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#chess one night benefit
d-criss-news · 1 year
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[UHQ] Photos: Go Inside the CHESS Benefit Concert Starring Darren Criss, Lena Hall, Ramin Karimloo & Solea Pfeiffer (Photo by Rebecca J. Michelson, Jenny Anderson) | Source
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datshitrandom · 1 year
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iheartradiobroadway: Darren Criss is reprising his high school role of Freddie in the upcoming one-night-only alifeinthearts benefit production of “Chess” 🖤🎶
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speechbuble · 1 year
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This lance crawls in my flesh and substitudes
The dead to new life is it to live in peace
Lives cant go on like this it cuts so deep
Are Dreams dying and the master draws deamons to my way of hearts what is this lesson if i dont listen heaven and hell in earth
My body full with gun shoots is not to have it the only way left do I loose now for chess
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vixstarria · 3 months
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A night at the inn (part 1)
A night of relaxation at the inn. Inspired by a cursed screenshot of Astarion looking loopy, drunk and high.   
Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, tbc in part 2
Comfort, fluff, humour, banter, goes from very silly to very horny 
Bits that are definitely not canon that were written solely for my (and hopefully your) amusement. 
TW: It’s all very much in jest, but maybe give this one a skip if you’re struggling with any kind of substance addiction.  
Approximately 2,000 words 
“Don't be ridiculous, these silly druidic herbs have absolutely no effect on me, vampires have a natural immunity. Pass me the pipe again, I’ll prove it,” Astarion giggled uncontrollably.  
“Just hold on to it, friend, I don’t think anyone else will benefit from it,” replied Halsin. 
You, Astarion, Halsin, Karlach and Shadowheart were gathered in one of the inn’s rooms.  
Gale and Wyll were off doing whatever people who didn’t like having fun did. Possibly playing chess or reciting poetry to each other. And Lae’zel had had one look at your gathering before chk’ing, saying that someone competent needed to keep a cool head, and stalking off. 
You and Astarion were sitting crosswise on one of the beds, you nestled between his legs, your back against his chest. Shadowheart lounged on the opposite bed, with Karlach and Halsin settling on the floor between the beds.  
A scattering of glasses and opened bottles surrounded you, and a light haze hung in the air. Tadpoles, vampire lords, demons and gods could all wait until tomorrow. Tonight, for all you cared, all was well in your world.   
Earlier, Halsin had laid out an assortment of herbs, most of which you couldn’t name, and busied himself with mixing them in varying proportions and stuffing them into several smoking implements. Karlach had declined, saying there was no point and that she would stick to grog. You and Shadowheart partook in Halsin's ‘herbalist mastery' together with the druid. And now, to everyone's disbelief and amusement, so did Astarion. 
“What in the hells is in this?!” Astarion tittered, leaning back against the wall, his eyes shut and an idiotic smile on his face. You couldn’t look at him, lest it set off yet another chain reaction of giggling. 
“Part of it is moonflower, which mostly serves as an amplifier,” Halsin answered, cautiously. 
“And? What else?” You wondered whether whatever it was might help Astarion with his nightmares. The scent of the herb was vaguely familiar, but you couldn’t quite place what it was.  
“Wait! I want to guess.” Shadowheart leaned over to whisper to Halsin. He shook his head at her suggestions. Once he whispered back to her with the correct answer she collapsed on the bed with a guffaw. “Oh gods... So it is official.” 
“Halsin...” Astarion croaked. “Halsin, I will stab you... What did you give me?!” 
“I had a hunch, but it was intended as a joke – I didn’t really think it would do anything.” Halsin almost sounded apologetic.  
“Well, spill the beans, what is he smoking that’s so damned funny?! Vampire dust? Cow dung? Some kind of goblin foot fungus?” Karlach was also growing impatient.  
Halsin shook his head, laughing.  
“It’s catnip,” Shadowheart managed, still doubled over. “He’s losing his mind on catnip!” 
Once Astarion regained his ability to speak coherently, you couldn’t get him to shut up.  
Astarion hardly ever took lead in group conversations. He tended to stay on the outskirts of discussions, albeit always ready with a quip or observation. You wondered if his newfound loquaciousness was a glimpse of what he might have been like some 200 years ago. 
It helped that Karlach was bombarding him with questions about vampirism, which he was ordinarily reserved about.  
“So what happens if you consume normal food? Can you drink?” she asked. 
“Well... Kind of..? Although I think the tadpole has had some additional influence. I can drink liquids without becoming ill, as long as it’s not too much. They tend to taste vile or like nothing at all, or not have any effect on me. Coffee smells amazing but tastes like dirt, for example. But potions work, somehow,” he rambled. “Solids are a complete disaster though”. He refused to elaborate.  
“And the wine?” she persisted.  
“Red wine is palatable,” he said, swirling some in a glass that he held in his hand. “But if you want better than ‘palatable’ you really need something of good quality.” 
“You’re just a snob,” you interjected. 
“That may be so, but this is about having something called standards, darling, I’ll teach you about them someday”, he said with a kiss to your temple, as you elbowed him. “But there are ways of going around poor wine.” 
Astarion took your hand in his, pressing his lips against it. 
“May I?”  
Once he had your approval, he carefully punctured the tip of your ring finger with a fang. You idly mused about how completely unfazed you had become by having your skin pierced, as he dripped some of your blood into his wine. 
“Now stir.” He licked the drops of wine from your finger once you were done, and had a sip from his glass. “Like adding honey to tea... Now it’s delectable.” 
“Freaks,” said Karlach, lovingly.  
The conversation moved to him debating wines from various regions with Shadowheart, a subject they were both perhaps unsurprisingly well-versed in.  
“How kind of Lady Shar to leave you such detailed knowledge of something that truly matters, when wiping out so many other memories,” he observed.  
Eventually, the topic changed to Karlach’s years in the Hells, and what it had been like to set just about everything she touched ablaze until Dammon’s recent assistance.  
“Could you do me a favour and hold my hand in yours for a moment?” said Astarion, leaning towards and holding out a hand to Karlach.  
“I haven’t done this in so long this still makes me nervous, you know,” she said, taking his hand in both of hers. “Sorry if I lose my cool and burn you.” 
“I’m sure I’ve had worse,” he replied humourlessly. “...That should do it,” he said after a short while. “Gods, you really do run like a furnace.” You wondered where this was going.  
“Now could everyone look away? I’m about to do something disgustingly sentimental.” 
Immediately, four pairs of eyes including your own were locked on him.  
“Voyeuristic pricks...” he sighed. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 
He ran the back of his fingers delicately down your cheek before cupping it in his hand. It was warm, almost hot, as you nuzzled into it.  
“Well isn’t that cute,” Shadowheart remarked into her glass of wine.  
Astarion wasn’t always cold to the touch, not exactly. He became warmer after drinking blood. His body was heated by sunshine on sunny days, just like anything else. And after spending some time under blankets with you he felt almost cozy to snuggle against. But he’s never radiated heat the way the hand against your cheek did now.  
“It doesn’t feel like you,” you mustered, looking into his eyes. He gave you a wistful smile.  
“...If there is any other bodypart you’d like me to warm up for Tav’s benefit, do fuck off before you even ask,” said Karlach, breaking the brief silence that had descended onto the room, and the tender moment was gone, overtaken by yet another uproar of laughter. 
Things quieted down as the evening wore on. 
“I wonder what Lae’zel is doing,” said Shadowheart, who had been silently gazing off into space and occasionally blowing smoke rings for the past while. “Probably something infuriating.” 
“You should go tell her how utterly unimpressed you are with her,” goaded Astarion. 
“I should... I will,” she said, suddenly getting up, determination writ on her face, exiting the room with a surprisingly steady step. 
Karlach sighed. 
“I better go look after her and make sure they don’t need to be taken apart. ...Or that no one else does, if they don’t.” She followed Shadowheart.  
“Nature calls,” said Halsin, also getting up. “And I don’t think anyone’s fed Scratch and the owlbear cub.” 
It was just you and Astarion, who had been grazing your neck with his fangs with increasing impatience. 
“Do it,” you said as soon as the door shut behind Halsin. Instantly, you felt an icy chill in your neck and released a small moan as he bit down, drawing your blood, his hands roaming your body.  
“I’ve been thinking of nothing else for hours,” he breathed hoarsely, once he had his fill. Having a miniscule amount of your blood in his wine and then being unable to sate himself more thoroughly would have been the ultimate tease for him. He really did not think that through, per usual.  
You could have offered him your wrist at some point, your companions had witnessed that on numerous occasions. But you knew you both wanted something more intimate. And private.  
You sank onto the bed with Astarion on top of you, as he continued to lick at the puncture wounds, to get them to stop bleeding.  
“Think Halsin’s coming back?” you murmured.  
“Of course he is. Haven’t you seen how he’s been looking at us?” He wedged his hips between your legs as he continued to suck and lick at your neck, more slowly now.  
"Oh, has he been looking at us in some particular way?” you feigned ignorance. Astarion raised his head briefly to shoot you a look that said ‘oh please’.  
“Do you want him..?” He rolled his hips deliciously into yours as he asked that.  
“Stop teasing,” you whispered. You knew he wasn’t going to let you do anything with the erection you felt pressed against you. 
“Never. Do you want him?” He gave you a mischievous look.  
“I don’t know what you mean.” 
“Sorry darling, I’ll try to do a better job at explaining.” He raised himself back up, his face hovering just above yours. “Do you want to feel his hot, hard cock pumping in and out of you, while I watch?” He studied your reaction closely. “Oh you would like that, wouldn’t you..?” 
