#But that doesn't mean you should send me more

[purinfelix]

ᯓ crawling back to you ⋆.˚ - [ L.HS ]

summary: it's been almost two months since you've seen Heeseung, but now he's on your doorstep, drunk, desperate - and without his phone pairing: reader x exbf! heeseung || non-idol au, mentions of drinking and some unwanted touching, sfw mostly fluff/angst || w/c: 1.8k

a/n: ok this idea lowkey came to me so randomly AND ended up being way longer than i planned but i don't know what it is i love pathetic yearning men

You'd be lying if you said you were completely shocked. Even as you reached for the door handle after hearing a faint knock, a part of you already envisions him behind the door - maybe it's your intuition after countless late nights just like this, but a part of you deep down considers the possibility that maybe, just maybe, it might be hope.

"Heeseung," you breathe out once you see him, your tone of disappointment thinly veiled as a shock.

This is definitely the drunkest you've seen him, and judging from the way he's swaying side to side unsteadily and struggling to lift his head up to look at you - you'd say it's the drunkest he's been in a while.

He doesn't even greet you, just stumbles towards you, limp body crashing into yours sending you back a couple steps. Your hands fly up to grip his shoulders, which are burning warm as he writhes under your touch, letting out a soft hum, that if you didn't know any better you might've taken as a sign of satisfaction.

"You drank too much," you huff, trying your best to maintain the air of annoyance you feel at him showing up, mostly because if you don't you know you'll be far too quick to let him in. "You should go home," you say to him.

He only lets out a faint whine in response, clearly not wanting to obey as he snakes an arm around your waist, burying his flushed face into the crook of your neck. You feel yourself slip, and for just a second your back arches, pushing yourself flush against him.

But you manage to catch yourself, pushing him away by the shoulders even as he resists you. Finally, as he lets out a breathy pant and flicks his hair away from his forehead, you get a glimpse of his face - and almost immediately you feel a strange pang in your heart as you do.

He looks almost exactly the same as the day you left him, large doe eyes staring into yours with his brows furrowed just enough to seem pleading, begging you not to make him leave. Only now his cheeks are far more flushed and underneath his eyes are dark rings - a sign that he hasn't been taking care of himself nearly as well as you'd hoped.

"I missed you," he says, and his voice is so tiny you barely recognise it. But the desperation in his tone and the way his bottom lip quivers as he speaks is far too familiar .

You can't turn him away, not now, not when he's here and drunk and looking at you like that.

"C'mon in," you sigh, guiding him gently with an arm around his waist as he naturally loops his around your shoulder, leaning his body weight against yours. It isn't easy but you manage to make your way to your living room, letting him lay down on your couch. His eyes are already half closed as he lies down, and you feel a slight relief at the thought that maybe this night won't be as difficult as you had initially believed.

"Give me your keys and phone, I'll look after them while you rest," you say, kneeling beside the couch so that you're level with his eyes.

They flutter back open for just long enough that you feel your cheeks heating up at the close eye contact, even more, once you notice a smile spreading across his face.

"You look even prettier than I remember," he hums to himself and you can't help but let out an indignant scoff to cover up how flustered you feel. He's drunk, he doesn't mean it you tell yourself as you move to search for his belongings to take care of. You pat down his jacket pocket and manage to track down his keys - though not without him squirming under your touch, letting out immature giggles. But his phone is nowhere to be found.

As if summoned by the sudden panic you feel at the thought of him losing his phone, your own phone lets out a chime from where you've left it on the coffee table. Weirdly enough when you pick it up you see it's a notification from Heeseung, or at least, his phone.

[ hello? ]

The thought of some stranger stealing his phone and running off with it worries you, and so you're quick to type back as you settle onto the floor next to the couch.

[ hi? ] [ hey! this is Jake, i'm Heeseungs friend, tho i'm not sure if we ever properly met ]

You let out a faint sigh of relief. The name sounds familiar enough to bring up memories of Heeseung mentioning the people in his classes - so you choose to believe him.

[ oh, right, were you out with him earlier? ] [ yeah, i'm guessing he already made it to your place ]

You furrow your brows as irritation suddenly washes over you, his friend knew he would come here and didn't stop him?

[ how do you know that? ] [ wait, did he not? ] [ no, he did, i'm just curious why you assumed it so quickly ] [ well he was talking about you all night, kept mentioning wanting to see you again so ... ] [ oh, right ] [ tho that's not much difference to what he's like every day ] [ ??? wdym ] [ he talks about you all the time ]

You pause, eyes wandering from your phone screen to the couch behind you which Heeseung's sprawled across, long limbs barely fitting. You can hear soft snores as he sleeps, and if you look for long enough you can see his chest rising and falling gently.

He talks about you all the time.

You don't know what shocks you more, the fact that he - the man who you broke up with, admittedly pretty coldly, almost a month ago, talks about you - someone who he should regard with bitterness and maybe even hatred, all the time.

The buzzing of your phone in your hand brings you back to the present.

[ hello? everything alright? ] [ yeah, yeah sorry he's alright he's just sleeping on my couch right now ] [ wow, thanks, i figured you'd just turn him away but i guess i can head back home knowing he's with you ] [ wait, you have his phone tho? ] [ yeah, he forgot it at the restaurant when he left for your place ] [ typical ] [ yep lol ]

You pause again, chewing your bottom lip as you consider whether to ask the question that's been plaguing your mind - but you figure you can't let an opportunity like this go without at least getting some answers and so without too much thought your fingers move swiftly to type it out.

[ has he been doing ok? ] [ it's hard to say, i mean, we think so but he's definitely been different ]

The painful pang in your heart strikes again, though this time it's closer to a sinking feeling. The thought of Heeseung not taking care of himself, being in pain or upset is one thing - but knowing that it's because of you hurts in a way you can't describe. Though, you're considerate enough not to let this show in your response.

[ i see ] [ don't beat yourself up over it tho, he'll be alright. I'll make sure he is ] [ thanks, i appreciate it ] [ anytime ] [ how come you didn't stop him from coming over? ] [ dude we tried, but he was too insistent ] [ seriously? ] [ you should've seen him, i thought he might start throwing punches if we didn't let him be ] [ and none of you thought to come with him? make sure he got here safe? i mean, he drank a lot right? ] [ i was going to, but he wouldn't let me - said something about wanting to go alone, and none of us deserving to see you ]

You pause again, and even though the thought of your ex boyfriend drunkenly fighting with his friends is a little funny, even to you - you can't help but feel confused about this entire situation. Why, out of all the people he knew, would Heeseung come to see you, at a time like this?

It's as if Jake is able to read your mind with his perfect timing and as your phone buzzes again you look down at it to see his message.

[ he must really feel safe with you ]

As soon as the message appears you find yourself unconsciously reading it over and over, as if it might change at any minute. Change into something that isn't so difficult to digest, something along the lines of "he wasn't thinking right" or "he was just desperate for a place to crash" - something that doesn't hurt so much because you know, deep down, that it's true, and you want it to be.

But no matter how many times you reread it, the words and the truth stay the same and even as you switch off your phone with trembling hands, it echoes in your mind.

He must really feel safe with you.

With a tired sigh, you slowly shift to get up and head to your own room, but somehow Heeseung's hand finds its way into yours - intertwining your fingers tightly in a way you wish didn't bring you so much comfort. He pulls on it, mumbling something that sounds like "don't go" in a tiny, pleading voice. You're unsure of whether he's actually awake or even knows what he's saying, but you still do as he says, sitting back down and keeping his hand in yours. With your other hand, you brush a couple stray strands of hair away from his forehead allowing you to get a better look at his face - which you're realising you've missed a lot more than you realised.

Maybe tomorrow when he wakes up, you'll get to properly talk about this, about what happened between you two. Or maybe he'll be too embarrassed and will play it all of as a big joke. Or maybe he'll be too ashamed to even talk to you, instead leaving without saying so much as a word.

The possibilities play out in your head one after another, but the only thing you can focus on is the fact that, at least for now, he's here, lying on your couch sleeping peacefully, and you are too, holding his hand. And at least for tonight, the two of you are together and everything is alright.

[insidekatmind]

Trust me-Cho Sang-woo

Wearning:+18,smut

Request: yes!

It was a quiet night in the Squid Game compound. The lights were off, and the sound of the participants' breathing filled the cold air. You were in the dormitory, your eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness, and you saw Cho Sang-woo lying on his cot. His figure was still, but his face couldn't hide a certain unease. He seemed lost in his thoughts, too deep and dark to share with anyone else.

You approached slowly, careful not to make any noise. You knew Sang-woo wasn't the type to open up easily, but in recent days, things between you had changed. There was an unspoken bond between you, a sort of tacit understanding that no one else could see. Maybe because you both carried a weight too heavy on your shoulders.

"Can't sleep?" your voice asked, low and calm, as you stopped near his bed. Sang-woo looked up, his eyes a little tired, but not surprised to see you there.

"I thought I should stop... think more about what I'm doing," he replied, his tone betraying an internal struggle. "But I can't stop now, right?"

You looked at him, aware of what he was trying to say. It wasn't just the game that tormented him, but his choices, his mistakes. Deep down, you weren't all that different from him. You, too, had made choices you never imagined you'd make before all of this started.

"We're not here by accident," you replied, trying to find the right words. "And we can't change everything right away. But... we can decide not to let this fear consume us."

He looked at you for a moment, almost as if he were trying to decipher you and your intentions. Finally, a small, sad smile appeared on his face. "Maybe you're right. But that doesn't mean it's easy."

You lay down on the bed next to him, silent for a while. The sound of the wind crashing against the walls of the dormitory and the slow beat of your heart seemed to be the only sound that connected you both in that moment.

