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cathey-winchester-666 · 2 years

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I READ CHAPTER 23 OF LFLS BY @eternalglitch (again) AND MY BRAIN IS GOING A MILLION MILES AN HOUR AND I HAVE A THEORY THAT I HAVEN'T SEEN ANYONE ELSE POST ABOUT YET AND IDK WHY PEOPLE AREN'T TALKING ABOUT IT.

FIRST OF ALL, THE ANGST IS BEAUTIFUL ANOTHER PAINFULLY CRAFTED MASTERPIECE I LOVE IT SO MUCH THANK YOU FOR SHARING WITH THE CLASS WE ALL LOVE (and loathe a little, but we’re kinda also to blame for indulging in the pain lmao) YOUR WORK.

I just want you to know it’s got my brain worms tossing and turning in their little graves. I am seriously considering properly analysing your fic (threat).

Now on to the theory (below the cut to avoid spoilers) :)

WHAT THE HELL ARE THE NOTIFICATIONS THAT DONNIE KEEPS GETTING????

Well, here’s my theory: Muninn and Huginn (I refuse to believe he’s dead)….

Just think about it for a second. With the whole scuffle that was going down, Muninn had time to escape, or at least find a place to hide and carry Huginn off with him to (or drag or whatever).

There’s no way that Muninn would return to Draxum after the betrayal and the showing of Draxum’s true colours and all that juicy angsty stuff. And the pair have also canonically not had a previous master (at least none that they’ve stuck with for a substantial length of time) that they would go to in a crisis. And he wouldn’t return to the Gargoyle Sanctum thingamabob we saw them come from in the series. So that leaves only one conclusion: Muninn is somewhere out there fending for himself and a very injured Huginn.

My theory is that Donnie’s little notifications are of Muninn resurfacing for supplies - we’ve seen how often the boys have to change bandages for wounds in LFLS, so the logical implementations are that he has to buy a fair amount of bandages for his buddy. Whilst he would have to buy bandages for Huginn, there’s also the additional requirement of food - it doesn’t matter how small they are, the little guys still have to eat - and Muninn is only small and canonically not very strong, which means he can’t carry heavy loads of shopping. Also, without the income (if he even got any) from Draxum and/or the ability to rely on the yokai for a constant supply of food, much like a dog it’s owner (not derogatory, that’s just how they’re represented in the series) that means Muninn had to risk leaving Huginn often to steal food and supplies. Seventeen times in a week may seem a bit excessive, but when you’re building an infirmary from scratch and consider how tiny Muninn’s little arms are, it really isn’t that crazy.

NOW, ON TO WHY DONNIE HASNT SAID/DONE ANYTHING ABOUT THIS YET

This bit’s a little bit flimsy and I’m not too sure how to answer it, but I’m doing my best to fill the 7ft plot-holes in my theory. I believe it is due to a possible combination of three things: (1) He’s worried about how injured his family is and he doesn’t think they can handle another fight; (2) He’s not sure how Leo will react to seeing the Gargoyle pair again (this is the big one); (3) Donnie may not completely trust them yet (HEAR ME OUT!!) and he hasn’t turned off the notifications bc he feels guilty for not doing anything, but he still wants to know that they’re there and alive (also, if Draxum suddenly appears, Don will know about it).

(I also have a theory that Don is going to try and save them himself, but that's a very shaky one because of the trauma of Leo going alone and what that all entailed that glitch has been exploring throughout the fic. He probs has several trackers planted on the whole family by now. I’d honestly be more surprised if he didn’t.)

But I digress. On to theory one: The family is 100% injured and not at all ready for a fight. April is out of commission, Raph's hands are fried (but I feel that he would insist on joining a fight anyway), and we all not Leo's kinda down in the dumps. Plus, everyone is emotionally and mentally destroyed. They are not up for any kind of fight. And Donnie doesn't exactly strike me as the kind of person who intentionally puts his family in more danger than is necessary, especially in this current situation.