“Astarion-” It wasn’t easy to make you blush, but somehow he always found a way when he wanted to.   
“Shh love, I already know everything you’re going to say.” Astarion raised his voice in pitch (resulting in something that definitely DID NOT sound anything like you) and returned to your neck, planting a kiss further down with each sentence: “’I love you, Astarion. I only want you, Astarion. I don’t think you’re ready for this, Astarion. You’re going to regret this, Astarion.’” 
“How about, ‘you’re intoxicated, Astarion’?” 
“Barely,” he scoffed. “It’s worn off.” He tugged at your blouse’s lacing with his teeth. 
“Or maybe it’s ‘no, I don’t want that, Astarion’,” you lied.  
He chuckled at those words and came back up to whisper in your ear. 
“My love... You’re forgetting I can hear your heartbeat. I can smell your arousal. Every time your breath hitches and your heart speeds up – I know. Any time blood suddenly rushes somewhere in your body – I know...”  
“That is an entirely unfair advantage,” you protested. 
“Yes, having a lover that anticipates your every need and reads you like a book is so, so tragically unfair, your poor, poor thing...” 
“And also it’s not what you said, it’s how you said it!” you continued. 
“Porridge,” Astarion whispered in his most seductive voice, grinding against you. “The philosophy and theory of divination, volume four. A bulging coin purse. Gale’s purple pajamas. ...Nope, nothing.” Astarion smirked, and continued in a more normal voice, stilling. “Now let’s try... You dripping wet and begging us both for mercy before the night is over.” He grinned wryly as you let out an involuntary whimper. “I thought so...” 
“You’ve told me yourself, you don’t want to share me with anyone,” you persisted.  
“It’s your heart I can’t bear to share. And he’s a wood elf,” Astarion said dismissively. “He may as well be a walking penis, who would get emotionally involved with that?” 
“You did not just call our honourable companion, the esteemed archdruid of the Emerald Grove a walking penis!” you hissed, choking on laughter, covering his mouth with your hand.  
“A giant phallus on legs,” Astarion mumbled stubbornly against your palm, licking it.  
You heard footsteps approaching the door.  
“Do you really want this?” you whispered, angling Astarion’s face to make him look you in the eyes, and releasing his mouth. “Be serious for a second.” 
“I want this,” he said, holding your gaze. “I really want this. As long as you do too.” 
The door opened, and you both turned your heads to regard the tall, broad figure that paused in the entryway, leaning against the doorframe.  
“Is it company or privacy you desire?” 
~~~~~
Part 2
More of my chaos gremlins
AO3
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violetrainbow412-blog · 10 months
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Fluff ☼
Angst ►
Smut *
Hearts ☼
An intern pesters Spencer to get his attention and you help him get rid of it a bit, benefiting in the process
Hearts part 2 ☼
Morning coffees become the special moments between you and Spencer, but you also discover that he may have more competition for his love than you expected
Bolinus brandaris ☼
Reid loves the gift you just gave him and the whole team can notice
Exchanged clothes Bolinus brandaris part. 2 ☼
A small act of kindness leads to a rather peculiar confession
Memories ► (☼)
The case of the self-appointed Fisher King comes with too many sentimental implications and you discover that you and Spencer had more in common than you imagined.
Between your arms (wife!reader) ☼
After a hard day Spencer returns to his safe place
Decoy (+16)
When you go after an unsub who catches students making out, the unit is called upon to resort to desperate measures. Or in other words, where you and Spencer become the decoy to catch a voyeur
A (not so) little secret ☼
Even though you and Spencer have kept yours private pretty well, one night the universe seems determined to let everyone know
Dear Theodosia (Dad!Spencer) ☼
Spencer stays one afternoon to care for your three-month-old twins and reflects on how much he loves them
White lies ☼
You meet Spencer thanks to a nice coincidence and you become recurring chess partners, but he leaves out a small detail
Andy ►
You and Spencer have to learn to deal with grief without losing your marriage in the process
Devil's night ☼
Spencer is excited about his Halloween plans and you join him
Wearing pink (bimbo fem!reader) ☼
Your boyfriend introducing you to the squad!
Emergency room* (exes to lovers) (+18)
Spencer forgot to mention that you're still his emergency contact. You wouldn't have had a problem with it if you weren't his ex of over a year and the hospital took you out of the bed because he had a car crash
Nocturnal ballads ☼
Your boyfriend is too tense and you imagine that a little dance and music will make him feel better
New look ☼
Directly based on "The internet is forever" (5x22), when Reid's wonderful but short-lived boyband cut appears for the first time
Cigarettes (hurt/comfort)
Spencer comforts you after you learn some bad news about your relationship
Birthday wishes ☼
Everyone seems to forget Spencer's 30th birthday, but he only cares that you remember it
Wishes fulfilled (BW part 2) ☼
After an unfortunate event, Spencer questions what he really feels about his childhood best friend
Morning surprises ☼
When you find Reid lying under his desk your heart stops, but it turns out he was just taking a nap
Wheels up (hurt/comfort)
Spencer has just been released released from prison and things seem to get complicated when Mr. Scratch attacks again. You want to know what's going on with your boyfriend, but when you confront him, you don't expect him to yell at you like he does
Hogsmeade (Hogwarts!AU) ☼
The whole group pays a visit to Hogsmeade during the winter, where you and Spencer end up having a pretty interesting conversation
Lovely Christmas 🎄
The entire team gets together to celebrate Christmas and Spencer gives you a pleasant surprise
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SPENCER'S FLUFFTOBER 🎀
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cas-kingdom · 7 months
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I’m in love with your criminal minds Drabbles!! If possible I’d love to see some bonding between hotch and Reid’s sister <333
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You sleeping in arbitrary places wasn't exactly a rarity around the BAU. Not quite yet an official member of the team—though somehow Hotch had enrolled you in some sort of experience programme you were pretty sure he'd made up for your benefit—you had to make do with stiff seats and tucked away corners on the daily as you waited for Spencer to finish his work. Surprisingly, the long days and even longer nights hadn't seemed to sway your wish to join the team just yet, though no one had placed any bets that it would.
Even so, said arbitrary places weren't exactly made use of at nearing midnight on a Friday. Having returned from Gideon's case just that evening, Hotch had sent everyone home with their promises of sleep before hiding himself away in his office to complete some work before the weekend. By the time he'd finished, the bureau had settled into the usual ambience consisting of the few late night workers and janitors.
He headed into the break room with the intention of grabbing a water bottle from the fridge and heading straight home, but the sudden sight of you and yet another of your arbitrary sleeping spots told him that might not be achievable just yet.
You were curled up on the break room couch, a stack of pillows under your head and what looked to be your brother's tweed jacket doing its best to act as a blanket. Hotch stared for a moment, concern slowly pushing away his brief amusement at the situation, and rose a brow when one of your eyes opened to stare at him.
"Hotch," you greeted, not at all groggily, which told him you probably hadn't slept.
Hotch put his bag down and seated himself on the end of the couch. "Y/N, what’re you still doing here?" he asked gently. He put a comforting hand on your ankle under the jacket and you sat up, tucking your frizzy hair behind your ears.
You yawned and shrugged. "Sleeping. Or, lying down, rather."
“I mean in the building." He smiled at your belated look of realisation. "Is Spencer still here?"
The expression on your face grew from tired to exhausted at the mere mention of your brother. Hotch sat back and crossed his arms, an instinctive movement when he figured some profiling may have to come into play. Those lines settled against his brow as he waited for your response.
You picked at a loose thread in the couch. “Playing chess," you said, then looked knowingly up at him. "I know what you’re gonna say, Hotch, but it’s easier to just leave him and let him do his thing. Gideon’s death hit him hard.”
Hotch nodded slowly. “I know. But what about you?”
“I don’t remember Gideon much.”
A corner of his lips curved upwards. Trust you to worry the least about yourself.
"I don’t mean that," he said gently, wondering how his next words would be taken. "Spencer has a tendency to forget about the people around him when he gets himself into one of these states. Now—" He pointed a finger at you before you could rise to your brother's defense "—that's not his fault, and he'll come out of it soon enough. But in the meantime, I don’t want you sleeping here until morning, Y/N." His fatherly instincts long having kicked in, his eyebrows rose in solemnity. "You need some proper rest in your own bed. The couch isn't going to cut it.”
You breathed a dubious laugh, still pulling at the thread. “Spencer has no plans on coming home tonight. Rossi’s already tried.”
“Then let me drive you home?" Your fingers paused and your mouth twisted in thought. Your face was hidden by a curtain of hair, but Hotch dipped his head enough to see your expression. He smiled knowingly. You didn't want to be alone. "Or…I can set up the spare room at mine?”
You peered up at him and for the first time he noted your level of exhaustion. Not only had you been kept physically awake by Spencer's turmoil, but your anxiety about the situation had mentally drained you, too. With your mother states away in a facility and your father completely written out of the picture, Spencer was your person and had been since he'd taken custody of you at four years old. When he wasn't himself, neither were you, and Hotch had always known it.
You took a second to respond, looking past him and out the open door for a moment before returning your gaze to his. "You don't mind?"
Hotch smiled and squeezed your shoulder in reassurance. The end of your storm was near, he was sure.
"Of course not," he said. "You get yourself ready and I'll tell Spencer."
