the velvet under his right eye, only imagining the sting it caused. Your thumb caressed the fresh scratch right by his chin, your brows merely scrunching at the pain that must have caused – you would take it all from him, if you could. Would bear it all with him if it was any possible, if it meant shortage of his aching. It wounded anew whenever you’d see him after returning from the battlefield – you were well aware of his own wish for this profession – wanting to fight for what’s good laid in his nature – yet your own desire to know him safe and sound stemmed from egotism you never believed dissipating. He was your closest friend at last, imagining him in anguish of any kind cut at your own heart deeper than anything other was able to.

“Do not look at me like this. I am fine.”

Changbin. Always the personified reassurance, always the calm anchor that never allowed you to seed worry for him. That would give his life to keep you safe, that would sacrifice himself if it meant knowing you in happiness. It was sheer impossible for you not to bear worry. Though you always disguised, for his sake.

“I missed you. I’m glad you’re back.”

And with that you fell into his arms once more. Changbin embraced you wholly, holding your body so tight to his it was nearly uncomfortably suffocating, though you’d never dare to mind. The man buried his face in your nape, keeping there for a moment or two before parting again. An exchanged smile before a laugh followed, a laugh filled with relief, with reassurance; not one of Changbin’s departments was ever safe, no given guarantee he’d be able to return at all. Left and forgotten for times end on the battlefield; it was always a scenario open, one that you feared during sleepless nights.

Yet he was here, returned this time, like he always did, always promised.

“So, tell me everything.”

You rumpled up your heavy dress, wishing to change out of it as the setting sun indicated you’ve been wearing cottoned corset and linen silk for far longer than your liking allowed. You settled on your designated metallic chair, Changbin took seat on the other one. You’ve taken ownership over both a few years back – the maids and cooks in the kitchen still asked about the mystery of their disappearance, and you and Changbin found amusement in it each time. You had been practically children when you had snuck into the hot chambers, hiding from guards and personnel and getting hold of two cheap looking sitting attires because sitting on the stone porch of the balcony had become unbearable over time. You had sprinted up as fast as it was possible back then, had rushed with adrenaline and laughed your hearts out at the relief of not getting caught, of succeeding with your master plan. You had set the chairs on the balcony facing the vastness of the palace, just so you could have a look onto the sunset if you wished. The chairs haven’t moved since – no guard ever checked the privacy of your own four walls let alone the tiny balcony, so you’ve been sure your dear possessions would be safe and sound there for as long as you wanted them to be.

“You wish for me to tell you everything? Princess, I’m sure you have far more precious information about the happenings within the palace than my ever boring talk about the battlefield.”

Typical of him to deny his worth, and you huffed in bitter amusement. Your heart felt warm with the name he chose to call you; princess. He had started to drop your name and call you by your rank in fun initially, though the word contained in his addressing you, never without a slight teasing behind. You liked hearing the title out of his mouth the most. For with him it didn’t come with a notion of fearful respect, but utter friendship instead.

“Oh, I have told you the battlefield isn’t boring. Brutal, yes, but I am not weak, you are well aware.”

He was aware, though it wasn’t in Changbin’s own enjoyment to tell stories of war. It was his passion and well-earned duty to fight and protect, yet he always despised the idea of talking about matters of violence outside said matter itself; because he knew you would never fully understand, would never fully support said wanting and needing to fight and protect, because it didn’t seem fit to discuss such cruciality, with you specifically. Not because he thought you weak – but because he cherished you. Adored you. Loved you. Because his emotions for you grew deeper than artificial talk about duties and doings, politics and battlefields. Because every word he’d tell would make him wish you’d say instead, drinking up your utterances like the sweetest wine, following the soundwaves of your voice as though visualising them. When with you, talk about himself grew null, the wish to emerge in conversation about you sprouted prompt and plump within his chest, like ripe fruits on greenest bushes.

“I am aware, and yet your stories are far more exciting. I wish to hear them all – any news on your father? I hope you hadn’t started a fight while I was gone, you’re still on good terms? Oh, and how is Jisung? I haven’t got the chance to talk to him yet, is he doing well?”

Question after question, simply to hear you talk. And talk you did. Talked beyond answering Changbin’s questions, talked about this and that and oh how boring it’s been without him, talked until your guts hurt from laughing and until the sun started setting behind the saffron horizon, until first nightbirds began singing their lullabies. Until you warned Changbin to make haste and leave – when the clock struck ten your maids would come up, to get you ready and washed up for bed. Both of you reluctant, both of you hesitant to let go of the evening hug you shared, arms around the other, wrapped closely to hold body against body. It was you who pulled apart with a sigh, one so heavy it cut at Changbin’s heart. How he wished he could stay on this very balcony till midnight and beyond, could lay beneath those navy duvets of your bed with you. How he wished to be closer to you eternally, physically and emotionally, however humanly and inhumanly possible. Changbin was aware he was grasping at straws – a soldier and a princess would be one kind of a marriage across the entirety of the kingdom, having never heard of such love made believe it didn’t exist. And yet Changbin climbed over the stoned railings in reluctance, said a last goodbye with saddened eyes though you had disappeared behind your curtains too early to catch it. You were blissfully unaware of Changbin’s tragic plight – the man wasn’t all too sure if it was a good rather than a bad thing. He was aware that he couldn’t give you the life you deserved, the life you wished for. That marriage to a prince was an inevitable prediction in near future, that your heart didn’t burn for him like his did. And yet his mind’s contents were images of you when he laid in his bed that night, replaying in painful reminders until he had fallen asleep, at last.

___ . ꫂ

“Seungmin? As in Kim Seungmin? – Father, you cannot be serious.”

The sweet alluring euphoria you had felt rushing through your limbs the day prior had made way for even greater disappointment the following morning; breakfast had been served at ten as per usual, your family containing three had talked newest reports, focusing on especially the freshly returned troupes. Changbin hadn’t told you yesterday – as he seldom did – that though his battalion suffered minor loss the return hadn’t succeeded in whole unison. Soldiers had let their lives on fields beyond the kingdom, would never return to families, would live on in sole memory. Your father revealed such fragile information as though it was any other occurrence, simply an additional point of his list of news, as though his heart didn’t beat faster or tore in two at the sheer cruciality of the fact – your mother barely looked pained, continuing to spoon at her soup as though lost lives were barely a vanity as any other. You wondered if their detachment sprouted from year long experience, and you wondered and feared if your own heart would ever carve itself to a shape theirs had long accustomed. Not of stone, yet used to tragedy.