"I won't leave you alone," you said at last, not trying to minimize what you were both experiencing. "Even if we can't change what's happened, we can decide what to do now."

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if the weight of the night was starting to press down on him too. Then, without saying anything, he let the silence speak for both of you. In that moment, you both knew that the game, with all its ruthless rules, could never break the bond you had created.

You sigh softly and lean into him. “It's going to be okay,” you whisper. Sang-woo's body tenses for a moment, and he seems taken aback by the sudden closeness. But he doesn't move away, and when you lean into him, he can even feel your breath on his skin.

For a few seconds, there's just the sound of your breathing in the dark room. Then, he finally relaxes, and a weary smile appears on his face. "You're too optimistic," he says, but without rancor. There's a slight melancholy in his voice, but it's mixed with something else that you can't describe. "You should be more cynical."

You sigh and caress his cheek softly. “Trust me,” you whisper. Your hand on his cheek sends a shiver down his spine, and he swallows thickly, trying to control his reaction to your unexpected gesture. For a moment, he just looks at you, his dark eyes trying to find something in yours.

Slowly, Sang-Woo gently takes your hand into his. “In a place like this, trust is a hard thing to have,” he says, his voice low and almost tired. "Don't you think so?"

You smile softly and move closer to him without leaving any space between you. "Well you're stuck here, it's worth a try, don't you think?" You whisper softly, caressing his hand.

Your proximity is almost overwhelming, and Sang-woo's breath falters almost involuntarily. He can feel the warmth of your body close to his, your breath against his skin, and the soft touch of your fingers against his skin. There's a tension in the air, heavy and electric, and for a moment, it feels like time has slowed down, letting the two of you relish in this unexpected moment."You're too..." he whispers, not quite having the words. "Too kind. Too trusting. Too different from me."

He brings his free hand up to your face, resting it gently against your cheek. The tips of his fingers trace the curve of your cheekbone, his touch light and uncertain. "Why are you so determined to help me?" he asks, his dark eyes fixing on yours, searching for an answer. "Why don't you push me away like everyone else?"

You smile softly “because I see the real you, Sang-woo” you say softly. Sang-woo's breath hitches a little as he listens to your words. There's always been a part of him that he's tried to hide, a part of him that he's ashamed of. To hear you say that you see the real him is somewhat unnerving and terrifying, but it's also strangely liberating.

He brings his hand back down, his fingers gently tracing your jaw. "The real me is not a good person," he replies, almost as a confession. "You shouldn't look for good in me."

You shake your head and smile sweetly at him. “It's not true and you know it too, you just want to hide it so you don't get hurt” you say softly.

Sang-Woo looks at you for a moment and then connects his lips with yours in a kiss. The kiss is unexpected and fierce, and it seems to convey all the mixed emotions that have accumulated between you. It's a desperate and intense kiss, a mixture of anger, fear, and desire. Sang-woo pulls you closer to him, his hand tangling in your hair as he deepens the kiss, almost as if he can't let you go. His body is taut against yours, the heat and weight of him a constant presence against you.

Place your arms around his neck and deepen the kiss. Your arms around his neck only spur him on, and his tongue slides into your mouth, tasting and exploring you with an almost desperate fervor. His hands run over your body, feeling every inch of you, as if he wants to commit every curve to memory. As the kiss continues, the tension between you skyrockets, and the kiss becomes more and more demanding, almost possessive. It's a kiss that says more than words can possibly express, revealing a vulnerability that Sang-woo has tried so hard to hide.

The change in situation is quick and sudden, but it is not unwelcome. Sang-woo quickly takes off your sweatpants and underwear and quickly undresses. His movements seem almost frantic, desperate, as if he is trying to devour you completely. Suddenly you are lifted by Sang-woo, feeling the heat of his body between your legs. He pushes into you, his mouth still on yours, muffling the moans that escape both of your lips. He seems almost overwhelmed by the feeling of his cock being squeezed by your pussy.

As his body moves against yours, it's hard to tell where he ends and you begin. It's a physical and emotional release, a way to channel all the fear and tension that has been building between you for so long.Sang-woo's breathing is ragged, his movements erratic, as he loses himself in the moment, and even in the darkness, you can see the storm of emotions in his eyes. His hands tighten around your hips, keeping you anchored against him, as he kisses you more desperately, as if you are his only.

You moan into the kiss as you cling to him and Sang-woo pushes himself hard into you. Sang-woo is completely lost in the moment, his mind and body consumed by the pleasure of being with you. His fingers dig into your flesh, leaving marks on your skin, and the sounds of his moans fill the small space of the dormitory. He's no longer thinking about the surroundings, about the danger they are in. In that moment, all he wants is you, and judging by the desperate way he is holding and kissing you, that thought is almost scary to you.

Your bodies move together, creating a rhythm more hard, and Sang-woo's pace is relentless. It's as if he is trying to erase all the fear and despair of the games, if only for a few minutes, and lose himself in you. His lips leave yours and go down your neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses and marks.

You moan, closing your eyes in pleasure. “Sang-woo” you moan softly. Sang-woo seems to be spurred on by the sound of his name on your lips, and he bites down on your neck, almost as if he were trying to mark you, to claim you as his own.

His pace doesn't slow down, and he pushes himself deep into you, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. He seems consumed by you, like a man dying of thirst and finally finding an oasis. He kisses you again, his tongue seeking yours in an almost desperate way, as if in that moment, you are his only lifeline. "I need you," he whispers against your mouth, his voice ragged and rough with desire.

“So good” you moan softly opening your eyes and looking at him with desire. “Sang-woo” you moan again. The sound of his name on your lips is like music to Sang-woo's ears. He gazes down at you, his breath catching as he sees the desire in your eyes. The sight seems to both arouse him and break something inside him, and he responds with a growl that is almost animalistic.

He pushes into you again, hard, and his eyes seem to burn into yours. "Say my name again," he demands in a rough, hoarse voice, almost as if he wants to confirm that this is real and not just a dream.

You moan at his violent thrusts and look up at him. “Sang-woo” you moan again. The sound of his name on your lips ignites a fire in Sang-woo that he can't control. It's something primal and powerful, and it seems to break down all the walls he has put up to protect himself.

He doesn't let up, his movements becoming more and more intense with each thrust, as if he's determined to claim you completely. His eyes don't leave yours, and he seems on the verge of losing control, carried away by a tsunami of desire.

You cry out in pleasure and cling to him. Your pussy squeezed his cock tighter and tighter making him grunt. “look how your tight pussy is squeezing my cock” he growls fucking you faster making you scream and you bit his neck to not make too much noise since they were sleeping.

Your body's reaction to his words and actions seems to drive Sang-woo crazy.He seems almost possessed by the moment, as if all the fear and tension he had felt before have suddenly vanished. His body is like a coiled spring, ready to snap at any moment. With each thrust, he loses a little more control, and the sound of his ragged breathing filling the tense silence of the dormitory. The words that escape his lips are almost filthy, but there is a vulnerability in them, a raw need that is impossible to fake. It's as if he can't hold back anymore, as if he is finally showing you the real him, the part of him that he is afraid to show to anyone else.

You cup his face and kiss him softly as you held each other tighter making both of you moan. “I'm coming,” you whisper near his lips. Your words seem to send a jolt through Sang-woo, and he growls low in his throat, his body tensing in response. His eyes find yours, and there is an almost wild look in them, like someone teetering on the edge.

"Come for me," he responds, his voice a low, rough whisper, almost like a ragged prayer. "Show me how much you want it." You moan feeling his thrusts get even stronger and you come while biting his neck to keep from screaming.

The feel of your teeth on his neck, the sound of your moan in his ear, it's all too much for Sang-woo. He can't hold back anymore, and his own climax follows closely behind yours. He hides his face in your neck, his arms holding you tight, as if he was trying to anchor himself to something real and tangible. He is trembling, his body still riding the aftershock of pleasure, and his breaths are ragged and unsteady. You could feel how he had filled you with his cum and it felt great.

Sang-woo clings to you, letting your gentle touch bring him back to reality. He seems almost vulnerable in that moment, his usual cold demeanor crumbling to reveal a man who's been through a lot more than he lets on. Your kisses are soothing, like a balm to his frayed nerves, and he nuzzles against your neck, his breaths gradually slowing down and returning to normal.

He's silent for a few moments, just inhaling your scent and soaking in the moment, as if he's trying to memorize every detail. Then, finally, he speaks, his voice low and a little hoarse."Can you stay here tonight?" he whispers, his arms still holding you close, as if he's afraid you'll leave if he lets go.

You smile and continue to rub his back. You give him a small kiss on the forehead and nod. Sang-woo seems to relax a little at your response, and he shifts a little so that he's lying down on his side, pulling you with him so that you're facing each other.He looks at you silently for a few moments, his expression unreadable, and then, almost hesitantly, his hand comes up to touch your face again, his fingers tracing a gentle path from your temple down to your jawline.

There's an almost contemplative look in his eyes, as if he's trying to commit your face to memory. His touch is gentle, almost reverent, and he seems to be lost in thought.Finally, he breaks the silence. "Are you real?" he asks, his voice soft and a little uncertain. "Or am I just dreaming right now?"

You smile softly and kiss him. "what do you think?" You whisper against his lips answering his question. Sang-woo's lips curve under yours, and he kisses you gently in return, as if he's trying to reassure himself that you're really there.

After a few moments, he breaks the kiss and looks at you again, his eyes dark and intense. "I think you might be a figment of my imagination," he says, half-joking, half-serious. "No one as patient and kind as you could possibly be real."

