#its my administrative dream

[tonicandjins]

learning languages | lee donghyuck

pairing: lee donghyuck | nct haechan x reader word count: 18.5k genre: university au, getting together, smut, fluff, angst summary: in which you're an exchange student and donghyuck teaches you the essential korean phrases you need, and eventually how to fall in love with him tag list: @smwhrinthehaze @byungbyungbaek @sundamariis @thiccfullsun @yesohhsehun @haechoshi @najmnluvr @liz-zo @heyitsconysstuff @magicastle @novawon @gaeulswrld author’s note: I’m so sorry it took so long, but here it is! I imagine conversations with everyone in Korean, except for Mark! 😊 I imagine the conversations with Mark in English. I also have 0 knowledge with the Korean language except from the common phrases every Kpop fan knows lol. So please bare with me and feel free to correct me! ^^ Please also consider tipping me if you want to! NCT Dream is coming to my country this April and I’d love to see them if I could :) TIP ME HERE.

날씨가 추워 (nalssiga chuwo) – the weather is cold

The rain is pouring when you arrive in Incheon. 

It’s not as harsh as it is where you come from, but the February breeze still makes you shiver and curse under your breath, and while you’re wallowing and pouting over the fact that your first day in South Korea is not going as well as you wanted, Mark is chirpy—a little too happy for your liking. 

Of course, Mark is happy. Your bitterness over the weather is not going to spoil his energy, the exact same one—maybe stronger—he has had over the past couple of weeks, counting down the days he’d be back in Seoul, finally. Mark has told you that it had been over a decade since he last visited South Korea, and the Student Exchange Program from your university had been the best opportunity for him to come back after so long, too long. The stupid smile on his face somehow makes you feel better, especially when he jumps from his seat when he sees his childhood friend walk towards your area. 

Renjun is handsome like the picture that Mark sent you a week before your flight to South Korea, but it feels a little unfair that he’s even more attractive in person. His voice sounds like honey and the corner of his eyes crinkle when he smiles as he approaches you and Mark. 

They jump into a tight, dramatic hug that makes a few other people in the waiting area look, but the boys don’t care. Mark lifts Renjun up from the ground, it’s almost embarrassing. The sight makes you feel warm. You wonder how Mark feels. 

It must be amazing, you think, to finally meet someone you’ve been longing to see. Mark had always expressed his yearning for the place—the people, the friends he always had to leave behind when visiting during summer—and it makes you wonder how it feels like to have friends and family away from you. 

Evidently, this is your first time to be away from home. You live (or used to at this point) in a dormitory, a two-minute walk to the campus, a good hour away from home, but you always went home whenever you craved for your mother’s dishes. You’ve never considered living away from home. Sure, you had plans to move out eventually, but not in a different time zone, not in an entirely different culture. Mark, on the other hand, is frequently moving around, dragging his suitcase from place to place, leaving people behind and promising he’d come back when he can.

Born in Canada, Mark had been to more places that you could count, but he has told you many times that nowhere else feels like home, like Seoul. He’s told you many stories of the time his family lived there for a few years before going back to Canada, of his annual visits in the summer, and of his devastation when life had caught up with him that he had to stop visiting when he turned eleven. 

You remember his voice, its tone and emotion, when he called you a couple of months ago, informing you of the exchange program that the university’s administration had posted on the students’ corner, and how fucking amazing it would be if you could sign up with him. 

“It would be a good addition to your credentials,” he had told you. “It’s not going to be for a long time, a semester at least. And we have the option to stay the whole academic year if we wanted to! Plus, I already know a lot of people there. We’ll be fine!”

“I don’t know, Mark,” you had answered, feigning hesitation, even when you knew deep down that Mark had already convinced you by the tone of his voice when he revealed the news. “I’ve never been that far away from home. Remember when we went camping in ninth grade? I cried. For three whole days. I’m not going to survive a semester. Besides, I know not a single Korean word.”

“Come on, Y/N,” he had begged. “Think about it. You’ll be with me the entire time. If we pass the screening, the program will sign us up for free Hangul lessons—though, let’s be honest, I don’t really need it.”

“Why do you have to bring me anyway?” you had asked out of curiosity.

“Because I know you’ll love it there,” he had answered. “Your obsession with studying culture and languages will be satisfied because there is no better way to learn a culture than experiencing the whole thing with your best friend!”

You remember humming in response, as if you’re thinking deeply about it. Mark sighed on the other line, his words making you laugh and finally agree. 

“The chances of Mom letting me go is bigger when I tell her you’re coming with me,” he had admitted. Mark, upon hearing your agreement to his proposal, began listing out the places he would take you. The phone call lasted for three more hours and it had seemed like Mark already had an entire plan in his head before he even asked you if you would go with him. 

Passing the program had been easy and so was acquiring your visa. What was truly the pain in the ass, you admit, is learning the damn language. You salute Mark for being able to speak Korean so fluently, but he’s shit at teaching you and you had to rely on the free lessons you had taken every weekend and your favorite language mentor, Lee Minho in Legend of the Blue Sea. Your Korean is awful. Your tongue is a little too short, too stiff, for said language, and the situation almost makes you back out of the entire program and ditch Mark. 

But here you are, still shit at Korean, but standing among hustling people and waiting for your best friend to wrap up the moment he’s sharing with his long-time friend. Renjun finally catches your eyes as you awkwardly watch them on the side, your backpack becoming heavier each second you’re standing on the airport tiles. He pulls away from Mark, smiling, beaming towards you and offers a handshake. 

“Hwang Renjun,” he introduces. You remember their last names go first here. “Nice to meet you.”

It almost startles you when he speaks English. Mark forgot to mention his friend is fluent, you think. 

You tell him your name, voice smaller than it usually is, and express your relief that he speaks English. 

“I’m originally not from here either,” he explains. “I’m Chinese. My family had to move here before I could even properly pronounce words for my Dad’s work. Went to an international school, where I met Mark back in second grade.”

So, he’s cute and multilingual. How unfair.

“And I’d love to chat longer,” he says, switching to Korean now, before you can even respond. “But Hyuck is waiting in his car. We could talk on our way to your dormitory. For now, let’s go. Hyuck hates waiting.”

“Hyuck drove? What happened to your car?” Mark asks, helping you with your luggage and pushing the cart himself. Renjun insists to carry your backpack, and he had already gently pulled it from your shoulder before you could refuse.

Mark and Renjun talk about Hyuck, both switching to speaking Korean now, on their way out of the arrival area and it doesn’t take long for them to spot their friend’s car outside. The rain had stopped pouring by the time you’re settling yourselves inside their friend’s car. The second you settle yourself on the leather seat, you sigh in relief. Traveling is a lot more exhausting than you had initially thought. 

Renjun sits on the passenger seat, right beside Hyuck, you assume, and Mark settles himself beside you.

“Mark Lee,” Hyuck greets, looking at Mark through the rearview mirror. “A pleasure to finally meet you.”

It takes you a second to understand what he said. It’s only then that you realize you really are in Korea. 

“Lee Donghyuck,” Mark responds in the same tone. “You’re real. I’m happy to see you in person and not just through Facetime. I want to hug you.”

“Am I better looking in person?” Hyuck teases. “Hug me when we’re at your dormitory. I’ll even kiss you on the lips if you want to.”

“Disgusting,” Mark grimaces. “By the way—” He turns his attention to you the same time Hyuck begins driving. “This is Y/N.”

Hyuck only smiles, nodding a little to you through the rearview mirror, brushing his brown hair using his fingers to fix it up. Renjun begins to ask how the flight was and Mark replies. All three boys strike up a conversation in Korean and it was all too much, too fast, for you to catch up and understand anything, so you stay quiet on your seat, leaning against the window, and begin to wonder how things will go for the entire spring semester you’ll be spending in this foreign city. 

Mark never told you that the drive from Incheon to Seoul is long, so far that you didn’t even realize you had fallen asleep.  When you arrive at the dormitory, it’s past six in the afternoon and Mark’s friends ask kindly if you want to go out for dinner. Politely and quite incoherently, you tell them that you’d like to stay. Mark insists on staying home with you and unpacking your belongings, but you urge him to go, spend some time with his friends and walk around. Mark hesitates, but agrees nonetheless, promising he will come back in an hour.

The place the program had picked for you and Mark is not that bad. It’s nothing like home, but it’s not bad. It makes you wonder how Mark does it. You remember not being able to sleep on the first few nights on your dormitory’s bed when you were a freshman. Mark had never told you if he’s had trouble adapting to places he’s been. Maybe you could ask him in the morning. 

The exhaustion hits you again upon entering one of the rooms. Room assignment is yet to be decided, but Mark wouldn’t mind if you sleep on one of the beds while he’s out. And so, you sleep. 

You don’t remember what you dream of. And Mark wakes you at seven in the morning, reminding you that you had to unpack and go grocery shopping. Momentarily, you forget where you are. It hits you the same way it does in his friend’s car. You’re in a different country. A different language. A different time zone. 

It doesn’t feel like home at all even though it’s cold. But you guess you’ll have to make it work. At least until the semester ends. 

약속해요 (yagsoghaeyo) – I promise

When Mark told you he knew a lot of people in Seoul, you should’ve known he was bluffing because he literally knew only seven people.

Mark Lee’s friends are warm and loud and somehow you feel out of place when they all decide to hangout where you and Mark are. It’s the first week of the semester, and you have completed all the orientation and tour you need; Mark, on the other hand, is still catching up with everyone.

By everyone, he meant Kevin Moon, a senior who is also Mark’s cousin’s long-distance boyfriend who happens to be studying in SNU too, Hwang Renjun from Natural Sciences, Lee Donghyuck from Music, Lee Jeno and Na Jaemin from Engineering and Architecture, Zhong Chenle from Humanities, and Park Jisung from Business Administration. Which is why every day, for the past five days, you’re at a place called Arcade, with Mark and two or three people from their group.

It turns out Huang Renjun and Na Jaemin were Mark’s friends from childhood, the others are friends by extension.

Huang Renjun, you understand why Mark is closest to him among all. He’s soft all over but sharp in the mouth. Renjun, you learn, likes to talk about life and likes to give people advice when they need it. He’s reserved with other people but is the complete opposite when he’s with his friends.

Lee Jeno is shy. He normally joins the group after his internship at a construction corporation in the outskirts of Seoul, which is why you haven’t really seen him much—only twice. You haven’t had that many conversations with him yet, but he’s kind enough to pass you the ketchup when he sees you staring at it from the end of the table.

Zhong Chenle and Park Jisung are best friends. There’s not a day that you have not seen either without the other, kind of reminds you of how you and Mark are. They join whenever one is available—two peas in a pod.

Na Jaemin is the closest with Lee Donghyuck. You see them talking in their bubble more frequently than the others. Jaemin is mysterious and a little cold—the complete opposite of Lee Donghyuck.

Lee Donghyuck, well, you’ve got a lot to say about him.

It isn’t necessarily an uncomfortable feeling, because Mark’s friends are kind enough to slow down when they talk to you and are quite protective of you, especially when a random stranger bravely comes up to you to introduce themselves. Lee Donghyuck, in particular, who’s as warm as the sun touching your skin at nine in the morning and whose voice is careful and assuring, ensures that you’re never out of place—even when you feel it all the time. From the day the semester started, there hasn’t been a day when Donghyuck isn’t hanging out with you and Mark at Arcade.

Mark normally picks you up from class because thank God your schedules are aligned to each other despite having different majors. The College of Social Sciences is quiet, unlike the building right beside you, College of Music, and Mark usually takes five minutes to find you, because you can’t trust yourself to walk around on your own—at least not yet. But today, Mark asked if you could meet Kevin first because his girlfriend had something for him from Canada.

“Hyungseo!” You hear someone call, making you look up from your phone to see Kevin walking towards you. He stops and turns around, a girl you’ve seen around the college of social sciences once or twice running towards him.

“Don’t forget to bring the laminated cards we need for Friday!” the lady shouts. Kevin gives her a thumbs up and turns back to you.

“Y/N, right?” he asks in English. You nod. He offers a hand. “I’m sorry we haven’t met personally yet. But I’m Kevin.”

“She called you Hyungseo, though,” you trail off, accepting the handshake anyway. “I’ve seen your pictures from Giselle’s phone, so I knew it was you.”

He laughs. “Hyungseo’s my Korean name. You should’ve packed her with you.”

You reach for your bag and hand him the box that’s been sitting in your backpack all day. “Here,” you say. “No plans on visiting sometime soon?”

Kevin sighs. “I wish I could,” he answers. “It’s not as easy as we thought.”

“You guys sound okay though,” you comment. “I mean, Giselle always sounds so happy when she talks about you back home.”

This makes Kevin smile. “Oh, she does?”

“Why would she think of getting you a gift all the way from home if she’s not?” you ask, biting your tongue as soon as the words come out. “Sorry, I shouldn’t ask.”

“Let’s talk about this over some soju when you find a dude you want to spend the rest of your life with here,” he jokes. “Thanks for bringing this. You and Mark have been so busy; he’s been declining all my invitations to hangout.”

You sigh, “Yeah. It’s only the first week and there are lot of things we had to do. I’ll ask him if we can hang out on the weekend?”

Kevin agrees and hands his phone to you, asking to put your number so he could call you. You do and tell him you’re grateful you could talk to someone in English aside from Mark and bid him goodbye when he leaves. You shoot Mark a text, telling him you’ll be waiting for him and that Kevin’s dropped by to get his gift from Giselle.

Hence, you wait outside, busying yourself with your phone, trying to avoid any interaction as much as you can, and you don’t notice Donghyuck standing beside you until he taps your shoulder and gives you a warm smile.

“Mark is running late,” he says slowly. “Let’s go to Arcade together.”

You smile at Donghyuck’s attempt to pronounce Arcade how you would and nod at him. He leads the way out of the building, his backpack on one shoulder, and asks you how your classes are so far.

“It’s okay,” you answer because it’s all you can think of. “Thank God my professor in Psychology speaks English.”

Donghyuck hums. “It must be difficult for you.”

“It is,” you confess.

Among everyone you have met so far, Donghyuck gives you the feeling of comfort; you’re not exactly the most outgoing person nor the least—you were in between. You were okay with that. And you were okay that Donghyuck is okay with that, too. He doesn’t push you to speak more (probably because he knows you most likely do not know how to say whatever you had in mind), but can be very persuasive when there’s a hint that you’re relaxed.

Lee Donghyuck is bold and charming and amiable like nobody you’ve ever known. Normally, or at least with how you’re used to, people are a little more reserved around people they just met. And culturally speaking, you didn’t expect Donghyuck to be so forward and already so comfortable hanging out with you, what more with having conversations like this.

“Don’t worry, though,” he assures. “You’ll be fine. You’re here for about six months, anyway. I promise it’ll be the best six months of your college years.”

He’s also bright like this—optimistic and kind and assuring. You’re glad Mark is friends with people like him, with Donghyuck.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you try to say, a phrase Mark taught you the other night. “Did I say that right?”

Donghyuck giggles, stopping and reaching up to ruffle your hair. “You’re absolutely adorable.”

“That, I am,” you joke back, more comfortable around him now.

“I promise,” he says. “It’ll be so good; you wouldn’t want to go back to Canada.”

한국말 잘 못해요 (hangugmal jal moshaeyo) – I don’t speak Korean well | 죽을래 (jug-eullae) – Do you want to die?

Donghyuck turns out to be a better teacher than Lee Minho and Mark Lee combined. He gifts you a small, pocket-friendly notebook, asking you to keep it for the rest of your stay, notably commenting that the material’s size will allow you to bring it everywhere you go. Hence, the tiny, brown faux leather notebook is safely tucked between your necessities inside your bag.

The first sentence he teaches you turns out to be the most essential: I don’t speak Korean well.

Donghyuck takes you to a café called 7 Days, an entirely different vibe compared to Arcade. You don’t question Donghyuck when he puts an arm on your shoulder as you walk together inside the café, but he asks you right away when he must have felt you stiffen from the touch: “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” you answer quietly.

Donghyuck smiles warmly at you. “Here, have a look around and I’ll get you something to drink before we decide what we want to eat. I have the perfect drink for you!”

He goes before you could say anything. You look and realize that the café is not so bad. Its aesthetic is the complete opposite of what Arcade’s going for—cozy, serene, almost like a good place to study or sleep in, whatever you need to survive the day—and the Biscoff latte is bomb, you don’t think you can drink latte differently now.

Conversations with Donghyuck could, well, unfortunately, go only where your limit is. He’s fun and likes to tell a lot of stories, but it’s always interrupted with you asking what a word means and him pulling up his phone and have his translation app say it for you. He makes jokes that you regrettably do not understand, but Donghyuck doesn’t take it to the heart and only says: “By the end of the term, you’ll be saying these jokes to Mark Lee.”

Donghyuck excuses himself to go to the toilet about an hour later and allows you a few minutes by yourself, which you happily spend taking pictures of the interior of the café. You sigh when you realize you didn’t take a picture of the Biscoff latte when it was full and pretty. Someone taps you on the shoulder, and it could only be Donghyuck, so you turn with a smile.

“I forgot to take a picture of the drink—Oh.” It’s not Donghyuck. “I’m sorry, how can I help you?” you ask politely.

The man towers over you and he smiles warmly. Your cheeks flush when he does, because you probably mispronounce each syllable from that sentence. “I’m Sanha.”

You bow courteously, still have 0 idea why the man is talking to you.

“I don’t see you around often,” he says. “And I’m here, like, almost all the time unless I have a class. My dad owns the place. How do you like it so far?”

“It’s… okay,” you say. Sanha chuckles, and your face is hot you probably look like a red potato now. “I mean, not just okay, I just can’t find the words to—”

He takes Donghyuck’s seat. “I can teach you,” he offers. “We can meet up here, and—”

Donghyuck calls your name, voice firm and monotonous like never before. “It’s getting late. Mark texted me to take you home early because Chenle’s making dinner at your place.”

You look at Sanha apologetically, still unable to reply properly so you only say, “I’m sorry.”

Donghyuck doesn’t give you the chance to say anything more because he’s already helping you out of your seat, turning you around so you could start walking towards the door, pushing you until you’re out of the café.

You hear him sigh as you walk away from the café, arm around your shoulder like how you entered the place.

“Y/N, my sweet pea,” he softly says. “Please don’t to talk strangers.”

You shrug, “It’s not like I could just ignore him when he was already taking you space.”

He scoffs. “When strangers start talking to you and being all brave and upfront, you tell them: I don’t speak Korean well. Then just start hitting them with English words and exaggerate your accent. That’s how Mark Lee tries to avoid conversations with girls sometimes because he’s a loser and women make him nervous.”

“I don’t speak Korean well,” you repeat, slowly pronouncing each syllable.

“Where’s the notebook I asked you to bring everywhere?” Donghyuck asks. “Write that down.”

You nod and tell him you’d do it later. Donghyuck leads the way towards the stop just in time for the bus that’s about to leave. You and him hop in, taking the seats in the back, giggling when Donghyuck almost topples over as soon as the bus starts to move. He lets you sit by the window and starts telling you about how his sister always fights him to get the window seat and he’s never won so he naturally just gives people the said seat.

You’re nearby the next stop when you ask him: “Donghyuck, what if I tell people I don’t speak Korean well and they wouldn’t stop bothering me?”

Donghyuck looks nice in his brown, fluffy jacket, face bare, his eyeglasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. He looks even nice whenever he smiles like this.

“Y/N, do you know how cute you are?” An answer you don’t expect. “You’re so cute when you ask questions like this. I want to put you in my pocket.”

“Donghyuck,” you sigh, expecting a serious answer.

He reaches up to pat your head. “You won’t have to worry because we won’t let you be on your own unless you ask us to stay away. Especially me. Not me. I’ll make sure to take care of you and Mark while the two of you are here.”

You nod, still not satisfied with the answer. The Sanha situation awhile ago makes you realize how helpless you’d be if you weren’t with Mark or any of his friends. Donghyuck probably notices your dissatisfaction when he feels like you’re sulking, which you definitely are, because he chuckles and pokes your cheek to get your attention again.

“If it makes you feel better,” he says. “You could always ask them if they want to die.”

“That’s mean!” you gasp.

“Or tell them to fuck off,” he shrugs.

“Donghyuck!”

“What?” he asks. “It’s not like I don’t hear you and Mark say ‘fuck you’ to each other every day.”

You laugh at that. “Saying it in Korean hits different.”

“Right!” Donghyuck agrees. “I’ve been telling people saying fuck you in Korean has more impact than in any other language. I can say the word fuck every day.”

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” you joke.

Donghyuck coos. “Oh, I’m so proud of you. You’re cracking jokes now.”

The bus halts at your stop, and Donghyuck helps you up by taking your hand the way he’s helping you learn the language. It’s only when you’ve reached the street to the apartment you share with Mark that you realized you’ve been holding hands all the way from the bus stop.

저 알러지 있어요 (jeo alleoji iss-eoyo) – I’m allergic

“Do you not understand what you just did, Mark Lee?” you ask in disbelief.

It’s only a month into your stay in Seoul, and Mark does the dumbest thing ever. Mark Lee comes home with a pet cat.

There were three rules for the spring semester, three very specific and very easy rules: one, to always text each other’s location as soon as you step foot outside of the apartment (which you and him are constantly compliant about; you love Mark Lee for that); two, to never skip a class unless you’re sick (you’re only here until July; Mark decided he’s not wasting a single day in Seoul, even if it means going to classes on time and by schedule without fail); and lastly, don’t keep things you won’t be able to take back home.

Mark had said that these rules are specifically for you because rule number one ensures your safety, rule number ensures you get the real Korean education experience, and rule number three apparently ensures you’re not leaving anything important at the airport when you leave—which now you think is bullshit. The rules are more for him than you, but you love Mark Lee, and it’s not like the cat isn’t cute.

“But, Y/N,” Mark pouts. “She kept on staring at me with these eyes when Renjun was busy comparing brands of dog treats. It was like her eyes were calling me, asking me to take her home!”

The calico cat is a baby; Mark said it’s not even five months old yet. It’s the last from seven siblings, the last one to be adopted (and you think Mark is only telling you this to convince you this is a good idea. She jumps out from Mark’s lap and goes to you, staring at you first before settling herself on your lap.

“She loves you already!” Mark comments.

You sigh. “Mark. You know we can’t take her home, right? We’re leaving in like, five months.”

“Which means I have five months to convince our friends to adopt her while I’m in Canada!” he answers enthusiastically, his eyes almost sparkling with the way he’s talking. “I couldn’t just leave her there. My heart wouldn’t allow me to leave without her!”

“Fine,” you give up. “Don’t cry on me on the plane back home when we leave her.”

Mark chuckles. “I think I should be more worried about you crying on the plane back home.”

Someone knocks on your door before you can ask what he means by that. It’s Mark who stands and welcome the person, and of course, it’s Donghyuck.

It’s Saturday. Saturday means Donghyuck comes and hangs out at your place because he no longer has to work in the university library on the weekends. He’d quit, saying his big mouth isn’t fit for the library, and had asked the school administration to reassign him to another facility. Part of his scholarship is to work at least 16 hours a week in one of the university’s facilities. He’s paid, of course, but Donghyuck says he’s not paid enough to keep his mouth shut for 16 hours a week. The admin asked for a week to figure out where he’d be assigned next, so he had this entire weekend all to himself, which, to how it looks like now, he’d decided to spend with you and Mark.

Mark lets Donghyuck in. The latter’s smile falters when he sees you; he only gives you a curt nod. And it’s not like you’re expecting Donghyuck to cuddle you on the couch, alright? It’s just that, you’ve known each other for a month now, and have hung out together a handful of times—just the two of you—and he called you yesterday telling you he’d come hangout with you and Mark for the weekend, even said something about teaching you to play Apex if you have the energy for it. And it’s not like he’s obligated to come sit beside you as soon as he enters your apartment, but you’re confused when he sits on the single couch far away from you, stance uncomfortable and his face looking like he’d rather be elsewhere.

Mark’s voice fades away when he asks Donghyuck what their plans are, to which Donghyuck answers: “I’m actually just here to say hi. I’m leaving in a bit.”

“No way,” Mark protests.

“Or we could go out?” Donghyuck offers.

“Uh-uh,” Mark refuses. “Y/N has been excited all morning to see you. You’re not going to disappoint her today.”

���I didn’t say anything—” You try to say, but couldn’t translate what you want to say quick enough. “Donghyuck obviously doesn’t want to be here.”

Over the course of a month living in Seoul, you and Donghyuck had grown closer more than anyone. It would be ridiculous to deny Donghyuck’s seemingly unceasing affection towards you, and in the same manner, it would be a lie if you’d say you’re not enjoying all the attention he’s been giving you. Above the flirty and friendly advances he makes (but never crossing the line), Donghyuck has grown to be a good friend. During the first couple of weeks, you would refer to him as Mark’s friend; it’s safe you say you’re friends with him now.

Donghyuck’s decided to pick you up from the college of Social Sciences, convincing Mark that his building is literally next to yours and that a ten-minute walk to Arcade with you is not going to hurt him—Mark’s been walking with you for many years anyway, he would mumble under his breath, close enough for you to hear but distant enough for you to understand what he truly means. Hence, with the growing friendship you have with him, you wonder what you had done this time.

