#three sleeper bunk bed

[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.

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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.

[thebisexualdogdad]

Strawhats and Buggy, Shanks and Mihawk’s Preferences on how they sleep/wake up?

Luffy -

● can sleep literally anytime and anywhere

● and is awake the moment he smells food cooking

● "is that bacon I smell" he says shooting up in bed

● "go back to sleep"

● "no way Sanji is cooking breakfast already" and literally jumps out of bed

● also a midnight snacker

● with plenty of snacks hidden under his bunk

● you often get woken up to him snacking next to you in bed

● "luffy what are you doing?"

● with a mouth full of food "....nothing"

Nami -

● a light sleeper

● will wake up if you turn over or move your pillow

● she doesn't get a whole lot of deep sleep because she's always on high alert

● though when she's sleeping next to you she feels a lot safer

● usually wakes up before you and reads until you wake up

● will start mumbling in her sleep when she has a nightmare but as soon as you wrap her in your arms she immediately relaxes

● she really didn't know what it meant to get a peaceful night sleep before meeting you

Sanji -

● the little spoon

● and a huge blanket hog

● you wake up all the time freezing cold because he's wrapped the blanket around himself

● you even tried getting your own separate blankets and he still ends up with both of them by the morning

● loves when you sleep in his clothes

● and loves to be woken up by you kissing his face

● it gets him in a good mood before he has to get up to make breakfast for the crew

Zoro -

● the only normal sleeper really

● sleeps the average amount

● perfect balance of cuddling without overheating

● snores a little but in a cute way

● and he's a morning person so it's easy to get him out of bed

● if you're docked on land then he goes for a morning run before breakfast

● if you're out at sea he has some boat deck curated workouts to do instead to keep his mind and body in sync

Usopp -

● talks in his sleep a lot

● like sometimes you genuinely think he's talking to you but he's fast asleep

● also the most difficult to wake up in the morning

● says "5 more minutes" twenty times

● and wakes up in the weirdest positions

● sometimes even on the floor

● and he drools

● "Usopp you need to wake up we have so much to do today"

● "5 more minutes"

● "you've been saying that for the last 2 hours"

Buggy -

● the most restless sleeper

● he tosses and turns all night long next to you

● and boy does he snore

● sometimes you have to smack him awake when he gets too loud

● "no I didn't trip the trapeze artist - huh what?"

● "Buggy you were snoring again"

● "was not!"

● can easily sleep for a full 24 hours if you let him

Shanks -

● the cuddle addict

● he bear hugs you in his sleep with his leg thrown over your waist

● sometimes his cuddles are a little too aggressive and you have to push him off of you in his sleep because it's too hot

● and in the morning he's fully on top of you again

● if he wakes up first he'll watch you sleep and admire you with hearts in his eyes

● likes to relax in bed and have a nice chat with you before you guys have to get out of bed and start your day

Mihawk-

● needs very little sleep to function

● like it's kind of concerning how little he sleeps

● he is always awake before you

● you'll wake up and he's either sharpening his sword or training

● though occasionally he'll make you breakfast in bed when he's feeling romantic

● "how much did you sleep last night?"

● "I got a full three hours can you believe that"

Cabaji -

● the deep sleeper

● can and has slept through cannonballs being shot off

● has a morning and night time routine for his hair to keep it looking flawless

● says he'll join you in bed in a few minutes

● but takes him a full hour to get his hair contained so he can sleep without messing it up

● snores only if he sleeps on his back

● and the first thing he does when he wakes up in the morning is check his hair

[dumbass-tumbler-cryptid]

Can you share a snippet from Cabin? No matter which ending

So this isn’t from one of the endings, but it’s the beginning of that second prologue I did a poll on like a month ago, that details Spider’s time with the Sully’s right before getting kidnapped so I hope you enjoy 💙

************************************************************************************

Spider was a light sleeper. He had to be living in the foster care system his entire life. Too many times had he awoken to find his meager positions stolen or vandalized, his face drawn on with permanent marker or his hair destroyed in a cruel “prank.” And so he slept with one eye open, as the saying goes, stirring at the most minor of noises. Because of this, he was awake and alert the moment the sound of footsteps, quietly but quickly making their way down the hall, caught his ear. The door knob to the boys dormitory turned, its latch softly clicking into place before it silently swung open. His social worker Norm walked in, looking much too frazzled for three in the morning.

Spider watched from his perch in his bunk bed as Norm approached. “Spider,” he whispered, “we have to go buddy.” Norm looked so heartbroken to tell him this. Spider had only been at this particular group home for a whooping two months. The place was completely secluded, the home itself small and unassuming. It had been a six hour car ride from his last foster home on the Virginia/D.C border to here, deep in the Maryland countryside. His caregivers had had high hopes that Spider would be safe here. But he knew better. His father alway found him in the end.

Without a word of protest Spider jumped from his bunk with all the agility and power of a jungle cat, spinning on his heels to snatch up his backpack, forever filled and ready for his next move, swinging it over his shoulder as he slipped into his shoes. There was no need for him to change clothes. He always slept in his dayware. It made quick getaways faster.

Norm hustled him down the stairs and to the car. Spider didn’t feel a thing as he looked at the building for the last time. In a day or two the place would become absolutely nothing to him, blurring together with all the other temporary homes that he could barely remember. He turned to look at the vast open countryside. Where are you hiding, Spider thought as he scanned the dark horizon. It was nothing but flat planes dotted here and there with trees. No cover. And yet he was running again from the oppressive invisible force that was Miles Quaritch.

“Spider get in already. It’s going to be a long drive.” Saying nothing in response, Spider ducked into the passenger's seat, the car rumbling to life underneath him. He watched the group home shrink from his view as they got on the road, feeling numb, all too used to being passed off from place to place like he was absolutely nothing.

[thefandomenchantress]

Headcanons About Ace and His Siblings!

I have…a surprising amount of these? So I figured I’d share them.

-I think he’d probably be third or fourth oldest in the sibling line-up.

-He’d probably be the ‘bad cop’ of the older siblings, being the strict one who stops the youngest (and sometimes his older siblings) from doing dangerous things…and not-so-dangerous things that he deems are too dangerous, due to his fear of pretty much everything. Since he overreacts a lot, this can lead to his siblings not taking his warnings seriously when they actually should for once, and later results in Ace telling them variations of ‘I told you so’ while patching them up.