It was only after a break of short nature that your father discarded his silvern spoon by his right, turning towards you, waiting until you have met his gaze. Stopped eating yourself you listened to his following words, words you wanted to rip out his throat before they had the chance to escape his mouth, before they had the power to embed themselves to reality.

“Yes, Prince Kim Seungmin. His father and I had been conversing through letters and seemed it best fitting to arrange a marriage between him and you. He is most eligible, you would make a great pair. Not mentioning the power our kingdoms will have combined – you truly have no reason to be upset.”

The words like a heavy whip against your body, the spoken death sentence seeding rotten in your brain. Marriage was inevitable in your position and occurred quickly when only set in stone – meaning if your father’s decision was ultimate, you had weeks, at best, to count before walking down the aisle, before spending a life with a man you merely known by name. Your parents had never seemed a flaw in such arrangements, never understanding your wish for love, and to marry after it. After all, their marriage had been arranged and their parents’ was – mutual liking at best was unavoidable when you only reached the point of living together, and love was a mere privilege that would simply come to those who let it.

Only you never befriended their worldview, never believed the marriages they’d speak of were ones of true admiration. Admittedly, you wouldn’t be able to know better – you were simply a reader of written romance who had never found the luck to live through such feeling yourself, only words on thick pages that showed the very marriages you so dearly wished for. As a child you had believed your parents were in love, though you had started questioning that in your adolescence. They seemed happy, surely, as far as you observed. Though you doubted love had come to them passionately or fervidly, doubted a feeling as great as no other had ever swept them off their step. And your heart mourned, pained at the possibility that you may die with your life never be turned upside down by a person loved dearly and intimately, that the only destiny, the only availability of romance was a prince you felt nothing for.

Kim Seungmin; the name fell off your father’s mouth before you had the chance to cut his word off. Kim Seungmin, the prince of the neighbouring kingdom, a man so perfect you’ve never seen one like him. He was nice, he was charming, he was stiff when in absence of a familiar face. He was your parents’ favourite, he was the man everyone would die to have – he was your future husband, it seemed, the future King to your Queenship, and you felt nothingness for him. There was neither love nor hate; solely nothing. The thought alone enrolled panic within your guts, cold sweat spreading on the cushions of your palms, the little hairs by the back of your nape standing straight in fear – you as though saw your future before you, a future you couldn’t help but dread already.  

“Father, I barely know him, you cannot think of making me marry him by the end of the season, what do you-“

A heavy hand on the vitric of the table and you stopped your enraged flow of words momentarily, respect for your father overshadowing the fire that flamed up within you.

“You will get to know him. Besides, I have mentioned that he is most eligible. He is kind and humorous, he has a brain he knows to use. He has a name and a kingdom just like you do – you do not have anything to be upset about.”

Hot anger gnawing at your insides, seethed within the pit of your gut and dared to overcook in tears any nearing second. You didn’t wish to cry before your parents, before your father. Didn’t want to explain whichever context could possibly bother you to such hopeless state, didn’t want to show weakness in a matter so foreign to them. You blinked away the water in your eyes, observing mother and father exchanging a look, if questioning or degrading you couldn’t tell. They continued with their food, unaware of your inner turmoil, or choosing to ignore it. They were aware of your differing view on marriage, on your wish to marry after love, though years had passed since you had last spoken on the matter – it never let to compromises, hence felt aimless to convince and explain. Although, you felt the need to explain right then and there, to change their minds. For it might be the only chance you’d get, for your future might write itself if you failed to speak up now. And yet you felt a fool for scrambling for right words, for your inability to convince with great arguments and remarks. Because altogether, there wasn’t anything you could say, not to them, anyways. Because the search for love was null to them though tore apart your entire being. Thoughts and feelings head over heel while your parents waited for an answer, received only a lack thereof.

Only after counted minutes your voice filled the hall of the room, when your anger and frustration subsided just enough. Your body felt yet trembling, your interior shaken to the very last bone, though you had collected enough to speak, at last.

“You- you are right, Prince Seungmin would be the most righteous match indeed, he- he has qualities one could only dream of.”

Indifference from your addressees, a calming breath from your side. You wouldn’t allow to be married away without trying to change the outcome, surely. There was fate worse than yours, you were aware, unchangeable fate that one was bound to subject to. Maybe yours was too, maybe all words had been set in stone the moment they had left mouths; and yet you weren’t one to never attempt.

“But I don’t love him. I cannot possibly marry him, because I do not love him.”

Words like a slap against your parents, surely, and a part of you doubted your fate could be exchanged. Judging by the looks on their faces, by the utter disbelief. By the flared nostrils of your father, the deep crease between your mother’s brows. The settlement was set in stone; your father hadn’t asked you about the context, he had informed you. Simply and solely, as he had informed you of the fallen soldiers. As though marriage and death weren’t events of greatest major, as though all was null.

“Sweetheart, listen.”

Your mother’s voice an attempt to comfort, though you’d bet no word she could say would be the words you needed to hear.

“Your father and I are aware that you and we have… different views when it comes to marriage.”

Sensing your prediction to embed into reality you braced yourself from her following words, hoped they wouldn’t wound you too deep at heart. You were too fragile this moment altogether, you weren’t sure how many more hits you could take.

“…but you must marry sooner or later, honey.”

Voice too sweet to your liking for the words within the sugar coat were of bitterest taste.

“You will learn to love the prince, I’m sure of it. You must simply open your heart… leave alone there isn’t truly another… option… if you understand.”

Meeting her eye, questions marking your visage. You sweated, felt hot and cold simultaneously, felt each your senses magnify in overwhelming manner.

“There isn’t any other you love, child. If there was…”, a look to her husband, then back to you. It uneased you. “If there was another there might be arrangements possible to make. But the prince is the safest option and the best possible match for you, your father and I are sure of it.”

Your mother laid a hand on your father’s arm, the man merely looking at you, your mother gifting a compassionate look. You felt hard to breathe, your corset all too tight and the garments on you far too much. It was hot, the room started losing its shape. You excused yourself, arguing you’d need time to rethink the sudden information, hearing faint encouragement from your mother’s side, falling out of the velvet chair and stumbling your way gen room. Fiddling with the strings of the back of the dress, failing attempts of searching oxygen. Sobs past your throat in ugly manner, frustration and hopelessness laced within the cries.