Criminal Minds Masterpost
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bloodycyrano · 2 months
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I want to lore dump about my BG3 storyline and OCs so bad, but at the same time I don't want to release any information before it would come out in the future chapters of my fanfic, so to stave off the dark urge, here's.... 🥁🥁🥁
Team Tadpole doing sweet things for each other part 2!
Sometimes, when Astarion has trouble resting at night, Gale will stay up with him and play chess- They started with card games, but Astarion cheats like a fox. He still cheats at chess, but not as often.
Karlach probably notices when her comrades are in pain after battle, and will hug a sack of rocks until they heat up to make a sort of makeshift heating pad for sore muscles.- Bonus points, She'll borrow some scented oils from Halsin to add an element of aromatherapy.
Gale has 100% done talis card readings for Team tadpole when they deal with heavy emotional stuff, if only to help them find their path forward. Maybe he isn't the best at verbal comfort, but magic is one thing he knows he can use for at least some benefit.
I feel like Gale also notices when people aren't dealing well with things, and will purposefully annoy Durge so they have someone to pick on and hopefully feel a little better afterwards. They're definitely the sort of friends that pretend to hate each other, but are there when you need them. Durge definitely brings out his petty side, but its all in good fun. Usually.
While maybe they have a bit of a rocky relationship, I also believe Durge would indulge Gales special interests and let him ramble about things, because they know what it's like to have to shut up to make other people happy. I also feel like Gale would return the favor and deliberately ask about weird, macabre things so that Durge actually has an excuse to bring up topics that interest them.
Wyll has a knitting hobby. You probably wouldn't expect it, but he definitely does. And he's really really good at it, too. He uses every holiday as an excuse to gift people things like socks, scarves, mittens, etc. And I mean EVERY holiday. Earth day, valentines day, national owlbear day (Which is totally not something he made up as an excuse to give people their presents early), etc. The thing is, he notices when people complain about their socks getting worn from traveling, and gets random ideas for gifts at 3 AM, and then spends the rest of the night knitting. He has also been known to make cute little knitted outfits for the group pets in the winter, because he thought Scratch was getting cold.
Adding onto this, Lae'zel is the only person Wyll is willing to go to for a blunt and honest opinion on the gifts he makes before he gives them. Lae'zel doesn't take this lightly, either. While maybe she doesn't show it, she takes this very seriously and is somewhat honored that Wyll came to her instead of anyone else.
Shadowheart tends to replenish Wylls yarn reserve without telling him as well. She asks Lae’zel what colours he's run out of, and then sneak some extra spools into his pack. Wyll still doesn't know who's been doing it, but he's thankful nonetheless. And it's one thing the cleric and the gith can actually be somewhat peaceful about.
Durge doesn't take all of their kills lightly. When it comes to someone they actually respected, there's a ritual they perform afterward that they read about in Withers old temple. They'll grind bone and ash into ink and take time to write out the names of those they respected, and bury it with the bodies. As well as little offerings as well. It isn't a short process either.. Durge will spend the entire night locked in their caravan burning incense, praying their name to Jergal in hopes that the spirit will find rest, and doing little things in honor of the dead.- It isn't hard for team tadpole to figure out when Durge has taken the life of someone they held a genuine respect for, and will be careful not to disturb them, or leave bones or herbs/flowers on the steps of their caravan. Karlach and Astarion will occasionally come to check on them. While maybe it doesn't happen often, it does happen. Withers was particularly surprise to begin receiving prayers after all this time, but it strengthened a sort of bond between the two.
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hwan-g · 1 year
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LAVENDER GIRL 🔮 hwang hyunjin.
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pair. successor! hyunjin x fem! reader | genre. friends with benefits, soulmates, multiple partners, angst, smut | warnings. profanity, alcohol consumption, smoking, anger issues, manipulation, pet names, dirty talk, unprotected intercourse, threesome, oral sex, underage drinking, flawed characters | word count. 6.9k | prequel to put me in a movie but can be read as standalone.
synopsis. before bang chan, there’d been hyunjin. deranged, tatted up, borderline alcoholic hwang hyunjin, and his obsession with you. your angel doll, always and forever.
You weren’t always together.
But even before, you think, there was this conjointness; a neediness of sorts, a darkness you found in each other and recognized it for what it was early on, plucked it from its roots and held it in your hands, smiling secretly, giddily, eyes locked, barely fifteen years of age.
It started with sneaking whiskey from the wide selection of his dad’s cupboard and into Hyunjin’s room. Smoking cigarettes in the dead of winter, windows open, huddled together, warmth in the closeness of your bodies. Thin strips of iridescent paper that melted on your tongues, glitter on both your cheeks at a party neither of you should be allowed anywhere near. And then, finally, the exploring of hands, legs tangled under fuzzy blankets in your bed during a sleepover, lines that curved and bent, cavernous places with adult names—all giggles for you. Nothing serious, nothing to fret about, even as your mother finds you cuddling the next morning, and threatens to call Hyunjin’s father.
There is that one thing that makes your friend go cold all over, makes him drop you from his lean arms at once, and gather his clothes silently, leaving your makeshift fort, no word, no goodbye. Every single time. The mention of his family. Rich, self-made millionaires with their private schools, and the habit of treating their son like a chess piece in their grand scheme for unlimited power. They take him from you just before the first year of high school starts, a school among mountains, isolated from everyone.
From you. His enabler. His matchstick.
“Tell me your deepest, darkest secret, lavender girl,” the night before he was sent off.
His hair is long, and black. His eyes eternally sad, his limbs growing taller, stealthier. Your partner in crime, your best, most valuable friend—gone. You hug him tighter. He won’t let go of you until he absolutely has to, until the first rays of sun rise in the sky, the train reaching the station, everyone looking for him, the successor, the investment, despite knowing where he’ll be. Where he’ll always return to.
“I’ll wait for you,” you say, but different words burn in your throat. Words you’ll never say, even years later.
And Hyunjin smiles, because he knows. Because he won’t say them, either. “You won’t.”
“I will,” you insist, burying your face deeper in his embrace. “I’ll never be separated from you, not really.”
He looks down at you, already forming into something else, already changing, preparing for the blow, the death. He truly will go, and it won’t seem to settle in you, it just can’t. Not when he’s staring at you like that, not when his lips are so close, the one line you haven’t crossed. An ongoing joke between the two of you, though there’s nothing funny about it. Nothing funny about the fire in his chest, the way it burns everything in him. Even then.
“And when I call, you’ll come,” he asks, but it’s a statement, and the light swimming in his eyes is overwhelming, it’s tearing at you.
The only boy that ever mattered.
“When you call, I’ll come,” you repeat, and his hands reach for your cheeks, like he’ll do it, like he’ll finally break the spell, lift the curse, and you lean into him, waiting, hoping, but then he just—
Pulls away, gets up. He never truly has the chance again.
“You wanna know mine?” he whispers in your ear in front of the car that will take him away until you recognize not one part of him. “You haunt me in ways I cannot haunt you.” A kiss on your forehead, a lingering hand on your waist.
He never writes. But he does, eventually, call.
The boy in the picture is not Hyunjin. Not at first.
He stands tall, so much taller than when he left you, and his gaze is closed off, serious. The medium length hair has been replaced with a choppy ash blonde cut, short in the front, longer in the back. An inked design is creeping up his neck from under his white button down, something you can’t decipher. But it’s the way he stands among the rest of the boys, the sheer weight of his name so evident now, where once it was nothing but a faraway nightmare. It loops through him and hangs over everyone, it’s so clear in their stance. It hurts to witness the distance they keep from him; afraid, intimidated. Envious.
His mother pulls the picture away from your view, as she clears her throat and changes the subject upon noticing your gloomy expression. “His graduation picture,” she said, but all you see is a death sentence waiting to be executed.
Your angel doll, nowhere to be found. And you, a changed girl, not quite the same without him. Wilder, untamed. Three boyfriends in, countless fuckups and an almost disownment. You wouldn’t need any of them if Hyunjin would just come back, you kept telling yourself. You were never sure why.
“Why ‘lavender girl’?” you’d wondered once, seemingly centuries ago.
The sharpness of him shocked you everytime, the bluntness of his truth, the easiness in which he carried himself. The fluidity of a dancer, the intensity of the dance.
“Because you’re devoted to me.”
You’d scoffed, pretended offense. “You sound sure of it.”
Those slits for eyes were clear, certain as they bore into yours. “Give me a reason not to be.”
You never did. He was right, of course. He’s been there since you were born, but the realization didn’t hit until the early years of adolescence, and once the burning starts, it won’t end until there’s nothing left for it. Fire is fire. In the same way, you will always be pulled towards him, as a wave, as a shore. A constant, a current—it’s all the same in what you are. Yet, it’d been three years and he hadn’t called once. You didn’t think you could forgive that. (Even after all that time, younger ‘you’ makes you laugh, shake your head in pure amusement. You couldn’t yet understand what it meant holding up a mirror and seeing yourself stare back. You didn’t have the ability to not feel like the only person in the room, and in the same way not notice your own shadow trailing behind you. It was Hyunjin, that was all those things. An extension of, a reflection.)
(It wouldn’t be until college that it’d finally click. And those would be Dionysian years; years that would stretch over your mid twenties and then finally into your first real relationships.)
The day is barely turning into night when the phone rings. A lapse in time difference, and your mother makes sure he knows that. You strip her of the receiver and press it into your ear, listening to his steady breathing over the line. It feels like you’re holding your own breath, bracing for impact, letting the outer change of him infect the inner workings of his heart.