-Despite the strictness mentioned above, thanks to his dumbass tendencies he’s also very easy to trick into letting his siblings do things they shouldn’t do, ironically enough.

-Ace always made an effort to not swear when any of his younger siblings were around (the struggle was real). Until one day his 8-year-old sister told him that he could swear around her, because older kids at school swore all the time and so she knew all of the swear words already. Without even asking to hear any proof of her supposed knowledge of all swear words, he believed her and accidentally taught her almost every swear word in existence. His older siblings were…unhappy with him, to say the least.

-Ace is a very light sleeper, so if one of his siblings tries to sneak out of the house, you can guarantee he knows. Much like how he didn’t tell anyone about David’s secret until he himself was being targeted with suspicion, he usually won’t snitch unless he is somehow negatively effected. This is also the case for basically everything rebellious his siblings do, (unless he thinks they’ll hurt themselves, then suddenly he’s all on their case about it).

-Ace takes copious amounts of time to get his hair just right every morning before school, so for all his siblings it’s basically a race to get to the bathroom before he does, because once he’s in there he’ll hog the bathroom for three times as long as any of them.

-One of his little sisters watched My Little Pony constantly and he hated it (read: was very scared of it because horses). Eventually prolonged exposure to the show made him get used to watching it, which makes it one of the few fears he’s managed to overcome.

-It was well-known Ace had a severe fear of thunderstorms in the Markey household, so sometimes when thunderstorms would happen at night, one of his younger siblings would claim they were scared and wanted to sleep by him, just because they knew the company comforted him.

-Since we know he has siblings but we don’t technically know what age any of his siblings are…I’m very compelled to headcanon that he has a tomboyish female twin. I think that would be cool.

-His older brother thought it was hilarious to constantly hide and then jump out and scare Ace, which led to Ace having intense paranoia whenever he walked around corners, opened closets, etc. whenever he was at home.

-Most of his siblings are on the taller side, which infuriates Ace to no end. He swears he’ll grow taller than his older sister one day, but he won’t. All his older siblings poke fun at his height, which unintentionally caused him to be extremely self conscious about it.

-Unless Ace’s parents are exetremely rich, I doubt they bought a house with eleven bedrooms, so Ace probably shared a room with at least one sibling. I think he’d sleep in a bunk bed, specifically the bottom bunk because he’s worried he’ll roll over in his sleep, fall off the bed, and get hurt if sleeps in the top one.

-His brother, who slept in the top bunk, snored really loud and Ace eventually got used to it being really loud as he fell asleep, so now that he’s in the killing game with his own room and no loud background noise, he’s finding falling asleep to be a bit harder.

-Lots of Ace’s clothes were hand-me-down from older siblings and were really baggy and ill-fitting for him, which is why he likes sporty clothing a lot. It’s more tight-fitting and since none of his older brothers got too into sports and therefore never bought sporty clothes, he got to buy his own clothes that were actually his size.

-Ace knows how to braid hair, since he had to braid his sisters’ hair a lot before school, and so now he knows a bunch of convoluted braiding techniques. He also has very basic sowing skills from having to patch up his younger siblings’ stuffed animals from time to time.

I might edit this post or reblog it later to add more, but that’s all I’ve got for now! Hope this was fun read!

[ladyleonster]

The road is well illuminated by moonlight, but once Andrei reaches the other huts, it takes some time before he is able to find the correct hut, the telltale pink hair a clear sign of his target. It seems, though, that she has three roommates as well.

Unfortunate, but even if they had not been in on this, he supposes this is just a part of the punishment of being in the same room as Ethlyn.

Now, Andrei likes to think himself smarter than Ethlyn in general. This is why, despite so very clearly engaging in foul play, he does not intend to leave evidence of said foul play behind. Instead of tossing the box and its contents in, he carefully cracks open the window on her side, shaking it until each cricket had fallen into her bed, before stealing away in the dead of night.

He'd put the box back into his own room. That way, even if she comes over to demand an explanation, he could simply claim the crickets liked her more than him and migrated over of their own accord. A baldfaced lie, but how would she ever dispute that?

Satisfied for now, he returns to his room to enjoy his truncated, but now blissfully uninterrupted, sleep.

She isn't a deep sleeper and it doesn't take much for her to wake up. That being said, the opening and closing of the window doesn't seem to phase her. It's probably just one of her roommates trying to adjust the temperature of the room. Ethlyn keeps her eyes closed and rolls over, trying to fall back asleep.

She tosses and turns a bit, waiting to hear the telltale sounds of one of her roommates returning to their bunk after messing with the window. That sounds never comes, instead she hears a chirp. That chirp is joined by another and another until the quiet room is filled with a cricket chorus. Ethlyn jolts awake and sits straight up as one happens to jump on her face.

There are so many of them. They are so loud. In her sleepy state, Ethlyn can only think of one possible explanation for how this many crickets entered the room at one time. And there is only one possible course of action to rectify this.

As quietly as she is able, Ethlyn creeps around the room trying to gather up as many of the bugs as she can. She doesn't want to wake her roommates. They didn't deserve this. They aren't part of the rivalry she has with him.

It does not cross her mind that she is about to put a different set of undeserving roommates into the same position but that's a later problem.

The next step is to figure out exactly where Andrei is sleeping. It matters less to her that she is stealthy. At this point, she wants him to know it was her. She makes it to his door, opens it, and yeets a handful of crickets as best she can toward his bed before bolting back to her own.

Asshole.

[stephensmithuk]

Railway to the Danger Zone

Or "Wagon-Lit to Varna".

The 15 October entry includes a brief mention of one of the most famous trains in the world, the Orient Express. I apologise in an advance for any errors.

So, it might be worth discussing this service and giving an idea of what it would be like, part based on my own limited experiences with sleeper trains. A return trip on the Caledonian Sleeper in 2016 and an Amsterdam to Munich ride on Nightjet last year.