Truth be told, if you actually loved anyone, all may be simpler. Truth be told your mother was right, and you saw your life being given away as though not your own altogether.

You needed air. You needed to breathe right the second or you dared to suffocate to death. Which wouldn’t be an alternative all too bad, given your future wasn’t yours.

Opening the heavy glass to your balcony in frantic motion – and you nearly cried out in utter fear of surprise. Changbin sitting on his assigned chair, garments lousy and head turning to catch your eye when he heard the noise from behind him. Seeing your blown out eyes and frantic look he hurried your direction, an expression of confusion and worry painting his face.

It wasn’t unusual of him to wait for you in the comfort of your balcony whenever he had the free time to do so, or the wish to talk to you. Your schedules weren’t always compatible, and you surely hadn’t the ability to reach out to him the same way it was in his own freedom. And while for most occasions you had grown used to it, today his presence, though comforting, had you jolt in your movement.

“Are you unwell? What is the matter?”

A supporting hand on your shoulder, his face to your level and searching for your eyes. You looked upset and beyond, frustrated almost if you Changbin had to tell, though he hadn’t seen you in such state nearly enough to be sure. Yet your body screamed discomfort, and he was ready to drop all if it meant to take it away.

“Help me out of this, I cannot breathe.”

A questioning look on the man, a blush then spreading over the dark of his skin when he realised what you were initiating; your back turned to face him, frenzy hands fiddling with the strings of your corset without success in opening the confines. You moved quickly, desperately, as though tormented deeply. Changbin stood a second or two before his own fingers found your back, entangling in your silk and tulle to grant you help; and utter shame and embarrassment coursed his body. It wasn’t intended intimacy, and he doubted you sensed the closeness altogether in your state of chaos. It was a cry for help from friend to friend and Changbin felt a fool to think of it as any different for your torment was surely great – and yet he was unable to overlook his lingering touch on your bare skin, the loosening ties when he successfully unknotted another part of your dress, when the heavy garment finally let go of your heated body and revealed the bit of white and lacen undergarments you hid underneath. Not only would the instance strike anyone in shock; you were unmarried and a princess, such proximity was looked down upon, said lightly. It was also Changbin’s heart that longed for his touch to stay where it laid, on the soft of your skin, even after he had discarded his eyes and turned his back to grant you privacy. It was his heart’s desire to not must and look away – the paining wish to be able to touch you without hesitation and in intimacy true, to undress you beyond the purpose of a helping hand. To account utter nearness because he’d be the man who’s promise it would be, he’d be the man to comfort and love you not behind closed doors.

Your shoes clacking against the stone porch of the balcony after a minute or two and Changbin had collected himself enough to face you anew. Your attire was casual, dress that could be a nightgown thrown over your body, and you took a seat next to Changbin, nearly as though your outburst was forgotten. Though your eyes didn't meet his, stood focused on the midday sky above — you were embarrassed or upset still for you nevee shyed away from locking gaze.

“I must apologise… I am not feeling too well.”

Your voice calm now, your face in absence of the panic it carried before. Yet Changbin’s worry didn’t dissipate, a deep frown painting his expression while he observed your figure. You looked in deep thought, gaze on the fingers in your lap now, fiddling with the silk of your dress. Lower lip between your teeth, occasional sighs of confusion, it might have been frustration also, sounding out into the midday air. Changbin gave you time, let you think of your words instead of pushing for an explanation for your distress – a habit of his you loved as with him there was absence of pressure.

It had taken moments of collecting thoughts and words before you felt you could speak up again. You had told Changbin the affairs that’d happened before you barged in on him, before fear and anxiety had started eating you alive. Your words had spilled out their confines in a manner Changbin had never seen before, you had let go of the tears you’d held back ever since your fathers words had settled in the dining room – Changbin had only ever seen you cry on one occasion prior to this, when you had gotten into a fight with your father in adolescent years and had waited for Changbin to appear on the balcony. Your emotions had overflown you that day, you had hugged and wetted Changbin’s shirt in a pond of tears, and maybe it had started back then. Maybe Changbin had loved you ever since that day, had realised it on your very balcony.

___ . ꫂ

You had felt Changbin’s warm hand on your own while you were telling him of Seungmin, of the marriage and your disagreement with it. He merely listened to your hearts’ spillings, hot tears building behind his own eyes which you failed to notice in your turmoil, yet Changbin didn’t dare fail in providing you greater comfort anyone else would be able to grant you. You had talked minutes upon minutes without a seeming rest, you had watched the sun set behind the horizon in navy colour as Changbin’s touch eased your mind. As his presence eased your panic, as his words of consolation eased your fear of future. You had locked gazes with his dark one, had seen your pain reflected within them, had sensed his wish to obtain the power in changing current circumstances for your very own satisfaction. You had sat with him in silence for uncountable hours, up until it’d been time for him to leave for you to rest at night, though reluctant from his side. You had laid on the soft cushions of your mattress, within the silk of your duvets, insomnia gnawing at you while your every thought was occupied with no other than your dearest friend. Your dearest friend who was the sole reason you had calmed after your burst of emotion, your dearest friend who would not shun revolutions if they were meant in your favour. You dearest friend who refused to leave your balcony, who insisted your every last tear dried up before he set foot towards his sleeping chambers.

You had laid on the soft cushions of your mattress, within the silk of your duvets, and had realised that this was love if you’ve ever seen it. That it’s been within your reach for as far back as you could remember, that you’d been a fool for not grasping out and taking an opportunity so grand it felt a punch to your gut. All too occupied with the very idea of love to have not realised it where it was provided, where it’s been hidden for you to find all time long; Changbin, your dearest friend. The man you were in love with.

The man who fought on battlefields for a living, the man who had neither power nor a name to him. The man who, even if you told your parents, could not be a match for you. Not an eligible one, anyways. The man who might not feel mutually towards you, all things considered. The man who – though you loved him, you were sure; it couldn’t be a feeling different – would never be any other than your dearest friend who’d wait for you on your porch, who’d gift a listening ear, who’d disappear when the sun set behind ever bright horizons.