Number two: He's not sure how Leo will react to seeing the sidekicks present for the worst trauma he's ever (and hopefully will ever) experience in his lifetime. The pair were there during just about everything that happened to him - including the Battle Nexus, when Draxum wasn't present - and Leo would undoubtedly have made strong links in his mind between the gargoyles and the trauma he experienced. One can pretty confidently assume that having the pair around whilst he is trying to recover and whilst the fear of Draxum's return is still very heavy in the air, is going to cause problems for both Leo and the rest of the family, even if they know that the gargoyles willingly chose to help at the risk of their own lives. And if a dumdum such as myself can make those links, then there's no way that Donnie hasn't made them as well. For the sake of his family (especially Leo), Donnie is choosing to do nothing for the ex-henchgoyles. BUT, with each passing day and as more of the notifications continue, Donnie's guilt may start to eat him up inside and he's likely to just react without thinking (he's very emotionally tense and high-strung, so he's not thinking like his usual, logical self) and try to rescue them. I could go so much further into depth about the repercussions of what the gargoyles being in the lair might do to the fam, especially Leo, but I'm trying to keep this relatively short, lemme know if you wanna know more and I'll theory dump on you :)

Third and final: Donnie doesn't completely trust them. Let's be honest, Donnie's never really struck me as the overly trusting type and this whole situation would have only amplified it and made his trust issues a thousand times worse. This one is probably my flimsiest reasoning and it likely just added on to the others.

Either way, whether I'm right or not, I know glitch won't leave us hanging with that forever. They're a good writer and they don't seem to me to be the kind of author that leaves loose ends just hanging around. Cliffhangers, absolutely without a doubt they leave us hanging off of. But not loose ends (especially with how hard they were hinting at the notifications during the last chapter, it MUST be something important and I am absolutely BURSTING to find out what it is :)

(I'm looking back over and you can tell which one my favourite theory is LOL)

#the hyperfixation is strong with this one #BRUH the adhd do be hitting hard #literally spent AGES on this when i should be doing legal studies #if you squint you can see me waving my education farewell #lfls #rottmnt leo #rottmnt #rottmnt donnatello #rottmnt mikey #save rottmnt #tmnt #lfls theory #rottmnt lfls #lfls leo #lfls spoilers #green lfls #lfls fanart #theory

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stonecoldsilly · 4 years

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Thirty Days of Transience

Read on Ao3

The echoes of the song fade away from the valley, and Geralt sighs.

‘Look, bard, as fun as this was, and really, it was a fucking riot, are you going to fuck off at all?’

The boy blinks up at him and grins.

‘Nope,’ he says, popping his lips obnoxiously.

Geralt didn’t really think it was going to be that easy, but a sinking feeling descends upon him anyway.

‘What do you mean, no?’

‘This was a very successful first outing. You make a fantastic muse, truly you do. Already I can almost hear the applause we shall receive on our triumphant return!’

First outing, thinks Geralt, and outright panics. Fuck that.

He spurs Roach into a canter, and leaves the boy behind in the dust, hooting and hollering after him.

Evening falls. His camp is set up some ways into the woods, and he has a fat little hare on the spit. Roach is snuffling away in her nosebag happily, and Geralt is just settling down to note down the details of the incident in his bestiary when his ears prick up. A heartbeat, human, about half a mile off, and dreadfully familiar…

‘You have got to be kidding me.’ He groans aloud, and Roach sympathises. ‘He’s persistent, I’ll give him that.’ She waves her tail in his direction meaningfully, and Geralt waits. He is not going to dismantle his entire camp and flee from one little human, he is not…

The boy stumbles through the bracken towards the light of the campfire eventually, making enough racket to alert predators for miles around, and squinting directly into the light, ruining his admittedly already limited night vision completely. Idiot.