“It’s not like that,” Donghyuck answers the question you had in mind, both hands raised in defense. You raise an eyebrow. “That.”

Donghyuck points at your lap, Mark’s unnamed cat sleeping soundly now. Oh.

“I’m allergic,” he explains. “I can’t be around one within like a five-meter radius otherwise, I would, like, you know, die.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Mark comments. “Are you really?”

“Yeah,” Donghyuck confirms. “The allergens are getting to me. My throat is starting to close up. I have to leave now.”

This startles you and Mark, the latter quickly taking the calico cat from your lap and quickly taking it to his room. You reckon the cat’s allergens are all over you so you sit as far away as you can from Donghyuck.

“It’s fine,” he assures, but he already looks like he’s choking. “It’s not that serious. They usually just give me allergic rashes and kind of triggers my asthma. So, we’re good.”

“But you have a dog!” you remark. “You never told me you’re allergic to cats!”

He chuckles, “Well, you learn something every day.”

“There are some anti-histamine tablets from the cupboard,” you point out, still seated where you are. “I probably have allergens on my hands; please go get yourself one.”

Donghyuck does what he’s told, taking one and opening the fridge to get himself a bottle of water. You tell him you’re changing your clothes and ask him to wait up, offering to go out and have a meal with him instead.

Mark knocks on your door a couple of minutes later, finding you dressed up, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “Donghyuck said he’d wait outside. You look nice.”

“I know I look nice,” you say as you go back to your vanity to throw whatever you’d need for the day in your small dumpling bag, including a box of Benadryl. “You’re not coming with us because you have cat all over you.”

Mark chuckles, leaning against the doorframe. “Donghyuck literally told me the same thing. He’s growing on you,”

You only hum in response, checking your bag for the last time before walking towards the door where Mark Lee is still leaning on, the same smirk playing on his lips still plastered.

“What?” you ask.

Mark doesn’t say anything, but he raises and shows you his right hand, sticking three fingers up.

먹었습니다 (meog-eossseubnida) - The meal was good.

Seoul National University’s library is as quiet as it can be; it’s almost scary how the only sounds you’d only hear are the faint sounds of pages being flipped and pens gliding on notepads, and the eerie echoes of the tension coming from students who are either cramming on an assignment or jumping from one subject to another in hopes of getting everything they read retained in their head.

Donghyuck used to tell you this is the exact reason why he didn’t like working at the library. It’s too quiet but too loud at the same time. You chuckle at the memory of him telling you anecdotes of his short-lived employment in the library and wonder how different it is being the soccer team’s laundry guy. He’s probably pouting all the way from the beginning of his shift until the end.

“Here,” Jung Sungchan disrupts your thoughts, keeping his voice as quiet as possible. “I found these, maybe it could help bridge the gap we’re struggling on.”

You and Sungchan are paired up for a two-week long assignment for one of your major subjects. The objective was to present a summarized and substantial report on the welfare state, and you think Sungchan must have tripped on all the bad luck in his life to have been paired up with someone who couldn’t speak Korean that well, because, well, the books they had are mostly in Korean. If speaking and understanding Korean is a struggle for you, reading the damn language is hell.

“This is a good thing,” Sungchan assures. “There are resources online that are mostly in English. We can combine everything we find and construct the report from there!”

You nod and hand over the book you’re reading before he arrived, explaining that you found a chapter that could be very helpful. The boy fires up his laptop and starts accessing the website your professor had recommended you to use.

Sat side by side, you and Sungchan study in silence, except for when he asks you to read an article for him and explain what it means. The session lasts for hours, thank God you and him didn’t have classes for the rest of the day, and within those hours of studying with Sungchan, you can’t help but notice the looks you were getting anytime someone passes by the two of you.

It’s no secret that Jung Sungchan is probably one of the most attractive men in the university. He’s tall and has skin that’s as clear as a day in summer, smile that could swoon a lot of people off their feet, broad shoulders that’s probably carrying the entire hockey team for this year’s season—and yes, it doesn’t help the fact that Jung Sungchan is the most popular jock at the moment, apparently for hard carrying the team to win last year’s trophy, ending Seoul National University’s 10-year drought and awakening the school’s love for sports back. And you think it’s quite unfair that people like him exist. Because you would expect that he’s an asshole who doesn’t care about his grades because he’s essentially SNU’s hero at the moment, but he’s not. Jung Sungchan, you learn, takes his degree in Social Sciences very seriously.

And it’s evident with the way his eyebrows are furrowed as he reads the tenth book he found from the shelves.

“I think this part makes more sense now,” he points out, leaning closer so he could show you the article he’s reading. “In residual regimes, welfare-seeking units are primarily family and market. On the other hand, in the institutional welfare regime, the function of providing welfare belongs directly to the state.”

“But countries with different social conditions and lifestyles should have differed in terms of welfare states,” you argue. “We have to consider that the development of industrialization and production growth could be very different from one country to another.”

Sungchan hums. “Good point. Perhaps we can find more of that from Wilensky and Lebaux’s work. Do you have the book over there?”

You nod and hand him the book. Just as Sungchan flips the book open, Mark occupies the seat across you.

“We’ve been calling you,” Mark whispers to you, then turning to look at Sungchan. “Hey, man. Mark. Y/N’s best friend.”

Sungchan gives him a polite nod before going back to the book. You raise an eyebrow at Mark and slip your phone from the pocket of your backpack and find all the missed calls from him, Renjun, and Donghyuck.

“My phone’s been on silent for like, I don’t know, four hours,” you tell him, slipping your phone back to your back. “And I texted you I’d be at the library.”

“Yeah, like four hours ago,” he answers. “I didn’t think you’d really stay here for four hours. Anyway—” Mark pulls out a lunch bag and slides it across the table. “Donghyuck made this for you. He figured you’d be hungry.”

It’s only then that it hit you. The last meal you had was that bagel you had for breakfast on the way to school, which you had seven or eight hours ago.

“My sweet Donghyuckie,” you coo, thankful for his thoughtfulness. “Thanks, Mark. Sungchan and I will share because we’ll be here until we finish at least the structure of the report.”

“It’s getting late though,” Mark points out.

Sungchan clears his throat. “I can drive you home.”

“Great!” Mark exclaims, which earns him multiple shushes from the other students studying. “Sorry. Great!” he says again, in a whisper this time.

Mark bids goodbye to you and offers a handshake to Sungchan, telling him he’ll see him often in the next two weeks or for as long as you and him are paired-up on your major subjects. Sungchan gives him one last assurance you’ll be home safe.

You ask Sungchan to take a break and open the lunch bag. Inside it are two bento boxes full of food, too much for one person, and you don’t take another minute to wait. Sungchan must have been hungry too, because he doesn’t refuse when you offer the other half of your meal to him.

You’re not really sure how much longer you and Sungchan stay in the library, but as soon as you’ve finalized the structure of the report and have agreed on assigned topics, he suggests that you and him go home and meet up again on Friday so you can start assembling the presentation. And as promised, Sungchan drives you home, glad when he realized your apartment is only ten minutes away from his.

It’s already ten in the evening when you reach home. Mark’s probably already sleeping, you think when you don’t see any light peaking from smallest of the small space between his door and the floor. It’s late anyway, and you don’t really have much energy to tell him about your day like you always do. In fact, you don’t even have the energy to shower anymore, and because you don’t like sleeping on your bed with your outside clothes, you opt to sleep on the couch tonight.

The last thing you do is shoot Donghyuck a text message: “The meal was good.”

삼각관계 (sam-gak-kwan-gae) – love triangle

Jung Sungchan invites you watch to one of his preliminary games the day after you completed the report with him. Mark teasingly tells you that you have boys wrapped around your finger not even two months living in Seoul. You deny the claims, of course, because Sungchan is nothing but a good friend and you don’t see him as anything more.

Donghyuck is the first person you think of when Sungchan gives you two spare tickets for the game, and you like to think that it’s only because you don’t want Mark teasing you and accusing you of romance all afternoon, and also because Donghyuck has a car and Mark is a shit navigator so you can’t trust him to commute with you from the university to the indoor arena where the game is being held.

SNU’s team wins, of course, and you proudly cheer for Sungchan, which earns you a side eye from Donghyuck. You shrug it off and pretend that you didn’t see.

“Can we go now?” Donghyuck asks, bored, when people start leaving the arena.

You shake your head. “Sungchan asked me to wait for him after the game.”

“You know that barbecue place I told you we’d go to?” Donghyuck reminds. “We can go there—“

Your phone rings. It’s Sungchan. Donghyuck sighs.

“Congratulations, nerd!” is the first thing you tell him. Sungchan thanks you, laughing from the other end of the call, and apologizes that he can no longer meet you because the team’s been hogging him the second they won the round.

“It’s fine,” you assure. “I’m with Donghyuck, anyway. I’ll see you at school?”

“No, no,” Sungchan answers. “There’s a small celebration party at Shotaro’s house. It’s a twenty to thirty-minute drive from your apartment. I’ll send you the location. Go there.”

Sungchan hangs up, and not even a second later, you receive a text from him, a location pinned on the message. You show the message and pout at Donghyuck, and he’s looking at you all bored, rolling his eyes, before nodding and taking your hand so you and him could leave the arena.

The drive to the place takes about an hour from the arena, and you spend it singing along to Michael Jackson’s songs.

“You have a really nice voice,” you comment. Donghyuck laughs.

“Baby,” he says. “I wouldn’t be pursuing a career in music if I had a shitty voice.”

The nickname gives you a flush, and you could only hope Donghyuck wouldn’t notice.

Almost two months into meeting Lee Donghyuck, you find yourself unable to keep your heartbeat down whenever he does things like this—calling you nicknames, randomly showing up in places where you are just to say hi, holding your hand, texting and calling you every day, spending his weekends and times off with you, and doing simple and domestic things for you—and your heart tells you it’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with a whirlwind romance in Seoul. Donghyuck doesn’t ever hesitate, and the fact that you’re holding back means you really like him. But the rational part of you says it’s not really a good idea to be in a situationship with someone who will most likely forget you as soon as you go back to Canada, and you can’t afford a heartache from miles away. Besides, Donghyuck probably isn’t that serious with whatever that’s going on.

Rumors say (by rumors, you mean Chenle and Jisung) that Donghyuck is the type of guy who dates one girl after another. Because he’s bold and charming and amiable and likes to expand his choices, and he finds that there’s nothing wrong with dating as long as he doesn’t date multiple women at the same time. You haven’t really seen him out on a date since you had met him. Rumor (Chenle) says that he’s been single since fall of last year and had committed to stay single this year because of the messy breakup and also because he’s on his last year of college, he’d need to focus on stepping up his game if he wants entertainment companies to fight over him as soon as he starts looking for agencies after graduation. Another rumor (Jisung) says he’s rejected many women who have tried to sleep with him since news broke that Lee Donghyuck is newly single. The rumor says he’s as popular as Jung Sungchan when it comes to women, which, if you’re being honest, gives you some kind of pedestal to walk hand-in-hand with him in the university grounds. You realize now that you get the same look from women when you’re with Donghyuck like the stares you got whenever you and Sungchan are stuck in the library for hours of studying.

The only difference is that, well, you like that people stare at you with a hint of jealousy whenever you’re with Donghyuck.

“Why haven’t you invited me to your gigs?” you ask before you could even think about it. “Sungchan’s only been friends with me for like three weeks and he already got me tickets to his game. You, on the other hand…”

The car halts to a slow stop, Donghyuck’s phone telling you that you’ve arrived at your location. Donghyuck doesn’t switch off the engine though. He chuckles licking his lips, then poking his tongue on his cheeks, fucking with your heart and hormones in the process. He keeps his hand on the steering wheel and turns to look at you, eyes hazed in attraction like he’s pulling you in.

“Baby,” he says in a whisper almost. “I don’t like love triangles.”

“Love… triangles?” you repeat.

“Love triangles,” he says in English. “I fucking hate it. And we’re not about to go through that trope in our love story here. So, let me make it clear before we go inside and before you even think about sticking to Sungchan all night.”

You gulp.

“There’s no Sungchan in the equation,” he states like a command and you find yourself nodding, agreeing. “It’s only you and me. Tonight, there will be a lot of people and none of them will be in the equation. Tonight, you’re sticking with me and we’ll talk about this tomorrow. Have fun with me and see if you want to take this to another level, because if you ask me, I’ve been dying to fucking kiss you since the semester began.”

This territory is new, and this Donghyuck is new, too. He’s always been affectionate and he’s never held back, but this new level of honesty is astonishing. Damn attractive if you’re being honest.

“Come here,” he says, ridding himself from his seatbelt. You do the same, leaning closer to him. Donghyuck holds your cheeks with both hands, smiling down at you before leaning in to kiss your forehead. “I’m not giving you mixed signals. This is me giving you a clear, direct sign that I like you and I like what we have, but I’d love to take another step. I’ve been thinking about it, and I don’t really want someone to enter the equation while I’m trying to woo you.”

You giggle. “You already successfully wooed the romance out of me the second you started holding my hand, Lee Donghyuck. And no, there won’t be love triangles.”

Donghyuck’s honesty fires up some courage in you, and you like the feeling of watching him falter when you lean in, hand on the back of his neck, and kiss him for the first time. The man melts in your kiss and in your touch, but doesn’t wait for another heartbeat to kiss you back. And despite of the bottled-up and eagerness from both sides, the first kiss is soft the first time, featherlike and sweet. His lips are even softer than they look and his lips already look plump as it is, and when Donghyuck licks your lips and invites himself in, God, he makes sure you taste the sweetness from his mouth and in a minute you’re addicted and you kiss and kiss and kiss, lips locking, tongue gliding, breaths gasping.

It’s him who pulls away, leaving you with dazed eyes wanting, wanting, wanting more.

Donghyuck gives you one last kiss on the forehead. “Let’s go.”

이렇게? (ireoke) – Like this?

You don’t end up seeing Sungchan at all in the party, and you don’t mind because Donghyuck keeps you glued to his side. The party is fun, but you and Donghyuck decide not to drink a single drop of alcohol. To him, it’s because he has to drive. To you, it’s because you want to be entirely sober to remember whatever happens tonight.

Donghyuck makes out with you in the corner of the living room where people are crumpled, and you like that he doesn’t care that people see. He holds you by the waist and on your neck, and you get it now. You get why women are lining up to sleep with Donghyuck, because if he can kiss like this, what else can he do with his mouth?

You shoot a message to Sungchan with a selfie of you and Donghyuck, thanking him for inviting you to the party and telling him you’ll see him on your next class together (Donghyucks suggests you send Sungchan a picture of you and him making out.) and prompt to leave. Donghyuck says goodbye to a few people he knew, holding you by the waist all the way from the house to where his car is parked.

Donghyuck drives you to his apartment and tells you he’s told Mark you’d be sleeping at his place tonight. The drive itself was intense enough and Donghyuck’s doing an amazing job keeping his cool while you’re practically sweating from the passenger’s seat.

You don’t even get a good look at his apartment when you arrive, because Donghyuck’s already kissing you as he rids himself of his jacket. Donghyuck doesn’t kiss you softly this time; he kisses you like he’s leaving a mark on your mouth, almost like he wants to bruise his presence inside you. He helps you get slip out of your jacket, pulling away quickly to kick his shoes off, before carrying you bridal style and bringing you to his room, kicking the door behind.

Despite the roughness of his kisses, he puts you to bed gently, ridding himself of his shirt and kneeling on the floor so he could help you out of your socks. He leans up once he’s done, one hand on your jaw to pull you down for another kiss, the other caressing your thigh.

“Please tell me this is okay,” he whispers. You nod. “I need your words, baby.”

“Yes, Donghyuck,” you answer, breathless when he starts kissing your neck. “This is okay. Please touch me.”

Donghyuck pushes you a little so half of your body is lying on his bed, your feet flat on his carpeted floor, tugging the loops of your jeans, urging you to lift your hips so he can rid you out of the material. He pulls you back up to take your shirt off from your torso, then he’s helping you back up from the edge of the bed towards the headboard as he crawls on top of you.

“Donghyuck,” you gasp when he goes back to kissing you. You realize that Donghyuck like kissing with the way he’s using his mouth to imprint his presence in you, his tongue licking everywhere it can reach inside your mouth, and he tastes like mint and the soda he had at the party, and he’s everything that you want. “Touch me, please.”

“Like this?” Donghyuck reaches down to rub your clit through the material of your underwear. He rubs slow, teasingly, and kisses you on the mouth when you groan. He dips his head lower and kisses your neck; he bites and nips and sucks and you’re sure it’s leaving a mark you’d have to conceal the next day. “Want me to touch you like this, baby?”

A moan elicits from your throat, and Donghyuck doesn’t waste any more time. He slips his warm hand between your skin and your underwear, really touching you, rubbing your clit gently, his digits dragging itself on your slit slowly, gathering your wetness then going back to rub your clit again, more roughly with the pool of wetness his fingers have now.

“Like this?” he asks again, pushing a finger inside when he finds your hole, urging another moan from your lips.

“Oh my God, Donghyuck,” you gasp when he fingers you gently, your wetness making a sound when he adds another finger. Donghyuck takes his time, biting his lips as he watches you writhe underneath his touch.

“Pull your bra down,” he breathes out, and you do. When your breasts are out on the open, Donghyuck doesn’t waste time and locks lips with your nipple, sucking and licking as he fingers the sanity out of you. He alternates from fingering you with two digits and rubbing you using his thumb, and you’re all putty and messy under him, and you want more, more, more, more.

“Baby, please fuck me,” you beg. “Please, Donghyuck. Please fuck me”

Donghyuck hushes you. “I will, baby. I’ll fuck you so well, you’ll come running back to me tomorrow and the day after, and the day after.”

But he doesn’t. He pulls his fingers out, hold you by your jaw so you could lock eyes while he licks the proof of your attraction to him from his fingers, sucking and showing you just how well he could use his tongue. He doesn’t fuck you get but he rids you of the last garments from your body and does the fucking impossible.

Donghyuck eats you out like it’s the last meal he’ll ever have. He swirls his tongue on your clit as he pushes his digits back in your hole, fingering you like it’s all he’s ever wanted, and he’s got you chanting his name like a prayer when his tongue laps your sex, even more when he replaces his fingers with his tongue. You’re writhing and screaming and Donghyuck’s holding your legs apart while he pleasures you with his mouth and hands.

You don’t want to cum yet, but Donghyuck’s so, so good, and it looks like he’s not stopping anytime soon. He tongues you back to your clit and fingers you with three digits, fast and rough.

“Donghyuck, I’m going to—” You see white and stars and you stay still when Donghyuck continues fingering you, moving all three fingers in an upward motion, reaching where you want him the most, mouth sucking your clit as you ride the first orgasm you’ve had in months.

Donghyuck lets you have your moment when it’s done, taking the time to lick the slick wetness from his fingers down to his wrist, kneeling between your legs. You push yourself up so that you’re sitting with your legs wide open, your palms flat on his sheets, head tilted for a kiss. Donghyuck leans over and kisses you again, and you never thought you’d like tasting yourself in his tongue. You guess everything tastes sweeter when it’s in Donghyuck’s mouth.

“Off, please,” you murmur, pulling the loops from his jeans. Donghyuck obeys, removing all pieces of clothing until he’s naked.

You marvel at his beauty, licking your lips when you finally see him bare and clean. His golden skin looks like honey and you want to kiss the fuck out of his collarbones and leave your mark for everyone to see. Your eyes travel from his chest down to the trail from his tummy down to his erect cock. He’s hard and red and you salivate from how big he looks and feel yourself getting even more wet at the thought of him fucking you. Before you know it, you’re reaching out, moving so you could kneel, and taking his hardness in your hand. Donghyuck moans for the first time tonight, and you plan to elicit that sound from him all night.

Stroking him slowly, you feel a rush of satisfaction when Donghyuck pants your name. “Oh my God,” he moans when you bend over, a palm flat on his sheets, your other hand stroking him as you take him to your mouth. He gathers your hair and watches you from above, and you purposely stick your ass up higher when you feel him twitch as you take more of his cock into your mouth. When you’re about halfway, you stroke the rest of what you can’t take and start sucking and licking, and Donghyuck makes the absolute best sound ever. You like his voice when he sings, but you don’t think anything could compare with how he’s whining your name as you suck his dick thoroughly, licking and jerking off whatever your mouth couldn’t fit. A part of you wants to ask Donghyuck to fuck your mouth, bruise your throat with his dick and cum straight down your fucking stomach if he wants to, but that could be arranged next time. This time, with his dick hard and wet from your mouth, you want him to fuck you.

You suck him one last time before you pull away, a string of your saliva following when you look up at Donghyuck. “Now, will you fuck me?”

Donghyuck looks fucked out, eyes dazed with lust, and you want nothing more than for him to ruin you. And Donghyuck doesn’t need to be asked twice.

He crawls back up until you’re lying on your back, legs wide open for him, and kneels between your legs. “Ready and sure?” he asks for the last time, stroking himself.

“Pull out when you cum,” is all you say and Donghyuck goes for it. He gives you a kiss and rests one of his forearms beside your arm, massaging the head of his cock on your opening until he’s stretching you out.

“Fuck,” Donghyuck groans when he feels your tightness. “God damn, Y/N, when was the last time you got fucked?”

“I—I can’t remember,” you say. “None of them were worth remembering.”

“And me?” Donghyuck asks as he pushes deeper until he’s fully stretched you and his pelvis is leaning against your clit. “Will you remember me?”

“Ask me next time,” you breathe out. “I think you’ll have to fuck me every day so I can remember.”

Donghyuck gives you some time, kissing you softly. “When was the last time you fucked anyone?” you ask in return.

“I can’t remember,” he parrots. “None of them were worth remembering. All I know is that this is the first time I’m feeling someone raw.” Then he bottoms out, gives you only half a second before he’s thrusting back and out and back and out and back and out, slowly but surely fucking you well.

Donghyuck fucks you like he means it. His hips snap roughly but makes sure you feel all of him before he thrusts out and he’s everywhere. His tongue is in your mouth, then on your neck, his free hand is caressing one of your breasts, playing with your nipples, and he’s making you feel so, so good and you’re not sure how you go back from here. You’re not sure how you could go on with life knowing how well Donghyuck can fuck you. He’s got you squirming and reaching your second orgasm only minutes into fucking the life out of you.

When you’re close, Donghyuck pushes himself up so that he’s kneeling again, and lifts both your legs, resting your calves on either side of his shoulders, hugging your legs so he can fuck you deeper in this angle. The precision makes you chant his name over and over again and he takes one of his hands down to rub your clit. You try your best to hold back from cumming because the way he’s fucking you now feels so damn good that you want it to last for a long time. He thrusts in and out quickly, his balls hitting the bottom of your ass again and again.

“Come for me, baby,” he says. “Let go.”

So, you do, and Donghyuck keeps on fucking you through it. Donghyuck lets you finish, before he’s pushing the back of your knees down so your thighs are pressed up against your stomach, chasing his own orgasm, and fucks you hard, without rhythm, until he is moaning your name like praise and he’s pulling out so he could release on your stomach. You reach up to caress his cheek as you watch him in awe as he finishes, his face contorted in pleasure, lips wet and eyes closed.

When it’s done, Donghyuck kisses you on the forehead and helps you clean up. He leaves to go to the bathroom for a minute to grab a warm, wet towel, cleaning your stomach, and carries you back to the bathroom with him. The shower is warm, and Donghyuck is gentle and sweet when he cleans you up, giving you kisses when he pats you dry once he’s gotten rid of the shampoo and body wash from your hair and skin. Donghyuck tells you there’s a spare toothbrush on behind the mirror and washes himself as you brush your teeth, naked but warm.

Donghyuck tells you to that the right side of his closet is where you can find the clothes he uses at home and you follow as he finishes cleaning himself up. You take the liberty to take one of his shirts that are still too big for you despite Donghyuck’s frame and slip a pair of cotton shorts.

Donghyuck finds you half-asleep when he’s done showering; he sleeps shirtless, you reckon, because he crawls to bed only in sweatpants. He cuddles you from behind, kissing the clothed shoulder, and the last thing you hear before you drift off to sleep is him humming a song your mind can’t recognize and a promise that you’ll talk about this the next day.

You wake up to the smell of Spam, an empty space beside yours, and the sound of Donghyuck singing a song from BOL4, which you learned is one of his favorite musicians.

Donghyuck smiles warmly at you when you find him in the kitchen, just about to finish pan-frying the last piece of sliced luncheon meat. He’s still shirtless, but is wearing a cute pink apron, and he gives you a quick kiss on the lips like it’s the most natural thing ever. The second his lips pull away from yours, you reach up and touch where he kissed, lips tingling—in disbelief that what happened last night is real.

“Good morning,” he hums. “Just in time for breakfast.”

“Donghyuck,” you trail off. “Can we talk first?”

Donghyuck nods, offering that you sit on the high stool across the small kitchen island. He sits next to you, turning the seat so that you’re face to face, knees touching. “What do we want to do?” he asks.