The man who had been thinking of you during his own sleepless night after leaving you to your feelings in your room, the man who believed to have seen a change in your demeanour this very night. Who had believed to see a turn in your eyes and how they had observed him, with a new curiosity he’d never seen before. The man who might be wishfully thinking only, for you would never see him the way he saw you. The man who loved you so much it nearly pained him, the man who hated the prince of Empyrean with all his might.

___ . ꫂ

A week had passed since your father had announced the news of your expected marriage with Seungmin to the rest of the kingdom and anyone else in need of knowing, one week since you have realised your feelings for your dearest friend, the man you would never be able to call yours, not in a way you wished to – one week since you and Changbin had harvested an atmosphere which laid strange and thick above your heads, as though both of you knew of the others emotional turmoil, as though it only needed the fearless one to speak the words aloud – though both of you deeming the other to be of braver nature, and in a hurry a week had passed with few words spoken altogether.

You liked to believe that though the confession was wordless – his as much as yours – and though neither you nor Changbin dared to speak of the elephant in the room and regard to the subject of feelings and friendship your relationship per se hasn’t changed whatsoever. Liked to believe that despite your mutual wish for being more and conversing closer you yet were the same two friends that have known each other a decade, the same princess and the same knight that bore habit of meeting up in secret on a balcony sheltered from realities of cruel worlds. It was the very year long friendship, however, that didn’t allow your changed demeanour and the certain flusterness to go simply unnoticed. To be utterly aware that there was more on your minds than either of you would like to admit – it was a confession wordless, yet your bond went deeper as to not realise the two of you had changed. Behaviour and eyes surely spoke more than words could, now more than ever.

For Changbin, though aware of his feelings for you as long as he could recall, the cause in his wariness rooted in the knowledge that not in far future you’d be married and given away to another man, to a prince he himself could only ever dream to compete against. Seungmin had everything Changbin hadn’t, from a name to a kingdom to sheer power – Changbin merely triumphed with friendship and year long memories, whereas neither would bring you closer to you. Would neither be fit to be enough for you nor make the King himself approve nor make him the true rival against Seungmin he desperately died to be. It was against rules, it was against traditions, it was against own preferences – it was thoroughly hopeless, briefly put.

A week had passed since you and Changbin had been fools, cowardly to not exchange a word about the burden heavying your shoulders, wordlessly wandering to find an option in which both of you’d find happiness in – a week had passed since no ideas had come to mind, since you had seemed to have given up on love altogether. Because with every day there was less use to wish on it, every day a deeper understanding that you and Changbin might as well stay being cowards.

You were standing in the porcelain hall, uncomfortable dress hugging your body, suffocating your every breath. The room was utterly too filled, and the people were wholly too loud for your liking, talking and conversing about things you were unable to understand. You were making your way through the crowd, cautious to not appear snotty, careful to paint a smile onto your face whenever talked to. Your father had organised a ball with the neighbouring kingdom – both for you and Seungmin to befriend one another, and to send the troops farewell; other kingdoms have declared war, Empyrean and Noctifer enclosing to a unity to fight back against enemies.

Your supposed marriage had been made fully public and official not before every guest had settled in, the hall breaking into applaud and endless strings of congratulators followed the scenery. You’d been thanking everyone with smiles and nods, had talked to Seungmin for the first time since the plan had been settled – both of you flustered in a way most awkward, and quite frankly – you needed to leave the gathering. Needed to run until your feet gave out and your knees grew weak, until the tight corset around your bust finally suffocated you to faintness, needed to let the waters that collected themselves behind your lids gush free. It felt as though all and each townsperson and servant and maid and knight had finalised your very own future all in absence of your saying in it, people congratulating turning blind eyes to your wellbeing. In truth, it wasn’t solely your life on the line to be changed unasked – you haven’t had the bravery to ask the prince himself of his thoughts on the arrangement, for all you knew he could feel the very same about the deal as you did.

And then there was Changbin. Tidy black hair gliding between crowds, bell like laugh sounding out against the rest of voices. He was making his way through the place with his head held high, accepting kindest regards and farewells, wishes for success and victory like the high gentleman he was – you held him in your eyesight as often as you possibly could, only stable anchor against the mere crowd of strangers in the ballroom. His dark eyes met yours occasionally, whenever his own gaze danced across the room and over the heads of people only to find yours in the midst of it – the confession yet unspoken though your eyes told more than thousand words. Whenever your gazes met, you’d read his very own urge, to take your hand and escape from arrangements, citizens, princes and obligations. That his bitter glances towards Seungmin weren’t without meaning, that his eagerness for fight and protecting was milder than usual, that a hesitation marked him when the upcoming battle was mentioned by passing guests and former knights. That he wished to stay to win over your heart by spilling the feelings he had been surpassing for years on end only to avoid possible discomfort.

The confession was yet unspoken though you were convinced that Changbin loved you as much as you uncovered to love him, the man sure of your very own feelings as well – your change in demeanour, your longing gazes and lingering touches whenever on the balcony or in this very hall too telling to be ignored. It was undeniable, it was impossible.

You opened the door to your balcony in a manner shaken, hands moving fast to loosen the corset and allow for some air. The gathering had ended with a last speech of your father, thanking everyone dearly for their arrival, repeating previous news, wishing the troops the very best for the next days coming and speaking out his happiness and congratulations regarding your and Seungmin’s soon to be wedding. You had been drowning at that point, feeling as though water held your lungs captive and forbidding you to breathe – and then you’d seen Changbin, standing to look directly at you, from across the room. He had sensed your discomfort and had tried to flash you smiles and glances across the hall, had smirked and flared his eyes at you – it had given a reason for your father to scold him, it had given you a reason to flare him a warning gaze, had given your heart a reason to pain more than it was; your fate wasn’t written in the stars as it was, Changbin truly didn’t need to push it any further. In Changbin’s eyes he’d have done anything to paint a smile onto your features. Your brows had been furrowed, your eyes wet beneath layers of upheld strength – sillying across the room seemed like the least thing to do to brighten sunken mood.

