#i am just not sure how much more help i will need or by when. or anything. until friday.

[blakelywintersfield]

I want to add two things to this:

Firstly, the insinuation that the medicated version of you is different from the unmedicated version of you is a false narrative. We are not 2D creatures. We are extremely complex beings. There are many "versions" of you and they're all you. The only way to actually become inauthentic is to literally have your brain destroyed in a matter that removes your entire personality (think: lobotomy). Medications do not do this. Drugs in general cannot do this unless they destroy a part of your brain. There are so many different things that make you the person you are (your likes and dislikes, your memories, your mannerisms, etc.) and no medication is capable of taking all that away. People will focus on the things they've "lost" and believe "I am no longer really me", when the reality is that it's simply what they were known for that was lost. And oftentimes what they were known for were the severe symptoms of their health issues.

As an anecdote, I was known for constantly being bitter about being alive to the point that I made it a joke. A bitter joke, but a joke nonetheless. "I can't die, the gods won't let me because I'm their favorite thing to point and laugh at as I suffer" was basically the attitude I was known for. On the surface, it was a bit, but the reality was I really wanted to fucking die and I was miserable waking up every single day.

To add to that, I was also known for sleeping. Constantly. I also made a joke out of that but I was genuinely tired 24/7. I never felt awake. I never felt rested. "Gotta get my quad shot coffee and three Red Bulls plus a Rockstar Energy for my Sleepy Bitch Disease" type deal.

I was also the alcoholic. I wasn't an aggressive or angry alcoholic so it didn't seem like a major problem to many, and I handled my alcohol well (only blacked out once, only threw up five times in the entire decade I'd spent drinking). My go-to spirits, my boisterous and jubilant behavior (around others), and my ability to drink people twice my size under the table and still be able to walk straight were key personality points for me.

All of these things practically defined me. Whenever I'd do DnD with friends, those traits were always key to my characters. These were the first things most people got to know about me. One could say they were the authentic me.

And they were killing me.

Sure, those were definitely authentic parts of who I was; I wasn't faking any of it, I wasn't putting on a show for fun. But they were unhealthy and actively inhibiting my ability to actually live my life in a fulfilling, meaningful manner.

Nowadays, the "Sleepy Bitch Disease", which is now officially diagnosed narcolepsy, medicated with a very heavily controlled substance. I still get sleepy, I still take a nap every now and then, and I can still sleep 14 hours straight, but I no longer need enough caffeine to kill a horse to get through the day. I no longer have to take two hours to wake up. I can get out of bed and be awake within 15 minutes. I no longer have to take a coffee break or get an energy drink every two hours. I'm no longer known for downing so much coffee that people question how I haven't had a heart attack.

Today, I'm no longer known for downing half a bottle of vodka just to catch a buzz. I don't do tequila shooters and go nuts. I'm not a rambunctious alcohol-pounding party boy who still can't get drunk enough to get past his self-esteem issues to tell the dude he thinks is cute "hi". (I would never be able to get that drunk, even now.)

And the chronic suicidal desire and the feeling that life isn't worth living are handled with medication and therapy -- which leads into my second point.

Sometimes medication isn't enough, which means to say that it can help, but you may need therapy in junction with medication. This is common if your condition is more severe (though all levels from mild to severe can benefit from the med/therapy combo). And most people who say "medication isn't for me / medication doesn't help" tend to be the same people who say "therapy doesn't help" as well, and are the same people who tried at most two different medications and talk-therapy.

Therapy is expansive. There is a wide array of therapy. And just like the doctors that provide medication, if you have a therapist and they aren't helping, find another! Look for therapists who specialize in certain conditions or certain forms of therapy! Look for different therapy groups! Try hybridized therapies!

Sometimes medication alone can help, and that's wonderful! And don't think that just because your condition is severe, you have to find a specialized therapy to help as well -- if medication does the job and you're able to live your life comfortably, that's good! But if medication seems to be only doing so much, on top of seeing about trying a different med, look into therapy as well. I hit a wall with medication with the chronic suicidal behaviors/ideation -- but therapy (specifically Dialectical Behavioral Therapy or DBT) helped me change my pattern of thought (along with teaching me coping and communication skills). That, alongside medication which helped on the chemical side (sorta; biopsychology is a complex study and the chemical imbalance theory is extremely simplistic but unfortunately the easiest way to explain medication) resulted in me being a happier, more productive person. And I don't mean productive in capitalist terms (well, kind of; I can actually hold down a job now) but I can actually write, and plan trips, and spend my whole day doing errands and going out and having fun! I couldn't do that before as the so-called "authentic" me. The friends I have who've been with me pre- and post-DBT/medicine all still love me, and the feedback has been unanimous: they're all happy to see me happy and healthy. None of them have hinted at me being fake, or not myself (and they would -- I've specifically asked that they watch for any behavior changes that seem out of the ordinary, just in case). I've gone off my meds before and it was always hell, every time. Your unmedicated self isn't more authentic than you medicated self. Your unmedicated self is your unhealthiest self.