The Compagnie Internationale des Wagons-Lits (et des grands express européens) or The International Sleeping-Car (and European Great Expresses) Company, usually referred to by "train fiends" as CIWL, was established in 1874 by a Belgian called Georges Nagelmackers, who inspired by the Pullman sleeping cars in the United States, decided to set up a European operation. Being the son of a powerful banker and with connections with royalty (especially King Leopold II of Belgium - yes, that guy), he was able to get his first operation going in 1872.

The Orient Express from Paris Est to the Sirkeci terminus in Constantinople (now Istanbul), which initially started just going as far as Vienna in 1882 and finally got there in 1889, was just one part of a large network of trains operated by CIWL. They eventually operated services in Africa, the Middle East and East Asia too. Even Britain got in on the action with the Night Ferry.

A photo of the modern day Paris Gare de L'Est I took last month is below. This is a roughly 10-minute walk from Gare du Nord, where boat trains from the Channel ports arrived and I am sure they could have found a taxi or something to carry their baggage.

CIWL would either attach its carriages to regular trains or do their own dedicated "Trains de Luxe" of which the Orient Express was initially the latter, charging a supplement to the regular First Class fare. Locomotives were provided by the various railway companies, changing at national frontiers or at terminus stations, like Munich Central or Vienna West. Their main network was in Western Europe - travel to the Mediterranean or to various spa towns (like, well, Spa) by the upper classes being their main source of business. They also managed to corner the restaurant car business in mainland Europe for several decades.

It's worth mentioning that the Orient Express service here is not the more famous train from the Agatha Christie novel. That was the Simplon Orient Express, a post-First World War train routed via Switzerland (the Simplon Tunnel), Italy and Yugoslavia to avoid going through the losing countries of the Great War - for one thing, the Germans had seized a good deal of CIWL's rolling stock and set up a rival operation called Mitropa.

The Orient Express here had the routing of Paris-Munich-Vienna-Budapest-Bucharest-Varna-Istanbul, at least initially. The 1888 timetable can be found here:

As you can see, it only went through to Constantinople (via ship from Varna at this time) twice a week; most of the carriages would have only go as far as Vienna. I am not sure of the actual arrangements in 1893 and if a change would be required at Bucharest. The train would not be massively long - maybe six carriages total.

While luxurious and elegantly decorated, the provisions of your 1890s sleeper compartment were limited and the compartments rather small. The 2000s-built Nightjet version from Amsterdam to Munich might serve as a useful illustration. This is the standard compartment; the deluxe ones with toilet and shower had sold out. Sleepers are very popular right now!

The seats convert into bunk beds for sleeping, something still done done by a smartly dressed conductor. You got a sheet and a branded woolen blanket. Indeed, the modern-day successor to CIWL, Newrest Wagons-Lit, provides the staff for the Nightjet network. This compartment has three beds total - the 1890s train had a mix of 2-berth and four-berth compartments.

More photos of the modern-day carriage can be found here:

While there was an en-suite washbasin provided in each compartment with a mirror for shaving, if you needed to go to the toilet, you had to go down the corridor. This would have been something familiar to Lord Godalming from his boarding school days. No WiFi - even on most trains today that's the case.

Most of the photographs of CIWL rolling stock are from the 1920s onwards, when they used steel carriages painted blue; the 1890s carriages were in teak and looked roughly like this:

Space for larger luggage is limited and these trains had dedicated luggage cars. In Western Europe, customs/passport inspections would be handled by the conductor during the night, because the last thing you want to do is wake up someone like Baron Renfrew. Especially as that guy was the Prince of Wales travelling incognito and he could have a ferocious temper. Although to be fair, he would usually be extra nice afterwards.

Restaurant coaches were generally only found on trains with significant daytime portions (frequently only for those bits), a waste of money and coal otherwise. Otherwise, you would have a tray brough to your room. A carafe of water was provided, and the conductor could sell you something a bit stronger. The food would have been rather good in any event; my Nightjet and Caledonian Sleeper meals made up for a lot of the problems.

Then it would be a case of riding through the night, the clickety-clack of jointed track hopefully helping you sleep.

The OG service, soon being routed via Belgrade instead, continued to run except for wartime interruptions, gradually contracting after the Second World War as the Iron Curtain and air travel put people off it, until 2009, ending as just a Strasbourg-Vienna EuroNight.

However, Nightjet now do a thrice-weekly Paris to Vienna service, which as a nice nod to the past uses the same numbers (469/468) the Orient Express used in its final years.

The First World War saw CIWL's carriages requisitioned for military use and the Armistice would be signed on one of their carriages used as part of Ferdinand Foch's staff train at Compiègne in France on 11 November 1918. Hitler would then use that same carriage for the surrender of France in 1940, taking it back to Germany where it was destroyed - a modified vehicle from the same class stands on the site today.

CIWL itself would go on (despite the loss of its Russian operations in particular) to reach its peak in the early 1930s before the Second World caused more loss of rolling stock. After that, their Central and Eastern European operations were nationalised and with the market in decline, they eventually sold or leased their carriages in 1971 to a consortium of Western European operators. They continued to build and maintain carriages until 1998 and some of their stuff can still be found in Europe today, especially on the private sleeper operators like the Alpen-Sylt Express. They also continued to staff these trains and still do with Newrest Wagons-Lit.

My trips did not see me get the greatest night's sleep and I had a big delay on the Nightjet, but it was a memorable experience and I intend to do another overnight train next year.

More details of that can be found here if interested:

So, yes. A good train ride ahead of a dangerous operation.

[the-oc-lass]

Nimona OC - Charlotte Swiftheart/Corova: Bad Night

Haven't posted about baby in a minute, so I'll give you a scene I wrote the other day for the full length fic I'm writing. Do enjoy!