You heard shuffling from beneath the stone porch, eyed down to find Changbin climbing up the firm vines that raked themselves up the entirety of your side of the palace. Heaving one leg over the railing for his body to follow suit, until he stood before you in all height. Changbin had asked to see you before he'd leave for uncountable months, and you had nodded in secretive manner when he had passed you whispering out his wish – not only did you carry a tradition to meet before every of his leavings, you both had a feeling that unspoken words between the two of you needed to be addressed, after all. If not for the sheer reason of the seriousness of the matter, then for the pact you’ve closed with Changbin, at the very starts of your friendship – Changbin’s occupation was a dangerous one, and any time he left with his troops he readied himself to never return — a mindset damaged if anything, though any matters you had shied away from over the time you had him to yourself were talked about before his discharge; it was a habit of greatest importance, because none of you would ever forgive yourselves for hiding a part of your minds and thoughts to the other; especially not when the subjects were as great as marriage and feelings unspoken.

“Hello.”

His voice breathless, and it hit you like coldest tides and angriest waves — just how much you would miss him. How much you have missed him any time prior, how it had always rooted from love rather than friendship. How you’d been utterly dumb to have never realised it, how you’d been a fool to only understand your feelings now, when it was most hopeless.

“Are you wholly insane?! You should be more careful shooting me glances when my father is around, he doesn’t approve of our friendship as it is.”

You made your way into your bedroom, the chilly air outside painting bumps across your skin. You despised when the troops left during cold temperatures. It gave you another reason to worry your brains out.

“I was merely looking at you, it is not my fault the mighty King does not like me because I am friends with his dear daughter.”

Sarcasm oozed from Changbin’s words while he made his way into your room, and you turned to shoot him a fiery glance. He wasn’t entirely wrong, though you knew that he was aware you weren’t either. You made seat on the plump chair before your vanity, red and golden stitching worn out over the years and looking fairly cheap against your gown, and Changbin stood in place behind you – he didn’t find himself in your own four walls all too often, always arguing that it was a sphere of privacy he didn’t want to step on. Every time his figure found itself beyond the safety of your balcony a feeling of tension laid itself into thin air, and you couldn’t help but paint red at the very thought of it.

He stood eyeing you through your vanity mirror, reflection milky and figures trembling, and you held his gaze. A million thoughts coursing your brain at the sight of him, though you only spoke out one of them.

“Sit down. Do not simply stand there.”

Voice snarky yet Changbin didn’t follow suit – keeping his space just by the door of the balcony, because truly, the only available seat next to the one you occupied was your bed. He’d never dare. So he continued standing, eyeing you through the vanity mirror, watching your face in the milky glass, bordered, as though trapped within the wooden carvings. A gaze so intense you nearly gave out, converted your eyes just shortly before turning in your seat and catching his eyes directly instead. There could be a million thoughts coursing his very own brain, ones that would never see the light of day, ones that you needed to hall out into the space between the two of you. It surely seemed like he was thinking a million things, lips caught between teeth and fingers playing with the hem of his attire, body utterly and wholly tense.

Yet you shuddered at the way he looked at you. Despite his nervous composure, his fidgeting body his eyes were darting, secure and meaningful on your own. He looked at you in a manner so deep you barely were familiar from him – it would have been scary if you didn't know him, if the room wasn’t so incredibly dense and thick in heavy tension. Tension you only could wonder about, could merely question. His eyes pierced through your own, prone to read the words written on the bloody skin of your heart. Unspoken words you yet needed to find courage for uttering – only one sentence was strong enough to break the barrier.

“Do not look at me like this.”

A huff out the man’s nose in a failed attempt to sound amused, and his eyes lost yours for only a second. A second in which you felt your world crumble within itself, in which you felt your haven slip past your fingers – for only one second, though. In the next Changbin’s eyes found yours again, carrying same expression, staring you down. Biting his lip, brows together in a look almost pleading. And your world seemed whole again.

“However am I looking at you?”

His voice tantalising, quiet. Not whispering yet the volume surprised you, the rasp that laid beneath it sent a wave of heat through the veins in your body. The room was in absence of further noise and the soundwaves of his words coursed the air long after he’d spoken them, giving you time to properly digest and clarify them. Changbin came nearer, closed the distance between your bodies inch by inch with steps slow. One by one you felt his presence further in your proximity, arose from your seat as slowly as he walked towards you. To face him eye to eye, to do anything other than sit and stare at him – because his gaze and the expression within was knocking you off your feet and punched remaining breath out your lungs, got your head and the thoughts inside it spinning and galloping in speed you didn’t know was possible.

Until he stood before you, only inches between your bodies. Yet merely looking at you, holding your eyes hostage with his own. You didn’t dare to back away first, nor did you wish to – you had always felt butterflies in the pits of your stomach when in such proximity to him, you’ve simply been too foolish to understand their fluttering about. Been too foolish to notice the seduction his lips drew, whenever he talked and laughed and said his ever same goodbyes, too foolish to regard your jumping heart whenever his breath fanned over you during hugs and late night whispers. You felt it on your lips, hot and fast, scattered and Changbin’s eyes beamed south – to your lips possibly, or maybe he needed to convert his gaze to recollect his composure – before you held contact anew. Tension in the room thick enough to scratch with simply a nail, bodies hotter now than you’d ever felt, ever known.

And then you understood; the heat radiating in between your bodies, nervous eyes flickering between gazes and lips, hands sheeting in a layer of sweat — the very moment written in books, the one that dared to steal the protagonist’s last breath — the moment before the kiss. You’ve never stood before said moment yourself though felt it must be it, couldn’t be anything else. Changbin’s utter body shaking in its place and he seemed like waiting, not leaning it nor pursuing — he waited for you to give the go and you did with a nod. A small one, barely noticeable though you knew Changbin took said notice — couldn’t not to, given the lack of space between you, the lack of strangeness between your personas. And the nod was all the salvation you needed, waited for. Changbin’s lips met yours in the very kiss you’ve read about, clumsy though in passion and thorough adoration. Mouths shy to open yet eager and letting the other in, tongues dancing in ways you wondered was possible. Eyes shut and your hands carefully around Changbin’s middle, unsure where to hold them and suddenly shy to touch the man at all. You pulled away, in fear maybe, realisation surely — what you were doing was inherently wrong. You knew of it and it was the truth — promised already to a man and kissing another, getting lost in his touch so tantalising and desirable. What you were doing was inherently wrong, and you didn’t care for it. You looked past Changbin’s worried eyes, silent questioning on your wellbeing and hesitation and you leaned in again, closing distance for another kiss laced now with confidence. Your hands not shying away from exploring, Changbin’s own touch following a path on your every inch of skin.