Is the person using a wheelchair not being authentic? Is the person taking antibiotics to clear an infection not being authentic? Is someone with breast cancer undergoing a double mastectomy not being authentic? Change is authentic to the human condition, especially when that change is to better yourself and your life.

Stagnation is death. Don't be afraid of change. You will not lose your authenticity, just the chains that keep you down.

90s movies: Psychopharmacology is as good as a lobotomy. If you take pills to treat your mental illness it will literally murder your imaginary friends and you will become a boring, lotus-eating conformist drone.

Me after taking my meds: drives the scenic route home to see if there are any geese on the pond and does a little dance in line at the grocery store and comes home to throw everything​ in my fridge into a stew pot because I can finally taste food again while singing songs at my birds in which I replace all the instances of "she" with "Cheese" and doing a Dolly Parton impression on the phone to my sister

[karmicmortal]

content warnings mean dom!sunghoon, noncon, dollification, public sex, cockwarming, fingering, pet names (doll), exhibitionism, he is controlling and sort of (very) terrible

don’t like it? don’t read it!

notes this drabble was originally posted to istjisung. i am istjisung. if you see my drabbles posted on any account other than istjisung or karmicmortal, or the ao3 accounts of the same name, that is not me.

to outsiders, it seemed cute how much sunghoon doted on you and called you pretty names like doll. and at first, you thought so too. it was adorable to you that your boyfriend wanted to help you pick out your clothes, suggesting ways to wear your hair and makeup, how he’d say you’re his pretty little doll.

but somewhere along the way, that developed into something a bit…more.

you aren’t exactly sure when it changed, but his behavior became a little less doting and a little more controlling in private. every time you were to go out, sunghoon would need to approve your outfit, if not pick it out himself. it didn’t matter how you felt about it, if he wanted you to wear it, you were going to wear it. he needed to have the final say in everything, all the way down to the under garments you wore.

to everyone else, doll was a cute petname to have as his girlfriend. to you, you knew that it was the truth.

sunghoon saw you as his doll, his little plaything. he could dress you up however he wanted and you’d do as he says. and when he’s feeling particularly sinister, he could touch you whenever and wherever.

more often than not, he’d have you dressed up in a cute little dress or a skirt that he can easily slip his hand underneath. and it’s no use in fighting him, because you know he’ll always have the upper hand. so you just let him. he’d slip his fingers beneath your skirt, into your panties while sitting at a dinner table with your friends. he’d whisper in your ear about how you belong to him, he can touch you whenever he wants and how your sweet little pussy is always so warm and tight for him. he’d tell you not to moan—“don’t get us caught,” he’d tell you. “fuck toys aren’t supposed to make noise.”

and sometimes, he’d love to have you in his lap. your pretty little dress would conceal the way his cock is buried deep in your pussy. “fuck, tight little cunt squeezing my cock so much, doll. you like that?”

you didn’t dare move. dolls don’t move. dolls are pliant, still, letting their owners control them. so you would sit there, looking at all of the oblivious faces of your friends and strangers in the bar, completely unaware of the way sunghoon was bouncing his legs just right in order to move you on his cock in a way that doesn’t raise any suspicions.

even as he grinds you down on his cock with purpose, cumming deep inside your dollcunt, you don’t say or do anything. you know that in the end, he’d do what he wanted anyway. you are his doll, his plaything, his fuck toy, and he makes sure that you know your place. whether it’s by actions or words, he always makes sure to remind you that you belong to him.

[that-nerd-who-writes-fanfiction]

I need a fic where Lancelot gets hit by a curse that makes him extremely honest/completely removes his thought to speech filter.

Like, he doesn’t blurt secrets but he’s got no sense of fear for saying things he probably shouldn’t and just starts saying all the quiet parts out loud.

Merlin’s immediately worried about him. I kinda imagine it like:

Merlin: Do you think you’ll say anything about..?

Lance: your secret? No. Definitely not. It’s your secret to tell. Arthur should know how much you do for him even without it though. You should remind him you’re not obligated to do so much if he keeps taking advantage of your kindness.

Merlin: That��

Lance: I clearly mean it. It’s your choice of course. You know I love you too much to betray your trust.

(I’m a sucker for Mercelot but take that however you want)

Then when they all get back to Camelot and one of the towns people is struggling to fix a cart with a broken wheel.

Lance *goes over to help and starts berating the knights*: we’re knights. We’re supposed to help people. If you just want to beat people up, we’ve run into plenty of bandits that would probably take you.

And we all know he doesn’t like the structure of statuses and how power is distributed in Camelot so while he’s still respectful to Arthur as a king, the rest of the lords not so much. He avoids them as much as possible to avoid causing unnecessary problems but when Arthur asks if he’ll be at a council meeting, he’s gotta say no:

Lance: I don’t think that’d be a good idea.

Arthur: why not? I could use someone honest on the council.

Lance: I am honest with you. Mostly. You definitely shouldn’t ask what I think about magic until I can be tactful about my answer. But If I get a chance to be honest in the same room as Lord NoName I’m going to ask him if he doesn’t want to pay taxes because too much of his coin already goes to his mistresses and his wife will find out if he’s forced to document it.