Truth was, nothing had changed. Not when it concerns you.
“My lavender girl.”
“Angel doll,” you exhale, breaking into an inevitable toothy grin. “I’m mad at you!”
You can almost picture him smirking, those eyes twinkling. “I’m sure you are, darling.”
“When are you coming home?”
“Soon, you impatient girl. I heard you got into your first choice. Congratulations.”
You can’t help the proud swell of your chest. Hyunjin was, after all, an excellent student throughout the school years. An example you couldn’t help follow after.
“I heard you’re into tattoos now,” you retort cheekily.
“You can say that,” a ghost of a smile in his words.
And you really can’t stop what comes after. Because you’ve waited too long to say it, because it’s haunted your dreams for months, only to be confirmed through a fucking photograph. Your oldest friend, your only friend. You turn away from your mother, a sign for privacy, of secrets.
“You’ve been hurting, haven’t you?” Barely a whisper.
It’s in his silence. The way it blankets over everything.
“Tell me your deepest, darkest secret, angel doll. I worry about you,” like all those times before.
“My own words against me,” and he chuckles, and it’s miserable, and you can hear the sound of a lighter, of an inhale. “When I call, you’ll come.”
“Of course.” In a heartbeat. Your promise.
“This is the only way I can have you, (Y/N). Please worry about me. I miss you.”
He hangs up before he can hear your reply. It hovers in the middle of the call, through the cable, to wherever he is. You stand there until your mom calls for you, and even as you move it moves with you. Always the joke, always the thing left unsaid. You carry it like gold in your pocket, to be used later. 
There’s more ink than you expected.
It covers parts of his forearms, behind his ear, half of his neck, and you pull him in your room for an extensive search, unbutton his shirt as he stands still, quiet, and watches you undress him—it’s on his ribs, over his heart, you turn him around, shoulder blades, his nape. Your fingers go over the intricate lines, the absence of shadows; tree branches connect from the neck over his shoulder to his back, withering flowers hanging limply off them. On his arms, thorns dig into skin, wrapping around it like shackles, like handcuffs. But the one on his chest, that one makes it hard for you to breathe, makes you drop your hands, bite into your lip to keep from crying.
Because it’s so different, so delicate amidst the bleeding and chaos on the rest of his body. A cut of lavender positioned vertically on the left side of his chest, the only design in color, the greens and purples pastel enough to miss them. You notice, because it matters.
This is a declaration, loud and clear, and not just to you. (That will always be the hardest part.) This is for everyone that will ever see him like this, for everyone that will ask, but likely won’t get a straight answer. The question sets aflame your shaking eyes.
Hyunjin remains still, his full lips glossy with spit, jaw clenched, the only thing betraying him, what he’s feeling. To get him alone in your childhood room, the memories and the same wall colors as so many years ago—he never thought he’d be there again. With you. 
You.
His head falls on your shoulder, almost in a sigh. You hold him, half naked as he is, as you made him, and you listen to his heart, the beat of it, so similar to yours. How to handle a separation—there was no such thing. It all falls back in place, as it was. He’ll be with you from now on, a shadow returning to its owner.
“What have you done,” you mumble.
“Let me,” he mutters on your skin. “Let me pretend.”
“This won’t just wash off, angel doll,” and it’s sad, it is, “Your heart.”
It’s then that he breaks the illusion. Where his lips brush over yours, and his hands guide you to the familiar mattress. Only a mere lifting of your dress, a tug on the dainty piece of fabric. You hold your breath, and look at the door. Hyunjin cups your chin and forces your eyes on him. When he enters you, you question every silly rule you put between you; every fucking missed chance, every second spent together hauled up in closets, hiding from anyone that dared to break you apart.
“Your heart,” he tells you, and you’re one. One.
He fucks you with a hand over your mouth, a murder with no weapon, hunched over you like the back of a knife, harmless in its end, and you don’t fight it, not like the other times. There are no giggles now, no laughing—he’s taking something from you, something that belongs to him, has belonged to him, and he makes sure you know. Hyunjin won’t kiss your lips, he never does, but he kisses your eyelids, your hair, your neck. All the places he’s dreamt of while being away.
When he comes inside your cunt, it’s a belongingness as well. Close enough to slip a part of him in between your cracks, but never his. Always the distinct line of otherness, of trying to hold water.
“The haunted,” he cradles you as you finally let everything out.
After this, you’ll always be together, never apart. Never. Never never never—
(Until Bang Chan. Until Lee Felix.)
“The hunter,” you finish, smiling through your tears.
He smiles back, tasting every single one. Your old Hyunjin wrapped in the new, the layers beautiful in their unfolding. You’re the only person that will ever know the whole truth about him. 
“So, onto university now, is it, sweetheart?” He holds out his hand.
You intertwine your fingers in his, nodding.
“Never leave me.”
“Would not survive it a second time, angel.”
Still, no mention of the siren going off in your chests. The words cutting your throats open like a sword.
It’s there that the thing between you announces a game. A challenge, an open invitation to whomever was strong enough to try and get one or the other. An impossible task for Angel Doll and his Lavender Girl.
Everyone on campus thought you a couple already. It wasn’t until rumors started spreading about you ‘cheating’ on Hyunjin, and then him ‘cheating’ back, over and over and over, that people understood the nature of the relationship. Open, yes, but also—nonexistent. There had been no discussion of wavering feelings or breaking it off, simply because that was unimaginable. Whatever the case was, at night the two of you always slept in the same bed, naked after hours of diving into each other.
A concept hard to wrap around one’s mind. And yet your partners never seemed to care until it was too late. Until it had to become this whole entire situation that needed resolving, and more often than not—Hyunjin had to beat some poor boy’s ass for disrespecting not only you, but what you two had. Being called a slut just couldn’t seem to get past him. And he loved starting some shit.
You never mentioned his habits again, and everyone else seemed to treat it as a personality trait, a quirk that made him stand out, that made him the undeniable ‘king of beer pong.’ To you, it was a parasite that was eating him alive. Ever the overachiever, he never let the effects show, the withdrawals rock. Four years of it, and not one person ever saw it for what it was.
It was boyfriend number four that had it the worst.
“It’s pathetic,” Hyunjin would snarl in your face, half naked, a storm gathering in the corners of your dorm room. “He’s so serious about you!”
You would be proud. You would cry, and you’d get offended easily. Only because it mattered—what he thought about any part of your life mattered. You loved him the most. You loved him the best.
“And that’s a bad thing?” He’d wipe your tears away, and look at you with a broken expression, lavender stem over his heart. Always. “For once, someone actually wants to show me off, and it’s a bad thing?”
Pisces Sun eyes melted at your tone. He didn’t mean it like that. He never meant to hurt you, to make you feel less than. You were everything to him—and it was exactly that, that kept him green green green; jealousy was growing over the thorns on his arms, seeping through his skin, infecting his organs, his bloodstream—
He couldn’t have you for real. He never would. In the same way, he wanted no one else for you. His lavender girl belonged in a field, to be looked at, to be admired, yes, fuck—but never to be touched. Anything but that. What he’s trying to say… you have his heart. He can’t possibly ever lose you.
“What do you need their attention for?” He asks in a boy voice. Defeated. Childish in his adult body, with the long limbs and the long fingers and all the ways you make him feel. “You don’t need them, baby. You have me,” and when he pulls you to him, was there ever really a fight to begin with? “You have me.”
All of him. He lets you know, let’s you feel it, as he lays you down on the full bed you’ve shared since your first semester, the exception to the rule, because he’s a ‘Hwang’, and he gets whatever he wants, no matter the way, no matter what. It’s a strange thing to witness him abusing this newfound power, when he was once so against it, so different from it.
But he merely taught himself how to manipulate it, without letting it affect his character. An admirable thing for such a popular person, the students of the school his father funds would say. And he chose you, the girls would whisper. Why?
As he licks between your legs, those intense eyes looking up at your face, leftover glitter on his cheeks from the third Halloween party this week, you think you can answer now. You’re twin flames. A single soul split in half, mirroring each other. You cannot escape, as much as you can’t stay together. There will be a point where you’ll meet someone else. Where he will too. And it will be life changing, brain rewiring—it will be necessary. But the connection, it’ll never get lost. 
Not as long as you’re both alive.
“Tell me you’re mine,” as his fingers bury themselves in your wet cunt, as he watches your back arch for him. “God, I can’t hold enough of you, my pretty girl. I can’t have enough of you, sweetheart.”
“Let me…let me lose myself in you again.”
And he does. Every time his cock enters you, there’s a completeness you can’t find anywhere else, not even with your own blood family. He’s made of something entirely yours, a part of you in another, and you don’t have arms long enough to wrap all around, to swallow him into you, your angel doll, your heart.
Yet, rules are rules. He never owns your mouth, only your breath. Hyunjin moans as he bottoms out, as he starts fucking into you the way he only can, his grunts filling your lungs, paralyzing your brain. He wants to, there’s tears in his gingerbread eyes, he wants to, he fucking wants to, Jesus; he wishes and dreams and begs and pleads and prays for your lips, for one kiss, for the holiest touch—but he’s turned away every time. Lines that even he cannot cross.
But others can. Others have free access to you so easily, so inattentively, those greedy guys and their dirty hands all over his lavender girl, all over his girl, and it doesn’t feel so much as a game now, it’s a full fledged out war, and he’s carrying a double edged sword, he knows, because he, too, gives himself away to meaningless people and one night stands, so in a way he’s covered in sin, covered in slime, and does not deserve you, not one bit of you.