The contact of lip on lip and hands on bodies so unfamiliar yet you’ve grown to realise it was all you’ve been craving for, with no other than the man in your arms. The man that would leave in a matter of hours, would be off for months on end. Would come back long after you’d married another man – yet none of crucial thoughts wanted to stick for too long. You focused on Changbin, heart and thoughts full of him and the very way he felt against you, the very way his lips moved against yours in a manner less awkward now, tongues less shy and hands more eager. You allowed yourself to sink into the feeling and float within it, feeling as sweet and thick as golden honey smeared against lips, million times more pleasant and addicting in manners dangerous.

Changbin guided you. Barely realising at first though you were moving blindly with his help, stumbling helplessly until the pair of you made place on the bed. Air tensing further as you locked eyes for hour long seconds, and you were back, lips on lips in sync and hands following the rhythm. Shy to go any further than that because surely, having reached this point already overstepped a million sins you left to worry about later – not only this, you were also unsure of what could possibly unfold if you gave into the longing your entire body ached with, the urge for something greater and bigger. To give yourself wholly to the man you loved, to have him wholly to yourself in return, to grow into unison and remain side by side for the rest of days.

Changbin’s eyes shut in pained expression, fingers digging into layers of clothing he wished would vanish beneath his hands. He wished for you, longed for you yet couldn’t have you, not like he needed. His eyes daring to draw tears while his mouth never ended to dance against yours, with forces so great it surprised you.

And then he backed away. Your hands in his hair creating messes and his own on your hips, igniting impossible fires against the layers of your attire, two pairs of pupils blown out into orbs of blackness, chests heaving, lips bitten. Your face asking a million questions Changbin seemed unable to answer, and both of you stood in your positions to catch your breaths, to regain composure.

“Y/N… I must leave.”

In your years of friendship, you have never heard such weakness in Changbin’s voice, the secure shell he’d kept surrounding him breaking bit by bit until his very heart was left for you to tend. It weakened you, it pained and wounded you like nothing had ever before, and though water collected itself behind your lids you swore to not crumble before him. To hold your head high and save your tears for after he’s left.

It was a confession wordless and yet all was clear. You nodded, watery eyes and feelings unspoken yet without need to be addressed while Changbin’s lips found themselves on yours for the very last time, and you watched him make his way down the vines along your side of the castle, his kiss goodbye lingering on your lips and his remaining warmth surrounded you to shield against the cold, long after he was gone. You had stood on your balcony for a while longer, eyes fixed on the corner Changbin had rounded before disappearing from your view. His step’d been slow, unstable. He had turned around a last time, had sent a flying kiss and a first tear had fought its way past your lids. Many’d followed and all’d been silent, water down your cheeks and dampening your dress while you made no sound at all. That night you didn’t sleep, didn’t close your eyes for a minute. Had waited helplessly for the night to end, staring holes into your ceiling, had listened to Changbin’s troops readying their horses and setting off. You had left open the balcony door, cold breeze against bare skin a reminder of what you’ve lost. Tears had been rolling past the sides of your eyes, endless silent waters you hadn’t bothered stopping. Your body’d felt strange, not your own and all too tight, as though there’d been no room catching breath despite no confines caging you in. A part of you had left that night, a part so great you feared it’s lack would numb you out for the rest of days. Would numb you out regarding royal deals, would numb you out regarding Seungmin and the marriage to him – and maybe, you thought, maybe it wasn’t all too bad, then. Maybe the numbing would keep you from hurting, from drawing blood at your heart. Maybe numbing would allow you to keep this night and Changbin in anchor memory, as a source to sanity against unfulfilling duties – maybe numbing was the only option to keep loving the dearest friend you had while promised to another.

And numbing you needed. When not weeks later you stood in a white gown, before candlelit altar and suit dressed prince next to you in position, and when you haven’t heard of the troops nor Changbin in far too long to possibly be a good sing. When a letter had appeared on your porch three weeks into marriage informing you that war was lost, that half the soldiers would not be able to return; identified corpses written out below the notice, some names you were familiar with, Changbin missing on the list of lost lives – reassuring only little, because he hadn’t yet been back home, either. No returning knight had been helpful in giving you message about his whereabouts – the battle had been too messy, Changbin long not seen by anyone. Numbing you needed when two months into pregnancy you had never heard about the man again, the man you’d called your dearest friend and most secretive love, when years into retirement and elderly forgetting his face stayed an anchor memory against the laws of nature, his darken solid eyes meeting yours in loving gazes when you only sealed them.

taglist: @writerracha @princelingperfect @ggundeuri @orithyia-eriphyle @vumiixlyy @luvrhyune @hopeladybug @misitmoonlight @baldi-2 @baddecisionsworld @thetaytayray @midsoulz @hyunverse @realbangchan @hafsa-hoofsa-heefs @rachabreathing @nixtape-foryou @ameliesaysshoo @jisungsdaydreamer @https-skzology @day6andetcetera @linonyang @hgema @seoli-16 @bokk-minnie @foliea @amagumorii @nhyunn @ravyaryn @ink-spilled-stars @himarose @sherryblossom @shakalakaboomboo @r-arrh @siriusly1 @catwonwoo @suebinn @foxinnie8

[klikandtuna]

Hey :)

Random question: are there any existing songs that bring FTL!Crowley to your mind? You know, the way Time Stand Still makes you think of the SCB boys? Or, alternatively, any songs that you had in mind / were listening to when you wrote FTL!Crowley? Or any that you feel resemble his music (not necessarily Pondwater)?

Putting this in your asks instead of DMs bc I thought some other people might be curious as well :D

Ooooooh this is an excellent question…without a definitive answer 😆 I’ve honestly never thought about it before!

In my head/heart, FTL-Crowley’s music is a mishmash of most of what I was into back in high school and college.

— Rush, absolutely, for their quirkiness, fantasy-centered themes and imagery, and an absolutely KILLER guitar (think “Distant Early Warning,” “Mystic Rhythms,” and obviously “Time Stand Still”);

— Kansas, for their huge power ballads, more fantasy stuff, and odd time signatures (think “The Pinnacle,” “Icarus II,” “The Wall” — I actually named one FTL chapter after this song!);

— Springsteen, for his storytelling (“Thunder Road,” “Radio Nowhere”);

— Led Zeppelin for their blues roots, more fantasy stuff, and another killer guitar, and sheer POWER (“The Rain Song,” “The Battle of Evermore”)

Iiiiii don’t listen to much current music, so I’m afraid all the comments asking if FTL-Crowley is Hozier are lost on me 😅 I will say that while Crowley loves to write about his favorite things, Pondwater is by far his most autobiographical song; most of them are glorious tangents about anything that catches his internal eye with a sparkle of silver.