‘Ah, hello, Geralt. Come here often?’ He grins, and sets his lute down carefully, before slumping on the nearest log with a sigh.

Geralt just stares at him. That turns out to be a mistake, because the bard takes it as an opportunity to start talking.

‘Not that I didn’t appreciate the view, the mighty Witcher and his steed riding into the sunset, but really, that was downright indecorous of you, heading off without even a farewell.’

Geralt can’t quite believe this little pipsqueak is trying to scold him about his manners. His heartrate is steady, he’s not sweating with fear, he just looks up at Geralt sternly.

Geralt snaps his head around to look at him, letting his pupils dilate fully. He bares his teeth, sharp canines glinting in the firelight, and growls, ‘What are you doing here, bard?’

The boy just looks at him, placid as anything. Not even a tinge of fear.

‘You saved my life.’ He says, solemnly. ‘I certainly didn’t do anything to persuade Filavandrel otherwise, you did.’

Geralt frowns at him, and the bard cracks a little smile.

‘And if the, er, forgive me, if the so-called ‘Meat-Purveyor of Certain Unnamed Market Towns’, if you will, can talk down the quite justly furious Filavandrel, then it makes me start to question certain common beliefs, as it were.’

He just stares, and the boy unpacks his new lute carefully, angling it up to the firelight and admiring the finish.

‘I am what they call me.’ Geralt manages, after several minutes.

‘And what things they call you.’ The boy says, glancing at him briefly. Their eyes only meet for a moment, but still Geralt feels pinned by it.

He goes on the defensive.

‘It makes no difference to me what they call me. I neither need nor want a barker.’

‘Allow me to try.’

‘No.’ He says flatly.

The boy sighs, and sets the lute down gingerly, before swivelling to face him and resting his elbows on his knees.

‘Look, Geralt, at this point what on earth have you possibly got to lose? If you would simply let me at least make the attempt…’

Geralt grits his teeth and glares at him.

‘You could die. You nearly died once today already, you said so yourself. And then I get whoever your people are, swearing vengeance on me, and making things worse. This life is not safe.’

‘I could die tomorrow, of an apoplexy, or at the end of some bandit’s sword. No life is safe.’

‘You would only get in the way.’ Geralt tries.

‘I promise. I only mean to be a help, truly, not a hindrance.’

‘You don’t even have any supplies. No pack, no bedroll, no food. I am not babysitting you.’

The boy winks at him, and shoves his arm down into his trousers quickly, before revealing a handful of rather battered looking bread rolls.

Geralt blinks at him.

‘Told you I had bread in my pants.’ He says, and winks. Geralt almost cracks then, and he can feel a smile trying to form before he schools his expression.

‘Come on, Geralt, let me try. I owe you my life, and I put no little stock in that. It’s the only one I shall have, and I’m rather pleased with it so far. Give me a chance, and I can make things easier for you. For your kind. Change the bastards’ minds, prove them all wrong. Come on.’

Geralt considers this carefully, and pokes at the hare a bit with his stick.

The bard waits, seemingly content to let Geralt respond at his own pace.

‘What’s in it for you?’ He asks, genuinely puzzled.

‘Inspiration. Protection. An education in the wilder side of living, as it were.’

Geralt snorts.

‘Think of it as a business transaction, if you prefer. An equal exchange. In return for graciously allowing me to witness your talents at work, I will provide companionship, assistance, and an improved reputation.’

Gods help him, but the boy is persuasive.

‘I don’t need companionship. I’ve managed this long just fine without assistance…’ He sighs. ‘But I’ll concede on the last point.’

The bard grins like a fox.

‘Give me a year.’

‘A year?’ Geralt splutters. ‘A week would be too long. You escaped the King of the Elves today bard, isn’t that enough inspiration to be getting on with?’

‘I do not intend to let Destiny slip through my fingers.’ He says, smiling faintly. ‘Who knows what foes you will face next? I would not miss a one. A year, if you please.’