But that doesn’t matter either. Because it’s not about deserving. It’s about the cross he carries on his back, the pain in his chest, the thorns that dig, the branches that poke and tug, the wilting of his entire self without you. Those years away shaped a tough exterior out of what he previously was, out of what you’d made, and the big hole where you should be only grew bigger. Hyunjin placed you on top of his heart, because it’s the one thing that just has to keep fucking beating in order to come back to you every single time.
A war. With himself.
As if you heard him, your palm presses on the tattoo, eyes glazed, fucked out, and all thoughts turn into static noise. Nothing is real yet everything comes into focus with you. He curses the day when he’s going to have to share you. The asshole that took you out three fucking times certainly is not gonna be the one. He’ll make sure of it.
“You must let me find you,” he whispers in your hair, emptying himself inside of you, shuddering. “Every time. Do you hear me?”
“He’s staying,” you mumble stubbornly in his arms, but your sweat is his sweat, and there’s no room for a third person in this. Not yet.
“He won’t,” he soothes you. “He’s not the one for you, sweetheart.”
“You don’t know that.”
A ghost of a smile. His lips pressed against the side of your head.
“I’m sure of it. I know what you need, lavender girl. Air, sunlight. Water.”
Your fist comes into contact with his collarbone. Hyunjin laughs, a breathy thing. You laugh too.
“Just another flower in your stupid garden,” you joke, but it’s not funny.
He stills, expression solemn. His fingers pass over your eyes, closing them in the process, and you inhale sharply. He brings his face close to your lips once again, pretending, always pretending that he’s going to do it, but all he really does—
“The only flower. My most precious one. My heart tree.”
My body is nothing but an extension of yours. I painted it as I see you. Use it as you like. Kill me if you must. It was all for you, anyway.
In simple words— I love you.
Hyunjin was born for the arts.
It was a suppressed talent, but one he indulged in when he could nevertheless. He followed you to the university of your choice, humored himself into a major he’ll never actually have a real future in, and raised a big middle finger to the private school in England and his last name.
He liked painting, but dancing—it flowed through him, moved him, it was a possessive thing. He loved dancing, is what he’s trying to say, perhaps in a similar way to how he loved you—inevitably, all consumingly.
He adored it even more when you danced with him. When he danced for you. Your body on his, swinging to the rhythm of whatever song would be playing at the parties you frequented, reminiscent of the way he fucks you, of how you fit together. There was one song in particular that became a tradition for the two of you.
Maneater by Nelly Furtado. Sophomore year, Halloween Day. You helped him put on blue eyeshadow, and you had an outrageously orange colored dress on, cosplaying as a famous rockstar couple from the seventies. His hair was longer again, the faded blonde appearing almost dark silver under certain lighting. Hyunjin always looked ethereal, but that day? All the glitter and flare spoke of magic, witchcraft beyond your usual pointy hat and swish and flick of a wand.
Somehow, somewhere, Hwang Hyunjin had been conjured up. And you were the lucky one that got to witness him in all his glory and charm, both as before and after. Prior to the two of you walking through the doors of what would be another season of unhinged fraternity parties, he held you close, semi naked chest touching yours, silk shirt feeling cool against your cleavage, and he threw you a dashing smile, the happiest he’s ever looked.
The drunkest he’s ever been.
“Marry me.”
You blinked. Then giggled, attempting to push him away so you could enter the house. His arms wrapped tighter around you, smile widening, pearly white teeth showing. There’s no way he’s serious, but despite the light tone, his eyes are dead set on you, and you very much don’t feel like giggling anymore.
Boyfriend number four didn’t make it, but potential boyfriend number five was in there, waiting for you to show up. This was no time for declarations of marriage. Panic bubbled in your throat.
“You’re—you’re not serious,” you stutter, dumbfounded.
“He’s not the one either,” he says, and his full pink lips look so inviting, so soft the more you stare at them. “Baby, you’re so beautiful, but so fucking desperate for love. You’re my girl, aren’t you?”
You wonder what would happen if you broke the rule. What fate would await you knowing how he tasted. You’d probably say yes, completely drunk on him. You’d probably throw away your entire life and follow him anywhere.
No.
“Say you don’t belong with me.”
You push him away for real this time. He stumbles back, but his smile never drops. He expected this reaction, can read you like the back of his hand. And the proposal—an intangible thing. Angel Doll and Lavender Girl. The magic would fall apart like Cinderella’s pumpkin carriage. You simply cannot afford to lose him if it doesn’t go well, if one of the two fucks up unfathomably bad.
Having no title leaves room for mistakes. You can fight about it, then fuck, and it’s forgotten by the second orgasm. But a relationship? Marriage at that? You’d kill each other, you’d die.
No.
“You can’t,” he continues, and he’s shining so bright it’s hard for you to stay mad. To push away and stay away.
You feel like crying, you feel like doing something very stupid—like go in that house and fuck that poor boy’s brains out. Obviously. Pointedly. Hyunjin would get jealous, drink some more, work himself into a sour mood, then fuck off to bury himself in the first person he sees. That’s how it usually went when he cornered you like that.
He regretted it immensely. He ran away. As did you.
Then he searched you out, and brought you home. Showed you why. Called himself your victim. You think you’re as much a victim as he is.
“You’re drunk,” you say, nearing him. “Give me until graduation.”
He shook his head, tugging at the ends of his soft hair, chuckling maniacally, like a crazy man. He was as panicked as you were; you were not supposed to know about this—his wants, his truths. His love. You’d become so good at the dance; the twirling, the hand over hand over hand, that the spilling was incomprehensible, the consequences incalculable.
“You’ll have found him by then,” he explains, and finally meets your gaze, a sad smile quivering on his plump lips. “I‘ll become an afterthought, a background character.”
“You won’t, you can’t!” You take his face in your hands, smudging birthday cake glitter everywhere, and you see stars. Galaxies, nebula’s. Your angel doll is not a man suddenly, but instead an entire universe. And you’re able to hold something like that. It’s never going to make any sense. “You’re imprinted on me, Hyun. Wherever I go, you follow. I’ll let you, okay? Stop crying, I’m not lying, I promise, are you listening?”
But he’s lost in his thoughts and fears, and nightmares again. You must look silly standing right outside a costume party, fighting to cling onto each other for dear life.
“I will too,” he mutters, nose running, sparkly tears. “I’ll fucking—I’ll find someone else, but they won’t be you, and I won’t know how to be with them, and it’s all fucked, darling, isn’t it, it’s—
“Marry me before that happens, angel. I’ve no idea how to be without you. Please.” His eyes are wide.
You stare at him and he stares at you, and you’re both saying the same thing without saying it at all, and that’s an answer all on its own.
“That’s not us,” you remind him softly. “I’m not leaving you behind, angel doll. You’re coming with me. Till death.”
And he’s terrified. He’s scared, and he’s been drinking for two days straight, has smoked more cigarettes than he can count or remember, all for it to come down to the same old conclusion. Unable to be together, but inseparable. (It will sting less later, but for now it’s an open heart surgery wound the size of two of your fists.)
He hugs you until you can’t breathe, and then pulls you into the house, where he delivers you to your plaything for the month, and heads for the kitchen to find the one thing that can numb it all away. If he sees the way you hold onto that beast of a guy, Ivy League scholarship, football star in the making, he holds back. It’s futile anyway. He has no way of stopping it.
Instead, he goes on a little hunt of his own. He likes to call this revenge, but really it’s punishment.
For him.
He eases you into your first threesome during spring break.
The guy is familiar to you, you’ve seen him around, but can’t really think of a name, or a major. Maybe from a party? It doesn’t register until much later that he’s Hyunjin’s fucktoy from freshman year, and for some reason you can barely stand, it makes you sick to your stomach—
Because this kickstarts the beginning of the end. He’s showing you how it’s going to be from now on.
“She likes it rough,” he informs the black-haired boy standing between your legs. Then he leans into his neck, and whispers, “Like me.”
He doesn’t mention how you only learned to take it that way, because it was the way he taught you. And you loved it—the flesh-eating need to have someone disassemble you and put it all back together, to have someone’s cock (his cock, it’ll always be his first) (until Bang Chan) buried so deep in your pussy you feel him all the way in your stomach. The feeling is indescribable, every.single. time.
“You’re okay with this?” The cute guy asks you, but you’ve never taken your eyes off Hyunjin. He hasn’t either.
“Yes.”
“I’m Felix, beautiful,” he tells you, dropping to his knees and hooking his arms around the backs of your knees, sliding you close to his face. “I’ve heard all about you.”
He found them first. Your hand shoots out for your angel doll, and he grabs it without thinking. He’s there, as promised, guiding you through your first orgasm with someone that’ll end up being the love of his life. He’s shaking, and he’s caressing your hair like he’s going through unbearable agony. Perhaps he is, as you cry out and moan another man’s name for his ears to hear.
“Shove another finger in her, see how she cums for you.”
And you do. Again and again and again…
By the time Felix is done with you, Hyunjin is unzipping his jeans and getting on top of you, his mouth leaving butterfly kisses from your neck down to your breast, to your navel, on your swollen clit. You don’t dare open your eyes; you hold his hand tight, and fall into the feeling of his weight, of his hips, of his length pushing past your folds.
“Fuck,” he grunts, and it’s the sexiest sound you’ll ever hear. “You’re just for me, sweetheart. It’s always going to feel this fucking good with you.”