THANK YOU for the ask, I love discussions like this!! 💛💛

[gilded-cages]

Rules and Introduction

Hi and welcome! This is a blog for the Demon Spawn Universe, also referred to as Gilded Cages. This blog is run by admins @weepingwriter and @creepingspores

On here, we will be talking about the DS universe as well as our Ocs, Messiah and Marigold. Here you will learn more about both the world of the Demon Spawn universe and how the characters interact.

This is a 16-17+ blog as we will be talking about harsher topics like S/A, Religious Trauma, Murder, Cannibalism, ETC. The admins are also adults. We would prefer not to interact with someone so many years younger. Please respect this. You will be blocked if you don't.

The only real rules is respect our boundaries and be respectful. Just because these characters are dark does not mean you can come out and be nasty first thing out of the blue(This doesn't involve flirting). Most asks will be responding in character unless directed at the admins. The things characters say don't automatically reflect how we are or how we would respond. Don't take anything said too seriously, we are all here to have fun!

We allow shipping with our characters as long as you don't take it to seriously and don't try to ship your underage oc with them.

Tags we have so far

#💐 flower talk-Marigold

#🐏 lamb talk -Messiah

#😈 cryptid talk- Ethan

#❤️‍🔥hottime- NSFW posts

#💀bonesandall- Gore posts

#🍄spores- Admin Spores

#🦚maka- Admin Maka

#👻worldaroundme- general info about the Demon Spawn universe

#🕸️wtf- TaTa and SCB crossover stuff

More more tags tbd

[soulless-computerbug]

Heyy, two questions-!

One—how do I post things in the creepypasta community-? Bc I tried to do that and I think it didn’t go through-?? Is that normal-?

And two: where do you personally put Masky and Hoodie when it comes to creepypasta-? Bc I know so many people have them as proxies and tbh I see why but I’m confused on when they went from Marble Hornets to proxies—honestly I personally think they lowkey went, fuck it, let’s ball and just gave in but idk

Hey! It took me a week to see this sorry!

Posting in the communities goes about the same as posting to your blog. The dropdown that you use to choose which blog to post on to also has the communities your in under it. You just scroll down to pick the community and yeah. I think its the same thing on desktop too.

As for masky and hoody, well . . . They're definitely different for me than i typically see in the fandom. I see a lot of people talk about DID and them being alters, or masky and hoody are their "work personas" or smth like that. For my stuff, masky and hoody don't technically exist? The way i interpretted it in marble hornets is like a possession, so for my fic and lore, masky and hoody is what happens when the operator possesses tim and brian. Same thing with kate and "the chaser", that's not actually them, but the operator puppeteering their bodies and using them to interact with the world. The operator does have a tangible body, but its limited in how it can interact with the world around it and other people. Easier to use a human puppet.

[scrollypoly]

Doodled a little guy for a new pfp

[c-53]

this scb arriving was perfectly timed because i can hold it over my head and go 'you can't play with the new computer until you do all the stuff you've been putting off, first' AND ITS WORKING

[ask-bayfire]

Rules and Info

This is an askblog for the character Benilos in (my) @benilos's Time and Time Again series. This is a 18+ blog, as though the series is 16+, Bayfire is gross. Please be mindful of this, as I will very liberally block people if these rules are not followed.

This blog will be largely in-character. Refer to the read more for all info and then the rules for the blog and submissions. Anon list also under cut.

Rules:

This is an in-character blog, however I will also probably treat it like a loredump area, specifically for Benil himself. So be prepared for that, and filters the tags of any content you do not wish to see. I am extremely anal over tagging, but if I happen to miss something or you would like to request something be trigger tagged, you are welcome to do so, and I am welcome to deny or acquiesce just as much. Please be respectful when requesting tags/warnings.

This blog will content NSFW content, including gore/violence, as well as sexual content. It will be tagged, and NSFW content will likely not be put under a read more. I will have all tags listed at the bottom of the post for your filtering pleasure.

The only real rule is be respectful. TATA is a horror series with a very large amount of sensitive themes, including instances of rape, various forms of abuse, supernatural gore and all kinds of dirty gross stuff that lots of people on the internet are scared of. The story is linked at the top of this post, read its tags on AO3. You'll get it. I will not be censoring Benil's answers, nor any other characters.

Things that will not be tolerated however, is bigotry of any kind. Questions ABOUT these subjects are absolutely permitted, as these themes do/will show up in this series, but if an ask IS bigoted in nature, it will be deleted and the user blocked if able. I guess it largely goes along with being respectful.

There will be art! Most of it will be traditional art, unless yall wanna pay for me to be able to own a desk that's big enough to hold my massive gaming laptop and my big ass drawing tablet so I can actually do digital art.

Now for information about Benil, warning for spoilers to TATA!

Benilos, (bay-nee-yoh/beh-neh-lohs), is the current BEN Drowned-adjacent character in Time and Time Again, the Creepypasta AU series written by me, @benilos (on here and AO3). He is also referred to as, Benil (beh-neehl/bay-nee-yuh), Bay, Bayfire, etc.

This BEN is a primordial god in the TCU universe (TATA's whole universe), the eldest of three. His primary motive is to find people known as kolivera, aka singers, which, in the simplest of terms, is a soulmate of his. Oftentimes, these are other iterations of BEN Drowned/Ben Lawman. He is considered a hivemind, though I'd compare him more to Ermac from Mortal Kombat, with the whole, souls of multitudes thing he's got going on. You will learn those souls as this blog fills up.

Benil is open for self-shipping, questions about himself, questions about his world and other Creepypastas. You will see TATA's MC, Twitch, quite a bit in this as well, and characters from @scrollypoly's Soulless Computer Boy fic will also appear, as SCB/TATA do have a canonical crossover, and there is a chance for spoilers of that fic as well (though these will be avoided as much as possible, so some asks may not get answered if it spoils Scrolly's fic.)