“You know I’m leaving in like, four months, right?” you start.

Donghyuck whistles. “We just started and you’re already breaking up with me?”

“No, no,” you say, exhaling. “This… this. I like. You. I like.”

“Baby, construct your sentences properly,” he laughs.

“I like you,” you confess. “And I like this. I like holding your hands. And kissing you. And what we did last night. I’m just worried because—”

“Because you’re leaving,” he finishes for you. “I know, but I also like you a lot. More than you probably think. And I don’t want to miss my chance getting to know you more just because you’re leaving in a few months. I don’t know what you want, but here’s what I want, you let me know if it works for you, if not, then I’ll still be a friend. Who might cry for two weeks straight if you reject me.”

You laugh but urge him to continue.

“I want to date you, and get to know you even more. Your quirks, the things that make you angry, your comfort food, the movies that give you the ick,” he continues. “Your family, how you were raised, if you like Marvel or DC more, what Hogwarts house you belong to, if you like pineapple in pizza or not, whether you pour milk or cereal first, if you ever kissed Mark Lee, if Mark Lee’s ever had a crush on you.”

“What does Mark have—”

“Shh,” he stops. “It’s my turn. Talk later. Anyway, I want this—” he gestures the space between you and him. “And I want you. I want to keep teaching you the language and I know what’s ahead of us is scary, and there’s only two things that could happen: this is going to be either the biggest heartbreak of my life or you’re going to be the greatest love of my life. It’s a fifty-fifty chance, Y/N. Let’s just say I’m willing to risk whatever if it means I have 50% the chances of having you as the greatest love of my life.”

Oh. You don’t realize you’re staring quietly until Donghyuck holds your hand.

“Now tell me,” he asks slowly. “What do you want?”

You don’t hesitate. “I want you, Lee Donghyuck.”

일어날 수 있는 최악의 상황은 무엇입니까? il-eonal su issneun choeag-ui sanghwang-eun mueos-ibnikka? What’s the worst that could happen?

It doesn’t come out as a surprise to anyone when you and Donghyuck arrive at Arcade holding hands, a shy smile playing on your lips, a proud one in Donghyuck’s. You were thankful that there were no teasing remarks coming from your friends—that they were taking this so well, like it’s normal. Like it’s meant to happen anyway. There’s a knowing smirk on Mark’s stupid face, but you love him and you can’t wait to tell him all about how you feel towards Donghyuck. “Okay, so my birthday falls on a weekend,” Jeno announces. “And I think it’s the best time to go to the amusement park. Will you have work then, Renjun-ah?”

“Most likely,” Renjun answers, mouth full of food as he chews on a bite of pizza. “But I can have Yerim cover for me. I’ll just return the favor if she needs me one day.”

“Sweet!” Jeno exclaims. “So, it’s decided then. We’ll go to the amusement park on my birthday.”

As you and Donghyuck play footsie under the table, Mark stands, turning to you. “I’m going to get another milkshake. Come with me?”

You nod, kicking Donghyuck one last time and standing to follow your best friend. Somehow, you feel bad for not saying anything about your growing feelings for Donghyuck, considering that Mark is your best friend in the entire universe and you’re his. If it were him, he would’ve told you the second he caught feelings to anyone. But Mark knows you’re not the kind to admit feelings like this as soon as it starts inflating in your chest; he knows you’re the type to hold it in until you can’t anymore. Having had terrible relationships in the past, Mark has always known that you’re the kind to be careful.

“I didn’t think you’d actually go for it,” Mark says as soon as you and him are out of earshot. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy for you. I just didn’t expect this to happen so quickly.”

“Me neither,” you mumble under your breath. “Sorry for not saying anything.”

Mark chuckles. “You didn’t have to. I mean, we all kinda always known this would happen. I just couldn’t imagine how you and Donghyuck sealed it so quickly, like considering how shy and quiet you always were whenever he was around.”

“I was shy and quiet with everyone around,” you remark. “Donghyuck taught me all these slangs and now I can’t stop talking.”

The woman in the counter asks you what she can help you with when you reach her. Mark tells his order alongside some sides Renjun had asked him to get. He leans on the counter, turning back to you. “Anyway.”

“Yeah?”

“I think you’re serious serious.” Mark clears his throat. “Like, I’ve known you for so long and you’ve always been hesitant to do shit. I’ve always been the spontaneous and reckless one between us, and you’re the careful one. The one who thinks everything through before deciding on it—this trip to Seoul included on the long list.”

“Your point is?” you ask, even though you know exactly where this is going.

Mark licks his lips before continuing: “What I’m saying is, you’ve never been this certain so quickly.”

That’s right. Not to be cliché or whatever, but this is normally how it goes for you. Relationships used to be difficult for you—from the pining to the confession to its climax to its end, until the bargaining and acceptance—and you’d never been the type to go through things so quickly and easily. With Donghyuck, you’d somehow done it backwards (and Mark doesn’t need to know that you slept with Donghyuck before you even sealed the damn relationship) but for some reason, you had forgotten how you’re supposed to act around people you like romantically. It scares the shit out of you, the connection between you and Donghyuck, but you’ve always been a firm believer that if it doesn’t scare you, it probably isn’t something worth doing. It feels like jumping from a cliff, to the bottom of the unknown, and it’s new, but it makes your heart pound like never before.

“I don’t want to get ahead and say something that’d make you change your mind somehow, because I also like you and Donghyuck together,” he explains when you only stare at him. “But, as your best friend, with the best intentions only, please don’t go breaking your heart before we leave, yeah?”

You nod, understanding and appreciating Mark’s sentiment. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Mark shrugs. “We won’t really know. Take care, yeah?”

You smile stepping closer to hug Mark. “I love you, you know that, right?” he asks. You nod, your face buried on his chest. “Good. I’ll beat Donghyuck’s ass if he hurts you in anyway.”

“I sure hope you do,” you reply, just in time for the staff to call Mark’s attention, the tray of his order ready for him.

Donghyuck is pouting when you return, asking why you and Mark took too long because the seat beside him is all cold now. You kiss him on the cheek and tell him Mark just told you he’s beating his ass if you’re hurt in anyway.

“Mark can’t hurt a fly,” Donghyuck remarks. “What makes you think he can hurt me, huh?”

Mark scoffs. “You’ll be the first.”

계절과 계절 사이 (gyejeolgwa gyejeol sai) – between seasons

When the seasons start to change—from the rainy, cold spring transition to a warm, sunny summer—you and Donghyuck change, too.

From the euphoric blooming of your relationship—the playful dates, the passionate moments in his bedroom (because ever since Mark adopted that cat, Donghyuck could never stay at your place for longer than an hour), the heart-warming feeling of seeing him waiting for your after your class—to the warm, comfortable attachment stage, you feel like you know Donghyuck in a deeper sense now.

The small notebook he’d given you at the beginning of the term is halfway full, its pages messily scribbled with phrase and sentences you had learned—likewise the memories those words carry—and soon enough you find yourself more comfortable with the language, and eventually with Seoul. You find yourself enjoying, and not in a way that makes you think you’d want to visit again soon.

The journey with Seoul was initially a play to learn the language and its beautiful culture: a detour. A diversion from your plans. A stop while you figure out what you want in life. Your last year in university is supposed to be the year you finally decide what to do next. Visiting Seoul was an opportunity for you to really get to know yourself beyond your comfort zone, to really challenge your capabilities, to learn beyond what your hometown had in store for you.

But these days do not feel like Seoul is a place to visit.

In a way, liberating albeit frightening, you find yourself thinking that perhaps Seoul is a place to build a home in. The home is built from arms that hold you on days when it’s extra cold, your nose red and hands frozen, and its shelter is made from Donghyuck’s warm smile and the assurance of him being there for you. And right now, while you sit closely together at the back of your friend’s car, their obnoxiously loud voices singing to some pop song along the radio, you feel it: home.

Jeno likes the phone case you had customized for him, and he gives you a big, bear hug as soon as he take a peek of what’s inside your present.

“I love you. I literally love you with all my being,” he dramatically says as he squishes you.

“That’s my girlfriend, you idiot,” Donghyuck complains, pulling Jeno’s arms away from you. With the way you three are seated at the back of Renjun’s car, you sitting in between them, it’s uncomfortable and Donghyuck insists on taking part of the little moment you’re having with Jeno.

Jeno whines, “Let me love her. This is the best gift ever!”

Donghyuck ends up puffing air out of his mouth, pouting and leaning back so Jeno could hug you. You’re laughing and Jeno whispers how easily they could make him sulk these days because you’re around.

Mark, who’s sitting on the passenger seat beside Renjun, announces you’ve arrived at the amusement park, just as Jaemin’s car halts to a slow stop behind you.

It’s the first time you’ve ever visited the famous amusement park in Seoul, and Mark looks excited with the way he’s jumping as you line up for the tickets. Donghyuck has his arm around you, taking pictures with his other hand. The rest are chattering, talking about the rides they’d love to try.

The secretly group decides to stick together for the entire day to celebrate Jeno’s day, despite the birthday boy himself telling everyone they can go wherever they want to. You could see how much they really care about one another and they all just hide it in their mean, vile jokes. For example, the man who has his arm wrapped around you likes teasing Jeno like it’s his full-time job, but is hiding a birthday present inside the trunk of Renjun’s car (and would most likely give it before you all head home, act like his best friend’s birthday isn’t that much of a big deal).

Most of the day is spent following Jeno around, whatever ride he wanted to try and your ears ringing because of how loud Donghyuck is screaming. The temperature has gone from freezing cold to warm, the humidity making it a little harder for everybody to move around under the warmth of the sun.

“I never realized how much of a scaredy cat you are, Donghyuckie,” you tease as soon as you walk out of the roller coaster ride. “Not much of a tough guy now, huh?”

Donghyuck whines, “I liked you better when the words you spoke were only yes and no.”

Mark laughs, slapping Donghyuck on the back. “Oh man, that was really good.”

“Yeah?” You rebut. “And I liked you better when you weren’t screaming like a kid.”

Donghyuck smirks, “And I like you better when you’re screaming my name.”

Renjun and Jisung cough in disgust, and Mark just straight up slapped the back of Donghyuck’s head. “You two are disgusting. I can’t believe I live with you, Y/N.”

Donghyuck laughs, turning to you. “It’s pretty hot. Want me to go grab you a can of soda? Ice cold water?”

“Water, please,” you say. Donghyuck nods and gives you a quick kiss on the cheek before pulling Chenle with him and walking to the opposite side where a small shop is. In the meantime, the rest of you occupy the benches under a shade, Jeno asking which ride to go next.

Donghyuck and Chenle return in a matter of time, bottles of drinks in their hands. They give everyone their preferred drinks, Donghyuck sitting beside Mark and extending an arm so he could hand you your drink from his side.

“Fucking summer,” Donghyuck curses. “I hate summer.”

Renjun raises an eyebrow. “Suddenly?”

“It’s not even summer yet,” Jaemin points out. “What happened to you? You’ve always been so excited about summer.”

“It’s so hot. I can’t stand this fucking temperature,” Donghyuck mumbles.

Renjun scoffs. “You start planning our summer getaway as early as March.”

“It’s already April and you have nothing yet,” Jisung points out.

“Yeah, what the hell, man. I hate your ridiculous ideas, but we can’t survive summer without you,” Jeno adds, then looks at Mark. “Yo, Mark, what about you? What are you doing this summer?”

You and Mark freeze, looking at each other for a second, before the latter speaks for you both: “We’re, uh, we’re supposed to go home.”

It seems like Jeno didn’t know the weight of his question because he apologizes as soon as he realizes it. The group falls into silence, no one says anything, or perhaps nobody could think of anything to say, not even you or Mark.

With your days in Seoul numbered, you realize now that you haven’t really talked about it—not you and Mark, not you and Donghyuck—and it never really felt real. You had always told yourself you’ll cross the bridge when you get there, and the bridge is nearby.

Donghyuck clears his throat. ���The sun’s going to kill me. I think I saw a burger joint that has an air-conditioning system down the corner of that street. Shall we go there?”

Everybody agrees and stand to leave. Donghyuck holds your hand, pulling you close and steals a kiss on your cheek. The gesture makes your heart flutter. Donghyuck is warm, but not in the way the sun is hot right now—in a way that gets you thinking: can this warmth reach Vancouver?

Your skin hurts when the sunlight hits you. You hate summer.

 오해 하지마 (ohae hajima) – Don’t misunderstand

Donghyuck had a face that looked like what an artist would draw in a whim—spontaneously—like it was done in a rush, like a portrait from a park done by a street artist, something done with a pencil. Ink stains are harder to wash off, and anyway, figments aren’t mean to last—and he’s almost unrecognizable in this light.

You can’t recognize him on the night of his birthday.

His Mother had gone above and beyond and invited all of their closest relatives and family friends for his 23rd birthday, and it’s also your first time meeting them.

It’s nerve-wracking to say the least, but his Mother smiles at you kindly when she greets you from the entrance of the restaurant they rented for the evening. You could tell his family was wealthy, and it makes sense because Donghyuck got the most bare minimum job he could find, and it’s most likely because he doesn’t need to get one; he probably only got one so he could talk about work, too, just like the rest of his friends.

The birthday party is a surprise and it was Renjun who connected with everyone to make sure they attend here tonight. You had to make up some excuse to Donghyuck when he asked why you can’t join him for dinner with his family tonight and had promised to make it up to him the day after.

You’re sat in the same table as Mark, Renjun, Jeno, and Jaemin, a bit far away from Donghyuck’s family’s table, as you wait for the birthday boy, your present sitting on top of the round table. Mark talks about his cat, letting Jaemin watch snippets of his pet from his phone, and Renjun is narrating a story about his “ridiculous and absurd encounter with Liu Yangyang (and you and Jeno can’t pass up the opportunity to tease him about it).

Then, someone comes sit beside Jaemin, the boys gasping when they see her.

Karina is beautiful, and even saying that isn’t enough to describe the woman’s beauty. Soft-spoken and brilliant, Karina naturally allows everyone to gravitate towards her. All, including yourself, are pulled like magnet when she arrived. Jeno introduces you and you allow yourself to throw a quick and inaudible “hello” when she reaches over and asks you how you are.

Donghyuck’s Mother almost screams when she sees Karina, excitement filling up the air as she hugs her and thanks her for attending.

“I wouldn’t miss Hyuckie’s birthday for the world, eommoni,” Karina answers, and before you could ask Renjun how she’s related to Donghyuck, Jisung, who’s seated in another table with Donghyuck’s younger siblings, announces that the birthday man himself has arrived.

Donghyuck enters the hall, surprised and happy when he sees everyone, a dramatic cry leaving his lips as everyone greets him happy birthday. He feigns complaint, whining that he’s no longer eight years old, but hugs his parents anyway.

His parents thank everyone for joining a precious day and celebrating their eldest son’s birthday with them. Donghyuck bows and starts to go around to thank people.

You don’t recognize Donghyuck when he finally reaches your table and he gives you small smile, hugging you quickly before moving on to the next person. You don’t recognize Donghyuck when he goes to Karina, lifting her as he hugs her tightly, and thanking her for being able to come. You don’t recognize Donghyuck when his Mother joins the little reunion and he laughs when his Mother jokes about them missing each other too much.

“She’s the one who left me all alone here in Seoul,” Donghyuck pouts. “We wouldn’t have missed each other this much if you had stayed!”

“Don’t be such a drama queen, Hyuckie,” Karina says, rolling her eyes. “You visited me in Tokyo literally six months ago.”

Six months ago, which means, it was right before you arrived in Seoul.

You want to be anywhere else but here, and you don’t want to listen any further, but the scenario runs like a comedy show and the punch line is you.

“You two better decide whatever the hell you want to do with your lives by the end of the year,” Donghyuck’s Mother comments. “I mean, no one’s stopping you from moving to Tokyo, Donghyuck. You and Karina can rekindle whatever light was burnt last year. I’m glad you stayed best of friends despite the long distance. You’ve always made a great couple.”

Your breath hitches like your lungs had just been punch. Donghyuck, it seems, finally remembers you’re watching this unfold. Mark holds you, and bless him because your legs feel like they’re about to give up. You and Donghyuck make eye contact, but you don’t recognize him at all.

“Eomma,” Donghyuck clears his throat. Everything else he’s said come out like a blur, and Mark is just holding you close.

“Don’t misunderstand,” Renjun whispers closely. “They’re just friends.”

You don’t recognize Donghyuck when he watches you leave.

천천히 말씀해 주세요 (chun-chun-hee mal-sseum-heh ju-seh-yo)  - Please speak slowly | 집 (jib) - home

Karina turns out to be the one that got away. The one true love. The greatest love. The childhood best friend who’s always been there. The leading woman. She turns out to be the protagonist in Donghyuck’s story.

You learn all of these from Renjun. Even when he refused to say a single word and had begged for you to talk to Donghyuck instead, you learn the truth by asking Mark to ask Renjun.

Donghyuck and Karina. Karina and Donghyuck. Two peas in a pod. A tight knit. Knowing each other like the back of their hands. A buy one, get one kind of deal. Where one is, the other would follow. And everyone and their moms know that it has always been like that, will always be like that.

Donghyuck and Karina, born on the same year, grew up in the same small village in Jeju island. Having been inseparable since, they ended up moving to Seoul together in high school. Donghyuck’s parents were supportive of Donghyuck pursuing a career in music, and they believed that moving to Seoul was the first step for their beloved son to find his spotlight. Karina’s parents, however, couldn’t afford moving alongside the Lee family despite wanting to support their daughter, too. Donghyuck begged his parents to have Karina move in with them so her parents would only worry about paying her tuition and allowances. The Lee family agreed, of course, because Donghyuck and Karina were fifteen, and they were the best team the world has ever known.

Karina is a talented dancer, and with a face like hers, it would be a shame to keep her in a small town in Jeju island. Her moving to Seoul had been the first step to her early success, because as soon as she reached puberty and had gained a butt and a pair of breasts, agencies were scouting her, creepily waiting for her outside of hers and Donghyuck’s high school. She’d declined, of course, with a promise to Donghyuck that they’d go to stardom together, but Donghyuck wanted to study and make music, and he felt as though he needed to go to college for that.

Karina eventually moved to another dormitory when she started training. Donghyuck moved downtown to start college. They were in different places, but they were still inseparable.

Pretty much every day Donghyuck would meet up with Karina when she started training; if not, then he’d be on Facetime with her during the hours when she’s not working. He had brought her to SNU many times, and they had started dating by the time Donghyuck is in his second year. All the other guys know Karina and her place in Donghyuck’s life. Somehow, a bitter part of you feels betrayed that none of them ever mentioned about Donghyuck’s great love, but you can’t really blame them for not saying anything.

They broke up on the latter months of last year because Karina had to move to Tokyo. There was no big fight apparently, just the decision that it’s most likely not going to work because—listen to this; this is the biggest punch line of this comedy show—Donghyuck can’t handle long distance.

You had answered one of Donghyuck’s calls by mistake. He’s mad for some reason, perhaps angry of the fact that you’re ignoring him and he doesn’t have much control like he normally does.

“Y/N, for fuck’s sake, why haven’t you answered?” he had cried out as soon as you answered.

“I was busy,” was all you could come up with. You brain had not been working good enough to translate things to Korean.

“What do you mean you were busy?” he had asked, voice loud and angry. “You literally disappeared on me! On my fucking birthday! And I’m done playing nice and cool because this is unfair. Whatever the fuck you’re doing is unfair you’re not letting me in. If you could just let me explain, things—”

“Please speak slowly.”

“—would be easier for the two of us. Whatever Karina and I had, it’s been over since last year. It’s over way before I met you. I never thought of her, not even for a goddamn second since we got together. I wouldn’t fucking betray you like that—”

“I can’t understand you.”

“—and I can’t believe you don’t trust me enough to let me at least tell you what happened! I never mentioned her because I never even thought about her! My Mother doesn’t know anything! I’ve wanted you to meet my Mother for a long time, but given our situation, a fucking time bomb ticking, I didn’t know if it was too early to go to that stage.”

“Time bomb?” you had asked, repeating the syllables slowly. “What’s that?”

Donghyuck sighed on the other line. “The thing that explodes at a predetermined time.”

“Oh, a time bomb,” you asked in English, chuckling. “That, we are.”

“Huh?”

“We’re a fucking time bomb,” you said, again in English, because if Donghyuck could keep talking in his mother tongue without considering if you’d understand a single word, so could you. “We’re ticking and we’re just waiting for this shit to explode. And I can’t wait and watch myself burn, Donghyuck. I can’t.”

“Please speak slowly,” he pleaded in Korean. You don’t.

“This isn’t going to work,” you responded, still in your mother tongue. “Maybe this is a clear sign for us, Donghyuck. Goodbye.”

Mark finds you crying on floor of your living, your back leaning on the feet of the couch, two weeks after Donghyuck’s birthday.

The first week, you had convinced your friends you were fine and that you just needed time. Donghyuck’s been reaching out to everybody, and Mark, being the best friend he is, lies regarding your whereabouts every time Donghyuck visits.

You don’t know how many calls Donghyuck had tried to make and how many text messages he’d left because you had completely abandoned your phone for the last couple of weeks and only relied on your computer to check any e-mails from your professors.

“I’m sorry,” Mark says, and you feel a rush of relief when he talks to you in English. You’ve had enough of Korean and Korean men these days. “It sucks, man. I don’t even know what to say. I’m so fucking disappointed with Donghyuck.”

“Shouldn’t you be more disappointed with me?” you sniffle. “I should have listened to you. We were moving too fast.”

Mark shakes his head, pulling you closer so that your head is resting on his shoulder. “I couldn’t blame you. Donghyuck’s charming, and I genuinely thought he was in love with you. I mean, I could say is, because I really think he’s sorry about everything.”

“We didn’t even get to properly break up,” you cry. “Our flight back home is in like, two weeks. I was supposed to talk to him and decide what we’d do with our relationship. For his birthday, I made a stupid mixtape that he could keep in his car and a very expensive and fucking cheesy set of touch lamps I found online for whenever he would miss me. And I keep making stupid letters like a fucking idiot so I could leave him with a bunch of poorly constructed letters just so he knows how much I’ll fucking miss him.”

Mark stays silent as you sob your heart out.

“And can you believe I actually thought it’d work?” you say, exasperated. “I’m so fucking sorry to myself. I’m just glad it’s over before I did shit I’d regret later on.””

“Shit like?” Mark asks.

You sigh, sniffling and screaming internally because the tears would stop. “I was already looking into internships here. For my last semester in college. I had already decided to decline the internship they were offering back home—thank God I haven’t sent that e-mail from my drafts—and I’ve found really good companies here. And if I’m lucky, I was thinking of moving here after college.”

Mark clicks his tongue. “All because of Donghyuck?”

“Because he feels like home, Mark,” you reason out. “He’s warm, and I can’t believe I’m admitting this now, but I love him. I love him so fucking much.”

“Oh, Y/N.”

“And we would have been happy. I would’ve done everything I could,” you confess. “And this fucking language barrier will be the death of me, but I would’ve learned more. I’d be an expert by the end of the year. And now, this whole Karina thing made me realize how much more I need to know about him.”

Mark holds you closer as though holding you would make things better. “When we were kids,” he starts. “Whenever I told you stories about how much I miss all the people I had to leave behind whenever we had to move from one country to another, one state to another, you’d always tell me to never build houses out of people.”

You remember. You always admired how Mark could move from one place to another, his suitcase and the ghost of the friendships he made following his trail, and he’s always told you about the loneliness it comes with.

“You used to tell me shelters aren’t supposed to be made of arms wrapped around you on a cold night, or hands that hold you when you’re feeling lonely,” he continues. “And I can’t blame you, because humans are known not to follow their own advice. But I hope you find home in things you’d never lose.”

You nod. “I’m sorry for breaking rule number three.”

“You’ll get over him,” he assures. “If you decide to really end things here, I mean. I’m sure you can get over him. It’s easier to get over people when you don’t see him.”

You nod, “Let’s go home, Mark.”

“Back home?”

You smile. “Yes. Back home.”

갈망 (galmang) - longing

It’s Giselle who picks you up from the airport.

You reunite like old friends, but Giselle really didn’t change that much. Even the weather didn’t change much. The same old. You wish you could say the same to yourself.

The flight to Vancouver was the most painful ten hours of your life, both literally and figuratively. It was hard watching your friends bid you goodbye, and you could tell they were dreading your departure as much as you and Mark were. Mark assures them you and him would save up to visit them again this year and as much as you’d wanted to stay, your student visa would allow you only six months. Mark promises he’d work on a tourist visa or whatever because despite being 100% ethnically Korean, but legally, he can’t just visit whenever he wants.

The pain from your breakup with Donghyuck is nothing compared to seeing Mark leave his friends again. You know how much they mean to him, and by extension, how much they mean to you regardless of what happened before your departure.

The head of student exchange program sends you warm greetings through text, followed by a series of messages from your friends and family. You’re glad Giselle had decided to pick you up from the airport, because you don’t think you’re in a good state to pretend like you’re okay, and Giselle knows.

Of course, she knows.