Original Post

Ever since that night when she was ten, Charlotte has known that she can go to Ambrosius if she has a particularly bad nightmare. It’s something that she’s done a handful of times over the past three years, but she tries not to let it become a habit. She’s been learning to manage on her own. Sometimes, it just helps to have another person that she trusts nearby, and even though Ballister is now in the bunk right next to hers, she’s still afraid of making things worse for him. So, when she has another nightmare on this particular night, the first thing she does is pull her pillow from beneath her and hug it tightly, trying to take deep breaths without making too much noise. A few hiccups sneak in, but she’s mostly able to get her heart rate and breathing under control. However, even as she continues her breathing exercises, the fear clings to her like a parasite. It sinks into her mind, digging its claws in, and she can’t help the tremble that runs through her body. She’s not sure how long she tries to get it under control before it becomes too much. She sets the pillow back on her bed and cautiously climbs out of bed. She glances over at Ballister, who’s still asleep with his back facing her, then hurries out of the barracks. She knows the route to Ambrosius’s room by heart these days, and even on the darkest nights, when she struggles to see the halls, she’s able to reach it without trouble. Tonight, though, she’s almost to the room when she hears rushed footsteps coming in her direction. She looks around for somewhere to hide, but she already knows that there isn’t anything in this hall. However, as she looks toward the sound of the footsteps, a skinny figure rounds the corner. As soon as the figure spots her, though, they freeze, and Charlotte squints in the low light. 

“Ballister?” she calls softly. The figure takes a slow, single step forward. 

“Charlotte?” a familiar voice whispers back. She nods and Ballister slowly moves closer until she’s finally able to properly make out his face in the dark. He looks…Shaken. Maybe a little afraid. “What are you doing out here?” She fidgets slightly with the hem of her shirt, lips pursed for a moment. 

“I’m going to see Ambrosius,” she mutters. “What are you doing?” 

“Same thing,” he mutters back. She looks at him to meet his eyes. 

“Bad dream?” He nods, and she gives him a small, wry smile in the dark. “Me too.” Her hand extends toward him, and he looks at it for a moment before taking it. She knows that they aren’t kids anymore—not to the public or the Institute—but she doesn’t care at the moment. Grasping onto Ballister’s hand is comforting, and she feels more at ease as they walk the rest of the way to Ambrosius’s door. They pause outside it, and she hesitates as she lifts her fist toward the door. Even after the past three years, after becoming so close with him, she still feels bad about waking him up in the middle of the night. It feels wrong. Rude. Like she’s being selfish. But even if she feels bad, she can’t make herself turn away and walk back to the barracks. She never can. So, she knocks on the door, just loud enough that she knows Ambrosius will hear it and wake up. She’s learned that he can be a bit of a light sleeper. After waiting a few moments, a sleep rumpled Ambrosius opens the door, rubbing at one eye. However, spotting both of them standing there seems to wake him up a bit more, and he tilts his head to give them a sympathetic look. 

“Bad night, huh?” he asks. Charlotte frowns and looks at the floor. 

“Yeah,” she mutters, while Ballister nods silently beside her. Ambrosius steps aside to let them into the room. 

“Come on,” he says softly. The two slip inside quietly, and Ambrosius shuts the door behind them. If it were any ordinary bunk, Charlotte may have been concerned about how the bed would fit them all, but Ambrosius’s bed isn’t an ordinary bunk. It’s plenty big for all three of them, even though they’ve all grown since they first met each other. Ambrosius wordlessly fiddles with his alarm clock, adding an earlier time that will wake them when they need to return to the barracks so that they aren’t missed. It’s something he’s learned to do over the years when it comes to both of them. Neither ever really wants to leave the comfort and safety of Ambrosius’s bed and room, but they do every time. They don’t speak as they settle into the bed, Ambrosius taking his place between Ballister and Charlotte. They’re both rather tactile people, so he isn’t surprised when they curl up against him. He simply wraps an arm around both of them and begins to recount stories to them—stories that both have already heard. Charlotte reaches across Ambrosius’s body to set her hand on Ballister’s shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze. As she closes her eyes, she feels a hand copy her gesture on her own shoulder, and she sighs softly. A safe feeling settles over her like a blanket, and she lets herself doze off to the sound of Ambrosius’s voice, the warmth of Ballister’s hand on her shoulder spreading right through to her soul.

Also, remember how I made Charlotte in the sims? Well guess what, I made baby Charlotte too. Here's my baby:

So innocent, so small. No idea what's going to happen to her. Precious little girl.

Hello tagged people:

@ammonitetheseaserpent @perfectkittystranger @madlad06 @xxlunadrawsstuffxx @floxu

[kariachi]

Some bedding and bedroom stuff for my various species because why the fuck not

Perison

Typically sleep communally in separate beds

Masters of the floor mattress (look, we’ve seen the size of them, at 11 Kevin was smaller than Kwarrel’s arm, what the fuck sorta bedframe are they gonna use?) which is the most similar, on average, to what we’d recognize as a mattress

Wandering Herds typically have four to six men per wagon, depending on the size of the wagon, with small chests for daily-use personal items at the heads of beds

There’s wagons dedicated to storing non-daily use items

Teenagers typically are grouped together by when they joined the herd and so by age as a result, but as they’re free to come and go after a few years once they hit true adulthood the range of ages in a wagon can vary wildly

In Settled Herds your average household will have three or four large bedrooms- the husband’s room, the wives’ room, and the children’s room(s)- the latter of which may be divided by sex or age if there’s a second room at all

Wealthier families may have more rooms and be able to split by generation as well

Babies and toddlers typically bunk with their mothers, moving into the children’s room at about 4/5

Married men are the only group that can generally expect to have a private room long term (assuming, of course, they aren’t sharing with a father/son-in-law)

Traditionally and in more rural areas still married men’s rooms are at the center of the home and open onto a private courtyard that’s only accessible through their rooms, in urban areas this has translated to top floor rooms and the sole key to the roof and control of the gardens there

Married men also tend to have their own bathroom (in the modern age it is not unusual for them to send their still-wandering friends and relatives pictures and a ‘there’s benefits to marriage’)

Bedding, blankets, and the like generally is made from plant-based fibers and/or wool- the latter being very common for things like baby clothes and wives’ beds because are less likely to try to eat it- and while synthetics became far more common for a while there they’ve fallen out of favor and are now fairly rare, mostly restricted to poorer families and herds who can’t afford to replace them

Osmosians

Sort’ve a cross between communal and individual sleepers, though still with separate beds

It all depends on the person, how old they are, and whether they’re living with kin

An adult living outside of their clan dens may den alone, may den with any romantic partners, or with members or children of their Nesting if they’re part of one

Private dens, outside of clan dens, typically consist of a more public sitting space onto which is attached a smaller den large enough for 2-3 individuals to sleep or up to three 1-person dens