‘A week.’

‘My, you are an accomplished haggler aren’t you. Far more practiced than I, of course. However, and you must concede the point here my dear Witcher, I must admit, even I cannot charm an entire Continent into submission in a week, although I do appreciate the flattery. A month, to ply my trade, and prove myself a worthy travel companion, and if you are not satisfied thirty days hence, then we shall part as strangers once more.’

Geralt leans forward himself then and wags his stick in the boy’s direction.

‘You cannot get in the way.’

He plasters a very convincingly serious expression on his face, but his eyes are dancing with barely repressed glee.

‘I swear it.’

‘You have to do as I say.’

‘Within reason. But I will concede to your expertise.’

‘If I say run, you run. If I say hide, you hide. If I say, bard, fetch me three strands of white Holly and two hedgehog quills, what do you do?’

‘Speaking honestly, I’d probably say ‘Geralt, what the fuck, how am I supposed to know what white holly is?’, but I appreciate the sentiment. Complete obedience, within reason, at your disposal.’

‘Hmm.’ Geralt says.

The boy’s leg betrays his eagerness, bouncing nervously even as he watches Geralt’s face with an innocent expression.

‘Fine. You have your month.’ He says, regretting it already.

‘Yes! You won’t regret this Geralt, really you won’t.’ He jumps to his feet and steps closer, smiling.

‘Shake on it.’ He says, commandingly, and Geralt just huffs, but reaches up anyway. ‘Gloves off Geralt, for goodness sake, let’s be civil.’

He peels off his leathers, outright baffled by this bright little human, bossing him about as if Geralt couldn’t snap him in half easily as breathing. The boy takes his bare hand in a surprisingly firm grip, and shakes it sincerely, as if he were any other man, as if his word meant anything to humans, as if he genuinely doesn’t believe the tales.

This whole day has been full of marvels.

The boy grins at him again, radiating only a fresh-apple scent that is surprisingly pleasant. It bodes well in a travel companion. For a half a second, he dares to be vaguely optimistic, until the bard opens his mouth again.

‘Now that the business talk is dealt with, care to share your hare?’

He snickers at his own joke, and Geralt sighs, but divvies it up into two portions anyway. The boy throws him a bread roll in exchange, and they eat in peace and quiet on opposite sides of the little fire until he clears his throat again.

‘About the er, sleeping arrangements. Not to be indelicate Geralt, but I, er, haven’t any.’

Geralt swallows around his suddenly rather dry mouthful of hare, and blinks rather owlishly at the boy, uncertain as to what he’s asking.

‘See, I know we only met this morning, but I’m rather fond of you already. And as business partners, I feel we have already managed to jump the hurdle of strangers getting to know one another, and gone headfirst into the hitherto unexplored territory of acquaintances.’

Geralt just sits, taken aback, and mouths business partners to himself. He ignores the ‘rather fond’ part for fear of his own sanity, never mind the bard’s.

‘Without beating around the bush, as it were, after one’s newfound acquaintance saves one’s life, it becomes very difficult to believe that one’s er, virtue is imperiled by said acquaintance.’

Geralt nearly chokes.

‘What.’ He wheezes.

‘Well I just thought, it’s a rather chilly evening, and perhaps, if it wouldn’t inconvenience you awfully, if you wouldn’t mind possibly adjusting your usual nightly routine to accommodate myself?’

‘What?’

The boy sighs, gesturing grandly.

‘Geralt, to put it plainly, I am cold. I have no bedroll in my possession. I should like, in short, to share your bedroll, under the proviso that no hanky-panky take place without prior permission from both parties.’

‘Hanky-panky?’ He repeats, helplessly. The boy is pretty, and well-formed, but Geralt honestly hadn’t even thought as far ahead as hanky, let alone panky.

‘I will require another handshake.’ The boy says, meeting his gaze firmly.

‘I can sleep on the ground.’ He says quickly.