Giselle’s been your anchor during your last weeks in Seoul. Mark reckons that if anyone would understand you best during this time, it would be Giselle. After all, she’d gone through the same thing.

Like Mark, Giselle moved to Seoul with her parents for a few years. She had a similar experience with Mark, considering that her parents are constantly moving around—from Japan to South Korea then to Vancouver. Giselle was only in Seoul for two years before her parents moved back to Vancouver again, and in between those years she had met Kevin Moon, the love of her life.

They have been dating for almost four years now, two of those years, they dated long distance.

“How’d you make it work?” you had asked Giselle over Facetime once.

“It wasn’t perfect,” she admitted. “We broke up a couple of time because it was really difficult. And neither of us were willing to move for each other. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Kevin and I, we love each other. Truly we do. But I wouldn’t want to plant my entire life in Seoul for him. In the same manner, I don’t want him to move from Seoul to Vancouver for me when we both know for a fact that he’d be more successful in Korea than here. I guess, I don’t know, I don’t have an advice I could give you.”

“I’m not asking for advice,” you denied. “I mean. Donghyuck and I have only been dating for like, two weeks. I wouldn’t think that far at this time.”

Giselle had laughed at the other end of the line. “Let me tell you one thing, though.”

“Mhm.”

“It’s all a matter of choice,” she had said slowly, like she wanted to imprint the words to your brain. “Your heart isn’t made of diamonds. Your lungs aren’t made of steel. Somehow, inevitably, you’d grow tired—tired of timezones and how you never get the timing right, tired of not having someone to hug when you need it, tired of having to compromise—and it’s not an easy game.”

Giselle was smiling when she’d said the rest: “But Kevin is so worth it. I’ll grow tired of the baggage long distance comes with, but I don’t think I could live without him, you know? And it’s exaggerated, I know, and neither of us know what the future holds, but we’re choosing us. We chose to stay.”

It would have been beautiful, you think, if things worked out between you and Donghyuck. You would have written poems and prose in places about how you chose to stay. You would have learned about time zones and the best time to call, could have learned how to purchase the cheapest flight tickets to see each other, would have learned love and compromise together.

But you’re here, back in Vancouver, the voices of Mark and Giselle all blurred out from the backseat, and all you could think of is how much you miss Donghyuck.

예기치 ���은 (yegichi anh-eun) - unexpected

The head of the student exchange program asks you to write an article about your experience in Seoul and gives you until the fall semester begins, just in time for the university’s own publishing house to produce this year’s school paper. You’re stuck at two hundred words and a stupid title Mark came up with: “Learning Languages”—and you’re thinking about withdrawing from that spot in the newspaper but Mark keeps calling you a heartbroken loser and you’re not about to let Mark Lee get the last word.

You’re eating cereal and watching an episode of Suits to prepare to write again (yes, a 30-minute preparation time is needed for such task) when someone knocks at your door.

You know how, in movies, the main character would see things in slow motion as soon as the love of their life enters the scene? That’s exactly what happens when you open the door and find Lee Donghyuck standing outside your dorm room, a too-large for his body backpack on one shoulder and his heart upon his sleeve.

미안해 (mianhae) – I’m sorry | 사랑해 (saranghae) – I love you

“I’m sorry,” are the first words that Lee Donghyuck comes up with, and truthfully are the words you needed to hear from him. He says it in his mother tongue and you feel his heart in his voice.

“Mark?” you ask, knowing full well it’s Mark who helped him.

“Yes but no,” he answers. “He said he’d only give me your address but he’s not picking me up or helping me. My flight landed literally six hours ago and I’ve been looking for you since.”

Donghyuck sits across you on the small table you own inside your small room. His backpack is sitting on his feet and his shoulders are slumped. Donghyuck allows himself to look small compared to all the times you were with him.

“Y-you look good,” he comments, eyes glued on you. “I’m glad you’re healthy, at least.”

“You, too,” you mumble. “Tea? Coffee?”

“Water would be fine, please and thank you.” You reach over to hand him a bottle. “And who are you kidding? I look awful.”

He does. He looks exactly what he said he had done to get here. Look for you for six hours after a ten-hour flight from Incheon. Donghyuck downs the bottle of water. Poor guy probably hasn’t eaten.

“Why are you here, Donghyuck?” you ask as soon as he’s done drinking.

Donghyuck clears his throat. “I don’t really know what I want out of this trip.”

You keep your arms crossed over your chest.

“And I’m not about to beg you to take me back,” he continues. “I just wanted to explain. I just want you to know what happened. I can live without you, but I can’t live with you thinking I had betrayed you.”

“Donghyuck, there’s really no need to explain. Renjun has told Mark all I needed to know.”

“No, let me say it please. I spent a fortune to come here, and I’m going to make you listen if it’s the last thing I’d do. After this, I’ll leave. I have a ticket back home tomorrow, and I’ll leave.”

Ridiculous. Who would spend a fortune on a set of roundtrip tickets only to leave a day after? Of course, only Lee Donghyuck.

“Karina and I go way back,” he says. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. And she’s not someone I could just get rid of just because our relationship didn’t work out. We’re better off as friends, and that’s a fact we had come to learn when we tried dating. And it was painful, but I couldn’t lose her just because we didn’t know how to date, how to play boyfriend and girlfriend to each other. That’s the first thing I need you to understand.”

“Like I don’t know that already?” you remark sarcastically.

“Karina is a part of me.” Shit’s painful.

“But now like how you are a part of me.”

Oh.

“She’s my best friend, almost like a sister now, and my parents care about her,” he continues. “It was a mistake that we even tried to date just so we could relate to everyone dating everybody. It almost ruined us, and Karina and I, we can’t afford to lose each other just because of that. The person who I am now, part of it is because of Karina. But Y/N, the person I’m about to become, I want it to be because of you.”

He clears his throat again. You look at the bottle of water he finished drinking because you really can’t look at Donghyuck now. Not when he’s vulnerable and out in the open. Not when he’s exactly the way he was when you fell in love with him.

“And I had plans. For the long run,” he says like a promise. “I had started looking up how to get a tourist visa to Canada and how to get you a tourist visa to Korea. I’ve been saving all my allowances and the money I’ve been earning from work so I could book a ticket to Vancouver for the summer and spend it with you. And I was supposed to tell Mom, but I haven’t had the chance yet—that one I have no excuse for. But the timing was off and she met you before I could tell her. She had no idea and she’s genuinely sorry she made it seem like she wanted me to end up with Karina. If she had known I was already in love with someone else, she wouldn’t have said that in front of you. She would have loved you.”

Donghyuck pauses. You look up to see him wiping his tears from his cheeks. “And I’m sorry that the timing didn’t go well for us, but I promise you I had plans. I just didn’t want to spend the rest of your weeks in Seoul thinking about you being gone as soon as the semester is over. I wanted to seize the moments with you and make you—I wanted to make you feel that I love you.”

Your breath hitches. Donghyuck locks eyes with you.

“I love you. I love you and I’m so sorry that I made you feel like I didn’t,” he confesses, bursting into tears and you do, too. “I’m so sorry that I didn’t try hard enough to make you stay. I’m so sorry that I talked to fast that time I finally got you to answer my call; I should’ve explained more calmly. I’m so sorry that we’re here, in Vancouver, hearts broken. But I love you, and I wish I could say all of these in English if that’s what would make you believe it’s real and it’s true.”

But he doesn’t have to.

“I love you,” you say in your mother tongue before switching to Korean. “I love you. And I know you love me. And I’m so sorry for jumping to conclusions and not trying hard enough. Just like you, I had plans to. For the long run. And I can live without you, too, but I can’t live without you knowing how much I love you.”

Donghyuck giggles through his tears and reaches out both hands to wipe off yours. “Let’s not live without each other.”

It’s him to moves, standing a little, so he could kiss you.

The kiss says everything the language barrier can’t. I love you. I missed you. I’m sorry. This is everything I’ve ever wanted. You are everything I’ve ever wanted.

Donghyuck spends the night tracing your body with his mouth like he’s writing a love song and he needs to taste you first before he could write the first melody. You spend the night underneath Donghyuck’s love, whispering his name like praise, taking, taking, taking everything he’s giving you.

You wake up to arms around you and the love of your life kissing the back of your neck. You and him spend the entire day (or at least, the seven hours he had until he had to take the flight back home) talking about your plans and making a list of thing you have to talk about over the phone, but today, you’re taking him out on a date under the warm, sunny skies of Vancouver.

And you do. You and Donghyuck have the best day ever together. Donghyuck gives you the other pair of the touch lamp you’d given to him as a birthday present—you’d forgotten you left it when you ran off; you were supposed to watch him open it so you could show him how it works—and makes you promise to touch the lamp whenever you missed him. He thanks you for the mixtape and confesses he cries whenever he plays it inside his car. He also gives you your small notebook of learning languages back (because you had dramatically left it to Renjun before you boarded the plane), saying you’d need it again.

Mark refused to come because he wants you and Donghyuck to talk and spend the day creating a game plan to make your relationship work. At the end of the hours you had with him, you don’t come up with a solid game plan.

Because Giselle was right, after all, it all comes down to the choices you make. There was no formula on how a long-distance relationship would work. Neither you nor Donghyuck had survived one, but you knew one thing:

Today, you and Donghyuck choose each other.

It’s only the beginning, it seems.

The sun is out and bright when Donghyuck boards the plane.

It’s a lot warmer than the rest of the year, but you don’t really mind.

[weemssapphic]

I see you opened your requests hehehe. This little idea popped into my head and i can’t get it out. So it’s larissa x reader and r is the new principal since everyone thought larissa died but tn tn tnnnn she’s alive and she comes back to nevermore but only as a professor since they already hired r which doesn’t sit right with larissa and she automatically doesn’t like r. So they bicker all the time until they just hate fuck one day (how it came to that point is totally up to you) and pleaseeee i need them to fuck the shit out of eachother. Then when it’s done r admits that she would much rather just be a professor, that being principal is too much for her and she’ll back down from the position.

Anywaysss that’s it and make it as long as you want if you decide to write it :) (love all of your work btw)

A/N: I AM SO SORRY FOR HOW LONG THIS TOOK (*hides in shame*). I do hope this makes up for it, I found it very fun to write and, though it took a different turn than I'd originally planned, I am happy with how it turned out! And thank you so much 🤍

like a candle flame

Larissa Weems x f!reader

Words: ~ 7.5k | ao3 link in title

Content/warnings: angst, lots of bickering and arguments, enemies to lovers (sorta), unhealthy relationship / power dynamic, coma, mentions of ptsd/anxiety??, nsfw (smut): hate sex, rough sex, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, marking

Principal of Nevermore Academy: it certainly had a nice ring to it.

The past years all led up to this: after finishing university and getting your masters in education, you’d scored a teaching position at a school for outcasts in California. Being an outcast yourself, you were grateful for the opportunity that had opened up - teaching was a passion of yours, certainly, but teaching outcasts, kids like you, that was a dream come true. Eventually, you took over assistant principal duties at the school and you had to admit you liked the change of pace, being involved in the administrative side of things for once.

During your time in California, you’d set your eye on Nevermore Academy - another prestigious school for outcasts, the first school of its kind. And when you’d heard of an opening for a new principal? You just had to apply. The position was posted at rather short notice - apparently, there had been an incident involving the previous principal, who’d been in a coma for weeks and hadn’t shown any signs of recovering. They needed to find someone to fill in for the new school year - fast - and, as though it were fate, your application was immediately accepted.

The school year at Nevermore had been going on for a few weeks now and your new office was finally starting to feel like your own. You’d made a few changes in decoration - some of the prior principal’s decor was a bit odd for your taste. But you were settling in well, getting to know your duties and connecting with your staff and students.

You were just catching up on some emails as the door to your office flew open, rattling in its hinges and causing you to jump, your heart racing.

“Jesus, you scared me! Haven’t you heard of knocking?” You fixed your gaze on the woman who had so unceremoniously barged into your office and was now taking long strides towards your desk. She was a stunning woman - tall, with long legs; dressed to the nines; her hair nearly white and perfectly coiffed to accentuate her cheekbones; her eyes deep blue and sparkling with a deep fury.

“I don’t have to knock to enter my own office,” the woman hissed, her tone venomous. 

Your brows knit together in confusion and you squinted at her, your mind going a mile a minute. Now that you thought of it, she did look vaguely familiar… Who the fuck- oh. Oh. 

“You’re the former principal, aren’t you? I thought you were in a coma?” You figured the polite thing to do would be to ask how she’s doing, show some sign of concern, but she looked perfectly fine to you - and she didn’t seem in the mood to engage in small-talk, anyway - so you bit your tongue.

The woman’s eyes flashed dangerously, her upper lip twitching as she tilted her head. “Principal Weems. Headmistress of Nevermore Academy. Now if you’d be so kind as to get out of my chair…”

You stood slowly, placing your hands on your desk and leaning forward. While you didn’t quite match her height, you’d be damned if you let yourself be intimidated - you’d worked too hard for this position, wished for it too much, you wouldn’t let her take it from you, no matter who she thought she was.

“I’ve been appointed principal of Nevermore. This is now my office. If you have an issue with that, I’d like to kindly refer you directly to the school board.” You paused, raising an eyebrow and sorting some papers on your desk. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have meetings to prepare for.”

Principal Weems glowered down at you and you glared up at her, neither one of you seeming to want to back down. Her eyes flicked between your own, blazing with fury and passion in equal measure. Abruptly and without another word, she turned on her heel and stormed out of your office, slamming the door behind her.

Your eyes followed her every move as you stared after her, your heart thundering in your chest. The nerve of that woman. This was definitely not something you’d planned for - you hoped she wouldn’t cause too much trouble with the school board.

~~~

As expected, you received a call from the school board the next day - it seemed that the former principal had caused a bit of an uproar after she’d left your office. The head of the school board informed you that Ms. Weems, formerly Principal Weems, would be appointed to Nevermore as a history teacher. You figured the decision was made due to her connection with the school, but also to keep the peace. Even based on your short interaction from the previous day, you could guess the kind of hell she’d raised after leaving your office.

Given that her former quarters, which had been locked up for the time being, were attached to your new office, Ms. Weems would be appointed new quarters in the teacher’s hall as well until the end of the school year. What this meant, however, was that she would have to come by your office to pick some of her things up from her old quarters - which you were not looking forward to.

It was nearing 5 pm on a Friday - you still had a pile of administrative paperwork waiting to be completed, but you couldn’t concentrate for the life of you. You’d already cut your lunch break short to deal with the shenanigans of some students, and with the weekend so close your motivation to read through the documents the mayor had sent you was at an all time low. Slipping your phone from your pocket, you decided a break - just a short distraction, really - was in order, and started to scroll through your socials.

The door to your office creaked open - you figured it was a student who needed something and raised your head to reprimand them for forgetting to knock, only to be met with the sight of Ms. Weems. Larissa, as you’d read in her file. A beautiful name for an admittedly beautiful woman - too bad she seemed intent on loathing you. She stopped in the doorway, her lips curling into a disapproving frown.

“Hard at work, I see,” she sneered, closing the door behind her and giving you a once over, her eyes full of disdain as they lingered on the cell phone in your hands.

“I hardly see how this is any of your business,” you replied, your voice hard as you scowled back at her. Two could play at this game. “And if I may be so blunt, it’s rather rude not to knock before you enter someone else’s office. Particularly when that person is your superior.”

The blonde’s features hardened even further, her expression changing from disdainful to downright icy.

“Do not underestimate my connections in this town, Ms. Y/L/N. It would be a shame to see you lose your new position so suddenly.” Her voice was condescending, sickeningly sweet with a razor sharp edge to it - you tightened your grip on your phone, your knuckles turning white as you felt your heart begin to pound viciously.

“Is that a threat, Ms. Weems? And, while we’re on the subject of my position, I would prefer if you would address me as Principal Y/L/N from now on.”

“Not a threat. A promise.”

With that, she swept past your desk with an elegant yet powerful stride, swiftly unlocking the door to her former quarters and disappearing inside.

After what seemed like ages, Larissa emerged with two massive suitcases. You tried to ignore her and concentrate on your work, but it seemed she was deliberately being as noisy as possible, and that made it increasingly difficult to focus on anything else.

“You know what?” You stood from your desk, shutting your laptop and grabbing your phone and keys. “I’m going to head out to get some dinner. You just figure this” you gestured vaguely towards her quarters as you crossed the office “out.”

“Chivalrous,” Larissa remarked sarcastically as your hand rested on the doorknob - you turned and raised an eyebrow. 

“You’ve been nothing but rude to me since the second we met. You want help? Call your friends or connections or something.” With that, you disappeared into the corridor, slamming the poor door behind you and missing the way Larissa’s face fell. 

~~~

By the time you got back to your office late that night to lock up (and you’d taken your sweet time, not in the mood for any more altercations), Larissa was gone. 

You barely slept that night - you were restless, tossing and turning constantly. You hated arguing with people - particularly your colleagues, which Larissa now was. Tomorrow was to be her first full day back at Nevermore, and it left you feeling unsettled and anxious.

Against all odds, the following morning was a quiet one. You’d half expected Larissa to barge into your office before lunchtime to scream at you about something, but no such outburst occurred. You’d gotten ahead of yourself, however - late that afternoon, the door to your office burst open, the tall blonde once again stalking towards your desk.

“Still having problems with the concept of knocking, I see,” you hissed, clenching your teeth.

Larissa glowered down at you, completely disregarding your statement - save for the subtle twitch of her upper lip.

“You really should adjust your tone when speaking with your staff, Principal Y/L/N.” She spat the word 'principal' at you as if it were laced with venom. “One might otherwise get the impression that you don’t respect them.” The right corner of Larissa’s lips curled up slightly into a condescending smile, and you felt a raging heat begin to boil in the pit of your stomach.

“It’s clear you don’t respect me, Ms. Weems,” you replied as coolly as you could. “But we both know that insulting me, no matter how much joy it may bring you, is not the reason you barged into my office. So. Why are you really here?”

“The planning of this year’s Rave’N.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back in your chair and clasping your hands together on your lap as you waited for Larissa to continue.

“As you may know, Nevermore Academy has been built on a centuries old history of tradition. I have spent my career upholding those traditions that make up the very heart of this school, to uplift our students, our faculty, and our community.”

You ran your tongue along your upper teeth - you already knew where she was going with this, and you had to fight the urge to groan and roll your eyes.

“So imagine my surprise, and dare I say disappointment, when I found out that our new dearly beloved principal was planning on canceling the Rave’N. An activity that our students greatly look forward to and that is essential to this school’s extra-curricular framework…” Larissa trailed off, her own eyebrow quirked in challenge as icy blue eyes flashed dangerously.

Taking a moment to collect yourself, you let out a long sigh - God, this woman was irritating. “Ms. Weems, I have absolutely no intention of canceling the Rave’N. I am, however - as you may have heard - postponing it until the spring. I’m not certain where you got your information, but you may want to check your sources before you go around rashly pointing fingers at people.”

Larissa folded her arms defensively across her chest, her cheeks slowly turning red in hue. “The Rave’N has been held on the same weekend every year for nearly 200 years. What made you decide to break tradition?”

“It’s my humble opinion, Ms. Weems, that it isn’t working well at all. The Rave’N, the way it has traditionally been held, has consistently taken place a few short weeks before end of semester exams, squeezed unceremoniously between other events that are far more important for the Academy. The Poe Cup, for one - which is steeped in history, as you may rightfully agree, and which encourages healthy competition amongst our students. And, of course, Parent’s Weekend, which is essential for nurturing our wider outcast-community and involving our dear parents and alumni. The Rave’N, in contrast, is a frivolous school dance which, whilst certainly entertaining, wastes precious time that students could spend studying for their exams.”

Larissa looked like she was damn close to exploding on the spot. Her nostrils flared as she stared you down, her expression nothing short of disdain and utter disgust. When she spoke, red lips curled around brilliantly white teeth, which flashed dangerously in the light of the setting sun from the window behind you.

“I will not have you ruining this school, a place I have devoted my entire existence to, whilst you waltz in here and decide that it isn’t up to your arbitrary standards. Just because you don’t have the experience required to run a school and juggle multiple events at once, does not mean that they have been poorly planned. Rather, I believe this situation reflects your own shortcomings as an administrator.”

“Fine.” You grit your teeth - you’d have fired the woman on the spot if she hadn’t weaseled her way in through the school board. “You want to have your precious Rave’N this fall? You plan it then. I, however, want no part in it.”

Larissa let out a snort. “It’s nothing I can’t manage. And not to worry, I’ll leave you out of it.” With that, she turned and stalked back to the door, her hips swaying in an irritatingly tantalizing way - it made you furious.

“Oh, and Ms. Weems? If you barge into my office to insult me one more time, I will not hesitate to take this up with the school board.”

Larissa’s shoulders tensed and her hand paused on the door handle - then she yanked the door open and, once again, slammed it behind her. 

Ridiculous.

~~~

Although Larissa had since refrained from bursting into your office unannounced for a verbal sparring match, the bickering continued full-force. You’d hoped it would get better as time went on, but the opposite proved to be true.

Thoughts of Larissa had begun to plague you wherever you went. You couldn’t avoid her - she was everywhere. She argued with you during every staff meeting, made a point to pass you in the hall every chance she got, chose a seat directly within your line of vision during lunchtime - taunting you wherever you went. You’d started to hide in your office during breaks simply to find some reprieve.

You’d even lie awake in bed at night, unable to get the infuriating blonde out of your head. The worst part was, it wasn’t just your anger and anxiety over the arguments and the disrespect that kept you from sleeping - it was the fact that, despite it all, you couldn’t get over the strange pull that you felt towards this woman, even as you’d begun to hide from her like a coward.

She was driving you utterly mad, in every sense of the word. When she argued with you, baring her teeth, her face contorted with rage, you wanted to slap her. Then, and it took you a few sleepless nights to admit it to yourself, you wanted to kiss her - you wanted to consume her, to smudge her lipstick and litter her body in purple marks, to push her up against a wall and fuck the rage out of her. You wanted to see the arrogant, furious, domineering Larissa Weems turn into a needy little slut, utterly at your mercy and begging you to cum, to please, please, let me cum- 

You groaned in frustration, slipping a hand under the covers and into your underwear. Your cunt was absolutely drenched and you couldn’t take it anymore, rubbing hard and fast circles around your clit as you felt both shame and pleasure overwhelm you. Your imagination was your best friend as you pictured Larissa: her face flushed, her lipstick smeared down her chin, her milky thighs trembling and clenching around your hand as she rode your fingers - sinful moans being ripped from her throat because of you. 

Your orgasm washed over you as you reached your peak - it came and went, and you pulled your fingers from your underwear and wiped them on the sheets. Embarrassment and regret welled up inside of you as you laid there alone in the darkness of your quarters, unable to stop your thoughts from drifting towards a certain former principal and what she might be doing in her quarters.

Sleeping, probably, you thought bitterly.

~~~

Each week proved to be more trying than the last, and you found yourself, more nights than not, lying awake until ungodly hours thinking about Larissa - touching yourself because of Larissa. The harder she made your life, the more you seemed to be consumed by her - and then, the next hurdle was thrown your way.

Part of your duty as principal was, of course, conducting performance evaluations of your staff. Since you were new at Nevermore and unfamiliar with the staff members, you’d had to pop into parts of their classes to observe and get a feel for their teaching - and most of the teachers welcomed this with open arms.

Larissa Weems was not like most of the teachers, though. Given how often she’d shown up in your office unannounced, you’d had no qualms about randomly popping into her last class of the day, closing the door gently behind you and taking a seat in the back row.

Larissa stopped teaching immediately, her proud, tender smile slipping from her face when she saw your face among the sea of students. “Can I help you, Principal Y/L/N?” Her voice quavered slightly, and the students turned around curiously, their eyes darting between you and Larissa.

“Don’t mind me, Ms. Weems,” you said with a forced smile. “I’m just observing for today. Just pretend I’m not even here.” You gave her a wink which had her lip twitching and her nostrils flaring - the tension between the two of you did not go unnoticed by the students, who were eerily quiet as Larissa resumed her lesson.

Before you’d made your presence known, Larissa had been smiling so warmly at her students - it was obvious how much she cared for them, and the energy in her classroom had felt inviting and kind. The shift in energy when you’d sat down was alarming - Larissa had turned into an ice queen almost instantly. You could tell she felt uncomfortable and tense, and her teaching was robotic and distracted. Her students didn’t seem to be very engaged either - it seemed that her mood had rubbed off on them, and a feeling of unease blanketed the room.

When the lesson was over, Larissa immediately turned to her desk to pack her things, her students filing out of the room in silence.