An adult living within their clan dens may also den alone or in those small groupings, but it’s less common- while you will find some of the more private style of den, most are just sleeping spaces large enough to house anywhere from four to eight people each, depending on the clan

Dens, in this context, consist of a dug out space just large enough for a number of beds equal to the presumed number of occupants, with one or more spaces dug into the walls to hold chests containing personal belongings (though areas with bed frames often seen things stored under them as well)

Whether or not bed frames are used varies by area, and as with most things made by Ossys when they do exist they’re made of stone or metal more often than not

Bedding, for most on Osmos V, consists of piles of hide layered together to make a comfortable cushion, with items made from plant-based fibers being more common nearer to major water sources, and those with ties to off-world trade having more ready access to imports like furs and synthetic materials

Of course things are different for the little children

Osmosian nests are scrapes formed from stone and metal and chicks stay in them with their dam for about their first half year Ossy time (so, about 15 months Earth time)

At that point they get moved into the creche proper, where they’re sleeping on larger, less easily stuck in one’s mouth, stones until they get passed their first birthday, when they graduate to sleeping on hide

At 3 (~7-8 Earth time) they move from the creche and begin sleeping in the same dens as their parents

At 6-7 (~15-18 Earth time) they move into dens with a few cousins or siblings if available, if not they continue to share dens with their parents until they’ve reached at least 8 (~20 Earth time) and can begin living as adults, and if they do move in with siblings or cousins then it’s entirely possible and common for them to continue to live like that as adults for at least a few more years

Erinaens

I don’t think the words ‘separate beds’ have been spoken on Eri other than by Osmosians in hushed whispers, fuckers are the most communal of sleepers

An Erinaen household typically only has one bedroom, two is a big house, and three is just showing off

The entire family sleeps in that room, though yes Erinaen buildings tend to have something similar to a mezzanine (only the one per room, however), it’s still a space the size of your average Ossy sleeping den with typically at least another half dozen people in it, these bastards cram and pile

Take a second for that, a space that fits three Osmosians in separate beds will fit over a dozen Erinaens in a sprawling mass of fur and quills

In areas that get truly cold households may come together into one space for the winter- often either 1) groups of siblings and cousins who leave near each other and don’t yet have families of their own, 2) intermarried groups with no or only a handful of free-range children between them, 3) elderly groups of friends and family with no more children between them- allowing them to accumulate body heat to stave off the winter

Body heat is the major source of home heating amongst Erinaens

Bedrooms, like all rooms, tend to have shelves carved into the walls to house personal and family items

Bedding is... have you ever looked inside a packrat midden? It’s that.

Start again- traditional bedding amongst Erinaens consists of a thick layer of leaves, fur, and feathers covering the whole of the floor, with colder regions also often having furs and lengths of cloth used to supplement the household’s body heat

On Eri at least, while they’ve heard of mattresses, they really don’t see the benefit- yes it keeps things from getting stuck in your quills, but it’s another thing to clean in comparison to just being able to haul everything out and toss it when it starts to smell or get insects or spring comes back around because like fuck you went and re-bedded the bedroom during winter

Lenopan (yes! they get to be on the list for the first time! clap for them!)

Not traditionally communal sleepers as adults

Dams will share a room in the children’s house with their latest clutch until they’re about 4-5 years old, then move back into their main house with said children

Children typically share a room with their clutchmates and/or similarly aged cousins living in the same house, until their mid-to-late teens, when they start being split off to their own rooms

While you get communal nappers, they tend to prefer to properly sleep alone- likely a leftover from their solitary predator ancestors

Bedrooms are more spacious than for Ossys or Erinaens, and often serve also as personal spaces to get away from family, work on personal projects, have some damn privacy, that sort’ve thing

In drier areas, it’s not uncommon to have a small, shallow pool of water in one corner of the room, to keep the humidity up, though off the homeworld this is typically replaced with a humidifier or misting system

Bedding, as we know it, isn’t really a thing among Lenopan, typically an individual will decide on their favorite sleeping spot, not put shit there, and that’s mostly that, but to fit personal preference their equivalent is temporary inserts, often coming in pieces you can install yourself to your own ideal, in a variety of materials and textures which are put together in an individual’s preferred sleeping spot to cover the floor and walls as preferred

Your typical bedroom is made of smooth, closely laid tile, uniform and cool to the touch, though concrete is also sometimes used, especially in children’s rooms

It’s harder to do inserts for children’s rooms, but most decent families will put in the effort to try to work something out so they can all be comfortable, even if that means having to split them up early because two or more just can’t share a living space

[terracotta-retreat]

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Nestled in the heart of the picturesque Texas Hill Country, Terracotta Retreat is the epitome of luxury and comfort, offering an unforgettable escape for families, friends, and groups. Whether you’re planning a reunion, family vacation, or just a tranquil retreat with your closest companions, Terracotta Retreat has everything you need to unwind, relax, and make lasting memories.

 A Luxury Escape Like No Other

Spread across a serene 5-acre landscape, Terracotta Retreat accommodates up to 30 guests in seven beautifully appointed homes, ensuring both space and privacy for all. Each home is thoughtfully designed to create a comfortable and welcoming atmosphere, filled with high-end finishes and luxurious amenities.

Imagine yourself relaxing by one of the two crystal-clear pools, sipping a cool drink under the warm Texas sun, or soaking in a bubbling hot tub as the evening sky glows. And when you’re ready for some fun, enjoy a friendly game of cornhole, basketball, or even a cookout with friends in the outdoor kitchen, complete with a commercial-grade grill and smoker.

 Explore the Unique Accommodations

Terracotta Retreat offers a collection of distinct homes, each with its own charm and features to cater to various guest needs:

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Each home is equipped with plush beds, stylish furnishings, and modern amenities, ensuring every guest feels at home during their stay.

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The outdoor spaces at Terracotta Retreat are nothing short of breathtaking. With expansive covered patios and comfortable seating areas, guests can enjoy the fresh air and scenic views while dining al fresco or lounging with a good book. The main patio features a large sectional couch and a 60-inch Smart TV, making it an ideal spot for evening gatherings.