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ The boy says primly. ‘The entire concept of my presence at your side is to be a help, not a hindrance. And you need to be in top shape, I’d have thought, with all those beasties to fight, eh?’

‘I can stand guard.’

‘I’m not having you loom over me all night, that hardly sounds conducive to a good night’s sleep.’

Geralt looks about the campsite wildly, searching for the last scraps of reason.

‘I..’

‘Come on Geralt, some of us have walked bloody miles today, shake on it, there’s a good chap, then we can settle in for the evening.’

He stares, bewildered, as the boy takes his hand again in his own warm little grasp and they shake once more.

Half an hour later, the fire is banked for the night, Roach has settled into sleep, and Geralt has a softly snoring musician wrapped around him firmly, legs entangled with his own.

Without a doubt, one of the strangest days of his life, even for a Witcher.

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EDIT: Chapter Two now up!

#geralt of rivia #jaskier #geraskier #first meeting #post posada #how jaskier gets from barker to bathtime buddy #jaskier gets loquacious when he's nervous #fluff and crack

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tryagainmv · 6 years

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ad nauseam

part one: strangers in the night

➷ you had never known the meaning of lovesickness until you had crossed paths with na jaemin.

❧ part two: two lonely people we were

you were finally free of the chains of high school. you could drink, you could smoke, you could shake off those shackles that the 16 years of public education had locked onto you. you were free to roam the world and take some time off from the impressive constraints that your senior year had brought upon you. you could leave your shore-side town in search of new adventures and new friends and new experiences.

or, at least, you would be finally free.

but first, you had to get through this bonfire in one, exhausted, gratified piece.

it was a senior tradition to spend the night on the cliff the day after graduation and drink, smoke and pop your grade twelve anxieties away. there were dozens of cars that lined the open field at the bottom of the hill, and as you climbed up to the perilous peak, you could see the multitudes of lawn chairs arranged in topsy-turvy circles of already wasted teenagers begin to gather closer and closer together. and then there was the bonfire, big and warm and raging, the light rivalling that of the setting sun behind it. you had always compared that bonfire to freedom, the sparks of bright tangerine and safety orange flying off from the heap and fading into the night sky. you had waited years to see those orange sparks, and now that they floated metres from your yearning body, you could almost join them.

once the night was over.

just a few hours, and then you could disappear and float away. you had already secured a summer job a few towns over up the coastline, and you were ready to take the leap and start to make your own money so that a few towns away could become a few countries away. it was a shame you didn’t drink, a shame you didn’t smoke, a shame you didn’t get high on whatever prescriptions everyone had pulled out of their parents’ medicine cabinets on their way out so that they’d at least have something to help them bid goodbye to their horrific four years of doom. you’d have to spend the night hanging with xiyeon, heejin and hyunjin, your designated “high school” group that everyone had but no one kept in contact with, no matter how much you promised over the years.

you weren’t planning on staying in contact anyways.

it was going to be a long, long night, but you didn’t mind the girls. you would just keep to yourself, watch the waves roll in and the stars light up, one by one, until it was socially acceptable for you to leave and start your new life. it almost felt surreal to you that you’d just pick yourself up, load your bags into your beater and take off when the sun rose the next morning.

but for now, you set down the few chairs you were carrying in what seemed to be the last open space and popped them open, tossing them in a vaguely circular shape around the cooler that heejin had placed in the centre. there were coolers, both wine and vodka, and some iced tea and water for you and whoever else you came across that got sick of the bitter taste of alcohol. once you had gotten seated, blankets out and speaker blasting whatever mindless music hyunjin had drafted into her playlists, you relaxed a tad, leaning back into your cloth chair and letting the soft summer night breeze drift over you and play with the locks of your hair. if you ignored the cacophonous sounds of 150 different handheld speakers playing 150 different songs at the same moment, the wild screams of youth relishing in their freedom, the sound of ice jostling, the snap of the fire crackling, you could almost hear the waves you had grown up with crash into the rock wall of the jutting earth.