“Ms. Weems, I’d like to see you in my office in twenty minutes, please. I have something I’d like to discuss with you.” You didn’t wait for a reply before slipping out of the classroom and hurrying to your office.

~~~

Exactly twenty minutes later, a low knock sounded on your door - you were almost pleasantly surprised, but then Larissa barged in anyway, without waiting for you to respond, and you felt a twinge of annoyance bubble up inside of you.

“You wanted to see me.” Larissa grit her teeth as she stalked up to your desk.

“I did. Please, have a seat.”

Larissa ignored your offer and you let out a heavy sigh. “I must say, I was really disappointed this afternoon. The energy in your classroom was bordering on hostile and you made all of us feel very uncomfortable. I wouldn’t say that’s exactly conducive to learning and-”

“What were you even doing in my classroom?” Larissa hissed.

“I have been getting to know our faculty and their teaching methods better. It has worked quite well with your peers, however this afternoon was… eye-opening for me. What disappointed me the most, Ms. Weems, was that I caught a glimpse of you teaching as I entered the room, and it was… lovely. You care about your students, you really do, and I believe you to be a capable and nurturing teacher - your student’s grades prove as much.” You stood and rounded your desk, coming to stand in front of Larissa. “But the way your demeanor shifted when I joined your class… The way you refuse to work with me - it cannot continue like this.”

Larissa took a step forward, into your personal space. You could practically feel the white-hot anger radiating off of her in waves - it completely engulfed you. “You humiliated me in front of an entire class of my students and I-”

“Oh, shut up, Larissa!”

The blonde looked visibly shocked at the sudden use of her first name, the way it rolled off your tongue. Her pupils widened and her cheeks flushed - it was as if a switch had flipped inside of her as her eyes began to narrow and her lips curled into a sneer, electricity crackling between your bodies.

“Make me.”

That was it - the last straw. The heat you felt coursing through your veins was too much to bear, and without a single thought of consequences, you crashed your lips into Larissa’s, your hands immediately resting on her hips and tugging her closer.

The blonde let out a wanton moan as your tongue wasted no time in swiping at her lips, begging for entry - which she granted you without hesitation. Her tongue immediately met your own, licking into your mouth with a desperate sort of passion as she pushed her body flush against yours. Her left hand fisted at the collar of your shirt, pulling you closer and closer as her right hand threaded itself tightly through your hair, holding you in place.

The tension surrounding the both of you was growing thicker by the second, a hot coil winding itself tightly in your abdomen and lighting your entire body aflame. With a step forward, you had Larissa pinned between you and the edge of your desk. A little push was all she needed to topple back onto it, pulling you with her. 

Larissa’s hands shot out to catch herself before her back hit the wood, and your lips disconnected for a moment. Her hot breath was heavy against your face and you looked up to see Larissa’s gaze fixed intently on your own, her eyes heavy-lidded and her pupils dilated so that there was barely a sliver of blue visible.

Her lipstick was smudged, smeared across her chin, just like in your fantasies, and for a moment you froze, like a deer caught in headlights.

You, the prey, and Larissa, the predator.

A wicked smile formed on her lips as she realized your predicament.

“Thought you could just fuck the attitude out of me, did you?” she purred, baring her teeth. You swallowed thickly, your eyes glued to her kiss-swollen lips, your heart pounding so fast you thought it might burst.

Even leaning back with her ass resting on your desk, she still towered over you. Her height had never intimidated you before but for a moment it gave you pause - you felt so very small. That moment was enough for Larissa to realize she had the upper hand, enough for her to slide her palm over the outside of your thigh, enough for her nimble fingers to tug the fabric of your skirt upwards until it was resting snugly above your hips, your panties on display for her. 

“How naive of you,” she murmured as her fingers came to rest on your abdomen - you shivered at the touch - before slipping into the waistband of your underwear. You felt your cheeks burn as Larissa slid two fingers between your folds - you were so wet for her already, and the thought embarrassed you. 

Larissa hummed quietly as she began to tease your slit, taking her time exploring your sex and gathering your juices on the pads of her fingers. When she finally soothed her fingers over your clit, you let out a strangled gasp, your hands coming to rest on her shoulders and squeezing tightly as your eyes fluttered shut.

Your clit was so sensitive, like every casual brush of her fingers could send you over the edge - but they didn’t. Just when you thought you might cum, her fingers left the little bundle of nerves and slid down your slit, towards your entrance. 

She slipped the tip of her finger in, just to the first knuckle, before retracting and circling your entrance with a featherlight touch. Your nails dug into Larissa’s shoulders as you bucked your hips into her hand, whimpering desperately.

“So needy already and I’ve barely touched you,” Larissa tutted. “Tell me, have you pictured this before? Have you craved it?” Condescension dripped from her lips but you couldn’t find it in you to care - in fact, if anything, you felt the coil in your belly tighten and you ground your hips harder into her hand.

“Y-yes,” you whimpered. There was no point in lying to Larissa, not with how wet you were - and you would do just about anything to cum right now.

Without warning, Larissa plunged her finger into your hole, chuckling at the moan that clawed its way from deep within you. After a few pumps of her finger, she added a second digit and began to match the thrusts of your hips as she fucked you.

She curled her fingers upwards, going deeper this time and causing you to thrust forward so violently you nearly slid to the floor. Her reflexes were quick and she steadied you with her free arm, a smirk growing on her face.

Whatever power trip she was on, you didn’t care to stop her as her lips crashed into yours, her tongue all but forcing its entry into your mouth and asserting dominance. You felt entirely at her mercy as you felt yourself teeter on the edge of pleasure, your mind going fuzzy as Larissa’s fingers hit all the right spots inside you. What finally sent you over the edge was the way her thumb brushed over your clit at just the right moment, her fingers stroking your walls.

You clenched around her as you came, the coil in your belly snapping. Your moans were swallowed by the blonde, who seemed unable to keep her lips off your own, kissing and licking and gently nipping.

Your hands slid from Larissa’s shoulders to her waist, steadying yourself as you pulled back from the kiss. Larissa slipped her hand out of your underwear, her fingers glistening with your arousal - she brought them to her mouth and made a show of placing them on her tongue, licking and sucking and letting out a satisfied hum.

She watched you watch her, a smug grin growing on her face as your own cheeks flushed at the vulgar noises she was making. It was almost too much to bear, and you felt your frustration return with full force as Larissa pushed herself off the desk, holding her head high and smoothing the wrinkles in her dress. You would be damned if you let Larissa fuck you and then go on disrespecting you and making you feel awful about yourself. 

“You thought we were done here?” You squared your shoulders and glared at Larissa in challenge - she quirked an eyebrow, looking slightly taken aback. “After all that, you would deny me the opportunity to return the favor?”

Larissa’s breathing quickened and you smirked as you leaned in to kiss her jaw. Your lips trailed lower, down the side of her neck, and she tilted her head back to give you better access as your teeth found her pulse point. You could feel her pulse hammering away as your lips latched onto her neck, sucking until her skin had been marked deep red.

Your hands found her hips and you moved down her body until your face was level with her thighs. You could feel Larissa’s gaze upon you as you slid her dress upwards to reveal her underwear - her knuckles turning white as she gripped the edge of the desk. There was a wet spot at the center of her underwear and you leant in, slowly dragging your tongue over the fabric and drawing a breathy groan from Larissa’s chest.

“And here you had me thinking I was the only one who was so wet right now,” you teased, your tongue finding Larissa’s clit through her underwear and giving it a gentle kitten lick, causing her to buck her pelvis into your mouth.

“So impatient…” You glanced up at Larissa’s face to see her cheeks flushed and her chest heaving as she glowered down at you. She made no move to stop you, however - quite the contrary, as she began to roll her hips against your tongue.

As much as you wanted to go on teasing her forever, you also felt a desperate urge to get a taste of the woman before you, so you hooked your fingers under the waistband of her underwear and pulled it down her long legs. You hooked her thighs over your shoulders, unable to stop yourself from moaning as you watched Larissa’s glistening folds spread for you.

You began to place wet, open-mouthed kisses to the insides of Larissa’s thighs, alternating between each leg and reveling in the way her thighs began to tremble beneath your lips. Smirking, you bit her thigh - right next to the entrance to her pussy. Larissa hissed and yanked your head back by the hair, her eyes flashing violently. Behind the aggression, there was a pool of unfettered desire already unspooling. Larissa was coming apart at the seams before your very eyes, and you could tell by her anger that it was unsettling to her.

The very thought emboldened you. “Well if it isn’t the former principal of Nevermore, turned into a needy little slut for me.” 

Your words had the desired effect - Larissa mewled and bucked her hips towards your mouth. You took the opportunity to dive right in, the scent of her arousal filling your nostrils and making you feel dizzy with want as your tongue dragged its way up her slit. She tasted absolutely divine and you let out a satisfied hum that vibrated against her pussy and drew a deep moan from her chest.

Larissa’s fingers wound themselves even tighter in your hair as your tongue began to draw lazy circles around her clit, smearing your saliva and her arousal around the sensitive bud. You began to alternate between licking and sucking, wrapping your lips around her clit and flicking your tongue over it - experimenting with different paces and amounts of pressure to find out which drew the most sinful moans from the blonde’s lips, which made her thighs begin to tremble around your head.

You found it easy to lose yourself in Larissa - in her taste, her scent, the noises she was making, the way her pussy felt against your tongue and the way her hand felt against your head. You lapped hungrily at her cunt, your own desire burning hot within you as you felt Larissa barrel closer and closer to the edge - if the shaking of her legs and the volume of her groans was anything to go by.

Glancing up to catch a glimpse of her face, you dipped your tongue into her entrance, feeling her walls clench. A fire seemed to burn in her eyes as she came undone. You could tell how badly she wanted you by the way her lips parted as she gazed down at you, the way her tongue grazed her lower lip, the way the exposed part of her chest was red with anticipation. Her head lolled slowly back and her eyes fluttered shut, and you continued to lick and suck through her orgasm.

Larissa let go of your hair and slumped back onto the desk, her breathing labored. You let out a satisfied hum as you licked the arousal off the insides of her thighs, then gently unhooked her legs from your shoulders and stood, leaning over the desk and smirking down at her.

She lay back against the desk, staring at the ceiling. When you came into her line of vision, she tilted her head towards you and met your gaze, a strange expression on her face.

“I need to leave,” she whispered hoarsely, her eyes wide and glassy.

You opened your mouth to speak but before you could get a word out, Larissa had pushed herself up and pushed past you, pulling her dress down with one hand as she stooped down to grab her underwear with the other hand. She balled it into her fist, hiding it from view as she hurried to the door.

“Lari-” Slam.

Larissa was gone, leaving you to slump down in the armchair across from your desk, your chest heaving and your mind racing.

~~~

After a night of tossing and turning, you woke to an email from Larissa in your inbox.

Ms. Y/L/N,

Unfortunately, I am feeling a bit under the weather today, and am unable to teach my afternoon classes. Please do be so kind as to find a suitable replacement.

Regards,

L. Weems

Something wasn’t sitting right with you. Your stomach churned as you read the email over and over again, and it didn’t stop as you brushed your teeth, nor as you got dressed, nor as you settled at your desk with a cup of coffee.

You couldn’t get the previous day out of your head, and two things stuck out in your mind most of all: 

Firstly, the little glimpse of Larissa that you’d caught when you’d first entered her classroom. The warmth, the genuine smile directed at her students, the encouraging tone to her voice. It was a side of Larissa that you hadn’t been privy to at all, and it made your heart ache - making you wish, even if just for a moment, that she could someday afford you that same warmth, that that brilliant smile of hers could be directed at you.

And secondly, the way those few moments made you realize how much you missed teaching. You’d always felt that your greatest purpose in life was to guide young outcasts and help them achieve their own goals, just as your teachers had done for you. And right now, as principal, you weren’t doing much of that at all. Maybe Larissa was right - maybe you weren’t cut out for the administrative side of things. The constant push and pull, the political bullshit, making all these decisions for the good of the school and being left so very unsure of yourself, with so little time to dedicate to the students you loved so much.

Your mind was replaying your last interaction with Larissa - the look in her eyes, how she’d left in such a hurry. Something was definitely off, and you wouldn’t rest until you’d sorted it out.

Shutting your laptop and abandoning your coffee, you grabbed your keys and made your way to the teacher’s quarters.

~~~

“Ms. Weems?” you called out, rapping your knuckles against the door to her quarters.

Silence. 

“Ms. Weems?”

…

“Larissa?” you tried, knocking again.

This time, a soft shuffling could be heard, followed by the click of a lock, before the door opened just a crack, revealing one side of Larissa’s face, cast in shadow - it seemed she had the curtains drawn, and you suddenly felt guilty in case you’d woken her.

“Didn’t you receive my email, Ms. Y/L/N?” There was no hard edge to Larissa’s voice - she simply sounded exhausted.

“I, uh… I did, yes. I’m sorry if I woke you. I just wanted to check in and see if there’s anything I could do for you.” And talk, you added in your head. “Could I please come in?”

Larissa stared at you for a moment. Then a moment more. Then, she opened the door just a crack more and allowed you to step inside her quarters. 

The curtains were indeed drawn, though the second that Larissa closed the door behind you, she hurried to the window and opened them to let in some light. She looked pristine as ever - not a hair out of place, makeup done to perfection, clothing free of wrinkles. She didn’t look ill at all. The only indication that she may have been curled up in bed was the untidy way her sheets were made up, as if she’d pulled them up and fluffed them in a haste.

Larissa’s eyes followed your gaze to her bed and she quickly took a step to the side, blocking it partially from view.

“Have you come to inspect how I keep my quarters now, as well?” she asked, an iciness seeping back into her tone. “I didn’t realize that was any of your concern as principal, Ms. Y/L/N.”

You shook your head lightly, finding yourself suddenly at a loss for words. “I… no. No, it’s not. That’s actually not why I’m here. Could you… um, could you please call me Y/N?”

Larissa scoffed and crossed her arms across her chest. “Alright. Y/N. Why are you here then?”

Your teeth sank into your lower lip as your mind whirred with all the things you wanted to say, all the things you wanted to know.

“What happened yesterday?” you whispered finally.

“You were there, were you not?” Larissa said with an incredulous snort. “Or would you like a quick recap?”

“No, I mean… I mean when you left.”

“I wasn’t feeling well.”

“You look fine to me,” you challenged with a raised eyebrow.

Larissa’s face hardened. “Your lack of empathy is absolutely astounding, Y/N.” 

“Well considering the fact that you never actually opened up to me, it’s no-”

“Opened up to you?” Larissa scoffed. “I didn’t realize we were friends. Why should I speak with you about personal matters that don’t concern you?”

You opened your mouth - then promptly closed it again. Larissa was right, of course. You weren’t friends, and what she was or wasn’t going through was, of course, none of your business. That somehow didn’t stop you from wanting to know, though. As infuriating as the woman had proven to be since you’d met, you couldn’t help but desperately wish for things to be different than they were.

“You’re right. You don’t have to tell me anything. I just… I came by to tell you that I’m giving up my position. I’m going to call the school board this afternoon to quit, and I’m telling them that they should hire you back instead.”

The words left your mouth in a rush, and you felt so much lighter the second they did. Larissa’s lips parted, her eyes wide as she tried to process the information. You waited but she didn’t say anything, and so you turned to leave.

Just before you reached the door, Larissa found her voice. It was low and shaky, barely audible - but her quarters were so quiet you’d have heard a pin drop.

“I heard everything.”

Your brows knit together in confusion and you turned to see Larissa perch herself at the edge of her bed, her gaze trained on the floor in front of her.

“I don’t understand,” you whispered. “What did you hear?”

“It took ages for them to find me. When I woke up, I knew I was in the hospital because of the noises around me. Only I wasn’t awake, not really.” Larissa’s voice sounded bitter and subdued, her fingers twitched from where she was playing with them in her lap. “I heard people speaking to me. Then about me. And about Nevermore. And I couldn’t… I couldn’t say or do anything. I could only listen.”

Your heart was thumping erratically in your chest and you took a tentative step towards Larissa. “Who was speaking? Your friends, when they visited you?”

Larissa let out a shaky sigh, her eyelids fluttering shut. “Tell me, Y/N, how much time have you had to maintain your friendships since starting your position?”

The question confused you, and you drank in Larissa’s tense body language, her pained expression. Then you realized what she meant - her friends, if she even had any, hadn’t seemed to visit her at all, and a wave of guilt washed over you, so intense that you took a seat next to Larissa on the bed.

She opened her eyes and peered over at you, seeming to take your silence as a form of acknowledgment. “Some students visited in the first days - Miss Addams and Miss Sinclair, mostly, Miss Barclay once or twice. Later it was school administrators - trying to figure out what to do with me, I suppose, whether or not to…” Larissa trailed off into silence, letting out a shuddering breath as her eyes darted about the room. 

Without thinking, you leant in and pressed your lips to Larissa’s cheek - you felt her tense up and pulled back as quickly as you could, your own cheeks turning scarlet. 

“I-I’m so sorry,” you stuttered, scrambling to your feet.

A hand curled around your wrist, stilling you in your movements. “Don’t be,” Larissa whispered.

“Do you want me to go?” you asked anxiously. 

Larissa looked up at you with wide, watery eyes. “Could you stay? Just for a few minutes. Please.”

You nodded, sitting back down next to Larissa and resting your hand face up on her lap - an offering which she accepted, placing her hand in your own and interlacing your fingers.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice shaky. 

You gave Larissa’s hand a gentle squeeze, and the two of you sat in silence for what felt like hours, your hands intertwined. Strangely, you felt more at peace in that moment than you had since starting at Nevermore, and Larissa seemed to be getting more comfortable as well, even resting her cheek on your shoulder at one point.

The moment you left her quarters that afternoon, you pulled your phone out of your pocket to call the school board.

~~~

It was with a heavy heart that you hauled your suitcase onto your bed and unzipped it. Leaving Nevermore would be bittersweet for you - as much as you would miss the school you’d been dying to work at your entire life, you knew you were doing the right thing - for yourself, for Larissa, and for Nevermore.

You opened your wardrobe and began placing your clothes into your open suitcase when you heard a knock on the door to your quarters.

“It’s open,” you called out, and the door creaked as it swung open to reveal Larissa. “Hi,” you said with a shy smile, which Larissa returned hesitantly.

“I’ve just received a call from the school board and gotten everything sorted out. Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

You smiled softly at the principal. “I think I have some idea.”

Larissa’s cheeks turned pink and she looked away, her eyes darting around your room before landing on the mess on your bed. “Do you want to leave?” she asked, her voice soft and curious.

You chuckled nervously and gave her a light shrug. “I don’t know if I would say I want to leave, but I don’t see what choice I have without a job here. Unless you’re renting out rooms…?”

Larissa chuckled. “Actually, a position has opened up for a new history teacher,” she said. “I’ve taken the liberty of looking into your employment history and I think you’d be a great asset to our staff.”

Your eyes widened. “Really? You would hire me?”

“Yes,” Larissa said firmly. “I would. If you’d like to stay, that is…”

“Yes!” you all but shouted. “Sorry… yes. I would love to, that would be amazing. Thank you, Larissa.”

Larissa nodded, smiling softly. Your eyes fell to the large suitcase that was standing just behind Larissa, and you cocked your head to the side in question.

“The school board has agreed to allow me to take over my old quarters,” Larissa supplied as her gaze followed your own.

“Ah. I see.”

You fidgeted in place and Larissa watched you curiously for a moment. When she realized you weren’t going to say anything else, she gave you a curt nod and placed a hand on the handle of her suitcase. “I’ll leave you to it, then,” she said softly. “Perhaps we can set up a meeting this week to get you acquainted with your new position.”

You nodded, your stomach doing a little somersault as your heartbeat began to pick up just a tad. Larissa took a step back into the hallway and started to pull the door closed behind her.

“Larissa, wait.”

The blonde froze in her movements, her brow furrowing as her gaze shot up to meet your own. You swallowed thickly.

“Do you want help? Moving all your stuff back?”

You held your breath as Larissa stared. Then, her face lit up with a bright, beautiful smile, red lips curling up at the edges and sparkling blue eyes crinkling at the outer corners.

“I would love that.”

x

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The FTC has Big Pharma’s number

On November 27, I'm appearing at the Toronto Metro Reference Library with Facebook whistleblower Frances Haugen.

On November 29, I'm at NYC's Strand Books with my novel The Lost Cause, a solarpunk tale of hope and danger that Rebecca Solnit called "completely delightful."

The most consistent bright spot in the dark swirl of US politics is the competence of the Biden Administration's progressive enforcers: people like Rohit Chopra, Jonathan Kanter and Lina Khan, who keep demonstrating just how far a good administrator can go. Anyone can have a vision, but knowing how to execute is the difference between hot air and real change:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/23/getting-stuff-done/#praxis

Take a minute to contrast Biden's administrators with Trump's: Trump's administrators had an ideological vision just as surely as Biden's do, and Trump himself had a much more pronounced and explicit ideology than Biden, whose governance style is much more about balancing the Democratic Party's blocs than bringing about a specific set of policies:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/06/personnel-are-policy/#janice-eberly

But whatever clarity of vision the Trump administration brought to DC was completely undermined by its incompetence (thankfully!). Apart from one gigantic tax break, Trump couldn't get stuff done. He couldn't deliver, because he'd lose his temper or speak out of turn:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/14/when-youve-lost-the-fedsoc/#anti-buster-buster

And his administrators followed his lead. Scott Pruitt was appointed to run the EPA after a career spent suing the agency. It could have been the realization of his life's dream to dismantle environmental law in America and open the floodgates for unlimited, wildly profitable corporate pollution and pillaging. But the dream died because he kept getting embroiled in absurd scandals – like the time he sent his staffers out to drive around all night looking for a good deal on a used mattress:

https://www.nbcnews.com/politics/politics-news/epa-s-pruitt-told-aide-obtain-old-mattress-trump-hotel-n879836

Or his insistence on installing a CIA-style "Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility" (SCIF) so he could play super-spy while reading memos:

https://www.cnn.com/2018/04/26/politics/epa-administrator-scott-pruitt-sound-proof-booth-scif/index.html

Or the time he sent his security detail to the Ritz-Carlton to demand that they supply him lots of little bottles of his favorite hand-cream:

https://www.vox.com/2018/6/7/17439044/scott-pruitt-ritz-carlton-moisturizing-lotion

There were other examples in the Trump administration, but Priutt is such a good case-study. He's like a guy who spent his whole life training to compete in the Olympics, and finally got a shot, only to be disqualified for ordering too much room-service in the Olympic Village. Priutt was wildly ambitious, but he was profoundly undisciplined – and wildly incompetent.

Compare that with Biden's progressive enforcers and agency heads, who showed up on the first day of work with an encyclopedic knowledge of their administrative powers, and detailed plans for using them to transform the lives of the American people for the better:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/18/administrative-competence/#i-know-stuff

The Biden administration's competence translates into action, getting stuff done. Maybe that shouldn't surprise us, given the difference between the stories that reactionaries and progressives tell about where change comes from.

In reactionary science fiction, we enter the realm of the "Competent Man" story. Think of a Heinlein hero, who is "able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyse a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly."

In Competent Man stories, a unitary hero steps into the breach and solves the problem – if not single-handedly, then as the leader of others, whose lesser competence is a base metal that the Competent Man hammers into a tempered blade:

https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Creator/RobertAHeinlein

Contrast this with a progressive tale, like, say, Kim Stanley Robinson's Ministry For the Future, where the Competent Man is replaced by the Competent Administration, in which people of goodwill and technical competence figure out how to join forces to create population-scale architectures of participation that allow every person to contribute their skills and perspective:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/03/ministry-for-the-future/#ksr

The right's whole ideology insists that the world can only be saved by Competent Men. As Corey Robin writes in The Reactionary Mind, the unifying factor that binds together conservative factions from monarchists to racists to Christian Dominionists is the belief that a few of us are born to rule, and the rest to be ruled over:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/05/25/mafia-logic/#mafia-logic

The Reaganite insistence that governments are, by their very nature, incompetent and malign ("The nine most terrifying words in the English language are, 'I’m from the government, and I’m here to help'"), means that conservatives deny the possibility of a Competent Administration.

When conservatives take office and proceed to bungle the most basic elements of administration, they're fulfilling their own campaign narrative, which starts with "We must dismantle the government because it is bad at everything." Conservatives who govern badly prove their own point, which explains a lot about the UK Tory Party's long run of governmental failure and electoral success:

https://apnews.com/article/uk-suella-braverman-fired-cabinet-shuffle-7ea6c89306a427cc70fba75bc386be79

There's a small mercy in the fact that so many of the most ideologically odious and extreme conservative governments are so technically incompetent in governing, and thus accomplish so little of their agendas.

But the inverse – the incredible competence of the best progressive administrators – is nothing short of a delight to witness. Here's the latest example to cross my path: the FTC has intervened in a lawsuit over generic insulin pricing, on an issue that is incredibly technically specific and also fantastically important:

https://www.fiercepharma.com/pharma/ftc-blasts-pharmas-abuse-fda-patent-system-sanofi-mylans-insulin-monopoly-lawsuit

The underlying case is before the FDA, and it concerns the dirty tricks that pharma giant Sanofi used to keep Mylan from making a generic version of Mylan's Lantus insulin after its patent expired.

There's an explicit bargain in patents: inventors can enlist the government to punish their rivals for copying their ideas, but in exchange, the government demands that the inventor has to describe how the invention works in a detailed patent filing, and when the patent expires, 20 years later, rivals can use the patent application as instructions for freely copying and selling the invention. In other words: you get 20 years of exclusive rights in return for facilitating your competitors' copying and selling your invention when the 20 years are up.