You giggle softly and hold him close, kissing his face countless times. “you just had to meet the right person” you whisper lovingly. Sang-woo's expression softens at your words, and his arms tighten around you, pulling you closer to his chest. He seems to take comfort in your embrace, and your gentle kisses seem to soothe him.

"I don't deserve you," he whispers back, a hint of guilt in his voice. "In fact, I don't think I deserve to be happy at all."

You gently stroke his hair. “everyone deserves to be happy” you whisper softly as you continue to cuddle him. Sang-woo seems to be struggling with himself, like he's trying to hold back emotions that he's used to keeping bottled up. He buries his face in your hair, and his breathing is a little ragged.

"I've done terrible things," he confesses in a low voice, his body tense against yours. "Things that I can't take back, and that will follow me to the grave." You continue to hold him close and comfort him. “yeah, but you regret it and you want to change and it makes you a better person” you say lovingly.

Sang-woo seems to absorb your words like a sponge, and he clings to you like a drowning man grasping for a lifeline. He seems so vulnerable in that moment, so different from his usual stern and cold demeanor."I don't know whether I can change," he whispers, his voice filled with self-doubt. "Sometimes I think I'm too far gone, that I've gone past the point of no return."

“I'll help you, you're not alone in this” you say softly, stroking his hair. Sang-woo's body seems to sag against yours, like a puppet whose strings have been cut. He seems to be grappling with a host of emotions, a tangle of guilt, shame, and uncertainty.

But amidst those feelings, there's a hint of hope, like a ray of sunshine breaking through a storm cloud.

[cheolieji]

Seungcheol

warning: Smut,unprotected sex, breeding kink and idk what else im too lazy

A/N: This is in no way to say mingyu acts like this. it's just part of the fiction

not proofread

I'm lowkey bad at writing smut🫢

feel free to send requests!

check [17] (pink highlighted) to see my yes and no's

seungcheol is the type of guy to walk on the street side of the sidewalk

seungcheol is the protective boyfriend everyone wishes for

the perfect and clingy boyfriend

you wanna wear a short dress? go ahead, he can fight

a guy just looks at you the wrong way, his fist is tightened, his jaw is clenched, and his death glare... goddd if looks could kill

you love it when he's protective over you

but something happened that made you think, is he a little too protective?

now you're sitting in his living room beside him, hands rubbing against each other, nervous to say it

seungcheol, of course, notices this. "You okay hun?" "Yeah! why wouldn't i be?" weird... but he just nodded his head, turning his attention back to the show playing. the sound of tv playing in the background mixing with your thoughts, should you really ask him about something so little that could turn into a heated argument?

"Hey-" "babe-" "Yeah? you say it first"

"no its just uhm. i" his eyebrows raised in confusion. What are you trying to tell him?

"Okay. will you promise not to get mad?" "Of course baby, why would i get mad at you?

"You know how we went to the kims gathering?" he just nods "yeah and how mingyu kept looking at me and stuff?" "Where are we going with this" his eyebrows still raised

"Nothing like that. It's just the way you were glaring at him. felt a little.... i don't know.. rudee? I'm sure he didn't mean it like that. " "Ah, that? i know him, babe he doesn't have good intentions. when he looks at someone like that, it means he wants something out of them." he pauses for a second, "and plus, you're mine..."

you blushed in your seat

"okay good i guess... i thought you were being a little too protective"

"Hey. It's good to be protective over what's mine!" he giggles while hugging you and placing you on his lap. and you're straddling him now. Suddenly, the air shifts

noticing this, seungcheol pulls you in closer before pressing a kiss on your lips. It starts to turn into a makeout session with you grinding on him while heavy breathing leave your mouths

"Can i?" As he's looking down at your pants, you nodded. he takes your pants along with his off. "No panties? want me to fuck you that bad? huh?" You nod again, eyebrows furrowed. "Say it, baby, i wanna hear you" "yes please cheol just fuck me, please"

he teases your opening with his dick before slowly entering your already wet cunt. shit did he get bigger?

"You feel so good, baby, just for me." Now he's fully inside you. He waited a bit for you to get used to his size

he's balls deep inside you, and you're a moaning mess, but he's looking at you like you're the prettiest thing in the world

he's hitting all the right spot "ah- cheol please" your gummy walls wrapped around his thick cock feels like heaven, for the both of you

he's leaving hickeys all over your neck as you're riding him like there's no tomorrow

bouncing on his dick as you're moaning his name loudly. it's like music to his ears

you feel the familiar pit in your stomach "fuck cheol im gonna cum" he lets out a loud grunt before cumming inside you "fuck ill fill you with my babies"

" gonna make you forget about that fucker" he continues thrusting inside you until you reached your high before softly kissing you

you let out a loud moan before falling on his shoulder. "You know, if you wanna put babies inside me, we should probably do more." "you wanna move it to the bedroom?" he carries you to the bedroom for a night of pleasure

[earlycuntsets]

tech reviews from ray toro on mychemicalromance.com 2009

"Jailbreak your shit.

Bob, I feel your iPhone pain. Ever since my iPhone threw itself into the toilet, it hasn't been the same. Missed calls, no service, crap battery life, the list of muck-ups goes on.

I've been wanting to go to the Apple store to try and exchange my suicidal phone, but knew i'd be greeted by the same smugness and uppity attitude you dealt with. Every time I step foot in that store, I feel like they're doing me a favor selling me their plain aluminum products and their white earbuds. I think I bought a pair of earbuds, and inside the package was an extra pair of them crap buds.

Angry at the lack of basic functions on the iPhone, and wanted to stick it back to the man, so I did the only thing a sane man would do...I jailbroke the thing.

For those who don't know what this is, basically you're "freeing" your phone from Jobs' shackles. Now I can copy and paste, personalize the theme on my phone, record movies, answer texts without constantly having to switch programs, search my emails, run programs in the background, send pictures in texts, quickly change settings without going through a million menus, play NES games, save Youtube videos, the list goes on. The crowning jewel is when I used my cell connection on the phone to download an e-book before a flight.

This shit is fun, and now I feel the iPhone lives up to it's pricetag. Do a search for quickpwn to get started, install winterboard, backgrounder, pdanet, sbssettings, and whatever else catches your eye. Most of all, enjoy your new found freedom."

"Ray's favorite iPhone apps

Whether you're a Blackberry man or iPhone (wo)man, you gotta admit the App store is pretty rad. I've been using the iPhone for a good while now, and have come to rely on a few apps that make my daily life easier, keep me busy while driving (yeah I know its illegal, sue me), and suck up any remaining free time I might have left in a day. Here's a short list of stuff you should check out if you're so inclined...

1. Pocketmoney ($9.99) Not only does the app's icon make me think of delicious pork bacon, it also helps to keep your money straight. You can set up checking and savings account, and keep a running ledger of your spending so you don't have any more of those all-too familiar, embarrassing moments where you're trying to buy a bag of cheetos and a Quik but don't have any loot left on your card. Yeah, I know what you're probably thinking right now. "I have a perfectly good paper register the bank gave me when I signed up for my checking account, and that shit cost me $0.00." To that I say, "But your register doesn't have a sick ass pig icon!"

2. NetNewsWire (The world is going to end soon FREE as fuck!) This program is great! You know when you're having an important conversation with your wife about what you're making for dinner that week, and she's trying to write out a shopping list, and all you can think about is the latest post on Gizmodo detailing what GHZ the new intel iCore7 processor tops out at after overclocking with Nitroglycerin? Yeah, that happens to me too...Well now instead of just thinking about it, you can take out your iPhone in mid-conversation, pissing off your wife in the process, and read all the latest RSS feeds that you can stand. It even works for our site too! Huzzah!

3. Super Monkey Ball (I paid $9.99 for this??? I'm a sucker) Ok, I bought this because it was the #1 app for weeks straight. It had to be good right??? RIGHT? Well its not. I mean it has good graphics, but the controls suck. They really, really suck. Driving your dad's Nova after ingesting 10 beers at the college kegger, trying to balance a tall glass of Sunny D on your head while headbanging to Stone Cold Crazy is exponentially easier than controlling this mess. After maybe 5 tries playing the game proper, I decided it'd be much more fun to send Baby and Gongon repeatedly and utterly to their death. I hate this game. But it sure is a great time waster...

And there you have it. Three essential iPhone apps! Have fun, be safe, and Happy Thanksgiving!"

02/25/2009 12:39pm mychemicalromance.com 2009

[galaxiasgreen]

🍺🖤This Hell We Create

Sebastian x F!Muggle!Reader with eventual smut, minor Garrinis [E-Rated, 5.6k words]

"Just... be careful." He takes your hand, bowing to kiss the fingers like delicate embers in a breeze. "Now, bar girl," he murmurs, "where's the fun in that?"

Harlow prepares to take his revenge. Sebastian has a plan to protect you.

[MASTERLIST][FIRST][PREV][LAST] [read on AO3, read on Wattpad]

TW: coarse language, blood/ injury, gendered language, explicit smut MDNI (dom!Seb, dirty talk, wall sex, porn with feelings, public sex, cunnilingus, very slight breeding kink), and one threat of sexual assault (not made by Sebastian or the bar girl). This occurs in Harlow's paragraph of dialogue shortly after he is reintroduced, which you can skip over if you'd prefer. Please take care. <3

6. worth the risk

Sebastian's urges never seem fully satiated, but you're happy to try. Minutes may pass, or hours. You indulge the time making love, passionately, raggedly, between bouts of uncontrollable laughter or breathless, all-consuming kisses. His smell becomes part of the place, part of you. Sometimes you sleep for a little while only to wake and start all over again, with hands that already know the right places to tease.