in a way, this night was your final farewell to the dirt and water and sun that had always been your constant. in a way, it was the farewell to the life you had known.

what you didn’t know was that the life you had expected was about to be drastically different than your makeshift “plan” (as if you really had one). that your life would change within the next minute, whether you had liked it or not.

there was still so much you didn’t know.

unscrewing the cap off of a water bottle dripping with condensation, you tossed back a swig, feeling the cold drops trace their path down your throat. dropping the water bottle down, you caught a glimpse of someone who looked so out of place in a world of sperrys, board shorts and lacoste polos. if you squinted hard enough, you thought you could trace a flicker of ink that curled over the collar of his black teeshirt and up his back, maybe even some down the rest of his arm. he stood up too slouched, too sober to be part of this gathering, yet he flowed through the maze of chairs step by step and didn’t hesitate. he looked like you imagined you did, out of place, and that’s why you couldn’t take your eyes off of the boy with the baseball cap, the tattoo and the black tee as he swerved through the garden of drunk teenagers closer and closer to your cliffside cluster.

as he passed by you, he turned abruptly, and his eyes struck yours with the force of a gong crashing. both of you stared blankly, blinking, once, twice, before he sent you a wink and a wave, and you caught another tattoo on his wrist, two black lines like a pause. you gave him a soft smile, imprinting the image of the ethereal boy who looked so much like he didn’t belong onto the back of your mind.

“you know, you can take a picture. it’ll last longer, sweetheart.” the boy smirked and posed, a peace sign thrown up beside his smiling eyes.

you sputtered and furrowed your eyebrows, letting out a dry laugh before looking the boy up and down.

out of your years in this town, you had never, ever seen this boy with the tattoos and the beat up vans and the ripped black jeans. you had never passed by him in the smoke pit, never brushed his shoulder in the halls, never shared a class with the boy who stood in front of you, switching from a peace sign to a calm gaze at your calculating face.

you think he knows you know.

“you know, this is for the graduating class only,” you said, testing the waters.

“i’m graduating this year,” he smirked back, moving closer to rest a hand on the back of your chair.

you rotated to see him better, peering up into his eyes.

“from this school,” you sneered, batting your eyes and giving him a coy smile.

he reached down and grabbed your water bottle, his chest brushing your nose as he slid by. he popped the loosely-rotated cap back off and lifted the plastic to his mouth, taking a few gulps. his adams apple bobbed, and you couldn’t help but admit that the confident, suspicious boy was somewhat of a marvel.

“what makes you so sure i didn’t go to this school?” he asked, handing you the half-empty water bottle back.

“because you wouldn’t call it ‘this school’ if you knew what everyone called it,” you laughed, shoving the water bottle back at his chest. “i don’t want your backwash.”

he wrapped his hands over yours, still clutching the water bottle to his chest, and you felt his fingers grip yours with a playful intensity.

“do you want it direct from the source?” he poked, winking and laughing, and you shook your hands free from his hold and wiped them on your blanket.

“i’d rather burn,” you drawled, getting up and walking to the cooler to grab an iced tea.

he took your chair when you had your back turned, and you looked up to realize heejin, xiyeon and hyunjin were all looking, enraptured with the conversation happening in front of them. you gave them all a collective look of annoyance and turned around, sighing and frowning at the boy who had made himself comfortable in your lawn chair.

“do you want to take a walk with me?” he asked, outstretching his free hand.

you were really, really tempted. despite the boy’s flirty tendencies, you really just wanted to spend your night doing something other than sitting in your chair and dozing off. so you hovered your cold hand over his, hesitating.

“if you tell me your name,” you asserted, grazing your fingers over his palm lightly, tauntingly. his hand came up and grabbed yours, clutching it tight.

he smiled at you, big and wide and toothy.