Pharma doesn't like this, naturally: not content with 20 years of exclusivity, they want the government to step in and punish their competitors forever. In service to that end, pharma companies have perfected a process called evergreening, where they dribble out ancillary patents after their initial filing, covering minor reformulations, delivery systems, or new uses.

Evergreening got a moment in the public eye earlier this year, with John Green's viral campaign to shame Johnson & Johnson out of using evergreening to restrict poor countries' access to TB medication:

https://armandalegshow.com/episode/john-green-part-1/

The story of pharma is that it commands gigantic profits, but it invests those profits into medicines that save our lives. The reality is that most of the key underlying pharma research is publicly funded (by Competent Administrators who apportion funding to promising scientific inquiry). Pharma companies' most inventive genius is devoted to inventing new evergreening tactics:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/19/solid-tumors/#t-cell-receptors

That's where the FTC comes in, in this Sanofi-Mylan case. To facilitate the production of generic, off-patent drugs, the FDA maintains a database called the "Orange Book," where pharma companies are asked to enumerate all the ancillary patents associated with a product whose patent is expiring. That way, generics manufacturers who make their own version of these public domain drugs and therapeutics don't accidentally stumble over one of those later patents – say, by replicating a delivery system or special coating that is still in patent.

This is where the endless, satanic inventiveness of the pharma sector comes in. You see, US law provides for triple damages for "willful patent infringement." If you are a generics manufacturer eyeing up a drug whose patent is about to expire and you are notified that some other patents might be implicated in your plans, you must ensure that you don't accidentally infringe one of those patents, or face business-destroying statutory damages.

So pharma companies stuff the Orange Book full of irrelevant patent claims they say may be implicated in a generic manufacture program. Each of these claims has to be carefully evaluated, both by a scientific team and a legal team, because patents are deliberately obfuscated in the hopes of tricking an inattentive patent examiner into granting patents for unpatentable "inventions":

https://blueironip.com/patents-that-hide-the-ball/

What's more, when a pharma giant notifies the FDA that it has ancillary patents that are relevant to the Orange Book, this triggers a 30-month delay before a generic can be marketed – adding 2.5 years to the 20 year patent term. That delay is sometimes enough to cause a manufacturer to abandon plans to market a generic drug – so the delay isn't 2.5 years, it's infinite.

This is a highly technical, highly consequential form of evergreening. It's obscure as hell, and requires a deep understanding of patent obfuscation, ancillary patent filings, generic pharma industry practice, and the FDA's administrative procedures.

Sanofi's Orange Book entry for Lantus insulin listed 50 related patent claims. Of these, 48 were invalidated through "inter partes" review (basically the Patent Office decided they shouldn't have allowed these claims to be included on a patent). Neither of the remaining two claims were found to be relevant to the manufacture of generic Lantus.

This is where the FTC's filing comes in: their amicus brief doesn't take a position whether Sanofi's Orange Book entries were fraudulent, but they do ask the FDA to intervene to prevent Orange Book stuffing because "improper listings can cause significant harm to competition and consumers."

This is the kind of boring, technical, important stuff that excellent administrators can do. The FTC's brief is notice to the FDA that it should amend its procedures to ban (and punish) Orange Book abuse. That will make it possible for you, a person who needs medicine, to get that medicine more cheaply and quickly. In America's pay-for-use privatized healthcare hellscape, this could be a life-or-death matter.

There's plenty of things the Biden administration is getting very, very badly wrong, but we shouldn't lose sight of how its progressive wing is making real, lasting change for the better. Competent Administrations are the true peoples' champions. They beat Competent Men every time.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/23/everorangeing/#taste-the-rainbow

[a-very-tired-jew]

My parents just texted me to ask if I was safe at work. Thats the level of violent antisemitism that is occurring at universities here in the USA. My leftist Jewish parents who rationalized away antisemitism for years and are very, very vocal in their criticism of Israel (remember, they went to school with Bibi and dislike him immensely) are checking to see if I am safe.

Another friend just messaged me about a student worker in his department wearing a shirt mocking the hostages and how they can’t do anything about it. Said friend works at an Ivy League and has been accosted multiple times by the protestors there. Their dream job quickly lost its luster and they’re looking at different universities for employment because their administration won’t do anything to protect their faculty, staff, or students who hold different positions.

I’m so very tired.

[ddarker-dreams]

lock!!! I need ur thoughts on Wriothesley

holding myself hostage to not go on another panopticon tangent

wriothesley has piqued my interest!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! the underwater prison in particular adds so many unique possibilities to him as a yandere. one of my absolute favorite horror experiences is the game soma, with its decrepit submarines and the intense claustrophobia from being stuck underwater... i find the ocean terrifying. like wtf is going on down there. what is a leviathan. why are giant sea beasts mentioned consistently throughout so many ancient cultures. Why are there noises picked up in the ocean that cannot be sourced. why are anglerfish. why why why.

as it relates to yan wriothesley — the fortress of meropide would have a subjugating presence that rivals his. creaking metal vents, dripping pipes, the all-consuming scent of saltwater and rust; running back to his arms would be a temptation. it'd play an integral role to ensuring your cooperation. wriothesley doesn't demand complete submission. he knows human nature, the tenacity sentience imbues, for better or for worse. he doesn't see the appeal in dampening the flames that burn within you. he'd rather build a perimeter around it that'll keep the fire from spreading and burning too hot.

total transparency isn't how he operates, though. he'll clue you in, build the maze you're to navigate, but won't hand over the blueprints. you're free to traverse the fortress as you please. you can talk to whoever you want, say whatever you want, such is your prerogative. at first, you can't help but find him naively arrogant. he might be "the duke," but even he must have limitations.

or so you think.

the vacant areas that guards seemingly overlook wind and stretch for miles. each step diminishes your hope, little by little. will your provisions last? do you really have the expertise to pull off a successful dive and ascent? why did a prudent man such as wriothesley leave a potential escape route unobstructed? these doubts are weights that drag you down, and, inevitably, back to where he waits.

this leaves pleading your case to your fellow inmates or the guards. the first time you try, it's a rush of adrenaline, stumbling over your words just in case he'd come dragging you back at a moment's notice. this incoherent accusation of his grace forging false evidence to keep you here, in the depths where he'd like you, doesn't go as you dreamed. you're either met with awkward apprehension or outright ignored. in the case of the former, it's safe to assume they think you're having a break from reality. the latter is worse, more cruel; they can see where you're coming from and elect to do nothing about it. why should they endanger themselves for your sake? it's a dog-eat-dog world in the fortress.

defeated and humiliated, you return to the administrative area 'willingly.' there he waits, the door unlocked to show he anticipated your return, leisurely sipping his tea. he isn't angry, bitter, or vicious. he just simply asks,

"did you have a nice chat?"

[sugar-plum-writer]

"Jujutsu Lover~ OTOME GAME"

System: 002 [Part - 01]

Loading 99%----> 100%!

Loading Route! Character?

System Administrator!Gojo Satoru

Love interest for Player- 3%

[Be aware not to cross above 100% for your safety~] Best of Luck!

[Player Death Rate- 80%]

Difficulty- SSR**

[Failing to clear will result in immediate death!]

Warnings/Tags?

[Slight!Violence; A System Administrator!Gojo Satoru x Fem!Otome Game Player Reader; Isekai]

Route Name?

[Do you love me Mr. Gojo?]

Good Luck player Y/n

The situation you were in now was unexpected, sure you might have hallucinated about it but hallucinations do not come to life correct? correct. If so was the case why are you stuck in this situation?

"Yo~ Y/n welcome to the afterlife!!!" pulling you by the wrist the man smirked smugly

"Congratulations on living the dream everyone has wanted to live, applause please!!!!" he clapped his hands loudly, setting off a party popper wearing a birthday hat

The man was a giant, 190 cm tall, with broad shoulders, white hair, and his eyes a blue embodying the entire sky- Looking into them felt like a freefall through an endless vast expanse of never ending Azure.

"W…Wait what!? I am dead…like dead dead? or a demon is trying to take possession of me?" confused you looked at him a bit freaked out at the situation

"Ah… possession well that's a first I have heard as a system administrator, oh well it's interesting" Smirking he offered you a party hat too

You looked at the party hat, then looked at him doubting and wondering if he was serious, as silence filled the heaven-like white room, with no beginning or end a span of endless white

"......."

"Ah you are no fun~" With a pout he threw the party hat away

"Believe it or not you are dead its not a dream, this is 100% real, you died in a car crash, a drunk driver slammed into you"

"So…I am dead?" you felt a pang in your chest, sweat dripped down your neck as the heart pumped itself to oblivion

"Yes, you are dead" The playful demeanor was gone as he looked at you, the gold threads embroidered into the royal blue and white suit glistened- something straight out of a French couture. The print was abstract-outwardly but fit him perfectly as if it was made for him.

"I…Is there no way to go back?"

"Hmmm…Well, you are going to be a player to test out the new world" sneering he leaned in, "If you win and survive, you can go back to your world"

"Really!? What do I need to do?"

"Well first of all~ you will need to make one of the characters fall in love with you, clear the route, and get a happily ever after, it's like a dating sim!" with a snap of his fingers a hologram appeared in front of you of a game like system

The Hologram had all kinds of stats missions, routes, shop, etc as you clicked around seeing different options

"And winning is assured because- I yours truly Mr. Gojo Satoru will accompany you through this! see!" he pointed at a small chibi icon of him in the corner of the hologram smirking.

"I see…but how are you so sure about winning? It's not like you are a god" you looked at him and chuckled finding it funny.

Without batting an eyes he gazed at you, looking into the depts of your soul every nook and cranny, and stated the obvious calmly as if it was obvious beyond doubt. For a moment he looked like a man above all, as if the world was nothing- not even worthy enough to be under his feet for it could never bear his divinity

"Darling", He chuckled , "Why would I need to be a God when my existence is higher than any position a God could want? As, throughout heavens and Earth, I alone am the honored one"

[System message!]

"Player Y/n do you wish to change route to other characters of jjk?"

Yes/ No

Link to my Masterlist

[If you wanna be tagged for other parts ect! comment below I will tag you~ and heart the post to let me know if you want more~]

@hinakazino it's out! Sorry for the late tag love ❤

@nissatamz it's out!!!

[viviennevermillion]

*breaks into your inbox*

Hello again! I loved the first one and I'm absolutely in love with Sampo and Blade so can I request headcanons for them with a partner that loves to just shower them in affection? Like they love to hold hands, hug, compliment them, and just give little kisses all the time? :3

Showering them in Affection

✧ ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ: this made me swoon so much because aaaaaaaaaaaaa sampo shdhshdjzjsjdjs. also guys check out my hsr network @masked-fools! feel free to apply to join us! also do tell me if you want to be on my taglist for any characters!

✧ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: feels like home — edwina hayes

✧ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ: sampo, blade

✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: none

Sampo may seem like an "easygoing fella", as he describes himself, and seems to talk more than he is silent but it's a role he plays. Getting Sampo to open up and be genuine and honest with you is incredibly difficult and takes a long, long time and through it all he is pining so much. So once he's actually with you and fully gives his heart to you, he craves your affection like it's the air he breathes

He always indulges you when you decide to basically shower him in affection. You'll be planting kisses all over his face and Sampo has the proudest, happiest smile on his expression as if someone just crowned him king of Belobog.

He loves deep kisses. He'd be up for kissing you for an hour straight if you wanted to. He puts on a nice lip balm in your favorite flavor just for you. Just so you keep feeling like kissing him. He adores when you cup his cheeks and kiss him like this is your last day together. It makes his heart flutter.

Sampo feels he's living the dream with someone as affectionate as you. He's a man who wants to be spoiled and pampered. Literally melts and wonders whether he's in heaven already when you hold him in your arms and place soft kisses on his forehead. He snuggles closer to you, nuzzling your neck and you can smell his shampoo as you rest your head on top of his. It's really nice. Occasionally he pecks your neck and tries to cling to you even more than he's already doing.

You know those couples who make out in the hallway whilst other people are present? That's Sampo except in the Administrative District of Belobog. He thinks you look cute holding a small bouquet he got you at the flower shop and he decides if he wants to kiss you now, the tram and its driver, who is already cursing at you for standing in the way, can wait.

He's always happy when you want to hold his hand. But it also is never enough for him. You reach for his hand and he pulls you into a hug or presses a kiss to your lips almost reflexively.

Listen, Sampo is a sucker for compliments. He was thinking about "tall, blue and handsome" but any compliment that comes out of your mouth literally sounds so much better than that. He'd love to be called a pet name like "love" or "darling". Makes him feel like in a way you're partners in crime even if you're not participating in his scams.

There's nothing that makes Sampo's heart beat faster than you being bold with your affections. Pulling him into a kiss in front of a whole crowd. Trailing soft pecks down his neck while you're hiding from the Silvermane Guards. Announcing to your friends who may not approve of him as your boyfriend that he's the love of your life. He's down bad when you do stuff like this.

Blade tries to not show it on his face how much he adores how affectionate you are with him. He's never imagined himself as someone who's into this type of thing but surprises can come even to someone who has lived as long as he has.

Blade prefers slower, more soft affections from you behind closed doors as opposed to Sampo. He loves when the two of you are cuddled up in bed and you tell him how much you love him and kiss his cheek repeatedly.

Sometimes when he's back from a mission for the Stellaron Hunters, you'll immediately run up to him to embrace him. You'd pull him into a desperate but slow kiss, whispering against his lips that you were worried and that you love him, and Blade leans into your touch and his expression changes from one of stoicism or concern to an uncharacteristically soft and affectionate one. "Don't worry... I'm here now. I'll be alright", he always reassures you even on days where that couldn't be further from the truth.

After a long and stressful day, Blade loves when you drag him to have a warm bath with you. You help him wash his long hair and he falls asleep with his head on your chest inside the bathtub because the feeling of your fingers massaging his scalp makes him relax into your embrace immediately. You have to chuckle at how peacefully he rests in your embrace. You only decide to end his nap once the water has started feeling a little cold. You wake him up with soft kisses and he hums quietly as he's waking up. As soon as he's aware of his surroundings again, he turns his head for his lips to find yours.

When Blade comes back from a battle, his skin is often sore and he feels tense so he loves when you help him relax by giving him a nice massage or pressing kisses to the scars that line his shoulders while whispering soft praises. You can see his facial expression relax and he looks so much more at peace already. His shoulders are also very sensitive so he just leans back and focuses on your kisses for a while whilst holding your hand in his.

Blade has calloused hands and slightly chapped lips. He's happy you still want to hold his hands and kiss him even though his skin is not soft. You tell him that this just means he has been through things and needs your love even more. "What would I do without you?", Blade chuckles lightly and lets you pull him into a hug.

Gets flustered at PDA. Especially if it's in front of his fellow Stellaron Hunters. He'll be chatting about Elios recent prophecies with Silver Wolf and Kafka and if you're the type of person to run up to him and try to bear hug him he's like 😳

Let's you call him Bladie but only if it's followed up by a kiss or an "I love you"

Blade is more of a passive lover but you can be certain that he enjoys every bit of your affectionate side.

[catslvrr]

heaven sent — 15. epilogue

previous | next | alternate ending

You woke up with a gasp, sweat coating the back of your neck. Your eyes darted around the room, searching for any sign of danger.

Must’ve been a bad dream.

You frowned as you stared at your walls. Were they always that bare?

You felt strange, but you couldn’t pinpoint what it was. There was something on the forefront of your mind, and you sat there, racking your brain until you remembered: you wanted to adopt a cat.

You weren’t sure why, but the thought of a cat did appeal to you. It wouldn’t be so bad to have a new friend, and you were pretty sure Minji would adore it as well.

You remember visiting a cat cafe for no particular reason, finding solace in a particular orange cat, despite its petty attitude and vigorous self-grooming.

The drive to the cat cafe felt quiet, which was unusual, because you were used to driving alone. You connected your phone so you could play music, and were surprised to see the song you wrote already on queue. 

You hummed and mumbled along, unexpectedly feeling a wave of sadness overwhelming you. Am I getting my period soon or something? You switched back to one of your other playlists.

You smiled as you entered, seeing the orange cat lazing on the cat tree, licking itself as always. You moved closer and cautiously scratched its chin.

“Hey buddy.”

Its ears perked up and it stared at you intently, blinking sluggishly before rubbing its face against your hand in recognition. You laughed softly as you spent a few more minutes with it before making your way to the reception desk.

You stared at the list of cats that were available, and you smiled as you saw a mugshot of your (soon to be) orange cat. Cherry, it read — the name of the cat.

“Cherry,” you mumbled, rolling the name on your tongue. The name rang bells in your head, a distant memory almost resurfacing, but too fast for you to catch. 

After going through all the paperwork and administrative stuff, you left the cafe with Cherry in a carrier and a bag full of pet necessities: food, treats, toys, collars, the usual.

You gently plopped down Cherry as you opened the door to the apartment, unzipping the carrier to let her familiarize herself with her new home. You set up her designated eating and sleeping area, and also took this time to assemble a mini cat tree that you bought on the way home.

“Minji’s gonna love you,” you grinned, sitting next to Cherry, who had perched herself on the couch. “We’re gonna spoil you rotten, Cherry. Us and our combined savings of eight dollars.”

And with perfect timing, you heard Minji fumbling with her keys on the other side of the door. She announced her entrance by carelessly chucking her shoes inside.

Minji stretched, seemingly unaware of both of your presences. She was engrossed in her phone, probably scrolling through Twitter. It was like her personal daily newspaper.

You cleared your throat.

Her head whipped towards you, and as she noticed the new face, she dramatically gasped. She could barely contain her buzzing excitement as she speedily beelined towards the couch to cradle Cherry.

“Oh my god,” Minji cried, peppering kisses on her head. “My angel. My baby. My dearest.”

“Put her down,” you groaned, watching Cherry try to wrestle out of Minji’s grip. Minji set her down on the couch, and the both of you watched her curl up into a ball. The two of you sat on both sides of the couch, Cherry peacefully sitting in the middle.

“What’s its name?”

“Cherry,” you smiled. “Our little girl.”

“Bro,” Minji tried not to squeal. “She’s so cute. I want to squeeze her so bad.”

“She’s got my cuteness and your weirdness.”

“What the fuck? I literally just brought you back a breakfast burrito.”

“You did? I take back what I said then.”

“Fuck you.”

You sighed in contentment as you grabbed the breakfast burrito off the counter and sat back on the couch, Minji turning on some random YouTube video. 

You were glad that you went out of your comfort zone this semester break, going on impulsive adventures that you would’ve never thought to go on.

But there was this itch at the back of your mind, something you couldn’t quite place your finger on. Something felt missing. But you tried to brush it off, hoping it would go away soon.

You felt happy, and that’s what mattered. And now that you had Cherry, you were sure that life would get better.

previous | next | alternate ending

[a-french-coconut]

Luke Castellan (Part 2)

Each day, his forces grow a little stronger, demigods joining them from all over the country, even Camp Half-Blood.

It's time.

Already ? It's only been one year.

He's in his office, seated next to a golden coffin that grows more visible every time a demigod pledge themselves to Kronos.

Our army is strong and with Jackson on his father's side, we need another piece in the game.

He stays silent, reaching for a piece on the chessboard on front of him.

Would it really work ?

Will it bring her back ?

Yes, the Golden Fleece is a powerful artefact.

They why didn't Chiron, or even Dionysus, ever told him ?

He would have went on that quest without hesitation, he would have saved her !

I feel your anger rising, good. Remember, Chiron, Dionysus and all the other gods don't care about you. With her dead, they thought they could avoid the Great Prophecy.

He clenches the piece in his hand, his familiar hatred boiling in him again.

They had killed her, valued her as a defective object that needed to put down.

I shall inform our spy at Camp to proceed.

If Silena didn't change her old calendar, she should be horse riding now.

"Silena, do you copy ?" He asks her through the charm bracelet.

"Hi Luke."

As always, the daughter of Aphrodite have this sweet voice, one that could work on many guys but Luke couldn't be more indifferent to it.

Silena Beauregard is not his type of girl but he can't risk having her offended by a rejection.

"Hey Lena, I need you to do me a favor."

"Of course ! Anything you need." Comes back the answer, cheerful and hopeful.

"The poison Lila gave to you last time you two met ? Use it on the target."

"Oh, okay." She sounds disappointed but frankly, she should know better than expect him to like her, daughter of Aphrodite and all that. "Are you sure you want to do this ?"

"Of course I'm sure," he frowns, "why are you asking ?"

"It's going to hurt her Luke, deeply. It's like she'll die again."

"She isn't going to die" he snaps at Silena, voice cold and harsh, "a quest will be issued to save her. Now go do your job and stop questioning my orders !"

He abruptly cuts contact, not caring about how it might affect Silena.

He looks at the piece in his hand.

Kronos wants a new pawn to balance the careful game they are playing.

"Castellan," an empousa barges in, "Torrington is asking for you on deck, he needs you to teach the soldiers a manoeuvre."

"Tell them I'm coming Kelli."

She nods, promptly leaving him alone.

He gets up, puts some light armor before gripping Backbiter and getting out of the office.

On the table, away from the chessboard and its pieces, stands the dark queen, as proud as the girl she represents.

--------------------------------

He dreams of her, of the pine's leaves slowly turning gray, the bark rotting and falling on the ground.

He wonders if she can feel it.

(When he faces her again, on a mountain top surrounded by ruins, he'll know that he made her suffer.)

As expected, Chiron is fired and Tantalus takes over the leadership.

Luke thinks he knows why Kronos chose him. Indeed, they seem to share the same culinary taste.

"How long until the poison kills the tree ?" He asks Alabaster who created it.

"One week, depends on what cure they will administrate it." The son of Hecate shrugs, clearly unconcerned with Thalia's fate. "Don't worry Luke, they should make it time."

"They better," he mumbles under his breath, "if Thalia dies, there is no way for me to convince Annabeth to join us."

"About that," Alabaster fidgets, "Are you sure she'll want to join ? She seems pretty loyal to the Olympians."

"When Thalia joins us, she will too." Luke assures his second in command, "why don't you go find Ethan ? Last time I heard he was still pining over you, looking at you with awe in his single eye."

He snickers slightly when his friend's face turns red, promptly leaving to find the son of Nemesis.

"This is a waste of time," Kelli scoffs from the corner of the room, "why aren't we sending our own forces to get the Fleece ? It would be a lot more productive."

"Because" he glares at the monster who languidly gets closer to him, "they need to ultimately have the Fleece and they are not going to accept it as a gift from us. Hence, they need to find it by their own."

"If you say so, Castellan." Kelli sighs, seating on his armchair, "the girl you keep talking about, Talia or-"

"Thalia" he corrects her, slightly uncomfortable with her proximity.

"That," Kelli narrows her eyes on him, her talons tracing lines on his shoulder and arm," what does she mean to you ?"

"She's a dear friend," he quickly gets out of the chair, earning himself a scowl, "and a powerful ally to have."

"I'm sure she would make quite a feast," Kelli smiles, "Zeus' blood is always so delicious-"

"Don't kid yourself" Luke cuts her off curtly, "you don't stand a chance against Thalia."

"Is that so ?" she hisses, "then maybe I should pay her visit when she's done housing birds and squirrels, to see her worth."

With the speed of a son of Hermes, Luke unsheathes Backbiter and furiously slashes at Kelli but she jumps out of the chair and the only thing damaged is now his furniture.

"Thalia is an essential person in our plan, do you want me to tell our Lord that you wish to harm her ?" He snarls, pulling off his sword from the wood.

"Oh, now" Kelli chuckles nervously, "there's no need for such rash action, I have no intention to go near the daughter of Zeus."

"Good," he says firmly, "now get out, I have work to do."

She hisses at him, hair burning a bright orange but nonetheless hobbles her way out, the sound of her bronze leg hitting the ground echoing in the corridor.

He forces himself to breathe, to squash down his fury against that damned empousa.

His charm bracelet heating up, the signal Silena is trying to contact him, distract him from his insider turmoil.

"Silena," he says rather irritably, "Lila is in charge of receiving your infos, I have enough work to do."

"I thought you would have wanted to hear this but fine, I'll just transmit to Lila and she can tell you." The daughter of Aphrodite says with a snappy voice.

"Wait," he calls to her," what it is ? I'm not busy right now."

A lie since he has to prepare a meeting concerning their sponsors but he is curious about what is so important.

"Clarisse got a quest and she's leaving first thing tomorrow morning to retrieve the Fleece."

"Clarisse ?" He frowns, "why would they send Clarisse when the Fleece is on an island in the Sea of Monsters ? Jackson's obviously a better choice."

"Tantalus isn't very fond of him."

"Tell that idiot that Percy must come." Luke hisses, furious against the new director. "it's the perfect opportunity to trap and kill him."

"It's too late, it would be weird for him to suddenly change opinions." Her voices curls in distaste, "how are we going to keep him Luke, the guy gives the creeps."

"Then avoid him because he is going to stay as long as possible."

"But", her voice wavers, "he might want to hurt the kids."