It must be three o'clock when you next stir. In the indigo bloom of darkness, Sebastian is limned by the hazy moon rays that wander through the curtain parting. Light makes his back muscles cleave sharply down his body, burnished with ink. Even obscured, he is beautiful. You pull up slightly, rousing him – he half-turns, clasping your hairbrush.

"What are you doing with that?"

He puts it down. "Thought I'd comb my hair a little."

"I like it mussed."

"Especially when you muss it?" He lets out a low chuckle. "Sleep, love."

"Only if you join me."

Sebastian doesn't care that your breath smells bad and there's crust in your eyes. He slips in beside you, enveloping you with that broad, strong warmth that draws you into his protection. It's safe here. Nothing can hurt you. He kisses your brow, and it feels like music, heart beating a slow, steady rhythm that lulls you to sleep as easy as the clouds drift lazily across the sky.

"Shall I tell you a secret?" he asks when you're next awake.

You smirk and roll into him. "Go on, then."

"You know Ominis is my best friend? His last name's not actually Gaunt." His eyes twinkle. "It's Weasley."

"That's your secret? That he's married to Garreth's sister?" you scoff. "Bit odd for a man to take his wife's surname, but hardly worth hiding, is it?"

"He's not married to Garreth's sister."

"Oh? He's adopted?"

"Wrong again. Ominis and Garreth, they're..."

"... Work partners."

"No... it's just the two of them living together, so they're..."

"Best friends? And without you. Must be a blow to your ego."

"God, bar girl." He laughs. "They're fucking."

You jerk backwards. "What?"

"More precisely they're married, but I guess that also means they're fucking."

You don't know how to react. "Two men, married?"

"That's a better secret, isn't it?" He winks. "Keep an open mind."

You're not really sure what to do with this information, but the pieces rearrange in your head. That explains their relationship a little better, not of boss and underling, but of lovers hiding beneath a veil of secrets. At least you can relate to that.

"Should I be worried they'll try to poach you from me?"

"Ominis would rather eat rocks," Sebastian says, laughing. "Garreth... wouldn't surprise me if he tried. I'm very desirable, after all."

You snort. "Tell me something about you, then. Something no one else knows."

"Now that's a tougher order." His hands settle in your hair and he plays with it gently, sending sparks down your scalp. "How mysterious do you think I am?"

"If you could bury your secrets at the bottom of the ocean, you would."

"Touché." He draws his fingers up, massaging your head. "All right, I will confess something... I bite my nails."

"That's why they look so bad."

"And I have a terrible addiction to looking at myself in the mirror."

"Sebastian."

"It's painful to be this handsome, bar girl."

"You're certainly a pain." You drag your fingers down his chest, letting each bristle of hair be the spark that keeps you alight. "I'm serious. Or do you really think you're an open book?"

"Not at all." His voice comes out gravelled but meek. "Are my secrets worth knowing?"

"You are worth knowing. Every piece of you."

You snuggle into him to emphasise this truth. I am safe, the motion says. I will guard your heart as you have guarded mine. After a moment, he slowly traces each vertebrae of your spine, one by one by one like a bead of liquid silver trickling down a stairwell. On a cold winter's night, it couldn't be any more comforting a touch. Perfect.

"I regret what I did for the wrong reason."

By the small of your back, he pauses and meets your eye, waiting, urging for a sign to continue. This path is fretful and dangerous, another way it could upend your perception of him. But very little could, and you place a kiss on his chin in solidarity.

"It's the worst part of me." He continues it quietly, like distant rain. "Every day in prison I thought about my uncle. How would I do it differently? How could I help my sister without dooming us all? The truth is... that fifteen year old boy didn't know any better. He didn't have a support network. He didn't feel like he could trust the teachers. His best friends were against his ideas from the start. You know that feeling that makes your entire body recoil? When your disgust is so resonant you feel it in your bones, and you'll do mental somersaults to think of anything else? I thought it was remorse.

"But I realised after confronting it... I didn't regret his death. I regretted what it did to my soul. I regretted the decisions that led me to her death, and drinking. I regretted hurting her and my friends."

"You regret getting caught."

"Yes." He's barely audible now. "It took a long time for Anne to come to terms with not only what I did, but why. I killed him for her."

You cup his cheek, steadying the demons that manifest like embers in ash.

"And look how far you've come since then. You got through prison. You're getting better. You've made new, lasting connections. She's looking down on you with a smile."

Instead he smirks. "Hope not. That means she's seen my dick." But there's sadness there, and worry and hesitation and pleading and all the things that remind you of the man behind the façade. "I felt relief, not regret, that he was dead. That I gave her a chance to live. Does that... am I a selfish monster?"

You wrap your arms around him.

"Selfish, yes, but that doesn't make you a monster, Sebastian," you say, listening to his heartbeat with ease. "That makes you human."

By sunrise he hasn't thought of a plan, but when his cock thrusts into you, and your face thrusts into the pillow, you can't bring yourself to worry. He empties over your bed several times and takes measures to make sure you're equally pleasured too, that by the time you clean yourselves up for the morning you're already tired.

You make it in time to intercept your mother from tottering right over the bannister.

"It's all right," you say to him, when you eventually coax her to the armchair. "If you need to be somewhere else—"

"No," he says, with that half-smile that is yours. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

A natural charmer and entertainer, he helps clean, feed and move your parents to the sun room. By some miracle they actually recognise him too, the man who vanishes in the fireplace – you want to ask more about that but suspect Sebastian will give answers so cryptic they couldn't solve a fiendish crossword – and with his help you finish the morning's work in half the time. Ada arrives to watch them and says nothing of Sebastian's presence, agreeing without words to keep one more secret sealed on her lips.

The pub opens for the breakfast rush without any issue out of the ordinary. You swab countertops. Serve customers. Take coin in your pocket and snags on the chin. Sebastian remains through it all, the fallen guardian angel ever present and watchful, and though he resists as long as he can, it's not even twelve before he's halfway into a stout, foam coating his lips in a golden froth. You're tempted to lick it off.

The day is almost perfectly normal. Almost.

Because there is one thought that keeps you twitchy and addled. One thing that makes your hair stand on end, hyper-vigilant of every noise and new face. Harlow's retaliation may not be immediate. It may not even be next week. But he will come – and you have no idea when.

So each night, Sebastian stays to protect you.

It becomes as easy as breathing to fall asleep in his arms, sometimes after riotous love-making or kisses that leave you breathless, sometimes after enjoying one another's company in the small ways, words as loud as ghosts and touches as searing as the moon in the cloudless sky. You refuse to relax at the start, and try to remember what could happen the moment you let your guard down, but with Sebastian lulling you to sleep with a story, a crooked grin or the simple safety of his embrace, the promise is a difficult one to keep.

It was only a week ago, but Harlow becomes as distant a memory as a decade.

And that comfort is dangerous.

You're in the beer cellar below, hunting for the rye whisky, when Sebastian wanders down to find you. Without the peek of natural sunlight you could fool yourself into thinking it's night, the thicket of kegs set gently aglow by gas lamps on the wall.

"Thought you might want my help." His brow dances. "Or my muscle. Whichever suits."

"I'm just debating whether it's worth bringing up another rye. We're low and Old Dodder could neck it solo." You turn to him fully. "You haven't heard anything?"

"No."

"It's been a week. No one's heard from him even once?" You tap your nails on the keg's rim. "Why? What's he doing?"

"How'd you know there hasn't been hundreds of attacks I've valiantly fought off?" You fix him a look, which only broadens his smile. "We're keeping an eye out, I promise. Don't stress."

"In this line of work that's impossible. There's about ten different things I have to manage, and that's without a criminal gang out for my head."

His smile turns a little smug, and he prowls closer, a distinctive glimmer in his eye. "Then let me help?"

"Oh yeah? Sebastian Sallow, bar boy? I'd fancy watching you hold a tray of beers without spilling a drop. Or taking a cheeky sip."

"I was thinking more the stress, love."

He tucks you between a cluster of kegs and himself. Much taller and broader, Sebastian's scent overwhelms all others, richly dark musk, leather, sweat, oak, stout. His thumbs find the small of your waist, pressing you inwards, trapping you.

"What did you have in mind?" you ask demurely.

His kiss captures you mid-breath, and you sink into him, taken by his strength and dominance. You've kissed him tens, hundreds of times now, and it never feels any less euphoric. He tastes of malt and gold, caramel and power, and with his lips meandering across your cheeks and down your jaw, then enthusiastically across your throat with enough bite to sting pleasantly, it's hard not to demand he fuck you then and there.

"Sebastian—"

"Sssshhh." He caresses your lips. "No more stress."

The kisses set fire to your core as he trails down the front of your apron, down to your tapered waist and the volume of your skirts until he's on his knees before you. Anticipation makes your sex throb, and when his hands slip under the layers, drawing it above his head, you let out a little bleat of surprise.

"T-This is a cellar!"

"Then you'd better keep quiet, love."

Without warning he buries his face between your legs, and you're embarrassed, secretly pleased, to realise how wet the bloomers cling to you with excitement. He tugs on the string holding them in place to reach your entrance, swollen after a pathetically minimal amount of stimulation. Sebastian just has that way – a few words, a touch, a smile, and you unravel. His nose caresses your clit, and you let out a gasp.

"You smell delicious," he murmurs into the folds, flowering open at the vibration. "Spread yourself for me."

A wet, warm tongue slides across you, and you grab the keg to anchor yourself, so turned on you widen your stance and roll your hips forward to give him better access. He chuckles, another vibration, and continues to lick the ache, slow, leisurely, each lap so discreet in reality but loud and slick to you.

"Wider," he demands softly. "Let me taste more of you."

Propriety crumbling, you inch your legs outwards, allowing Sebastian easier access.