You don’t see it, but Felix gets behind Hyunjin and slips right into him. Your doll collapses against your collarbone, muttering, moaning, baby… fuck, let me die here, let me die between the two of you…
His thrusts find a rhythm, as your voices all blend together, strings of filthy words bringing you closer to your release. You’ve never watched Hyunjin get fucked before, he’s usually so dominant with you, but you think you prefer him this way more. Surrendered, half mad, leaking inside you, his beautiful face twisted with pleasure and pain—a painting of pure ecstasy.
Felix grabs your boy by the neck and twists his head so he can kiss him flat on the mouth. Something stirs inside you, but it’s not jealousy. They look so in tune, move so well together that it’s hard to hate them. It feels like the point over the horizon where the sun and the moon meet—there’s a certain flowing between them and it runs like water, parts like the Red Sea.
“I think your girl wants a kiss,” the black-haired boy pants as he catches you looking. He slows his thrusts, takes his time with the two of you.
“We don’t kiss,” you and Hyunjin reply at the same time, and then giggle, eyes bright.
It all soon turns into deep mutters and moaning again, and you come the moment he hits something inside you, reaching so incredibly deep he has you seeing black spots, has you shaking. You hold him close as he reaches his release, a couple minutes after you, and Felix winks at you, kisses your angel doll’s back and gets off so you can stretch.
The three of you lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, made up of nothing but breaths and sweat. You can smell the sex in the air, feel Hyunjin’s fingers play with the stickiness between your legs. You rub your thighs together, wanting his touch on you again. Always, perhaps.
“You’ve never kissed?” Felix asks, but he’s not being nosy. He seems genuinely interested in the fact.
“Never,” you reply, and Hyunjin intertwines your hands on the cotton sheets. “Are you planning on sticking around?”
A moment passes. Then, “Yes.”
Your mouth curves. “Then you’ll find out why.”
Hyunjin laughs, brings your hands up to his lips and kisses the back of yours. “This is my lavender girl, Lix. You’re gonna love her.”
Your little arrangement continues until well into your third year. Hyunjin had cut back on the alcohol but was smoking like a chimney in winter. Felix did a lot of good, brought a lot of light anywhere he stood, to everything he touched.
And you liked him quite a bit. He kept your favorite boy occupied and silenced the voices in his head, something no one except you could do. They were clearly in love, clearly enamored with each other. Nothing mattered outside your little circle, and it felt the same way for you, as well. Until Hyunjin came to your room crying one night in December, with a bloody nose and a broken heart, locking the door hurriedly, begging to let him inside you.
You closed your book, jumped out of your shared bed, and ran to him. “What happened? What’s wrong?”
“He slept with someone else, he doesn’t understand, darling, he doesn’t get us…” he muttered on your cheek miserably, resting against you, arms clinging onto you.
You rubbed soothing circles on his back, let his tears calm down to a soft sniffling before you questioned him. You’d learned long ago to be gentle with him when he’d get like this; your angel doll did not handle life well, rejection even worse.
“Is it exclusive?” you ask softly. “What you two have… did he know?”
When he ignores the question, you know it isn’t. But Hyunjin is hurt, stubborn and possessive and he will never share, not unless he approves first. It doesn’t work for everyone, but it works for him and he’s never cared. With you it’s out of the question. The unfairness is lost to you, but you’re certain that it should feel wrong, that he should probably let you go, too.
“Why would he do that to me? I love him.”
You’re jealous then. Ever since you snuck booze in your room and painted purple eyeshadow on each other’s lids, you’ve never uttered the three words once, not even as a joke, as a whisper, as a mouthed forbidden curse—but Felix gets to have it just.like.that? Spilled out like a murder scene between you? Your killer is pressing kisses on your collarbone, tears mixed with saliva, and you feel him all over you, all the times you’ve let him imprint what he cannot say, his seed still inside you from the last time you fucked, his sweet voice calling you ‘pretty darling,’ ‘beautiful lavender girl,’ all of it, does it even matter now?
He can love another, but could never tell you, his open field, his summer breeze, love betrayed, recycled—
Your hands stop him, push on his chest, your own stomach turning. Your eyes can’t possibly meet his. Hyunjin breaks apart in front of you, but you don’t think you can save him from himself this time. Not tonight.
“If I don’t say this now, I will be killing my own heart, angel doll…” you whisper, and there’s a ball of something in your throat, it’s choking you, it’s crushing your skull. “Have you ever loved me—”
It’s within a split second that he smacks his hand on top of your mouth and presses his own on top of it. His arm is digging on your lower back, and you can feel his erection against your thigh, hard through his baggy jeans, always hard for you, and needy, so needy, so ready, and how can you be so stupid, so silly? He is not himself when he’s not with you. He only hopes you feel the same way.
He kisses you like that as if he were kissing your lips, and your wet cheeks touch his, your voice breaks trying to whisper his name, his own hushes you, brings you closer. The one thing you swore you’d never do.
“Are you leaving me? Is that what this is?” you ask, desperately trying to catch your breath, hear over the rushing of your blood.
Hyunjin laughs, fully removes his hand from your jaw, instead rubbing your cheeks, caressing your hair, pulling at the ends, looking at you with the gingerbread eyes, the honey eyes, the ones you can’t resist, don’t ever try to. 
“Silly girl,” he scolds you fondly, his mouth curving, the red lips sore, and he appears much like the moon to you now. “I apologize. What would ever become of me if I didn’t have you? If I never met you?”
When he truly smiles, through the tears, through the pain, you can’t help but to smile back. The game is back on, the walls rebuilt themselves, but it’s not quite pretending. Not anymore.
“You’d be miserable without me, angel doll,” you pout, giggling as he tickles your sides, sparkling as he throws you on the bed and has his way with you.
“I’d be miserable,” he confirms, kissing down your breast. “I’d be dead. But you understand why I have to love him, don’t you?”
Your eyes meet. “He’s the sun,” barely audible.
His hands fumble, the sound of a zipper, his cold hands lifting your dress. “He’ll look over my lavender field,” his pulsing cock pushing against your entrance, “my sweet girl.”
Hyunjin fucks you like he’s going to lose you, slow, hips grinding into you like he’s trying to leave a piece of himself inside you, where you can never find it, never remove it. He looks beautiful in all the ways he isn’t saying it, in all the ways he means it. Your arms wrap around him, and you fall, deeper, further, for all eternity.
As promised.
It’s in your senior year that you understand why you had to wait.
Bang Chan is older, he’s a film graduate, he’s Felix’s best friend from Australia. His accent is thick, his hair is curly, and his hands are surprisingly rough.
He takes you against the dormitory building at four in the morning, after drinks and a round of bowling. And it’s different, it’s intense—somehow you know exactly what to do, he moves just as you like it, you never bump, it’s overwhelming, it’s fucking amazing. He’s the best kisser you’ve ever had, his mouth tasted like mint and his cologne smelled of tobacco and vanilla, a mix you’ve never seen on anyone else, and somehow he’s just for you, this man with the irresistible smile and sculpted face.
You trace his eyebrows, kiss his jaw. He never shudders, like your angel doll, but instead—he grunts, he growls. You come on his dick three times on your first date, and he brings you over to his place every night after that, for a month straight. Hyunjin distances himself, lets you explore the new world, lets you get to know, but you always see him in your room when you tiptoe around a space you’ve called home for four years, like a thief.
He pretends to be asleep as you grab clothes; sees you choose which panties Chan would like best, what perfume would drive him crazy, if you should do velvet or silk—he gets jealous, but never angry. He chose this man for you, saw how he folds when you look at him, how he’d crumble into dust if you ever broke it off.
They made an agreement, the two. They’d share you as long as they were both allowed to love you. Hyunjin never said it, of course. But only a fool would miss it—
The way he burns and is reborn every time you blink, the stem over his heart, his only calling.
One rare day the Aussie is off working on his many projects, you take Hyunjin’s hand and together you sit under the big oak tree, in the middle of campus, you with your book, him with his sketchbooks and pencils.
“Tell me your deepest, darkest secret, lavender girl,” he mumbles against your exposed belly, and you giggle.
You can see the branches through his thin white tank top. Your heart. “I love him, angel doll,” you say, confidently.
His eyes are the moon again, his lips cherry blossom. His hair is getting longer. 
Like sunlight, Felix morphs behind him, waving, beaming down.
tags. @ughbehavior, @cb97percent, @streetlight-s, @j-0ne25, @danyxthirstae01, @lix-ables, @skz317cb97, @koorminii, @choinsaw.
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hiraya-rawr · 2 years
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Chess Piece (Ayato)
Drabble in which Reader, a noble of Watatsumi, plays along in Ayato's political game for the sake of your islands. What Ayato didn't expect was to fall for you.
"Let's end this, Commissioner," You say with a graceful smile, hands neatly folded on your lap.
He tilts his head, slight confusion peeking through his polite facade, "Pardon?"
You sigh, "Let's end this before we start saying things we don't mean." You stand up, patting down your clothes, "I allowed it to go this far for Watatsumi Island's sake, but frankly, I'm done."
"I'm. . . not quite sure I understand what you mean." There's a furrow between his brows as he stands up after you. One minute ago, your relationship was going on splendidly; calling his name so sweetly, hands shyly lingering on his underneath the table. The moon was high up in the sky but Komore Teahouse is no stranger to your nightly rendezvouses with the commissioner.
After months of integrating yourself in the city as a delegate of Watatsumi, you've successfully formed connections and learned their culture, doing your civil duty to uphold the peace treaty.