"Kids" he scoffs, "that are on the opposite side Lena. We are bound to fight them sooner or later."

"We want a better word for all demigods," she stresses her word, "even them, do we not ? I don't see how Tantalus fits into our vision."

"He does for now" he grits out, "anything else ?"

"No, Percy has arrived at camp but he isn't going on the quest. Oh ! Wait, no, I have something to tell you-"

"It'll have to wait," he eyes Chris who just entered and mouthing to him they are here, "I really need to go, please inform your official agent of any new developments and not me."

"Our spy ?" His brothers asks, tilting his head.

"Clarisse has been sent to retrieve the Fleece," Luke eyes carefully his brother's face, "dangerous quest, some might say lethal."

"Clarisse's strong," he mutters quietly, not looking in Luke's eyes, "she'll get through it."

"One day, we are going to fight her, are you sure you'll be able to do so when it happens ?"

"Yes, my loyalty is to Kronos and you."

Chris looks at him with a hardened gaze, grim determination etched on his face.

"I'll do whatever you need me to if it means getting retribution."

"Good," he smiles," I'm please to see your faith in me."

When he passes in front of him, he puts a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Kronos will appreciate that kind of loyalty once we win the war, brother, be sure not to lose it."

As he leaves to greet his guests, he doesn't see Chris carefully taking a picture of his trouser's pocket, with on it a girl with a bright red bandana hugging with one arm a younger Chris.

-------------------------------

"Well, I have to say I didn't expect you here."

He looks rather amused at the trio confronting him.

"Percy, I should have known you couldn't stay far from me for too long, Annabeth," he looks at her, properly seeing her since he left, "you've grown and-"

His voice dies out as he looks with disbelief at the boy in front of him.

Except he's not a boy.

No, he's monster.

A cyclops.

"Really, Annie ?" He says rather hysterical, earning himself a weird look from everyone except Annabeth who's red with shame, "of all monsters, a cyclops ?" He pronounces it with such disgust, such hater towards that kind.

"Don't talk to Tyson that way !" Percy angrily say, struggling against Agrius's grip.

"Why ? Fond of him Jackson ?"

To that, the son of Poseidon stays quiet, the same red Annabeth has colouring his cheeks.

"Well, as fun as this is, I'm afraid it must come to an end." He sighs, "Agrius and Oreius, take them downstairs, I heard the monsters were hungry."

But the cyclops breaks free and sends Oreius tumbling on his brother, giving Percy to opportunity to escape.

"Catch them !" He roars to his soldiers but they have already bolted out of the room.

He can only watch them, seething, disappearing on the horizon on one of the emergency life boat.

He had them...

They were on his boat, unarmed and outnumbered and they escaped.

Shame and rage churn his stomach, make his body vibrate with fury and Alabaster is the one to pay the price.

"Torrington !" he bellows at the son of Hecate, "they were three and you had six demigods and two monsters at your commands !"

"The monsters don't listen to me !" he protests, looking straight into Luke's eyes, "I'm the General of your demigods' army."

"And what have you been doing all those months ?" he hisses, "how come they were completely useless to stop them !"

He sees Alabaster's eyes glower and green ruins appear on his jacket. He reaches for Backbiter but a little girl suddenly puts herself in the way.

"Stop this ! Please !" she begs, looking fearfully at Luke.

"Lou," Alabasters says softly, "get out of the way."

"No, I'm not letting you fight with him !" Lou crosses her arms defiantly, stubbornly not moving.

"Your sister ?" He asks his general who curtly nods, still eyeing him and ready to fight.

But Luke only looks at Lou.

She's small, black-haired and has startling green eyes.

If he has to guess, she must be eleven years old, younger maybe.

And yet, despite her young age, she looks at him warily and ready to protect her brother.

He sheathes his sword to Alabaster's great surprise.

"They'll have to come back once they get the Fleece, we'll catch them then."

He leaves the deck and Torrington's confused face to isolate himself in his cabin.

He spends the next hour twirling a cheap ring on his necklace, thinking of a young blond girl with startling grey eyes and wondering if she would too protect him if he needed it.

-----------------------------

He doesn't remember falling asleep.

And yet he is chained upside down, with an unbearable heat burning his face as he looks at the cauldron below him.

He remembers that place.

It's when they were on the run and Thalia and he got captured by a cyclops.

Annabeth had been the one to save them, stabbing bravely the monster and freeing them.

"Luke ! Stop looking like an idiot and use your powers !" A voice next to him snaps in the air.

She's there, looking wildly alive, face etched into a scowl and gleaming from sweat.

"Thalia..." he whispers with a broken voice.

"Is the heat making you lose your mind ?" She says harshly, a worried frown appearing on her features, "yes it's me, Thalia. The girl who is about to buzz you if you don't find a solution."

It's been so long since he heard her talking and not screaming.

The way her eyes pulse with electricity.

The way her freckles are a constellation adoring her pale skin, contrasting so much with her spiky jet black hair.

The way she's pulsing with life, trashing against the chains restraining her and not cold dead on a forest's floor.

"Thalia, I-"

He wants to tell her everything, like he did before, to tell her about Kronos and his rebellion against the gods.

"Hurry, Luke !" She trashes even wilder, a small edge of fear in her voice.

He knows what happens next.

The cyclops comes back, failing to lure Annabeth in his trap, and as he's ready to cut their bonds, to let them fall into the boiling steaming pit below, the monster screams in pain and Luke seizes his chance.

He gets out of the now loosened chains, managed to free Thalia despite only using one hand, the other firmly gripping the chain, and the both of them jump onto the cyclops's arm.

That's when he sees the cause of the monster's pain.

Annabeth had stabbed him in the toe, his little sister looking terrified but determined to fight the beast.

Quickly, Thalia and he climb down the screaming monster until they're on the ground and help Annabeth kill him.

Then, she punches him in the gut after praising Annie.

"What the fuck Thals !" He groans, doubling over.

"What was that back there, huh ?" She asks angrily, irritated enough for not scolding off for the bad word, "why'd you froze like that ?"

"I didn't freeze, my powers were just useless." He winces when he feels his abdomen, it's definitely going to bruise.

She scowls but doesn't push him further.

"Come on, we have to go, Grover is waiting for us outside." Annabeth urges them, dragging them to the exit.

"It's too late."

Both Annabeth and Thalia look at him with utterly confused faces.

"What do you mean it's too late ? Too late for what ?"

"Forget I said anything," he mumbles hastily, pushing them aside to reach the exit, "it's nonsense."

A hand on his shoulder stops him.

It's not like her punch, no.

It's a prolonged contact, one where her hand barely touches his skin and yet, it is warmer than the boiling cauldron.

"Luke," he hears her say his name with worry, "what's wrong ?"

"Nothing's wrong Thals," he reassures her, not looking in her eyes. "We have to go, the monsters are gaining on us."

But she doesn't let go of him and her hand gets closer to his neck.

He doesn't turn, can't bear to look at her.

"You can tell me anything, you know that right ?" She whispers, her voice centimetres away from his ear.

"And I will," he replies, "I will but not today."

He terribly wants to face her, to tell her everything but he can't waste any more time.

It's stupid of him to think that maybe, in this dream Thalia makes it to Camp alive. It's like jumping off the cliff again when he knows he'll break himself on rocks below.

Yet, he hopes.

--------------------------------

"Welcome back to the States, cousin." He smiles at Percy, holding Backbiter under his throat, "I'm the welcoming party."

"Really wasn't necessary."

"So uncivilised," he shakes his head, "come aboard, all of you."

This time, Grover is with them. Luke doesn't know why he is there, surely something Silena could explain, but he doesn't particularly care. There's only one thing he wants, and it's within his reach.

"Where is it ?"

"Where's what ?" Percy asks innocently, the ghost of a smile floating on his face.

"The Fleece, Jackson." Luke patiently says, "give it to me."

"I can't, it's gone." He says, his smile now very visible and irritably smug.

"It can't be gone Jackson, you are all here," Luke snaps before a horrible idea dawns on him, "no, there's no way, you didn't-"

"Yes," Percy says glowing with satisfaction, "Clarisse is already on the way to Camp with the Fleece. You lost Luke."

"What where you planning to do with the Fleece, anyways ?" Annabeth asks him coldly.

"Well, since none of you are getting out of here alive, I suppose I can tell you," he shrugs, trying to hide his growing panic at the perspective of telling Kronos he failed again, "I was going to use the Fleece to resurrect Kronos but I would have given it back to you after."

"Really ?"

"Of course Jackson, I know why you need the Fleece and I wouldn't have stopped you."

"That's rich," he scoffs, "considering what you did."

To his grand surprise, Jackson hurls a coin at him. One he easily dodge, the drachma falling in the water behind him.

"You betrayed me, betrayed DIONYSUS AT CAMP HALF BLOOD !"

"Old news Jackson, why are you doing this ?"

"Did you poison Thalia's tree ?"

"Of course I did !" He snaps at Jackson, utterly confused, "but you-"

"So Chiron had nothing to do with it ?" Jackson presses on.

"As if that old man could ever hurt his Camp !" Luke rolls his eyes, "why are you doing this ? You already know all of that !"

"I do, but now all the others do too."

"What others-"

His voice dies at he turns and sees the whole Pavillon of Camp Half-Blood looking at them, dead silent, through an Iris Message.

"See Mr D ? Chiron is innocent !" Percy says behind him.

"I suppose so Peter," the god sighs, "well then, goodbye Tantalus."

He waves his hand and the earth opens, swallowing the man whole.

With a furious scream, Luke slashes the Iris Message, making it pop in a cloud of mist.

"Chris !" He barks at his brother, "ready my stallion, I'm going after the Fleece."

His brothers nods and hastily leaves the room.

"As for you all, Oreius and Agrius are in dire need of fresh meat."

"So you're just leaving us here, not even able to kill us yourselves ?" Percy yells at him as they go on deck where a black pegasus awaits Luke.

"I have more urgent matters than you Jackson, believe or not."

"Why don't you fight me, eh ? Scared you'll lose like the first time ?" The son of Poseidon taunts him.

It's an impasse and they both know it.

If Luke declines, he loses credibility and if he accepts, he doubts he'll manage to intercept Clarisse.

"Very well, Jackson. Give him back his sword."

He arms himself with Backbiter and a shield and faces Percy.

"It's not fair Luke," Annabeth protests angrily, "at least give him a shield too !"

"The world's hardly ever is fair Annabeth," he snarls, "I had hoped you would know that by now."

He looks at Percy, scanning for weak spots and when he finds one, he attacks.

"You've gotten better Jackson" he grunts, blocking Riptide with his shield, "but there's not water trick to save you this time."

He kicks him in the leg and sends Riptide flying out of reach.

He hears Annabeth screaming, the cyclops bellowing and Grover bleating as he lower down Backbiter to stab Percy in the stomach.

Water slaps him, sending him tumbling backward and loud screams and confettis ?

Dozens of centaurs are on his ship, trampling his forces or throwing party hats and shooting paintballs.

One hits him on the stomach, splattering his shirt blue and bruising his skin.

Amidst the chaos, he registers Percy mounting Chiron while the others are on other centaurs, his old mentor whistles and they're all gone as fast as they came.

"Chris !" He roars, face red with fury, "the horse, where is it ?"

"It left with them," his brother groans from where he's sprawled on the floor, covered in paint, "saw Percy talk to him."

He feels like he might explode from shame and rage.

It's the second time Percy escapes him, the second time a thirteen years old beat him, an experienced twenty years old demigod.

"All of you, clean this mess ! I have to inform our Lord of this recent development."

He closes his office's door rather harshly, taking a few minutes to calm himself before contacting Kronos.

Master.

Next to him, the coffin glows and he feels him stirring, his presence lingering in the air.

You have failed.

Luke feels his throat drying, yes master.

And yet we are still successful.

I... I don't understand Master. Without the Fleece, you'll take more time to fully awake.

Foolish boy, do you think I cannot wait a few more years ? I have spent eons awaiting for this moment, I do not lack patience.

It was never about you, Luke realises, all you wanted was for the Fleece to reach her tree.

And it has, soon, we'll have another pawn in the game.

----------------------------------

Far away, on a hill overlooking Long Island Sound, a girl opens her eyes under a grand pine tree for the first time in seven years.

[megalony]

My Beloved

This is a Morpheus (Sandman) imagine, I know its been a while since I’ve written for Sandman but I am getting back into it so any requests would be lovely.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me  @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn  @noonenuts @sleepylunarwolf

Masterlist

Summary: When (Y/n) isn’t well, Morpheus comes to the waking world to take care of his beloved.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A soft smile fluttered on Morpheus' lips when he watched (Y/n)'s eyes slowly begin to open. He leaned a little further back into the sofa that seemed to swallow him whole, and continued in his administrations of carding his fingers through her hair. It was a new habit he had acquired when he realised the action was a good remedy for helping (Y/n) to sleep.

It wasn't very often that Morpheus found himself in the waking world, he could conjure up dreams, entice people to sleep and keep an eye on all of his creations from his own realm of the Dreaming. But sometimes his work brought him into the waking world and sometimes he just fancied a wander through.

With (Y/n) around, she was more of a reason for him to be in this world rather than his own.

He should have gone back to his realm a while ago but he simply hadn't found it in himself to leave her yet. (Y/n) was like a drug Morpheus was addicted to and being away from her was like going through withdrawal.

"Did you like your dream?"

Morpheus couldn't help but indulge himself just a little.

He never got to ask humans what they thought of his creations, he didn't see their reactions when they woke up and how they acted in his realm didn't always give away what they thought. The humans always believed dreams to be of their own creation, they inadvertantly took credit for Morpheus' ideas and even if his creations were sometimes based around each human's experience, they were still his own making.

Now that Morpheus had (Y/n), he could pry into her thoughts and find out what aspects of his creations she loved and which ones needed improving on.

It did get hard.

Even if Morpheus was weak at the knees for (Y/n), he had to remain objective in his work. She had to experience nightmares and bad memories and some tough worlds in the dreaming because he couldn't favour the one he loved and be responsible for her lack of inspiration and motivation in the waking world.

"It was beautiful, I wish I had wings like hers."

(Y/n)'s voice was laced with the last remnants of dream and her eyes were desperate to close and go back into the best world she had seen so far.

If she was being honest, (Y/n) couldn't quite remember all of the dream which happened to most people and with the best kind of dreams, they faded away to keep the magic for the next sleep. But she remembered the beautiful creature she had seen dancing in front of her eyes with wings the size of cars that resembled bubbles with all the glimmering colours and see-through patches. And the feeling of falling just at the end of the dream- something (Y/n) knew Morpheus couldn't control- just made it all the more exciting.

"You don't need wings, you're already exquisite."

With the last of the dream fading in the back of her mind, (Y/n) slowly sat up, realising she had fallen asleep on her lover's lap and he hadn't had the heart to move her. How long had he stayed there as her personal cushion, waiting for her to wake up? She hoped he hadn't been waiting long or been uncomfortable.

She could see his pasty skin lighting up with a faint pink blush that blossomed up his neck and onto his pale white cheeks when she slowly hooked her legs on either side of his hips and perched on his lap. (Y/n) turned her cheek to rest on his shoulder and draped her arms around the back of Morpheus' neck, smiling into his black shirt when she felt his arms slowly coiling around her hips.

Morpheus wasn’t used to lovers being close or touchy with him and after nearly a century in a glass dome, cut off from everyone and every touch, things felt different. He realised just how touch-starved he had been for the last century and it made him want to make up for lost time. He was desperate for contact and love and closeness and soft kisses or someone's skin to be close to him- for (Y/n), to be close to him. That wasn’t who he was before he was captured.

When he pulled her closer so their chests were touching and there was no longer a small slither of a gap between them, (Y/n) smiled. She could feel him breathing in her scent, his nose tickled her forehead where he pressed a soft, slow kiss to her temple.

"I'm afraid I must go soon, my beloved. It's almost dark out."

(Y/n) couldn't help the pout that formed on her lips and she tightened her arms around his neck. She wished she had woken up earlier so she could have more time to hold him like this.

The night was just beginning and that meant Morpheus' day was only just starting. There weren't half as many people who slept during the day as there were the rest who slept at night. Morpheus could be anywhere during the day time and conjure up a few worlds for people to idle in and visit with their messed up sleep schedules or a few little valleys for those who were having a short nap.

But when the sun set behind the clouds and the darkness started to creep around the corner, that was when the real magic began. And the best place for Morpheus to be was in his realm or out in the streets, he had millions of people to serenade and pull into his world and he had to keep them occupied and on their toes or else if he didn't have their full attention, they would slip back into the waking world.

"Can I come with you?"

Lifting her head from off his shoulder, (Y/n) pressed her lips to his forehead and moved her hands to cup his face between her palms, something she knew drove him crazy. He loved when she would rest her forehead against his, their noses brushing like they were now, and their gazes interlocked like thousands of stars joining together in the midnight sky.

"If you were feeling well I would bring you with me, darling. Go back to sleep, I'll conjure up another world for you and when you wake, I will return."

In any other circumstance, Morpheus would indulge (Y/n) and never deny her request to come back to his realm. But she wasn't well, it was why she had been dreaming with his creations for most of the day and why Morpheus had stayed with her for almost all of the day. If (Y/n) stayed in his realm, he would sense her while he was working and he would know when she came back to the waking world and he would visit her then.

"I wish you didn't have to go." Even as she spoke, Morpheus could see she was halfway back to his world already and it only made his soft smile widen.

With one arm still around her hips and the other hand moving to cradle the back of (Y/n)'s head, Morpheus slowly turned them round and laid (Y/n) down on the sofa on her back. He hovered over her, leaning between her legs that were still wrapped around his hips as if to make sure he didn't escape without her consent.

His fingers tangled in her locks at the back of her head as he squeezed the flesh of her hip before he kissed her softly. He could feel how warm she was, heat was radiating off of her and flooding the room with warmth that was buzzing through his skin. But the way (Y/n) tightened her thighs on his hips and tried to pull all of his weight onto her made a groan scratch against the back of his throat.

She was making it impossible for him to leave.

"I'll be back soon, you need to rest. Now, sleep."

He didn't need dust when his voice was so addicting and intoxicating that it had (Y/n)'s eyes closing and her mind was hooked on each little world he spoke. She felt his words softly against her temple before a burning kiss simmered against her skin.

Then he was gone, and she was asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He didn't want to wake her.

For over twelve hours, Morpheus had felt (Y/n)'s presence in the back of his mind. He had felt her instantly fall into his realm, then wander and drift before he finally felt her settle into an old dream he had waiting for her. A small valley with a river flowing through that he knew (Y/n) had been laying beside while he was out making sure the rest of mankind found their place in his realm.

Now, as he walked back into her apartment and found (Y/n) in the exact spot he had left her, he debated whether he should wake her or leave her be in her dream. After all, he had told her to rest and that was exactly what she was doing. But when Morpheus bent down beside her and pressed a small kiss to her temple, he felt a sudden urge to wake her. She was burning a fever.

With how long she had slept during the afternoon and on and off throughout the night while he had been gone, Morpheus decided (Y/n) had slept for long enough. He needed to wake her and rid her of her fever before she felt any worse.

"Love, wake up." With a small brush of his fingers, Morpheus carded his fingers through the soft wisps of hair hanging around the sides of (Y/n)'s face, delicately placing them back behind her ear. Even with just a small action like that, he could feel the sweat dripping off his fingertips from her burning hot skin that was flushed.

A small murmur bubbled past (Y/n)'s lips and she leaned into the touch delicately dancing across her forehead like a cold bag of ice was slowly swaying above her.

"Dream... I thought you were leaving?"

"I did, and now I've returned to see you've gotten worse."

How had he gone and come back so quickly? (Y/n) could have sworn she'd closed her eyes for a few minutes, maybe dozed off for an hour, not nearly long enough for him to go do a full night's work and come back again. But when her eyes tried to open, she was scorched by the sun slowly creeping up into the sky and dazzling light through the living room window.

Had she gotten worse? All she did was doze off for a while, it didn't feel like she was any worse than how she felt earlier- yesterday, or whenever it was. (Y/n) could still hear Dream's voice in the back of her mind, telling her he would come back and asking her to go to sleep while he left her. She didn't even feel him slip out of her arms as she went into the dream he created for her.

Morpheus didn't know what to do, he wasn't used to suffering from any ailments himself and it had been so long since he'd taken care of someone who was ill. But he didn't like how hot her skin was to touch or how she was glistening with sweat from a raging fever that had appeared suddenly out of nowhere.

He didn't suppose holding some ice or something cold to her skin would do that much to take her fever down. Maybe a cold bath...

"Can you sit up, love?"

(Y/n) let her floppy arms be moved at Morpheus' will and let him hook them around his neck so he could hold her hips and gently pull her up.

"Are we going somewhere?"

A soft hum passed through his lips and he loved to perch on the edge of the sofa before he reached into the pocket of his trench coat. Morpheus paused in his movements for a moment when (Y/n) shuffled forward a little more until she could press her face into his chest. Her cheek burrowed in against his soft coat and her nose was bunched up in his shirt so she could breathe in his intoxicating scent.

With a handful of sand, Morpheus sprinkled it around them like glitter, using it sparingly before he closed his eyes and waited for his creation to do its magic. (Y/n) felt a soft breeze licking at her bare arms when the whirlwind feeling slowly disappated. It took a few moments for her to open her eyes and catch her bearings, but when she looked around, she realised they were back in Morpheus' kingdom. More specifically, they were on the beach on the edge of the realm.

She couldn't help but reach her hand out and drag her fingers through the sand they were now sitting on, it was as warm as it was soft but it wasn't damp from the shore like (Y/n) expected.

Morpheus couldn't help but smile when (Y/n) turned her face so her cheek was pressed against his shirt again like she was listening in for his heartbeat.

He kept his arms around her middle before he slowly started to stand up, gently pulling (Y/n) up with him until they were stood on the sinking sand. His arms held up most of her weight that soon fell onto his chest, but Morpheus didn't mind in the slightest. With an arm around her lower waist and the other gently cradling the back of her head, Morpheus kissed her temple before he guided them closer to the shore of the water.

The moment the water crept up (Y/n)'s ankles a shiver ran through her body that jolted through Morpheus too. The water was colder than an iceberg but it created such a funny sensation, like little teeth nipping at her feet.

"Come here," With a gentle voice that sounded so sugary sweet, Morpheus sat down in the shallow water that came up to his hips. He spread his legs so that (Y/n) could sit between them, not caring that both their clothes were going to be soaked. As long as (Y/n) felt better and her temperature went down a little, everything would be fine.

He rested his chin on top of (Y/n)'s head and kept his arms tight around her waist as she curled up so her side was tucked up into his chest and her hands were clutching at his shirt as if she thought she might drown.

For a little while, (Y/n) kept her eyes closed and focused on listening to Morpheus' heartbeat thudding patiently and calmly against her ear, drowning out the sound of the water rippling around them. When she slowly opened her eyes to take a look around, her breath caught in her throat.

Butterflies.

Small, tiny butterflies were glistening against the distant sun and had shimmering reflections on the crystal blue water. Their wings were transparant with small pink and blue lines like veins across them making them look like floating bubbles. Resembling the wings on the creature in her dreams earlier.

One butterfly came closer and fluttered so close (Y/n) could almost feel its wings fluttering against her nose before it started bobbing along just above the water.

"Are you feeling better?" As he spoke, Morpheus pressed the back of his hand against (Y/n)'s forehead, relieved to feel that she was a tiny bit cooler than she had been. The water was beyond freezing and it was turning his legs numb but (Y/n) was like a small heater bundled up in his coat and she looked like she was happily melting into him and the water.

"Much... don't leave yet, will you?"

"I'm not going anywhere, love."

(Y/n) smiled lazily to herself and closed her eyes again when she felt Morpheus' lips pressing against her hair. He started to speak, she wasn't sure what he was saying but his voice was so soothing and calm, she was sure he was telling her a story. He did that a lot when she couldn't sleep. His voice was the sound of dreams, he could speak a horror story and it would sound like a fantasy. His voice was calming and intoxicating and provoking and ruggid all at once.

It was one of the many reasons why (Y/n) loved him.

[glazsirok]

Ohhh could u tell us more abt the alternative post prison arc?

this idea belongs to one of my favorite ficwriters ^^

In this alternate arch, after being imprisoned in pandora, c!dream was in a really terrible state. his entire body was covered with deep scars, and his right arm was almost completely burned, as was the right half of his face (for this reason, usually no one stands on his right side, firstly because the almost completely burned part of his face looks scary, and secondly because now it is a blind spot for c!dream)

the syndicate miraculously managed to bring him out of a coma, and c!sam (feeling guilty for such a serious condition of the administrator) made a netherite prosthesis for his right hand, powered by a red stone (if the apocalypse happens, this hand will 100% outlive its owner)

what is most surprising, even assuming that c!dreams only eye will soon go completely blind, that his broken knee does not allow him to actively move, which is why he even has to walk with a cane, that his right hand now does not exist, but instead there is a prosthesis, which must be regularly cared for, that he is useless even in everyday life, that he HATES THE STAIRS IN THE TECHNOBLADE HOUSE, even despite all this, he remained the dream he was before his imprisonment yes, now he can't hurt anyone with an axe (he can't even hold a weapon in his hands because of the tremor), but he is still ready to fight back, if not physically, then psychologically, and even such a deplorable state of his body does not prevent him from scaring everyone away (in fact, on the contrary, it helps)

and of course, c!technoblade will not miss the moment to tell another joke about one-armed people in front of him, for which c!dream is sincerely ready to punch him, but since he knows how it will end, he will continue to give c!techno a threatening look. "Technoblade is delighted"

I apologize in advance for any mistakes in the text, I am writing with the help of a translator, since English is not my native language

[coleomegilla-maculata]

Whose instructions will you follow...?