For the chefs at heart, the outdoor kitchen is a dream come true. Complete with a commercial-grade grill, smoker, and ample counter space, this is the perfect setup for a memorable cookout under the stars. After dinner, gather around the firepit for s’mores, or relax in the six-person hot tub, watching the Texas sunset paint the sky in vibrant colors.

Kids will love the play structure and large grass area for running around, while adults can indulge in a little friendly competition with cornhole or dart boards at the Fish Camp.

 Pet-Friendly Perfection

At Terracotta Retreat, we understand that pets are part of the family, and they deserve to join in on the vacation fun! Your furry friends are more than welcome here, with ample space for them to roam and play. Be sure to review our pet policy, which includes fees and guidelines to ensure a comfortable stay for all guests—two-legged and four-legged alike!

Perfectly Situated in the Heart of the Texas Hill Country

Located just five miles from downtown Wimberley, Terracotta Retreat offers easy access to the area’s vibrant attractions, historic landmarks, and outdoor adventures. Spend your days exploring nearby hiking trails, visiting local wineries, or shopping in Wimberley’s charming boutiques. Whether you're craving adventure or relaxation, the Texas Hill Country has something for everyone.

 Book Your Stay Today!

Looking for the ultimate combination of luxury and relaxation? Book your stay at Terracotta Retreat and enjoy an unforgettable getaway surrounded by natural beauty and world-class amenities. With plenty of room for large groups, stunning outdoor spaces, and a welcoming atmosphere for both guests and their pets, Terracotta Retreat promises memories that will last a lifetime.

To book your stay or learn more, visit our website or reach out to us directly. Follow us on social media to stay updated on the latest news and enjoy a sneak peek at the retreat's stunning features.

Terracotta Retreat | Wimberley, Texas  

LuxuryGetaway TexasHillCountryRetreat FamilyVacation PetFriendlyEscape TerracottaRetreat OutdoorOasis RelaxInStyle

[egyptianhomelinenss]

Fitted Sheet Size Chart: The Ultimate Guide by Egyptian Home Linens

When it comes to creating the perfect sleep environment, the right fitted sheet plays a crucial role. A well-fitting sheet can enhance your sleep quality by staying snug on your mattress, providing a smooth, comfortable surface. However, finding the perfect fitted sheet isn't always straightforward due to the variety of mattress sizes and sheet dimensions. In this comprehensive guide by Egyptian Home Linens, we’ll walk you through everything you need to know about Fitted Sheet Size Chart, ensuring you select the perfect match for your mattress.

Understanding Fitted Sheet Size Chart

Fitted Sheet Size Chart are designed with elastic corners to stay securely in place on your mattress. They are measured by three dimensions: length, width, and depth. While the length and width correspond to the size of your mattress, the depth (or pocket size) is determined by the thickness of your mattress. Getting the right combination is key to ensuring a good night's sleep, free from sheets bunching up or slipping off.

https://jpcdn.it/img/044d40e8dd9124d21574f4efd5f2ca65.png

Common Mattress Sizes and Their Corresponding Fitted Sheets

Mattress sizes vary across the world, but in most regions, standard sizes are Twin, Twin XL, Full (Double), Queen, King, and California King. Let’s break down the ideal fitted sheet sizes for each mattress dimension:

Twin Size Mattress

Dimensions: 39” x 75”

Fitted Sheet Size: 39” x 75” with a pocket depth of 8-14 inches

Ideal For: Children’s rooms, guest rooms, or bunk beds.

Twin XL Size Mattress

Dimensions: 39” x 80”

Fitted Sheet Size: 39” x 80” with a pocket depth of 8-14 inches

Ideal For: College dorms or taller individuals who need extra length.

Full (Double) Size Mattress

Dimensions: 54” x 75”

Fitted Sheet Size: 54” x 75” with a pocket depth of 10-15 inches

Ideal For: Couples or single sleepers who prefer extra space.

Queen Size Mattress

Dimensions: 60” x 80”

Fitted Sheet Size: 60” x 80” with a pocket depth of 10-18 inches

Ideal For: Master bedrooms, accommodating couples comfortably.

King Size Mattress

Dimensions: 76” x 80”

Fitted Sheet Size: 76” x 80” with a pocket depth of 10-18 inches

Ideal For: Couples who desire maximum space or families sharing a bed.

California King Size Mattress

Dimensions: 72” x 84”

Fitted Sheet Size: 72” x 84” with a pocket depth of 10-18 inches

Ideal For: Taller individuals or those who need more legroom.

Why Pocket Depth Matters

One critical factor often overlooked when selecting a fitted sheet is the pocket depth. The pocket depth should match the thickness of your mattress to ensure a snug fit. Standard fitted sheets usually have a pocket depth of 8-14 inches, which suits most mattresses. However, if you have a pillow-top, memory foam, or any other type of mattress topper, you may need a deep-pocket fitted sheet with a depth of up to 18 inches or more.

Measuring Your Mattress Depth:

Strip your mattress of all bedding.

Using a tape measure, measure from the top seam to the bottom seam, including any mattress toppers.

Knowing your mattress depth helps prevent the frustration of fitted sheets that are too tight or too loose, leading to a perfect, smooth sleep surface.

Choosing the Right Material for Your Fitted Sheets

At Egyptian Home Linens, we believe that comfort starts with the fabric. Our fitted sheets come in a range of materials, each offering unique benefits:

Egyptian Cotton: Renowned for its long fibers and exceptional softness, Egyptian cotton is highly breathable, durable, and becomes softer with every wash. Ideal for those who value luxury and comfort.

Percale: Crisp and lightweight, percale sheets are perfect for hot sleepers or warm climates. They offer a cool, fresh feel against the skin.

Sateen: For a silky, smooth finish, sateen sheets are the way to go. They are slightly heavier and provide a luxurious sheen that adds elegance to any bedroom decor.

Tips for Maintaining Your Fitted Sheets

Wash Regularly: To maintain freshness and longevity, wash your sheets every 1-2 weeks. Follow the care instructions on the label to avoid damage.

Avoid Over-Drying: Over-drying can weaken fibers and cause shrinkage. Use a low-heat setting on your dryer and remove sheets promptly.

Ironing and Storing: If you prefer crisp sheets, a light iron will help keep them wrinkle-free. Store in a cool, dry place to maintain fabric quality.