"T-This is too risky—"

The trap door flies open, filling the cellar with sunlight. You yank your arms to your sides at once. Sebastian freezes, tongue suspended on your clit – but not retreating.

"There you are!" Bonny heads down a few steps – she tilts her head. "What you doin' in there, miss?"

Thank God there's a bunch of barrels in the way. "S-Stock count."

"Cook did that this morning?"

Shit. "I know, I'm just—"

His tongue grazes deeper over your entrance. You almost moan. Bastard. Instead, you physically wrench your facial muscles back into place.

"Bein' thorough?" offers Bonny.

Another lash of his tongue, this time playing with the rim.

"Very," he whispers.

You knee him gently but he just licks again. Fuck. It's harder and harder to look calm, harder to control the urge to sink your fingers into the curls and ride his fucking face.

"T-Thorough, yes," you manage. "I'll be out in a min."

She makes to step forwards. "Want any help?"

"No! I mean, no, thank you." You can't focus. Bonny's there but in your mind's eye you can only see Sebastian between your legs, working you to climax. "Promise I won't be long."

His pace quickens, sliding back forth back forth. You nudge him again, which only makes his tongue more eager. The world teeters.

"Aw'right, well," says Bonny, "I'll tell the bloke with the walking stick to wait at the bar then? He's looking for your man but I can't seem to find him."

Sebastian coils his arms around your thighs, adjusting the position as his tongue slips easily inside you.

"Yes!" you cry, then cough. "Yes, that would— be— great."

Bonny makes a face but shrugs and swings the door shut behind her, leaving you in dusky silence again.

"You arsehole—"

He doesn't let you finish, using his whole mouth now to stimulate your clit and entrance in tandem. Burying in and out, across and up, kissing and sucking. Your head cranes backwards, your hands fist your skirt to channel the frustration, the desire. Fuck, it feels amazing. A guttural moan escapes your mouth but doesn't even sound like your own, so lost in the thrill – and when Sebastian licks and licks and licks without stopping, you're quickly arcing your back and bucking against his mouth until the release comes swift and fast, pulsing sloppily over his face.

It takes a few seconds to regain some measure of poise. Sebastian drops the skirt and reveals himself grinning widely and sticky with cum.

"You're incorrigible."

"And you're welcome."

"We could've been caught."

He thumbs his face and licks it off, without taking his eyes off you. "You enjoy the risk."

"I'm at risk of being caught and destroying my reputation. You're hiding under my skirts."

He stands and slips your chin into his grasp, tilting it up to ghost his lips.

"Careful, love. I might like to show you how brazen I can be."

One step closer pins you between the wall and him. His breath susurrates as he dips down to your ear.

"I'd fuck you on that counter if you'd let me."

The image of you sprawled out for all to see, naked and begging and at the mercy of his pleasure, sends heat up unspooling through your core again, and a coy glance downwards shows that same desire reflected in his physical form.

"Ominis is waiting for you."

"Hm." He grasps your arse tightly and hoists you to the wall, pressing his bulge between your legs. "Let him wait."

With two firm tugs you undo his breeches, and Sebastian claims your mouth, tongue still salty and sweet with your juices. He roughly grinds forwards, pulsing a new wave of pleasure down your navel, satisfying of the feel of his hard, eager cock. One stroke elicits a mid-kiss groan down your throat, and when you reach to grasp him, please him, the wetness that quickly blooms from the head drives your wants mad.

The nights are tender and loving, but today, with the pub hall only upstairs, Sebastian buries the tip, then the entirety of him, inside you in a quick, flush motion. You feel full yet famished still. Legs curled around him and arms steady, you become a vessel for his pleasure as he ruts into you so hard the floorboards groan. Someone could hear you – you're sure of it. If Bonny or anyone had another question or thought to check on their boss, they would get treated to a sight of Sebastian's cock between your legs, yet you take each thrust willingly and frantically, rocking to his rhythm in desperation to find a new release. He's right, you enjoy the risk. You enjoy him. Clinging to his back, you relish his hard muscles bearing your weight, and dig your nails into his shirt and flesh beneath.

He peels free as he adjusts position, gripping your thighs like vice, and his mouth finds the swell between your neck and collarbone. The sensations tip you closer and closer. Your body doesn't just want to orgasm, it needs to. You have to let go. A rasping moan bleats from your lips, broken by ragged pants.

"Keep quiet, love," he commands. "Only I get to hear you cum."

Your spine hits the wall with each thrust. The fire builds until its pleading, beseeching for release, and with one final desperate movement you clench around his cock and freely orgasm, biting your lip to curb the scream that surges up your throat. Divine pleasure wracks every bone.

"S-Sebastian..."

His name blurted like that makes his grip tighten. He pants raggedly, pumps with no rhythm, eyes fluttering upwards and nails biting, and when he finally pulls out to twist away before his release spurts, his face contorts with pleasure, almost pain, that he can't cum inside you, leave you dripping and marked as his as you work.

Knees too week to stand, you slump to the floor, spent.

"You really... are incorrigible..."

He lets out a low chuckle and runs a hand through his sweaty curls.

"But you love it."

You do.

He leans over and slips a hand around your waist, pulling you up to his chest. For a long moment, as your hearts climb down from the high together, neither of you say anything. Despite his past, his secrets, his vices, Sebastian has become the one place where you can truly be yourself. There are no worries or impossible expectations, no societal burdens, no weight nor responsibility. No stress. He is the safety net, the impenetrable monument, the sun that whispers to the sprout to thrive, and if Heaven exists, it's this beautiful connection, the golden threads that bind you together with something far greater than love.

Adventure, freedom, the new and unexpected but never unwelcome. Sebastian is all those things and more.

"I don't want to see what the brute wants," he murmurs. "I'd rather stay here with you forever."

Your focus tugs back to those brilliant coffee eyes.

"Just for now will be enough."

To divert suspicions, you go back to the main hall first.

Tidying yourself up is harder than it sounds, with the flush of sex fresh on your face. With a final kiss, Sebastian promises to clean up as you head up out the stock room and into the hall. Ominis is distinctive immediately by his unfittingly taut posture, state of overdress and cane slotted tightly into his palm, but he lifts his chin as you approach, like he can scent you coming.

Hopefully not. He might mistake you for his friend.

"Good afternoon, madam," he greets cordially, setting his teacup down. "Sebastian is close by, I presume."

Sebastian saunters out next, and it seems to take all his willpower not to touch you. His easy smile capsizes from post-coital bliss to pre-disaster despair.

"Please tell me you're here to buy me a drink and nothing else?"

"I have news," he says. "On Harlow."

"Then out with it," you demand. "What do you know?"

"It's best I discuss the matter with Sebastian privately."

"Why? They're going to come here, ain't they?"

He makes to retort, but Sebastian cuts in. "She's right, Ominis. Let's both hear it."

Ominis purses his lips in hesitation, but stands. "Very well. I have... informants who have received word that he intends to strike the premises with a dozen of his men tonight."

Your heart leaps into your throat. "What? Tonight? Then why are you here? Go stop him!"

Ominis is unrelentingly stoic. "Intent is not a crime, and unfortunately Harlow has a large enough following that means we must catch him in the act to arrest him. Any premature move could give away the element of surprise. He underestimated you last time, so I imagine he will bring full..." he rolls his lips, "firepower tonight."

"I have a plan, don't worry," Sebastian adds at your horror. "Been cooking it some time."

"And you didn't think to share it with me?" you snap.

"It's no longer safe for you here," Ominis says coolly. "You'll need to make accommodations elsewhere for the time being."

"And what about my pub?"

"Let us handle it."

"I'm hearing a lot of don't worry about it and not enough telling me what you plan to do."

"That's all I can share. Sebastian," he says abruptly, "we'll discuss more later, once I have logistics in place."

He glides away like he hasn't just upended your entire world. It's one thing to target you, another entirely to target this place. You live here, work here, grew up here, met Sebastian here. It can't all end in ruin.

"Just for tonight, lay low at my place." Sebastian fishes in his pocket and places a warm metal key into your palms. "Garreth will be more than happy to watch your parents, he has a spare room, he's very discreet and he adores old people."

You don't even have the brain power to fathom how Sebastian could organise that in one afternoon. "I won't cower."

"Not cowering. All you have to do—"

"No." You thrust the key back into his hand. "This time you tell me what's going on. It's not a pig-headed customer or a carriage to the seaside, Sebastian. This place is my life."

"I know, and I would never do anything to jeopardise it."

"So why can't you tell me your plan?"

"Because I don't want you to worry about me, more than you already will." He steps closer, gets quieter. "Everything will work out, but for that to happen, I need to know you're safe and far away. I can't... I can't risk you getting hurt. I can't work to protect this place knowing you're in danger."

"You're on leave," you whisper. "I don't want you getting hurt."

"I won't." He puts the key back and cups your hands over it. "I know it's hard for you, but—"

"Trust you?"

"Now you're getting it." His hands slip away – you miss the warmth keenly. "It'll be over by morning, I promise."

This side of him, confident and self-assured and doubtless everything will be okay, draws you in like seduction. This isn't the first time you've put your faith in his hands, but now it kindles a feeling of helplessness in your belly. He's never let you down before and has no reason to now – but still, you can't help feel pushed over your limit.

There's more at stake this time. Your life and your parents' lives are more important, yes, but it feels... wrong, to abandon your home when it needs you most.

"All right," you back down, uneasy but left without options. "Just... be careful."

He takes your hand, bowing to kiss the fingers like delicate embers in a breeze.

"Now, bar girl," he murmurs, "where's the fun in that?"

The door opens before the third swing of the knocker.

"Brilliant timing!" Garreth greets, ushering you inside. "Just tucked your parents into bed!"