Meeting Kamisato Ayato was only a formality, but developing something a little more than a friendship was. . . unexpected.
The months that followed were a whirlwind of emotions and when you find yourself leaning a little too close than what was considered proper — or when you find him looking at you with such a soft loving smile on his face — you remember why you were there in the first place.
To repair the damage done by a war.
You had your own informants and spies. You knew the kind of games the commissioner played. You knew he has documents of you and your people in the third shelf of his office.
Whenever your eyes meet his lavender ones, your heart skips a beat (and you wonder how many of your people died with his face as the last thing they see).
Loyalty and love, enemy and comrade, these are just on one side of the chess board.
After months, you've gained enough benefits for Watatsumi Island; and Ayato played you well for his own use.
It's time to end the game.
"Was it so amusing?" You ask, "To see your chess pieces fall into place. I know you must've enjoyed how easy I was to play."
He frowns, taking a step forward to approach you, "Y/N-"
"But I won't hold this against you. Your cooperation was tantamount for the peace treaty's success after all," You smile, "I believe Watatsumi and the Tri-commission would progress smoothly together, no? It's quite the win-win situation."
He doesn't respond. Instead, he chooses to scan your face with the same damned beautiful lavender eyes that plague your nights.
Love or not, a few months of knowing you won't make him notice the cracks in your facade.
". . . So it's like this," He hums in thought, "I must say, I didn't expect you to think so lowly of our relationship."
"In terms of politics, I do think we make a great team," You smile, offering your hand for a shake.
"And what about in terms of other things?" He asks, face devoid of emotion. You wonder if he's angry with you, "In terms of romance?"
"There are no other things." You shut the idea down with a little more force that you wanted. Don't let him play you. Not any further. End it now.
". . . I see." He takes your hand and shakes it firmly. Stiffly. You wonder if his tight grip is from a hidden anger or a desperate desire to hold you.
"I'll be leaving for Watatsumi tomorrow," You say after a while of silence, "It was fun while it lasted."
". . . The retainers outside will walk you to the inn. Do take care."
You offer a polite bow before turning to leave, the sound of your footsteps on wood dispersing.
Enemies to lovers be damned. There's no such trope that can cure the trauma of war.
Ayato stares at the sliding door where your figure retreated, a frown evident on his face.
"Thoma?" He calls out for the blond to appear by his side.
"Yes, my lord?"
"Get me milktea. And I don't want anyone disturbing me in my office tonight."
Politics is a lonely game people play.
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theshippirate22 · 2 months
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i know not a single one of y’all cares about my Eddie In Wonderland au but it’s all I ever think about so you get to hear more about it anyway
So the premise is that Eddie finds himself falling and he doesn’t really know how he got there, he thinks maybe he’s found a gate to the Upside Down but when he finally lands he finds himself in. Wonderland. Stereotypical, mystical wonderland.
There’s a bit of a struggle with the Eat Me/Drink Me bit, but once he gets it figured out and gets through the door, he starts out through this weird ass forest, looking for some sort of sense in what must be a really, really bad trip
Instead, he finds Argyle in a blue and green tracksuit on a giant mushroom with a hookah, the entirety of the younger party at a massive table playing TnT (tea and treacle, obviously) lead by a perfectly nonsensical Dustin who traded in his ballcap for a top hat, and eventually, the towering and ominous Castle belonging to the King of Broken Hearts, one Steve Harrington.
In Steve’s court, he quickly learns that the Deck kingdom is in a cold war with the Chess kingdom. Apparently a few months earlier, King Steve was meant to marry the Queen of Hearts, Miss Nancy Wheeler, but the night before the wedding she told him she didn’t love him and the whole thing was bullshit.
Furious and heartbroken, Steve banished her from Deck, saying she could seek refuge in Chess or go beyond the Wonderland forest. She made it to Chess and was taken in, and Steve, the once lovely and gracious ruler, was left coldhearted and cruel.
Robin and Chrissy, the red and white queens of Chess respectively, fled shortly after this whole affair, because they were locked into marriages of benefit but were actually in love with each other, and sought asylum in Steve’s court. However, they did not tell him of their affections in fear that his unhappiness would lead him to deny them of their own. Instead they act usually as like his second in commands, and they’re the ones that fill Eddie in on everything that’s happening
Anyway so Deck and Chess really don’t like each other because Chess thinks Steve stole their heirs and because Steve thinks Chess has Nancy and he’s pissed about it.
But there have been all these prophecies about the coming of the Jabberwocky (ahem kind of mind flayed shaped) and Wonderland needs to be preparing for it to come because the fated White Knight hasn’t been seen in years and everyone is like 98% sure he’s dead so he’s not coming to save them, and the signs of its arrival are all happening and everyone is begging Steve to offer a truce to Chess because there’s no way Deck alone can defeat the Jabberwocky but he has no interest in doing that.
Until of course, Eddie shows up and knocks his whole life on its head because he’s… well, he’s falling in love with him and it’s making him realize maybe him and Nancy weren’t the best pairing and maybe it’s good they never got married actually? and Eddie is realizing that Steve is just so…. sad. and that’s what makes him so angry. but when they’re together, Steve is so much less of a tyrant and so much more of a man that just wants to be important to somebody.
And he’s important to Eddie.
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seysei · 9 months
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To think that Mikado developed a habit of never finishing a simple chess game with his youngest son after having the little confidence he ever had in himself completely and entirely destroyed by his eldest, who was just five years old at that time.
To think that just like his daddy, (point and laugh yall) Mikuni also pushed misono around while playing chess when they were younger and ended the game very similarly to how his father did with misono, telling misono it's late and that he should go to bed.
To think that Mikuni quite literally planted a false and traumatic memory in Misono's head, the fact that misono was never there and witnessed what happened, the fact that it was such a cruel thing to do to your little brother who was just a child back then, yet somehow you knew that it was essential in order for him to find out the truth about his life that you knew your family was going to keep away from him. No matter how much they lied, that lie you planted was much stronger than theirs. (everytime misono was made to forget, told off or had his memories manipulated by lily, it would always be that one memory Mikuni planted in his mind that doesn't fully disappear, the one reason he needed to visit the east wing for, trying to fully remember, and its always because of that image that he once again tries to make it into the east wing regardless of how many times lily has stopped him)
To think that shuuhei resented the vampire that killed his father, while Mikuni willingly spends day and night with the vampire that killed his mother right in front of him.
To think that Jeje is accepting of Mikuni using him for his own benefit. To think that Jeje is accepting of Mikuni throwing him away once "he no longer has any use of him". (I will literally cry, and I almost did when Jeje thought of it and said "all that's left for me is to see things through, once I lose this name-" LIKE WDYM)
To think that Jeje has gone through many eves and continuesly had to see them lose themselves, become insane and engulf him & he had no control over it. ( and yet.. He still made a couple more contracts in hopes of that "maybe this time it will be different") (it never was)
To think that Jeje volunteered to be sealed away by C3 without even knowing when he will ever wake up again, "hopefully not" is what he most likely wished for, considering his character and how he was looking for a way to die to begin with. (yet something deep inside of him couldn't help but be a little.. Perhaps happy..? grateful? When Kiriko broke the seal on him)
To think that Mikado thought of and gave a sincere gift to the woman whom he was having an affair with, while neglecting his own wife who was one of the sweetest and greatest supports to him and his lack of abilities.
To think that abel is just that 'coincidence' of a gift that Mikado's wife (Kiriko) received from him, yet Mikuni still holds it dear to him as keepsake that once belonged to his mother, regardless of him knowing the disappointing truth behind it.
To think that you thought this post was going to end soon.
To think that Mikuni knew of his father's affair far before his mother even figured it out, (you do the math on how young he was then) Yet of course kept quiet, lived with it, decided to be mature about it, understanding that no good would come out of telling her, understanding that you cannot change what's already happened and that his mother was bound to find out soon enough anyway-..Because, according to him, his father wasn't that good at keeping it a secret. (even so, I feel like deep down mikuni felt very guilty, like he was betraying his mother by feigning ignorance to it and was no different from the others in the house who tuned a blind eye to his mother's heart & feelings)
To think that Mikuni grew up too fast & Misono grew up too slow due to one knowing too much for his own good (although he probably thinks that knowing too much is better than knowing too little, and perhaps he's right about that) while the other was kept in the dark so he doesn't meet the same fate as the one who knew too much.
To think that Mikuni wanted people to perceive him in a bad way/as the perpetrator/as a bad person, and according to himself & Jeje it will be for his own benefit... (perhaps because its easier to control or fool others when you know how they perceive you? Who knows. Furthermore, to be fair, he isn't far from a bad person if not one, undeniably a criminal with a variety of different crimes, makes Jeje do the dirty work so his own hands remain clean and pure)
To think that Mikuni burned down the east wing, the place that holds both good & bad memories for him. His diary, his books, his secrets and feelings, things that he never told, feelings that he left behind, equipment from his childhood such as the violin that his mother gave him for one of his birthdays along with the many music sheets spread all over the floor. The place where his mother died before him, the place where he first made his contract with Jeje, the place that holds so much importance to his story. It All burned to ashes, all possible pieces and traces of himself that remained in that place, for seven years after he left- its gone. Turned into dust.