Finding Your Perfect Fit at Egyptian Home Linens

We offer a variety of fitted sheets tailored to different mattress sizes and pocket depths. Our detailed Bedding Size Chart can guide you in selecting the right sheet to fit your mattress perfectly. With a focus on quality and comfort, Egyptian Home Linens ensures that each sheet is crafted to enhance your sleep experience.

Conclusion

Choosing the right fitted sheet size is more than just a matter of matching dimensions; it's about creating a comfortable, inviting sleep environment that promotes restful sleep. At Egyptian Home Linens, we are committed to providing high-quality, luxurious fitted sheets that cater to every mattress size and preference. Visit our Egyptian Home Linens today to explore our full range of bedding options and find your perfect fitted sheet!

[mkfurn]

Buy Triple Bed With X Rail Products | Mkfurnishings.ie

The wooden three-poster bunk bed by Mkfurnishings.ie will be the focal point of any room. Mkfurnishings is the place to get high-quality, fashionable furniture for each area in your house.like the high-quality Triple Sleeper Products on Sale at Mkfurnishings.ie, which can be a great addition to any house. Stylish and exquisite products abound, from bunk beds to accessories!

Buy Triple Bed With X Rail Products

[homestoreukofficial]

Bunk Up the Fun: Maximize Space and Spark Imagination with Bunk Beds from Home Store UK

Living in London often means maximizing space, especially when it comes to bedrooms. For families with multiple children or those seeking a fun and functional sleep solution, bunk beds from Home Store UK offer the perfect answer! We are your trusted London-based furniture store, providing a wide selection of stylish and sturdy bunk beds to suit your needs and create a space that sparks imagination and encourages slumber parties.

Why Choose Bunk Beds from Home Store UK?

Space-Saving Solution: Bunk beds are a fantastic space-saving solution, creating two sleeping areas within the footprint of one traditional bed. This frees up valuable floor space for play areas, study desks, or storage solutions.

Durability and Safety: We understand the importance of safety, especially when it comes to children's furniture. Our bunk beds are built with high-quality materials and adhere to strict safety regulations. Many feature sturdy guardrails for added peace of mind.

Sibling Sleepovers: Bunk beds are a dream come true for siblings, fostering a sense of closeness and providing the perfect setting for sleepovers and whispered secrets.

Style and Functionality: Bunk beds don't have to be boring! Home Store UK offers a variety of stylish options to complement your décor. Choose from classic wooden designs, modern metal frames, or even bunk beds with built-in storage solutions.

Explore Our Exciting Selection of Bunk Beds:

Home Store UK boasts a diverse collection of bunk beds to suit your space and preferences:

Single Over Single: This classic configuration is ideal for siblings who share a room.

Single Over Double: Perfect for accommodating an older child and a younger sibling, or for creating extra sleeping space for guests.

Triple Bunk Beds: Maximize your space with triple bunk beds, offering three sleeping areas in one! These are ideal for larger families or creating a fun sleepover haven.

Mid-Sleeper Bunk Beds: These offer a practical solution for smaller bedrooms, creating a raised bed with space beneath for a desk, storage, or a cosy reading nook.

High Sleeper Bunk Beds: For ultimate space optimization, high sleeper bunk beds create a raised bed with ample space underneath for a desk, wardrobe, or play area.

Find the Perfect Bunk Bed for Your Family Fun:

Whether you have two siblings sharing a room or you're looking to create a fun and functional sleep space for one child, we have the perfect bunk bed for you. Browse our extensive collection online at https://homestoreuk.co.uk/product-category/landlord/beds/bunk-beds/. Filter by size, configuration, features, and style to find the ideal match for your needs.

Need Help Making a Choice?

Our friendly customer service team is here to assist you! Contact us today by phone: 02081234525 or email: info@homestoreuk.co.uk We'll help you find the perfect bunk bed to transform your children's bedroom into a fun and functional space, maximizing space and sparking imaginations!

Embrace the space-saving and fun benefits of bunk beds from Home Store UK, your trusted provider of stylish and functional furniture in London!

[antvnger]

A sleeper trains is a kind of train that specializes in overnight trips, it's usually got three kinds of rooms you can book on three different train cars, a whole dinning car, and an observation car. If you've seen or read Harry Potter, the train they take to Hogwarts is a sleeper trains older than pull out beds. Most sleeper trains now use the pull out to make bunk beds in at least two of the three kinds of rooms they offer, the cheap rooms are usually best for one person, the middle price rooms are good for two but still a bit cramp, and depending on the luxury levels of the expensive rooms you can get anywhere from two to four people in one comfortably. Also some trains will try to tell you that the cheap rooms fit two but don't listen to that, they're the smallest rooms and tend to turn two chair seats into a single bed with a bunk that pulls out over that, and no room for your luggage once you've set the beds up, it's best to only put one person in those rooms. If you want two people you need at least a mid price room. Some trains will have super nice beds in the expensive rooms, like queen sized ones with nice bedding!

Sir Anon

WOW! That’s really neat actually. Yeah, I should’ve guessed the purpose by the name, I guess, but still! It was more insightful telling me instead.

So the Hogwarts Express is a sleeper train, huh? That’s cool! So like I guess the Orient Express is another one, right? I remember that from the movie. That’s cool…although with the way they try to sell some of these rooms, though, that’s definitely not cool.

I wanna ride a train someday; I think that would be awesome! And I mean like an old school one or like a sleeper train, not like the subway in NYC, ya know?

[hot-hellboy]

Body on Fire - A Perjasico Fanfic (Part 2)

Part 1

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

    Shockingly, Percy and Jason weren't at all opposed to the idea. And if Nico was being completely sure with himself, he was convinced that Percy seemed actually a little excited. Jason was definitely happy to do it, but he seemed a little more reserved about the whole thing. Or maybe that was just Jason being Jason—he always tried to be respectful about everything, and part of that wasn't giving away what he was really thinking.

   In fact, the conversation went a little something like this:

   "Hey, Nico. Annabeth talked to us, and I wanted to let you know that I'd be more than happy to help you out. No team member left hanging, am I right?"

   Percy had said, and looking back on it, it was so like him to try and lighten the mood with a joke or a change of tone.