It took a forty minute walk to reach the Weasley townhouse on the west side of the city. You've forgone wondering the hows and whys of Sebastian's machinations, so it doesn't surprise you to find your parents in the spare bedroom, sitting up and nattering about green flames. The place is surprisingly plain, with a sparse number of portrait photographs on an empty oak shelf, a navy armchair that clashes with red wallpaper and a cuckoo clock, except instead of chiming on the hour, it chimes at seven minutes past.

"Cup of tea?" asks Garreth. "It'll be good for the nerves, and not to brag, but I'm very good at hand-brewing."

"No, thank you. Is Mr Gaunt here?"

"Why would he be here?" he blurts. "He doesn't live here, or anything. He's just my colleague. At work. Working. Yeah. He and Sebastian are already on the case."

You stew on it as you ensure your parents are settled and comfortable. It's already past nine and the pub closed early, and if Ominis' intel is correct, Harlow's gang will be storming the place in a few hours. He wouldn't hesitate to deliver a killing blow; Sebastian would, despite his blood-stained past. What if, in granting mercy, he gets badly hurt or killed?

"What about Kath?" you ask, and Garreth stiffens. "Does she know?"

"Errrrr." He laughs nervously. "Don't be mad..."

"What, Garreth?"

"They're not exactly doing this... by the book..." He holds up his hands. "They won't be able to stop Harlow any other way. And trust me, even when Seb's off his tits he's too competent to let shit go awry."

"So it's just him and Ominis? Against Harlow's entire gang?" You glare at him. "What exactly is this plan?"

Garreth goes a little pale. "They're going to use bait to lure him into a trap they've set. That's all."

"Bait?" you snap. "What bait?"

"It'll be fine, I promise! Over by one, Seb told me. He's that confident."

Time seems to distend. Sebastian was right – you are worrying, so much it gnaws your insides. They're outnumbered and outmanned and assuming Harlow will be idiot enough to fall into whatever this trap is they've set, presumably at your pub's expense.

"Where's that handsome, tattooed young man, hmm?"

You spin to your father, wrenched from the conversation. "What?"

"Oh, if I were fifty years younger, sweetheart," your mother chimes, relaxing next to him, "I'd be all over him!"

You don't know whether to laugh or cry. Of course they remember him, out of everyone they've ever met. "He's busy right now."

"Not without another woman, I hope?"

"No, Mama."

"What a lucky chap he is to have you at his side. Not everyone gets that, you know." Your mother turns to face your father with a smile. "The adventures we had... they were always worth the risk."

Adventure, and freedom, and the new and unexpected but never unwelcome... a painful ache goes through you. Wasn't that something you learnt when you were with Sebastian? Living, rather than surviving? Taking the risk rather than hiding away?

Downstairs, you grab your things as Garreth opens the front door.

"You can stay, if you want," he says, leaning against the doorway. "It'll be a tight squeeze, but I can whip up a bed for you in the living room."

Sleep will be hard enough at Sebastian's place. "Thanks, but I'll be all right. You'll call if there's any issues?"

"Don't worry, I'm used to entertaining old people. If they can't sleep I can show them some magic! Er, by that I mean coin tricks and pulling my thumb off, of course." He laughs awkwardly. "Keep out of trouble tonight?"

You don't make that promise.

It's lonely in Sebastian's place without him.

To busy yourself, you tidy. Charming as the owner is, he's a terrible mess, and his attempts to clean since you were last here only mean the floor is free of empty bottles. You scrub the kitchen countertop, hoping each stain that peels away will relieve the anxiety storming through your gut.

It doesn't.

Even when you wash and dress and climb into his bed, breathing his familiar scent, your feet feel like they're filled with lightning, charged and restless and twitchy and taut. The clock ticks on Sebastian's wall. The pendulum swings. It passes midnight, then one, and you hear no sign, nothing that relieves you of this nightmarish cycle of waiting, hoping, praying, pleading.

Wait. Hope. Pray. Plead.

The later it gets, the worse your thoughts become. Harlow's grin. The place is flames. Sebastian struck down. Sebastian unmoving...

Everything you love is there. The building, the memories... him. If things go wrong, not only will you lose the place, but the person, too. He said to trust him – and you do, so much your soul aches at the thought of lying here, doing nothing, while he risks his life for you.

Maybe it's time to risk your life for him. Just this once. Just for love.

Without another breath, you're out of bed, dressing and snatching your coat and shoving your feet into boots. Fuck it. The most harm you can do is swing a punch with whatever muscle you've developed moving furniture and pouring beer, but if Sebastian's in trouble and there's any way you can help, even if it means acting as bait yourself, you'll seize it.

Outside, it doesn't take long to grasp your bearings, as the river cuts seamlessly through the city centre, but it's a bit of a walk, and the dark is no place for a lone woman. You keep to brightly lit areas and skirt strangers in wide arcs, channelling that fear into a determined pace.

When you near Ye Olde Hen House, a sharpness tickles the air.

It's not strong at first, but as you get closer the smell thickens and dries your tongue. Smoke. It tastes like Guy Fawkes' Night, fireworks and bonfires and effigies charred to cinders. You jog, then sprint, the last two streets until you can see the plume rising from the source.

In another life, the sight would be biblically divine. Devour the old to make way for the new. Sometimes you wished it, when the pipes burst or the carpet wore away or the damp crept through a leak in the ceiling, but watching the old building now, with its windows shattered and the great orange tongues churning through the wood like claws through flesh and bone, shoots an intense pang of grief up your chest. The place may be old, tired and decrepit, but it's yours.

This is dangerous. You shouldn't go further. But the thought of Sebastian burning within compels you to race forwards, faster than your limbs have ever taken you before. There's nothing you can do to save the place now, but if he dies as you stand here and watch, there wouldn't be a lifetime long enough to atone.

"Sebastian!" you screech. "Sebastian!"

Just as you come upon the entrance, the flames recede. You skid to a halt. Someone is inside. Him? Or Harlow? You hit the great double-door, expecting resistance – but the wood is soggy and you burst into the main hall, still aflame and wrecked so completely it's almost unrecognisable.

Harlow has his back to you, and the grief doesn't have time to bloom.

His clothes are singed, he's leaning heavily to one side and thick blood weeps from numerous injuries, including an enormous gash down the length of his back. Trembling and red with rage, he stands opposite a figure too obscured by both cloak and smoke to make out clearly.

"And after you're dead, I'll come for your whore. Tie her up, make her scream. Maybe find out what you find so sweet about her Muggle cunt." He bellows a hysterical laugh and raises something wooden in his hand. "Save a seat in hell for me."

No. You seize the first thing you can find: the cast-iron pan hanging on the rack. The handle makes your skin sizzle, but you clamp down on the agony – and jab the curve right into Harlow's exposed wound.

The screech he lets out could curdle blood, and he drops to his knees. You reel back. He only just turns around – eyes going wide – before you whack it against his head, and his body thumps to the ground, unconscious. Maybe dead. You drop the pan, palms red and raw and quivering with pain, and look over.

The figure steps back – but it's not Sebastian.

You snatch the details between the smoke. Familiarly curved, with fingers that sing of hardship, hair escaping its loose bundle and shoulders like the physical weight of responsibility has sheared them down to a perpetual slant, it's a body you know both intimately and don't understand, and love or despise depending on moods as errant as the wind. The person darts across the floor to the stock room for the back entrance, flicking the barest second of attention your way.

With eyes matching your own.

It's impossible. Impossible. How could someone wear every flaw on your skin, every follicle and pore, every old scar and callous like a garment to be discarded when they saw fit? The lookalike scampers away, and your feet jerk you forwards in chase, through the ruined doorway to the back alley.

You have to know. You have to.

"Wait!" you choke out. "Who are—?"

But when you turn the corner, the doppelgänger is gone.

Please like, share or reblog if you enjoyed <3

[MASTERLIST][FIRST][PREV][LAST to come soon <3]

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[Divider credit]

[chillentertainer]

thinkin' abt a little john wick conclave au where thomas lawrence is an aging assassin who keeps trying to retire but then is forcibly brought back for "one last hit" (first said to him half a dozen hits ago). lawrence is tired and depressed and he might be really good at his job (and that might be the only thing he's good at) but that Saddens him. because is his only purpose in life to be a Butcher?

not to mention he just recovered from prostate cancer and is now thinking a lot about the afterlife and god and sin etc etc. he's sure he's destined for hell no matter what he does now. is there even any point in changing?

one day he's in rome, surrounded by all these churches. and he enters one. he goes into a confession booth. every week, he confesses minor sins that turn into lovely but frivolous discussions with the anonymous priest, who lawrence can only identify through his gentle voice and bright, easily elicited laugh that reminds lawrence of morning birdsongs. over the weeks, this blossoms into a strange kind of friendship.

finally during a discussion about their favorite kinds of tea, lawrence interrupts the priest's recommendation of kahwah, which they had so often in their time in kabul, and was so delicious, and they just can't find anything close to what they had here, isn't that a shame, and i beg your pardon, what??

i kill people, lawrence repeats. all the time. i want to stop but i can't. i want to retire but they won't let me. i'm afraid being a murderer is how i spent most of my life, and i'm afraid it's how i'll spend the rest of my years, too. i'm the lowliest of sinners. i'm the evil that should be wiped clean from the earth. if god cast me down into the fires of hell for eternity, again and again, i would gladly welcome it.

and there is a heavy silence during which lawrence tenses, waiting for a horrified outburst or some rage.

but the priest says, with infinite compassion in his tone, you are still here on earth with us. and so god, in his mercy, has given you time to beg forgiveness and find redemption. make amends, however you can. take no more life, not for any reason. you say you want to stop. then stop. i believe you have good in your heart. you would not have come here if you did not.