“i’m na jaemin,” he said, standing up and sliding the chair aside, and you took his lead and stumbled along, can in hand.

“don’t you want to know my name?” you asked as he drifted you two through the myriad of chairs closer and closer to the bonfire where others stood, dancing softly to the music that played from one large speaker someone had brought early and set up.

“i don’t need to know,” he murmured.

you simply nodded to the back of his head and let him pull you into the crowd of slowly dancing people. he tossed his water bottle to the side and you watched it fly, hitting someone in the leg. you let out a small laugh and turned back, and he reached for your other hand to peel the cold can out and roll it away, too. you gaped and frowned at that.

“i hadn’t even taken a drink,” you lamented.

“you can’t dance with one hand,” he teased back, lacing his slender fingers with yours, starting to draw you a bit closer with every boom of the bass.

“who are you, na jaemin?” you asked, sliding your hand from his hand up to his neck, and you started to find the groove of the music after he had already locked in. his hand dropped to your waist, and he held it with a loose clutch.

“i’m a stranger,” he said, smiling and winking. “that’s how it should be.”

“strangers don’t dance with other strangers,” you grumble, and frown up at him with strict eyes and a pounding heart. “why are you here?”

“i’m here because i want to spend my graduating night the way it should be spent. with someone like you in my arms,” he flirted, peeking his tongue out of his mouth and sliding his grip further around you.

“you don’t even know my name,” you retorted, trying to put a tad more distance between his chest and yours as he seemed to move closer and closer.

“i can know so much more than that, though, if you’d let me,” he murmured, his eyes dropping and a sly smirk climbing onto his features.

“why would i let you?”

“because i’m interesting, and the only reason you came with me is because you were intrigued and you’re just as sober and bored as i am.”

if he was a hammer, he hit the nail on the head. that terrified you, and sent your heart racing into a murmur of chaos that spelled out a four letter word that was something like love and a lot more than desire.

when your heart spiralled, so did your head, and you had always been irresponsible when your feelings and thoughts didn’t sync up. you had always been impulsive, always been someone who had never totally understood your heart and your head. you’d always had one foot in love and the other in logic.

people like you never changed.

“touché, jaemin,” you whispered, leaning up to give a kiss to the boy who had so easily wrapped you up in his enigmous charms.

it was as if he expected it, almost as if he could tell the future, and he moved his lips in time along with yours. everything about na jaemin seemed to find the beat, whether it be his hips finding the beat of the music or his lips finding your heartbeat and going, going.

you danced and you pressed kisses to each others’ lips until every star had lit up in the sky, and you didn’t come looking to get drunk but you were drunk on the exhilarating feeling of human contact and the mystery that was jaemin. your head spun. it was almost as if he had tied you up in a charm, it was almost as if he was magic and you were a fanatic of the occult. you knew nothing about the boy and you had kissed him, once, twice, five times and you hadn’t let your hand leave the back of his neck as you rocked along to the music that pounded into the early hours of the morning.

you don’t remember when he had disappeared.

when the boy had placed one last kiss to your lips and detached himself, sending you a wink.

and then the boy with three tattoos and a baseball cap and the black tee, the boy with the beat up vans and the colgate brand teeth and the brown, melting eyes, the boy with the charming smirk and the deep voice and the confidence charm, had disappeared into the night, into the sea of flashlights and small fires and car lamps.

he was right.

he knew so much more about you than your name, he knew the touch of your lips and the beat of your heart and the feeling of your hand against his skin.

he knew a lot about you, more than you cared to admit. names couldn’t tell you about the way someone danced under the starlight, in the glow of a raging fire. names couldn’t tell you about the spark that lit your heart, that impulsively lead you to the press of your lips against his despite all your best judgment telling you otherwise.

he knew you. and you had let him.

good thing he was just a stranger in the night.

you still didn’t know so much about what was to come.

a/n: hi this would have been started sooner but i had to make cookies

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