   "Yeah, same here."

    Jason had added. He wasn't being cold by any means, but he had seemed just a bit more cautious with how he approached the topic with Nico than Percy had been. Maybe it was because Percy had known him far longer than the other alpha had, but either way their responses had helped to ease his worry.

   That was, until, things actually started heating up.

   The three of them agreed to alternate between bunking with each other in either Percy or Jason's cabins so that Nico wouldn't ever be left unattended in case he needed anything. They also decided to make it so that they operated in taking shifts with at least one alpha being there at all times until it was time to alternate. All of these conversations were had while Nico was still in a relatively stable state of mind, before the unconsciousness of the "heat haze" had taken over.

   And when his heat did actually start, the three boys were staying in Jason's cabin, and that's when the cramps started kicking in. It was during the middle of the night when Nico had begun feeling a sharp pain in his side when he awoke from sleeping in between the two alphas on Jason's massive bed. The omega whimpered softly when the pain started becoming sharper, but luckily Percy heard him and was up in a heartbeat. Which was totally unusual for him since Percy, aside from Nico, was already a heavy sleeper, but perhaps the sound of an omega in distress was what got him moving.     Jason had woken up shortly after, and both alphas allowed Nico to scent their wrists and other places that contained scent glands, which was enough to placate him for now. Sometimes, when heats had just started, scenting was all an omega needed to calm down again before things started getting a lot more complicated later on. Scenting also helped with heat cramps since the calming effects alphas had on omegas in heat were strong enough to fix whatever pain was manifesting during the very start of their cycle. Nico ended up falling back asleep already feeling much better, although he couldn't help but blush and smile to himself when he felt Percy's arm naturally loop around his waist once he too fell asleep as well.

      The         End.

[what-noooo-never]

Ghost story time!

This is gonna be a ramble to buckle in!

Hi, call me Salt! I'm someone who gets regular nightmares which is important to the context of this story. So!

Context points:

Around a year ago, I got a new nightmare (that has since recurred around 4-5 times) that involved a smiling, tall, curly haired man in a pinstripe suit in my conservatory, named 'Wayus?'- strange with the question marks, I know, but it's always only said like a question rather then a statement, so that's mainly for inflection.

Both of my parents are medically trained and work in the field of medicine, have since before I was born.

My father is Athiest, and a skeptic to anything supernatural

My mother is a Norse Pagan, Hereditary witch, and believes in the supernatural completely

My sister is 5 years older then me, and has never been the one with anxiety (I managed to get that gene)

There is no current running line in my family on either side of psychosis, but hey, who knows, right?

Me and my parents still live in the house, my sister moved out 5 years ago and the story I'm about to tell is from three separate conversations about it pieced together afterwards.

Right, Onto the story now that context is out the way!

I was telling my elder sister about this dream and what happened in it, when she said she recognised that description from when she was around 10-11 (she can't remember exactly).

She had woken up one morning and gone through a day feeling like something was wrong- dissociated and nauseous etc. So she went to bed around the same time as I had that night (I was around 5-6 at the time.) Important to note- we had bunk beds, where I slept on top and she slept underneath me.

At around 11pm, she woke up in a panic and decided to take herself to the toilet, hoping the light and some relief would be all she needed. Once she was done, she was about to open the bathroom door when she became terrified to do so- the kind of paralysing fear that makes it hard to breathe or move, as if she would be in danger if she opened the door.

So my sister did what any child would do- she called for my parents. My house isn't big- a standard British council house- yet somehow my parents didn't hear her yelling for them. So instead, when she realised they weren't coming, she grabbed the towels from the drying racks, covered herself and tried to sleep in the bathroom until morning.

She slept a couple hours, then woke up in a cold sweat, absolutely terrified to even open her eyes this time, regardless of the fact that she had the bathroom light on.

My sister then screamed for my mum again, and this time, my mum appeared to calm her down, and my sister explained that she was terrified to leave the bathroom, and if mum could get her back into the bedroom (by the way, layout in the house is bathroom is at the top of the stairs, then directly next to that is mine and my sisters room, then my parents room, then the room they were going to move me into soon.)

Obviously like a good parent my mum came in and sat my sister on the bed to console and calm her, and to try and figure out what was going on. My dad, at this point, was still asleep, as he is a deep sleeper.

But as soon as my sister sat on her bunk, mini me sat up and started coughing. (I don't remember any of this, but I was young and sleep deprived at 2am, so I'm not too worried about that).

It was a deep, hollow chested death rattle cough, loud enough that it did actually wake my dad up this time- so while my mum consoled my sister, my dad ran in and took me into the bathroom, starting a hot shower and sitting me on the edge of the bathtub to breathe in the steam and clear my throat.

My parents then talked across the cracked doors of the close rooms as to whether they should call an ambulance for me.

(This is where it gets creepy)

My mum suddenly stopped upon seeing a tall, skinny man with curly hair walk across the landing and to the top of the stairs, walking as if he lived there, right outside both the bedroom and bathroom doors- though from my dads angle with me, he couldn't see.

And, as one would, my mum yelled at my dad that there was an intruder in the house.

Dad opened the bathroom door to see the back of the man's head descending the short flight of stairs and turning into the kitchen, and raced down after him, screaming- "Who the fuck are you?! Get the fuck out of my house! I'm not letting you near my daughters!"

Once he got downstairs, he couldn't find the man. My dad searched everywhere for almost an hour down there as my mum stood between the doors to keep at eye on the landing and both me and my sister.

Not finding anything in the cupboards, cabinets, under sofas etc. my dad came back upstairs and put us to bed, while my mum went and checked all the locks (everything was shut and locked already).

The next day I was fine- didn't even have a hoarse throat, and my sister says that as soon as dad ran out and yelled "Get out of my house!", she felt safe again, and slept well.

It wasn't something the family talked about, since not long after was when I started having nightmares on a regular basis and my family focused on my mental health, meaning the topic of what happened never came up.

That was until I described the smiling man from my dream, stood in the conservatory of our house, the one place my dad checked without going into, watching, saying nothing, with his curly hair and tall frame.

I only told my family about the nightmare the day after it happened because I was too shaken up to describe it at first- and I told them all separately- each gave me the same story from their perspective.