thomas says, yes, yes i will, i swear on His name. i'm sorry for having wasted all your time these past weeks, i should not have done so.

and finally he says, goodbye. because there's no point in returning and attempting to continue this friendship, not when the priest must be so disgusted and would want nothing to do with lawrence any longer.

the priest says nothing in return and it hurts but lawrence knows he deserves it. he deserves far, far worse, and god, why can't he be punished now or just die and suffer eternal torment, and then, maybe, maybe, his soul could feel some bloody relief. but the priest said, make amends. can't make amends if you're dead.

so lawrence returns to his miserable apartment, to try and make amends, whatever that means. he decides to leave rome and begins to pack. he wanders the streets in a daze and gives all the euros he has on him to a beggar. on saturday, the day he would've gone to confession, he buys kahwah from a bemused shopkeeper.

he returns to find his next assignment on his kitchen counter in the form of a usb stick. he doesn't want to open it. but if he leaves it alone for too long, they'll send agents to track him down and he'll get an earful from aldo. better to open the assignment and fool them now. he'll disappear from rome right after.

lawrence plugs in the usb stick. there's a name he doesn't recognize. he clicks through the research on his next victim that ray had meticulously assembled. there is a video. he hits play. a voice starts speaking. and lawrence spills his hot cup of kahwah all over his keyboard and trousers but he doesn't care because fuck it all, he does know his victim after all.

it's the priest he sat next to week after week, chatting about the merits of herbal medicine and whether agatha christie or arthur conan doyle wrote better mystery novels and about the incompetence of world governments. it's the priest he just confessed to about his true nature, that he wasn't just some englishman adrift in rome, but a cold-blooded killer. it's the priest that heard this and offered him a way out, anyways.

it's vincent benitez.

the video continues, as benitez smiles and waves at a young child, his dark eyes luminescent and kind.

now he has a face and name to the voice, lawrence first thinks, in a daze. he’s even more beautiful than i imagined him to be.

his second thought: what the hell did benitez do to somebody off that badly that they want him dead?

[ill0usainte]

Fuck me like you mad at me, baby!

pairings: colonel!Caleb x reader

cw: unprotected sex, office sex, inappropriate use of evol/powers, biting, hickeys, mentions of killing, possessive!caleb (come on it's caleb), crying, dom!caleb, sub!reader, lots of cum, nasty sex, reader getting aroused by Caleb dominating her, reader being called cocksleeve, anger issues

Imagine Colonel!Caleb, who has you pinned down his office desk. Your wrist trap trapped under his hand as he gripped it tightly. You actually forget how strong Caleb is.

Oh how big of advantage he has with his evol-- just with a touch of it against your legs, makes you fall down to your knees.

Your clothes were scattered around his office-- leaving you bare. You can feel your ass pound against his pelvis behind. The mix of sweat and saliva painted your back--marked with hickeys and hand marks.

He moves his other hand as it reaches for your hip-- gripping the flesh, the other one spanks your ass as it jiggles you can't help but cry out of pleasure.

The way your aching pussy throbs around his gritty cock is intoxicating. This side of Caleb makes you go feral-- it's just so hot to see him so dominating and controlling over you.

Fucking you so good-- like a good cock sleeve you are.

The arousal sends shivers down your body-- because it's no good, this man will fuck you hours with no breaks.

You look so helpless-- but you can't shake the feeling of how his cock is filling you up so good.

The way his cock is bullying your aching pussy relentlessly:(

You knew he was mad. And it's bad for the part of you.

You knew how much Caleb loathes those higher-ups of the fleet. He hates how they treat him like a lap dog. Just a pet to be commanded to do things by their control.

And no shit-- because Caleb doesn't play when it comes to these things.

It angered him so much-- even of how deep his hatred for them, he never shows it. Instead he would let out his anger by fucking you immensely.

"hah- a-and did you know what those assholes told..m-me?" He growls, his hair sticking out on his forehead. You can't help but cry out in response, of how fast the man's pace is. All you can think of is how you're going back to linkon after this.

Caleb's desk was shaking continuously-- all his important paperwork were scattered around, few already drenched with your juices and his cum.

But he doesn't care-- like hell he will.

Tears stream down your cheeks feeling his gritty cock throb inside of your tight little hole. He's fucking you like there's no tomorrow-- as if he's following a rhythm.

"t-they...told me that I s-should stop bringing outsiders...in the fleet..." He breathes out, hand kneading the plush of your ass. The other one reached out to your hardened clit as he rub circles against it making you gasp as your legs trembled.

You were sure your moans were out of control. You'd just hope nobody passes by the colonel's office at this time.

"I can't...help but...want to kill them off instantly.." He leans over your back, his hot breath against your nape as he plants a kiss. It made you squirm, feeling his hot tongue traced over the plush of your skin.

The heat of sensation seeps through your pussy, as it clenches around his hardened cock. The sound of squelching roams around the room, the mix of your juices and his cum are leaking out of your poor pussy.

"Because....it would mean that I will be separated...hah-..f-from you.." He bites down the flesh of your nape making your eyes widened-- letting out a loud moan as you clench your hands-- trying to endure the pain.

Caleb continues on slamming his gritty cock in your warm pussy-- feeling your climax near, the walls of your pussy tightened around his hardened cock.

"hah-...and we w-ouldn't want that right, s-sweetie?" He whispers, leaving a soft kiss over the bite mark making your breath hitch. You nod in response as you felt your climax releasing-- following Caleb's hot loading cum releasing inside your womb. Thrusting it a little more inside--making sure it takes.

There might be complaints tomorrow from the other officers about the questionable noises from the colonel's office.

Fics of Caleb:

(Wo)men in uniform.

Play your gun right!

Lasting Mark.

Mark your territory.

LADS Men as cigarettes after sex songs

[royalcommunistthor]

tell you what these people neither care about thor nor they care about loki. they just need to WOOBIFY loki that's IT and who is the closest to loki and affect loki? thor. yes, poor loki loves their abuser and sends destroyer to kill his brother (and you will also find these people justifying this by saying loki wasn't in right mind)

they will often mention that they love thor but no one is falling for their bs. what do you mean that being an abuser makes thor more interesting. I think you have an affinity towards abuse babe if you should get help. projecting on a fictional character is not going to help in long run

thor keeps being thrown under the bus every two weeks because of his association with loki. dude's only fault is that he couldn't stop loving that greasy weasel even after enduring countless abuse from loki. loki clearly ruined his life

tbf woobifyng has been around since the beginning of time so like they had to do it to him i guess. i will never understand why it's such a persistent and universal fandom phenomenon lest of all why anyone would do /ALL THAT/ for a man played by tom hiddleston. but. that's not any of my business.

don't even get me started on the whole jotun thing. MCU LOKI DOES NOT EXPERIENCE RACISM, MCU LOKI DOES NOT EXPERIENCE MARGINALISATION OF *ANY* KIND, MCU LOKI IS NOT BULLIED BY THOR, HE IS CERTAINLY NOT BULLIED BY HEIMDALL. can't believe this is something that apparently STILL has to be said- over and over might I add- despite the movies spoonfeeding it to you. the deleted scene has loki torment a servant, another scene that has been kept in has loki saying a guard should be FLOGGED for *gasp* taking too long. mans talking about subjugation and birthrights for like 3 movies straight. HE IS THE BULLY, BITCH!

what loki's jotun heritage reveal in the mcu does is RECONTEXUALISE LOKI'S RELATIONSHIP WITH POWER (which is 😘🤌) it doesn't mean that loki hadn't been wronged but it also doesn't make him experience racial discrimination! if anything, loki is time and time again shown to have everything back to front (which is honestly what makes him fun)- he grossly miscalculates thor's 'golden child' status, he spits that odin could never have a frost giant on the throne of asgard and then sits on that very throne a heartbeat later BECAUSE HE IS SECOND IN LINE! he thinks thor will never forgive him or see him in the same light as before - AND THOR FORGIVES HIM AND LOVES HIM, LOVES HIM EVEN WHEN HE'S ANGRY WITH HIM OR FEELING BETRAYED. it's literally the constant in loki's life.

thing about mcu thor & loki is that they essentially start in the same place, i mean it LITERALLY & FIGURATIVELY. we see them orbiting their father, eager for his attention and praise; their flashback as children running parallel. THEY GROW APART AND CHANGE IN DRASTICALLY DIFFERENT DIRECTIONS which is THE WHOLE FUCKING POINT, as you know...a basic storytelling device, but they're very clearly raised as equals, yes odin says they were both raised to be kings but we don't really know what that means; was loki meant to be a puppet king of jotunheim or a different client kingdom? were thor & loki meant to co-rule? was he meant to be thor's advisor/shadow co-king? was this a line from an earlier version of the script that just didn't get amended or taken out? we might never know, but one thing is certain; being the second son of a royal family is not oppression. the way this fandom talks about him you'd think he's fucking cinderella.

i hate the whole abuse debacle but for argument's sake like a person who manipulates you into being punished and then also tries to kill you several times would be the abuser. thing about thor is that he doesn't see himself as a victim and i think that's overwhelmingly a good thing because it makes him a more interesting character and it makes his relationship with him family more complex, he's anchored in by that deep personal connection no matter what happens - not to cringe quote star wars here but he loves his family more than anything they can do wrong. and BOY, wrong they do.