The biggest thing to warn you all of is the shipping that occurs here. I ship what me and Scrolly have jokingly named Bencest, which is essentially us shipping our various versions of BEN together. You will see this a lot here. It is the primary ship we have here, you will also see ocxoc, ocxcanon, canonxcanon, etc etc etc here. Self-shipping and OC inserts are encouraged and welcomed, so you can send me stuff about your OCs and ask for interactions as much as you please, just keep things age appropriate. If your character is underage, do not request NSFW content of my characters with them. Point blank period. I am almost 22 years old, I will lose my fucking mind y'all.

I will eventually link all character info posts under this little spot right here once I have them done.

Here are the tags that will be used:

#mytime - NSFW/suggestive content

#consumption - Gore/violent content

#cda5 - BenilxTwitch ship tag

#lullabyshipping - one of the "Bencest" tags, mainly for SCB/TATA Benil and Ben Lawman

#kolivera - Subjects involved other "Soulmates" of Benil's

#bayfire - Benil speaking

#circuits - Twitch speaking

#crawlers - SCB characters

#lunamos - BEN Drowned ARG related/centered content

#skull talk - Admin speaking

#south wing - Art tag

tba

In regards to the talk tag, the first word may change at times. I am a DID system, so I (Kito) may not always be in front. All other headmates will use their names as the first word to avoid confusion.

Anons:

Pookie Anon 🍄

Bitch Anon 🧹

Lolibait Anon 👼

Ms Kitty Anon 🐈‍⬛️

[turtle-ly]

@loftwingsuarus well since you are curious heres the deets: Trương Mỹ Lan was the chairwoman of a real estate developer (Vạn Thịnh Phát Group). Back in 2012 she merged 2 private banks into the big bank, SCB, then slowly made up over One Thousand (1000) ghost companies to apply for loans from SCB, in which she indirectly held 91,5% stake, so the process was easy(?) than you think(?). She used that money to buy real estate and stuffs idk.

Between 2012 and 2022, SCB gave Lan over 2,500 loans worth over VNĐ1 quadrillion, or 93 per cent of its loans. As of October 2022, Lan and her company Vạn Thịnh Phát Group still had nearly 1,300 outstanding loans of VNĐ677 trillion ($27 billion) in principal and interest. and yes, those 10 years was equivalent to over 10 per cent of Việt Nam’s GDP in 2022. To cover that hugeass thing up she bribed hundreds(?) of gov auditors and inspectors, the number of those officially sentenced was 85 though. (x)

Funny thing about this though was the meme vietnamese ppl made up about where that 677 trillion went. some guy on facebook joked that she hid them in the sea, One Piece style, and the meme about "lets go on a sea adventure to find that cash!" circulated on vnese facebook for at least 2 weeks before her lawyer threatened to sue whoever made that joke lmao

thank you tuoi tre news this is the funniest way you can post this

[smallcollegebasketball]

SCB National Awards Show

Last Saturday was a really special day in Kansas City.  It was the Small College Basketball National Awards Show at the gorgeous Hotel Kansas City.  We had National Championship Coaches from 2023.  We had the two winningest coaches in the history of college basketball at the small college levels (Herb Magee and Harry Statham).  We had prominent current coaches, and prominent retired coaches.  

The video of the whole show will come out shortly.  We’ll post the whole thing on our YouTube Channel, and then we’ll break it into parts for each award and various components for our website and YouTube Channel.  We’ll get that done shortly.  It’s really good stuff.

In addition to what people see during the show, and what they’ll see on video, we also have a lunch with the National Championship Coaches and National Award Winners.....and then I tape the State of Small College Basketball Address (which will be released soon), and we hold the press conference to announce the Small College Basketball Hall of Fame Class of 2023 AND the participating teams and matchups for the 2023 SCB Hall of Fame Classic.  Here’s the video of the press conference:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XEeaQHznPDw&t=57s

Additionally, we released the 2022-23 SCB Season Highlight Video, produced by Indiana Wesleyan’s Steve Gidley.  (We are very grateful to Steve for all of his time and efforts to create such a neat video).  Here’s this year’s video (give it a watch....it’s really good stuff):  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UTVNpbtSrPs

We then had a pre-social, followed by the SCB National Awards Show, and then the post-show social.  It was a wonderful night.

Importantly, I want to thank Dr. Dish, as they helped to sponsor the event.  Andrew Westphal from Dr. Dish attended the event, and it was a pleasure to spend time with him.  The website for Dr. Dish is  https://www.drdishbasketball.com/.  We are truly grateful for their support.

Moving forward, I hope that you support Small College Basketball by joining our Alumni Association.  Here’s the direct link to the webpage to join the SCB Alumni Association:  https://scbaa.lockerroomlegacy.com/.  Your support and engagement would be much appreciated.  Members of the Alumni Association are invited to attend the SCB National Awards Show at the conclusion of the season. It’s a really neat, first class event.

Below are a few photos from last Saturday night...... This is a passion project, and it’s just really special when the pieces come together, the people show up, and the relationships are built, and memories are created.

Please know that we are really grateful to all of those that continue to support Small College Basketball.

[neonapocalypta]

After some teasing it's finally here! My newest blog: "Random Ovas I've been watching 2" is live! This time I talk abt experimental stuff, an anime that made me pull my hair out, a childhood revival, and even a few well known ones I saw while sick.

https://neonapocalypta.neocities.org/2ndOVA

This one is a bit longer than I'd normally like to do but given the circumstances, it's fine. Anyway, next site upload will be SCB 5. March's blog is about my exp finding out the history of Sailor Victory. Oh, and maybe some other stuff is will be put on the site...

also, you don't have to read 1 to read this one. it's mostly a list for me to remember what I've seen and pass on a few recs. do what u want. Anyway, I got that Fri Feb / 2/3 2023 upload going on yayyyyyy. Thank you for reading my stuff.

[klikandtuna]

I think you said you will be interested in one shot and art prompts soon.

I've been reading Sky Clear Blue, it's gorgeous by the way, and I would love to see how Azekiel's first modern Halloween went, either by way of short story or art. I understand if you are ready to move on of course, maybe just Aziraphale and Crowley in costume?

Love your stuff!

I will never be ready to move on…as you’ll shortly see, when I release some teaser art on the day SCB wraps 👀😁😁

I LOOOOVE this idea, and I’ll absolutely draw our boys in costume for Az’s first Halloween! Thank you!