(OC explanation under read more btw)

So I wanted to make a hypothetical "Selathiel Ending" where you follow its instructions. I would not really call it a "good ending" per se, at least compared to the secret(?) ending where Kinito is deleted (which in itself has some negative consequences if you believe Kinito isn't 100% evil).

My interpretation of Kinito being deleted, including the worlds where he has trapped others who downloaded him as shown in the deletion sequence, is either one of two things: 1) the users are somehow returned to their bodies they had before getting trapped in the digital world; 2) the users are dead but this allows their souls to pass on to the afterlife instead of remaining stuck in their own worlds.

With Selathiel's plan, it would basically be an exorcism to remove Kinito and/or whatever Presence he's got associated with him (assuming the hide and seek and bed scenes aren't just like, dreams or something? I don't know, you clearly don't die because you log right back onto the computer. I suppose something could haunt your dreams, but that's besides the point). However, both due to technicalities with the ritual AND because Selathiel sort of believes all who ended up trapped in Kinito's worlds are basically damned, the souls of the previous people are either flat out removed from existence or sent to purgatory/hell/The Bad Place/what have you. Selathiel is of course fine with this. It set out to remove evil, or what it perceived as evil at least, so this is the best outcome to it.

Selathiel will be mad if you choose to grant Kinito administrative access and will basically declare you beyond saving (see earlier point with damned souls), leaving the computer and locking you into the personalized world ending. With the secret floppy drive ending, it will sort of just be...neutral, I suppose? Kinito is gone, it still thinks you should have done what it told you to do, but the result was the same, so it leaves as it has no further business.

[goncharov-propaganda-factory]

Mishapocalypse: what the-

Hey, former redditors! Welcome to the hellsite, we're all glad that you're here (especially you 196 folk you warm my dead, frozen heart). While on the whole you seem to be adapting AMAZINGLY fast to site culture, if any of you are confused over one of our founding myths this may help.

(or if you're a veteran tumblrina and just want to read an essay that's fine too)

(others key parts of our national identity to learn about if you're curious include Goncharov, I Love You, Color of the Sky, My Three Girlfriends, and many more)

also if you don't want to read my entire fucking essay take this and run

but if you want to know the deal with this man, read on!

Mishorigins

Supernatural is a 2000s-ass TV series that ran on the CW from 2005 to 2020. It's about two brothers, Sam and Dean Winchester, who are "hunters" that protect people from various supernatural entities. The show was originally planned to last five seasons, with an angel character named Castiel (this is important) slated to be revealed as God in the finale. Castiel (nicknamed Cass by the CW and Cas by objectively correct people) was introduced in S4.

left: Castiel, the gay angel of our collective dreams. right: Misha Collins.

The Man Behind the Mish

Misha Collins is a straight man who was forced by a cruel and uncaring god to play a heavily queer coded angel on a TV series intended for any demographic BUT gay teens (which is what it became). His performance as Castiel, and the large queer teen fanbase he drew, were a driving force behind a show would ultimately continue for three times longer its original plan.

I don't have anywhere else to put these facts so they go here

he was an intern in the Clinton administration during the Lewinsky scandal

he knows Tibetan throat singing

he was arrested for climbing onto a bank roof (he was trying to... read a book? 👀👀👀)

he probably made Jensen Ackles (the guy who played Dean less homophobic? Maybe?

he held a scavenger hunt called GISHWHES several times for his charity, Random Acts

cool guy

he later played Harvey Dent on Gotham Knights this very year (2023)

there's icebergs of this shit

he farted on an airplane once

Mishion: Impossible

April 1st, 2013 is a date that will live in mishinfamy. Tumblr a main hub of the SuperWhoLock fandom (a mega-fandom amalgamating Supernatural, Sherlock BBC, and Doctor Who), was the only place the Mishapocalypse could happen.

For boring deets I'll redirect you to the KnowYourMeme page but these images should sum it up.

left: a list of Tumblr users, circa 2013. right: a fine example of Misha culture

There are two takeaways here:

You cannot outrun Misha.

You will become him.

On April 1, 2013, a significant portion of Tumblr changed their avatar to the now-iconic Mishapocalypse photo and their handle to "Misha Collins", followed by similar waves of Mish across other social media sites.

above: the modern Prometheus

This beautiful event was emblematic of pre-Dashcon Tumblr, an era as far away from us now as 1200 AD was from 1208 AD. You'll be pleased to know that the Mishapocalypse returns every April 1st to grace these ancient halls, a small group of pilgrims tracing new paths on the well-worn floor of the Church of Misha.

(this isn't to say the Supernatural fandom is dead, it's just somewhat diminished from it's glory days.

Thanks for reading! Reblog if you liked. I'll leave you with a bunch of Mishimages of my own that I posted for Mishapocalypse 23 (the 10th anniversary). Shameless self-promotion!!!

in clockwise order:

The Mona Misha

Mishius

Misha's extra hour in the ball pit

The Mishian (with Mish Damon)

Future ideas include Salvator Misha. Feel free to ask any questions you have, and I hope you enjoy Tumblr.

Happy Mishing!

ps I have not actually watched supernatural you just learn all of this via osmosis

[ansbobcar]

EP 8. Business as usual

WORD COUNT. 1371

Link to overview

_ _ _ _ _

“Welcome back, Ms. Ontarin!”

She waved at some of the employees with gratitude, she was allowed to continue working within the Bureau until their blood supply recovered. “It doesn’t help that we usually rely on you to make them,” her nurse muttered under her breath with apologetic look. “It’s bad management on our part.”

It can’t be helped. To put to waste the efforts of all the personnel, as she was thrown back and forth between the shores in her dreams, was not worth it. She can’t overthink it. ‘Quite the idiotic curse compared to my mother.’

008 handed over the general outline of what had been covered by Orter which was quite a fair amount. Including a stack of notes about the content covered and outcomes. Comprehensively succinct. The schedule also significantly changed in preparation for the next few months. “Actually, what is Orter doing right now, 008?”

“There was a missing report about this one potion business a few days ago.” Flipping through the notes, written boldly was ‘DO NOT FOLLOW ME TO INVESTIGATE.’ 

“That’s why he asked if he wanted me to lead him out,” she mumbled remembering their footsteps outside. He was doing it alone by the lack of any staff loitering at the typical rendezvous. “There’s no point in keeping them from performing their duties elsewhere,” readjusting his glasses before he looked back at her. Her robe’s colour was still something he couldn’t get used to, as its bright yet heavy hue encompassed her. She smiles  “Do well then, Orter Madl.”

“I will.”

It’ll run smoothly.

_ _ _

It’s unassuming. A shop located on the outskirts of a town outside the capital, as he entered with the bell chiming like any other shop. Although the owner’s face seems delighted by his visit it shifts with a simple paper. A search permit. There’s no fight as a result and the two go behind the shop to check on the working conditions... that is, if there wasn’t a sudden break into a sprint from the man.

“The audacity to do so is incredible,” holding onto his wand with a calm expression. Not even a double-liner magic user would have the guts to mess with him as he tugged onto his shoe. Tumbling down the spiralling stairs, the owner’s feet were bound with compressed sand to prevent the inner workings of his business from being covered up. Unlocking the door revealed another race, dwarves, haggard yet snappy in their craftsmanship. “Didn’t we illegalise dwarf slavery?” Eyes scrutinised the owner who scrambled down to his knees in tears was the seemingly clear-skinned fellow with slightly wrinkled eyes. “Please! I beg of you! It was against my will!” Pathetically claiming their innocence in such a situation. He wanted to scoff. The rule wasn’t even new.

“Even if it was against your will, housing and enabling such a practice violates both their rights and our laws.” But more importantly: “Who convinced you to do this? Clearly you aren’t capable of this feat.” In spite of his burning questions, it was more important to shut down the business and escort both suspects and the dwarves. Utilising teleportation magic at a distance with multiple targets isn’t his specialty but he was still rather adept at it, slight hysteria erupted from the overworked mass at their sudden change in position.

After handing over part of the matter to the Magical Creatures Administration, they began to conduct questionings on everyone involved. To summarise: only the owner knew of their existence, the staff who worked and maintained the shop had never managed to even step foot beyond the initial storage room, and the dwarves had been held there for the length of the business forging weaponry. The causation was a different answer. Even amidst possible interrogation methods and torture, he, now identified as Osfor Slagturn, was reluctant in providing any. “Surely you can at least tell us who it is.”

Slagturn muttered in a clammy manner, “then he’ll kill me if I say it…”

“If you ‘say’,” he repeated to himself. “How about this, let’s play hangman,” taking out a notepad and a feather. “If I fail to name the culprit, you’ll receive the hefty fine instead of the lifetime prison sentence.” That’s not how these deals work?! “I didn’t make this law for your information.” With no other choice, Slagturn folded and picked up the writing instrument.

‘_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _    _ _ _ _’

Two words. Vowels came first then. There was no ‘a’, an ‘i’, two ‘e’s, and two ‘o’s.

‘I _ _ o _ e _ _    _ e _ o’

No ‘u’ was present. The rest were consonants. There was an ‘n’ in this wasn’t there? Deducing the culprit or rather mastermind behind the whole ordeal with more ease.

“It’s Innocent Zero, isn’t it?”

His eyes seemed to only confirm them.

“Thank you for your cooperation, we’ll be holding you in the mean time,” leaving the room.

Why is Innocent Zero investing in weapons? Are they planning on a war soon? This is of great concern. An audience will be needed with the director and Wahlberg soon.

When he walked back, he was greeted by 008 again. No sign of the blonde vice-head. “Where’s Rinka?”

“Mr. Gehenna asked for her when the break started.”

_ _ _

The tea was still warm as the man before her uttered those words. His expression and posture were inviting, if she were still 17 they would’ve betrayed her expectations in a heartbeat. A constant in the mundanely fickle life she had. If she were indebt to him, she still wouldn’t do such a thing though as it was right now.

“You’re being irrational.”

“The same applies to you, Rinka,” he countered. “That’s the third time you’ve… nearly killed yourself,” unable to talk about it freely even with a light tone.

“What does that have to do with me being in love with Orter?” Clearly fed up of his tactics. After all, why stick to it if it isn’t working? She has no reason to agree to his whims, of all people, even if it’s a ruse they made up. The thought of inconveniencing the Desert Cane more than she already had, made her snuff out any doubts and reasons to state it. None of the other Divine Visionaries were good candidates for keeping such a secret without divine intervention after all.

“Whether you both made a deal, which I hope you haven’t, or your relationship is truly genuine,” he began, sullying his gloves hand with dripping honey. “You will be in a precarious position. You know what Orter is like. I doubt he’d favour his heart over his duty when the time comes.” Her eyes averted away from his implicating gaze and back towards her teacup.

“Or maybe they’re the same?”

What a way to ruin her appetite.

“What do you have against Orter to begin with?” She watched as he picked up some slice of bread with his messed glove. “It’s not like he needs my position to get more power like the others who tried.” The two were already on odd terms when they met. She presumed it might have to do with the fact he wasted 2 years in his new programme as a promising candidate to enter the Magic Police and became a Divine Visionary instead. But Kaldo doesn’t care about wasting resources like the others. So it was perplexing. 

‘She didn’t remember it. That’s good,’ unable to disassociate her from being drenched in scalding tea amidst laughs. Her hands curled into fists, restraining themselves from a violent outlash with her magic. Whether it came from estranged faces or unknowns, she kept quiet and with sincerity, did a tight lipped smile.

“You can’t…”

The door opened unexpectedly, revealing Orter. “It took longer than expected to find your office,” refraining from scratching his head. The oldest closed his mouth without another word uttered. “Were you guys still talking?”

“You killed the pace.”

“Apologies for disrupting you then, feel free to schedule another time,” he added, dragging out the blonde who seemed just as confused as he was. She waved before shutting the door though. 

_ _ _ _ _

Uhm. What do you think Kaldo was actually tryna say? You'll never get this answered for a while.

[saintmeghanmarkle]

Meghan I mean a source talks to Heat magazine. Cue the worlds smallest violin. And my big fat American wedding! by u/Mickleborough

Meghan, I mean a source, talks to Heat magazine. Cue the world’s smallest violin. And my big fat American wedding! Meghan’s made the front page! (Albeit of Heat magazine, which actually‘s rather embarrassing.)https://ift.tt/RJLEejv is the head that doesn’t wear the crownThe gist of the ‘where did it all go wrong’ plea of pathos is, according to Meghan, I mean the source:‘They’re pretty much outcasts in the UK and no amount of sugar coating can take away from the fact that this stings.’‘It’s so tragic for them that they’ve gone from having this massive wedding celebrated across the country to feeling so unwelcome. It’s hurtful - no matter how much they try to appear as though it’s all water off a duck’s back. It’s pretty telling that they didn’t choose to make any sort of public statement marking the anniversary [of their wedding in 2018].’ ‘It’s a bittersweet anniversary because, on one hand, they’re very proud that they’ve made it through so much and are living something of a dream life with their two beautiful children in California. But it’s also hard not to regret some of the things that have happened in the intervening six years. If you’d have asked them on their wedding day what their hopes were, they never would have thought that’d they’d be essentially exiled by Harry’s family.’The closest Meghan, I mean the source, comes close to acknowledging their part is this statement: ‘…they didn’t expect for things to go as badly as they did, leading to a complete breakdown in relations with his father, as well as William and Kate, who are said to be still upset about the many revelations Harry made in his autobiography Spare.’[Notice that this estrangement is laid at Harry’s door - no mention of anything Meghan might’ve done.]But it’s not all bad!’And as controversial as it was, their fauxcumentary Harry & Meghan was Netflix’s biggest show of the year in the UK in 2022, while Meghan podcast Arsewipes pulled in 11 million weekly listeners at its peak.’This isn’t recollections may vary - it’s amnesia.The answer? A wedding!’…[T]he pair have decided to take the opportunity to celebrate how far they’ve come and are reportedly planning a second wedding in America. “Having a second wedding would tick a lot of boxes for them. For one thing, it would help Harry strengthen his roots in America, which is his permanent home now as far as he and Meghan are concerned. It would be a wonderful way to celebrate their accomplishment of making it through some very tough years and coming out stronger. “It wouldn’t need to be a formal or fancy event, as they’ve already done that. This time around, they want a simple celebration of their love. Their kids [probably literally baby goats] will be a part of it, and just their very closest friends and a few select family members [ie Doria].”’Hahahahahanahahahahahahah…ha. post link: https://ift.tt/J35eDG6 author: Mickleborough submitted: June 03, 2024 at 10:51PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.

[themousefromfantasyland]

The Guardians: A Fairy Tale Space Opera

Well, as people who follow me know, during this holiday season I will be exploring William Joyce's Guardians of Childhood book series, the books that inspired DreamWorks' Rise of the Guardians.

Today I will be exploring the backstory of this universe, the story that happened before the main story began, a tragic tale about how a family loss brought a space-faring civilization to its end.

Spoilers: More than 50% of the main cast are actually immortal aliens and they are technically war refugees.

Everything began with the Golden Age, when dreams could come true.

The Golden Age is said to be a time of peace, prosperity and imagination, where humans and other magical beings travelled through the cosmos building kingdoms and empires.

Royal families rulled over constellations, groups of stars and planets, and which seem to be the main administrative unit of this space civilization. In typical fairy tale fashion, these royal families were said to have ruled over these planets with justice, fairness, and imagination.

One of these royal families was the House of Lunanoff, represented by Tsar Lunar XI and his wife. The Tsar's first in command was Kozmotis Pitchiner, Lord High General of the Galaxies.

Lord Pitchiner led the Golden Age armies against the most dangerous foes of this period, the Dream Pirates, the Fearlings and the Nightmare men.

The Dream Pirates were a race of evil beings that used to destroy planets and extinguish stars. At first, they used to steal people's dreams for ransom, but then they eventually learned that they could gain power by absorbing these dreams. Dreams were to these creatures what blood is to vampires. By completely draining a person from their dreams, they could transform them into their mindless slaves.

It is never clarified, but I heavily suspect that the Fearlings, the more generic shadow creatures, are the people who got their dreams stolen and became these mindless shadows. And I think the Nightmare Men are just the Fearlings with more physical form.

Lord Pitchiner lived with his wife and his daughter, Emily Jane, on a moon on the Constellation of Orion.

Lady Pitchiner was always a very vigilante mother, super protective of Emily Jane, always trying to keep her close to home. But Emily Jane was a free spirit, and inherited her father's love for sailing. She loved to slip out of her bedroom at night to sail among the stars.

One day, reports of Dream Pirates forced Lord Pitchiner to leave his wife and daughter behind.

Dream Pirates had been reported off the tip of Orion’s sword. Lord Pitch hurriedly said his farewells to his wife and daughter to hunt down the scoundrels. The family never liked saying good-bye; they tried not to think of the dangers that would be faced. But this time Emily Jane had made for her father a silver locket containing her picture. He was very pleased by it and put it around his neck as he kissed her.

“I’ll be back soon,” he told her.

“Promise?” she said.

“On my soul,” he replied.

But it was all a trick, a trap. Lord Pitchiner was known as a noble and respectable hero, showing mercy to all criminals captured under his watch. The pirates already tried assassinating him several times, but they failed every single time. If they couldn't kill him, they would destroy his spirit.

The Dream Pirates wanted to destroy his spirit by attacking his family right under his nose.

Late at night, the Dream Pirates attacked both the villa and palace where Lady Pitchiner and Emily Jane lived on that moon.

During the attack, amid all explosions from the cannons, Lady Pitchiner immediately went to check on her daughter only to realize she had slipped away during the night.

Good! Lady Pitchiner thought. She’s out on her ship! For once, she was thankful rather than angry that her daughter was so rebellious.

Hearing the pirates crashing through the door, Lady Pitchiner grabbed a doll and jumped through the window in an attempt to protect Emily Jane. Soon, the pirates would think that both her and her daughter were dead.

When Lord Pitchiner returned, he found his palace and the rest of the moon as nothing more than ruins.

Once all Dream Pirates of that attack surrended themselves and were aboard Lord Pitchiner's flagship, they did not face the same noble warrior, but a man on the brink of madness. When they confessed that both his wife and daughter were dead, Lord Pitchiner cut the heads of every one of them.

For eons the pirates had been seen as dangerous criminals. Now the people of the Golden Age viewed them as an evil that had to be eradicated. Soon hate became the center of how this war was waged, and hate is a powerful force. It can make bad men worse and good men nearly mad.

The war against the Dream Pirates intensified. In the end, all Dream Pirates and other dark beings were captured by the Golden Age armies and locked up in a distant planet on the outskirts of the galaxy. The planet prison only had a single entrance, and without any more reasons to continue living, Lord Pitchiner decided to keep watch on them, so no other nightmare creature could ever escape.

Meanwhile, Emily Jane watched her home be destroyed, and among a school of star fish, she sailed away without destination.

And so Emily Jane traveled far from her home and far from her sorrow, until she came to an unexpectedly safe place—the Constellation called Typhan. Before the War of the Dream Pirates, Typhan had been a maker of storms and was a powerful ally of the Golden Age. He could conjure up solar winds so vast and terrible, they would scatter whole fleets of Dream Pirate galleons when required.

But the wily Dream Pirates had managed to ravage him and render him harmless: They had extinguished the stars that had been his eyes. Once blinded, he could no longer see the pirates as they attacked. And they had been merciless, killing so many of his stars that his once-vivid outline was nearly gone. He was now a forgotten ghost of his former self, and he had lost the will to make storms or to fight. He was a mournful, pitiful Titan. Only the harmless Star Fish ever swam among Typhan’s few remaining stars and moons.

Yes, we have a literal living constellation. This god-like being kept watch over Emily Jane over many years, and on a small moon near him she found a home. She used the passing wrecks of abandoned ships drifted by to build a home for herself. She positioned dozens of telescopes all over her small moon so she could be the eyes of Typhan. Everything she might need, food, supplies, clothes, furniture, books, she found in the abandoned wrecks that strayed close enough to her moon.

Typhan taught her everything he knew, including the powers of controlling and making storms. Although he considered her his daughter, she kept waiting for her real father to one day come back to her.

Emily Jane grew bitter and vengeful, and she started discounting her frustration on every ship that passed nearby.

Typhan saw when she used her storm powers to send a small ship to their doom. He confronted her, but she defied him.

Using his storm powers, he sent Emily Jane's moon across space, transforming it into a literal shooting star. Trying to avoid being fried by the resulting energy, she went deeper into the core of the moon and there she became imprisoned.

This is when we meet the League of Star Captains. For generations they had steered stars to every corner of the universe, their primary duty being to bestow the wishes made to them. If the wishes were good, strong, and from the heart, they would send a dream to help the people to achieve them.

Sanderson Mansnoozie, our dear Sandman, was one of them. Long story short, he found Emily Jane's star and became friends with her. Soon, they were traveling the cosmos hearing and granting wishes. During all this time Emily Jane only wished one thing, that her fathicoukd find her.

But even inside their prison on the edges of the galaxy, the Dream Pirates heard Emily Jane's wish. They found out she was still alive. And they knew how they could escape.

Lord Pitchiner kept Emily Jane's silver locket with him during all times, and he did nothing but stare at it in absolute sorrow all day. Then the dream pirates started imitating Emily Jane's voice.

At the beginning Lord Pitchiner knew this could not be possible. His daughter was dead, and not locked inside that prison. But the pirates kept insisting so much, that in a moment of absolute desperation he opened the door.

Every single dark creature locked inside, now reduced to shadow creatures thanks to all those years locked away, attacked Lord Pitchiner. Hundred of dark beings possessed him, transforming him into a giant being of pure hatred. They transformed him into Pitch, the Nightmare King.

Leading an army of Dream Pirates, Fearlings, and Nightmare Men on his Nightmare Galleon, Pitch assaulted all constellations, plunding planets and extinguishing stars.

He went in search of good dreams, especially those of children. He had the power of transforming children into nightmare creatures like his own, and he enjoyed how much they suffered through their transformation...how painful it was.

Bunnymund, our dear Easter Rabbit, came from an ancient race of intelligent rabbits called Pookas and they were the oldest creatures of the universe. Pitch went after them, until only one of them was left, this one taking refugee on Earth.

Pitch also went after Sandman and Emily Jane's star. She was horrified once she saw his father in his nightmare form for the first time.

Sandman flew away on Emily Jane's star as fast as he could. All to escape Pitch's Nightmare Galleon. This lead to a collision course to Earth.

Sandman could hear all the wishes of Earth's children imploring for the shooting star to not crush them. Hearing a wish from deep space, Sandman managed stop the star from destroying Earth. The star exploded on a island of magical dream sand that kept Sandman asleep for hundreds of years.

Emily Jane, finally freed from the star, found that all wind and rain from Earth addressed her as mother. She brought Earth's first storms and became known as Mother Nature.

Pitch became desperate in finding a new child. He heard of a prince who never had a nightmare. This was the young prince of the House of Lunanoff. He promised to transform him into his Darkling Prince.

The Tsar and Tsarina, fearing for their son's safety, travelled on their ship, the Moon Clipper, to a distant planet, our Earth, where they hoped Pitch couldn't never found them.

The wish that Sandman had heard from space was the young prince's wish.

The young prince was protected by a young, immortal boy made of stars. This was Nightlight, and he was the first guardian of childhood.

When Pitch's Nightmare Galleon found and fought the Moon Clipper, Nightlight knew he had to act. The young prince must not become a darkling prince.

Using tears from the Lunar Prince, Nightlight created a dagger to fight Pitch. Nightlight had the power to transform his loved one's sadness into strength to protect them.

Flying right into Pitch's heart, Nightlight caused an enormous explosion that crashed the Nightmare Galleon straight into Earth. The explosion destroyed the Moon Clipper's ability to sail away and it become our good and old moon.

With both of his parents dead, the young Lunanoff Prince was raised by the Moonbots, moonmice, and moon moths that lived in his parents' enormous moon-spaceship. He lived a carefree, but solitary existence, until through his father's telescope, he found out about Earth's children.

He then used an army of livingoon beams, living creatures made of Moon light, to protect the hopes and dreams of the children of Earth.

And things remained the same, until a moon beam accidentally found and freed both Nightlight and Pitch that were trapped inside a large cave for hundreds of years. This would set the events of our series to take place.

@ariel-seagull-wings @thealmightyemprex @tamisdava2 @mask131 @princesssarisa @angelixgutz @amalthea9 @the-blue-fairie @natache @theancientvaleofsoulmaking

Any thoughts?