[iinterstellars]

her words make him chuckle and at the same time he wonders... what is the image she has of him? as far as he can tell unlike him she DOES have high expectations of him. it should scare him, but it's surprising that it doesn't; the opposite happens, he can only hope he can be the man she thinks he is. " not judging anything, consider me... just another person right now; i know nothing about medicine and you're doing great, alright? hm, water does sound good right now though... " after it's mentioned he realizes he feels parched, his mouth slightly dry in a way that is not too comfortable. more than water though he definitely needs a drink, his mind momentarily wanders to the special moment they were having before; nice drinks, good conversation, he misses it suddenly. feels slightly annoyed with the world that it was RUINED by a group of misfits but it's all over now and it's not good to dwell on what's already come and gone. thomas can't help the half amused, half proud smirk that suddenly takes over his features at her authoritative tone; he finds that he LIKES this confidence in her, even if he can also see the faint blush of her cheeks. he does as he's told and presses the gauze against his head; noting that she must have been trying her best to be extremely gentle with him since as soon as his hand replaces her it sends a very short pang of pain. " yeah, blood flow slowing down is good... don't worry about stitches; i wouldn't be surprised if the wound is smaller than you think and i can do them on myself if i really need them. " it was a bit awkward to unbutton his shirt with one hand but he manages to do it nonetheless. he does consider standing up and decides against it a little too fast when he realizes defne is still kneeling down in front of him and the mental images it would give him are something he's NOT mentally ready for at this point in time. instead he sits up straight, or as much as he can, and opens up the shirt enough for her to examine the golf ball sized bruise at one side of his rib cage. he has to admit he feels a little bit awkward, which is why he doesn't completely dispose of the shirt and tries to focus on something else. " i guess, but shock is very easy to notice... and i'm not so there's nothing else to worry about, ok? " it's as reassuring as he can be considering he's bruised up and bleeding but he's genuinely trying his best. thomas doesn't know how else to convey that he will be fine, it's not like he's gonna disintegrate into nothing right before her very eyes... but then again, he would probably feel just as panicked if the roles were reversed ( and if only he had it in mind to dig a little deeper he'd realize the meaning behind it all but... he's not the most introspective ). " maybe i did... " he agrees in a sigh, though he doesn't actually mean it in the way she thinks. it's just the realization that... he cares about her too much, and wanting to voice it is uncharted territory.

" i've heard it , i just expected you to be different . are you judging my hands ? my handiwork ? you can be honest . " she likes that he's teasing her back , is pretty sure that means he probably isn't ( she hopes ) delirious . although the smile on his face does look a bit too relaxed and his eyes keep glazing over . OK , MAYBE HE'S A BIT DELIRIOUS . " i should get you water . keep your fluids up . " she's talking to herself aloud , but as a way to keep thomas in check and awake , and to also make sure he agrees with her movements . PLEASE DON'T PASS OUT ON ME , defne silently begs once again . she turns away again , gestures to one of the guards by the door for a glass of water . he looks to thomas , then to defne , but nods . ok . one less thing for her to worry over . as she pressed the gauze to him , she's startled by how conscious he seems . he barely bats an eye . " now you're showing off . " defne breathes out , because of course thomas is this force of fucking nature . this strong , steady man . this man who can look at anything , in the face of nature , guns , fighting , EVERYTHING , and still be reliable . he's too good . people who are too good are dangerous . they're easy to love . they're easy to want to have only the best for . THEY'RE THE WORST PEOPLE TO LOSE . but no , again , she can't think of that . there is no losing thomas here .

her eyes scan over his , checking to see how awake he seems with the gauze to his head . she lifts her hand with the gauze experimentally , and exhales in relief . " the blood's slowing down . . . that's good , right ? " she can never remember which way is better , but head wounds . . . less blood . that has to be good , right ? DEFNE SWALLOWS , bites into her bottom lip as he compliments her . any other time and she'd be carrying this all the way to bed with her , but she can't even properly focus on his words , because she needs to make sure he's alive and ok and STAY THAT WAY . defne reaches behind , half - blind . she rummages through the kit , still pressing onto thomas' head , before finding some bandages . she pauses . " i . . . thomas . . i don't know if i can do stitches . " she can't tell if he needs them , but remembers his words before . FUCK . stitches . on his head . she feels slightly woozy at the mere idea . defne blinks . " keep this held to your head . stand up . shirt off . " she busies herself with that instead , wondering who she is . she doesn't even sound like herself . she almost sounds professional , like this could be her job. SHE'S ONLY AS GOOD AS HER TEACHER . her cheeks still colour , though , trying not to focus on the fact that he'll HAVE his shirt off . stay professional . stay professional .

defne exhales with relief when thomas corrects himself . she doesn't like this story . doesn't like that he was hurt by anyone . she winces at his mention of the other man . she can only see dark , blurry , over-impeding figures crowding thomas . she pushes the vision right out of her mind . " but sometimes you don't feel pain anywhere else because you're in shock , right ? " defne says , slight panic inflecting into her voice . her eyes roam to meet his , just as his hand goes from his hair to hers . she can't quite feel it , as it's just strands of her hair , too light to really relish into . but she knows the motion . she knows he's tucking some of it back . her mouth opens , but no words come out . her eyes stay on his , finding herself exhaling at the same time he's inhaling . they're literally breathing each other's air . she isn't sure if the moment goes for seconds or hours . a small , sad smile nudges it's way onto her lips as he speaks . of course he's glad to see her not hurt , that'd mean more work for him right now . but his next words . . . they make defne blink , wide and big , at him . " god , thomas . . you must have really hit your head quite hard. " she breathes out , almost in awe of it . she wishes she could take this more seriously , not deflect . but she's used to being the one always reaching out with her hand . she's not used to thomas being so earnest and open . she doesn't know what to do with it . it makes her skin feel hot and tight . she's pretty sure she's never felt this way about anyone else in her entire life .

[iloveacronix]

Sighhh. Dear mutuals. Please stop sending me smut fanfictions, ESPECIALLY the ILLUSTRATED ONES, when you know damn well I'm less than 18, know my SPECIFIC age, and KNOW I do not feel comfortable with smut.

I am VERY uncomfortable when you do this and you, as someone older than me, should know better. I do NOT care if you like the ship, I do NOT care if you think its good, I DONT WANT TO FUCKING READ IT, and I DONT WANT YOU SENDING ME LINKS TO THAT SHIT. I AM NOT INTO IT, BUT SOMETIMES IM CURIOUS AND IT DISGUSTS ME. LIKE COULD YOU NOT?? I do not mind if you mention the word it's not specific at ALL, but if you are going to fully talk about it DETAILED OUT shut up. I don't want to hear it. Don't want to read it. And I do not want to see it. Also don't have the crappy mindset where you think that suddenly because we're mutuals it means we're bestie best friends and you feel privileged to send me inappropriate shit, because that's not how it works. None of you, AND I MEAN NONE OF YOU, are "PriViLEgEd" to send me smut FICS or links, and it will never happen because im not looking forward to reading it. Don't use that excuse again. You know who you are.

So please. Stop. This is the third time. I don't care if you're a friend, if you send me smut FICS or links WITHOUT WARNING, I'm blocking you. I blocked two people already for it, I can do it many more times. Your bullshit only makes me feel more fucking tired and reluctant to make more online friends. So stop. When I say I'm a kid(not that young but still) on my bio, I'm serious. It doesn't matter if it's "just a written story and it's not a big deal," it is for me because it just shows me how much of a freak you are to have the audacity to show it to a minor THAT HAS ALREADY "SAID I DO NOT WANT TO READ SMUT."

Thank you. Good day.

[starheirxero]

Taps cheek. Must confess I feel like some people haven't been approaching the fandom the way I have, and I am sorely realizing this now.

Y'all, the VAs here see you. If you are publically posting hate about a character–especially in the main tags or in their inbox–there is a very real chance that the person who plays that character will see you. They are not disconnected entities that hover above everything in their own fandom, they engage in it. They have strong feelings about their own characters too, they made them. And everyone being excessively foul about them and their character is not the kinda takeaway they wanna see!!

So. Perhaps. It would be more constructive for people to either learn to be nicer or to just shut up if I'm being quite honest.

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

Kyoshist did a new video (amazing as always) *W* and it's "which of the 4 love interests (Kavik, Rangi, Katara, Asami) would win in a battle (setting: Lower Ring Ba Sing Se). "

I went ham in the comment section (my own comment I wasn't fighting people, made a thread, god the limited character thing sucks) about why Rangi would win.....but I kinda wanna do it here too (similar style as Hei-Ran vs Atuat).

"Silly, the Rangi glaze is insane" Nooooo she just......the set up is just unfair... FOR THEM! She can hard counter everyone there (based on what we know of her skillset, W/Ls and the other characters stuff). TT0TT Put Rangi against Toph or even Bolin she's either struggling at best or outright losing those. Or even Azula (ironic cause Azula didn't beat Katara, but I really do think Rangi can beat Katara, but Rangi could lose to Azula), or even Hei-Ran in her prime.

Tldr; Rangi can lose, just not to anyone on that list. Certain (kinda unfair, wild, and/or not specified) conditions have to be met for her to lose that. TT0TT

[body-to-flame]

I want to watch the sun sink behind the heavens with you. Anything. I just want anything from you.

[dangaer]

have to admit it following that last post, if we're shipping im 9/10 times rereading the media and looking at certain parts through a ship tinted glass set. i put it on the dash sometimes rather than dms because i'm extremely nervous that i'm going to come off as too much but, you know, i'm working on that.

[tardis--dreams]

Me panicking because i have 9 missed calls and 5 emails talking about my absence and how "a colleague could take over for me" vs. Me knowing it's really not that important no matter how pushy a client is and that on top of it I'm underpaid and have way to much overtime so i shouldn't even care

[tovaicas]

some of the threads probably could've been handled better but as a whole I love alphinaud's HW character arc so much