To think that some still hold hope for the alicein family to become one piece once again after allat? I won't even blame Mikuni if he suddenly decided to burn the rest of the house. (/hj) (I'm not) (jk lol)
(I'm really not)
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d-criss-news · 1 year
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jasonshuman: This brand new version of “Chess: The Musical” is fantastic. And so is this guy, @ darrencriss, who sung his heart out. Congrats to all involved, especially @strongdanny for his brilliant new book. #chessthemusical #darrencriss #lenahall #timrice
*Second photo via his story
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datshitrandom · 1 year
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via jasonshuman ig story
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ethoryweek · 5 months
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Ethory Week 2024 Prompts!
How it works: Create a post for one or both of the prompts for each day, or skip a day if you feel like it! This blog will reblog every post made in the #ethoryweek and #ethoryweek2024 tags on the day of each prompts. Here are the prompts:
Day 1, January 14th - Comic Con or Concert
Where are Ethan and Rory going to hang out or on a date? Are they dressing up and going to panels? Or are they dressing up and seeing their favorite artists live?
Day 2, January 15th - Sleepover or Night Out
What do these two do when they're hanging out at night? Would they rather get comfortable in their PJs or dress up for a night on the town?
Day 3, January 16th - Pep Rally or After School Clubs
What would Ethory find more exciting at school? A pom flinging, devil costume wearing Pep Rally? Or a logical laser chess battle after school?
Day 4, January 17th - Free Day
Take this day to share any Ethory fan works that don't fit into any prompts! Go wild, skys the limit!
Day 5, January 18th - Vampire or Seer
Ethan and Rory aren't your typical teens, so how do their Vampirsm and Visions interfere or benefit their love lives?
Day 6, January 19th - Board Games or Movies
What would they enjoy doing together more? Some classic board games or classic action movies? What's their favorite games or board pieces?
Day 7, January 20th - Ghost Hunting or Pranks
What do Rory and Ethan enjoy watching/doing more? Hunting ghosts or pulling pranks? What are their favorite gadgets for catching the supernatural or pulling off the perfect practical joke?
Ask box is open if you have any questions!
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pen-observing · 10 months
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even in this state, love persists.
synopsis: nightbringer has turned Solomon into what he is but he used you, Solomon's lover, to achieve his goals. this curse that he has placed upon you is his largest sin.
pairing: Solomon x gn!reader word count: 1k
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Sometimes you think it is utter spite and perseverance that lies at the center of your being. Yes, there is an overwhelming amount of love but sometimes it makes you feel pitiful. It reminds you of the way kids stand around on the beach and play in the sand; those of them that do not have enough talent to make a castle pretty, end up making it larger than the rest to cover up the obvious flaws it has.  
Is the love Solomon gives you similar to that?  No. It is not.   And you shouldn’t even think that way but...were it not for the curse, you think, maybe the huge displays of love and their occurrence would lessen down.  
The curse it to blame for everything really. He is to blame for everything. 
But, on the other side of the coin, there is the fact that you never would have known what you were capable of if this didn’t happen. How many years has it been now? A hundred perhaps? Looking and marking the passage of time is something humans do and while you use that spite of yours to prove your humanity; you also admit that Solomon and you are far removed from what the regular human is.  
There is this consistent battle of keeping your humanity. Keeping it in front of one another is easy – all of those flaws and virtues are cradled together and there is no curse that could break the bond the two of you have..but... out there?  In the human world? You are far too special to ever create friendships and connections with others.   In the realm above? You are deemed far too interesting to be something truly real.   And in the realm below? Far too dangerous and cunning.  
Everything that Solomon is you are by extension. What makes it worse is that nobody else really sees you. The seven brothers he talks about have no idea who you are, but you are aware of their actions and secrets.  
Solomon has always been good at keeping those and...did they cause your current state? Yes, absolutely but..you can’t find it in yourself to ever hate him.  
There is a specific sense of guilt that Solomon carries for what has happened to you because of his own foolishness inside that youth he wanted to share with you. He has learned some lessons and he continues to.  
Solomon was far too arrogant when he spoke with Nightbringer all those years ago. He initially refused his offer but Nightbringer’s chess bord was not something Solomon could ever knock down. In his own foolishness, Solomon is destined to carry this guilt for the fate you have been forces to live all this time. 
Nightbringer knew that getting to Solomon by normal means would perhaps be impossible but he also knew that using you in his eons long scheme would prove more efficient.   Nightbringer told you he regrets nothing, he only wished he had a chance to get to know you more or perhaps drink delicious tea.  
He said that to you after manifesting next to your bed in the middle of the night before engulfing you in a glow unlike any other. Your fate was sealed then. With his curse of turning you into an enchanted brooch – Nightbringer got Solomon on his side.  
You hated him. You didn’t only hate him for what he had turned you into, but you hated how far his cruelty sometimes stretched. He was a savior to some other people but all you remember is how cold his hand was while holding your new form while he was writing a letter to your lover.  
‘Solomon,  
join my side and I will tell you where your lover is hidden. Would you still love them like this I wonder?   You are free to try and find them on your own, but I advise against it.   Even if you do, my curse can only be reversed once I get what I wish. We both know how serious I am about these matters. 
Make a choice that benefits us both. Or, at the very least, make one that benefits you.’ 
Perhaps the reason why you stopped keeping time is because Solomon did not immediately come to you. All you remember is darkness before someone finally opened the lid.   You were hoping it would be Solomon but instead it was the culprit.  
It broke your heart to see Solomon with a defeated look and a shattered heart in front of you. In the end, he agreed to Nightbringer’s blackmail.   You were the cursed prize that ensured Solomon’s collaboration.  
Solomon held you in his hands and cried that night. He cried for his own foolishness and for the fact that your love would prove to have no limits in the worst way possible. Your words of comfort seemed pointless back then but they’ve been meeting up more and more recently. You know because the only time Solomon does not carry you with him is when he has to talk to Nightbringer.  
Nightbringer said your presence once reminded him of his own pitiful ways and Solomon loved nothing more than to remind him by which means he obtained a partner in crime.   Both of these men somehow refused to budge out of their own incompetencies so Nightbringer told Solomon not to bring you around anymore.  
Maybe the end of your curse is close by now? You have every right to harbor that hope now as you did at the very start!   And you love Solomon in the exact same way as before. How could you not when he teleports back into the room and kneels down next to the table to look at you.  
“I am home. Did you miss me?”  “Hmm? Sometimes it is nice not to hear your voice or to be smushed into your inside pocket you know. Peaceful even.”  
You obviously don’t mean that.  
“I’ve missed you too, my love.”  “Solomon, it has been approximately seven minutes.”  “An eternity I know.”  
Before you had the chance to retort, Solomon continues.  
“I think your curse will be lifted soon.” 
Your breath hitches. Suddenly everything is still. Solomon lifts you up in the palm of his hand and places a gentle kiss on you. 
“We have been over this, your kiss to the centre of this diamond brooch – I mean me, I guess – is not what will lift this curse.”  “And yet, I will continue to try. Nightbringer said that time is just upon us and I vow to kiss you then for real.” 
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a/n: HELLO OBEY ME FANDOM!! DID YOU MISS ME??? Solomon in chapter 11 am i right??
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2-dsimp · 1 year
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Yandere! Student council member! kokomi
Admire profile
🫧 Kokomi is the brains of the student council, always planning out strategies to better improve the quality of the school for the students benefit.
🫧Meaning that she’s in charge of handling the internal afffairs of students and teachers alike. Her main job to mediate conflict between the clubs and stabilize the peace amongst the student public.
🫧 Has the authority to target students and either reward or punish them depending on their behavior. Which can range from granting them an honorary position in the student council to giving them a temporary 1-3 day expulsion from the school.
🫧 Since Kokomi’s very popular amongst the student body she has unlimited access to reliable networking. With just a few phone calls with her people outside of school she’ll be able to use anything to her disposal to make things go smoothly.
🫧 She’s a bit of a control freak despite finding the generous amount responsibility handed to her to be burdensome. So if she feels as if she’s not in control then over time she will start to become more unhinged with trying to balance the scales.
🫧Restless nights of meticulous planning for academic events to promote the school from orchestrating festivals to field trips to calculating budgets will cause her to be exhausted. But on the outside you’ll never know as she’ll just put on a smile, masking what she’s truly feeling inside.
🫧 Which is why She finds you very endearing with how you try so hard to see through what she’s hiding from the others. As She’s the type to always wear a mask in order to hide the turbulence of emotions and secrets she keeps buried deep inside.
🫧 Kokomi is someone who can easily get burnt out from preventing the multiple obstructions derailing the school from perfection and during those times she’d like to recharge by doing fun relaxing activities with her darling.
🫧 She loves having tea with you and finds it so therapeutic serving her special tea recipe she created just for your indulgence, and savoring how adorable you look when you swoon over the peculiar taste in a trance.
🫧 Often times she’d ask for you to help run her daily errands around the city after school leading you by the hand to places where it’s less populated and congested.
🫧 When she’s on her day off she’ll gain the confidence to ask you to have an outing with her on the beach just to casually stroll alongside the coast at night where everything is tranquil and quiet with only her and you in a world of your own.
🫧Other times if you’d ever need to find her just search any nearby libraries as she’s a bookworm in her own right who just loves to have knowledge readily at her fingertips.
🫧She has eyes and ears everywhere around the school, if you ever cross her then you’d be playing a game of chess where you’d always lose with a tiny margin of error.
🫧 She’d be able to foresee your every move and plan your downfall in a hundred different ways. Unless you have established a relationship with info-kun who’s one of the many few that can match her in a battle of wits.
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