Arthur: …

Lance: …

Arthur: … I don’t know which part to focus on first. If Lord NoName isn’t there will you attend?

Lance: he’s not the only one. Personally, I think they should hear it, but I don’t want to be callous about it. Their wives deserve better and forcing them to find out through gossip and rumours just seems unnecessarily cruel.

Arthur: I’ll call a round table meeting later.

Lance: Probably for the best. You should give Merlin a seat, he’s braver and has done more for you than anyone. I’ll see you later, sire.

I can imagine the magic thing would keep coming up too, just little comments about how he’s frustrated that he’ll be used as an example for why magic should be banned when it’s not all bad and can actually be quite amazing.

Everyone’s confused but he just asks Leon if he likes being alive because he wouldn’t be without the Druids and the cup of life.

Heaven forbid anyone says anything bad about Merlin. He never out’s Merlin’s secret as promised, but he absolutely makes sure everyone is aware how much Merlin does for people out of the goodness of his heart.

I also want him to shit on Uther at some point. About his parenting style or how he ruled Camelot, I don’t mind which.

I imagine someone mentioning how well Lance is handling the curse and “taking it like a man” and getting immediately shot down.

Noble: he’s handling it well, taking it like a man.

Lancelot: Hypocritical coming from you, Lord He-Payed-Less-Than-I-Did-Even-Though-It-was-Proportional-To-Everything-Else. (I don’t pretend to understand how a fictional court set in about 5 different historical eras is run) Actually, not complaining about a situation that sucks isn’t a manly trait at all. All of the problems we’re dealing with are because something happened and someone “took it like a man.” Tax evasion, wars, uneven distribution of wealth, *putting reports on the table for each one* The last time someone “took it like a man” we ended up with an entire people being murdered because a king fucked up, lost his wife, and didn’t want to admit fault and grieve like a sane person.

Everyone’s just silent for a moment.

Lance: … *thinks about what he said for a second*

Lance: No, I stand by that. I’ll apologise for my lack of tact, but not the content.

Meanwhile, watching in horror and barely contained glee:

Arthur: Should have let him sit this one out.

Merlin: Absolutely not. This might become the most productive council meeting we’ve had in years.

Anyway, I just want Lance being able to lean more into the unhinged side of his character sometimes.

He’s still got to fundamentally be a good person, he’s just less filtered in watching the casual stupidity of the nobles, or more honest about people not thanking servants enough (especially to the knights who seemed to forget that they were once common born too) and isn’t afraid to call people on their bullshit when necessary.

Everyone learns to appreciate it too so when the spell wears off, he’s less anxious about giving his opinions on things.

Just let Lancelot be the unfiltered chaotic good that he is.

[pinksugarscrub]

Headcannons

Batboys x meta! Reader

Synopsis: I finished the main storyline for Gotham Knights and need some fluff in my life (Talia sucks). So here's Jason, Dick, and Tim with a bat mutant reader.

*Can be read as romantic or platonic, you be the judge.

Words: 700 +

Warnings: None

~

Jason Todd

In the beginning Jason tried really hard to dislike you, he did.

If he was seen being soft with you he’d never beat the allegations he was a bat through and through.

But then your ears were flopping as tears flooded your vision because someone called you a less than polite term for being a meta.

Yes he beat them up as a civilian and he’d do it again.

He likes your ears the most because they perfectly display your emotions.

Reading your expressions and attending to your needs makes him feel important.

His heart grows a little fuller everytime you say thank you and come to him for anything ranging from advice to a shoulder to cry on.

He makes fun of your poor eyesight despite your echolocation being an asset on missions.

You scare the crap out of him by hanging from the ceiling. He never hears you and you pop up seemingly from thin air.

Despite having a large wingspan and long pointed ears, Jason is still taller than you.

He makes sure your nutritional needs are met depending on the type of bat hybrid you are. Fruit, meat, etc.

He won’t admit it but every time you spread your wings to shield him either as a joke or on a mission he’s melting.

Jason’s used to being strong so having someone protect him on first instinct and actually be physically capable is mind boggling.

The Outlaws love you just as much if not more and it pisses Jason off when they hog you

Dick Grayson

Bat jokes. Bat puns. Lots of them.

He has some already in his arsenal because of Bruce but it’s just ten times worse.

When he looks at you with that grin and glint in his eyes you know you’re in for the cheesiest dad joke of your life.

He likes to tease you about being a vampire while pulling on your cheek to see your smile (canines).

Plays with your wings just like he did with Batman’s cape as Robin. He even deepens his voice.

He will not tolerate any slander about you in or out of costume.

People at galas and charities know to steer clear of any topic relating to you or metas unless they want an eight hour lecture and powerpoint presentation.

His nicknames or pet names are the worst. Usually a play on words or an outdated term from the eighteenth century.

Talks like he’s in a Shakespearean play when you’re in a sour mood because it makes you laugh.

He does not like to be flown around. None of the bats really do but on occasion he’ll let you parade him around.

He’s happy you and Garfield get along so well when he brings you with him on a visit to the Titans. Not to mention the rest of team.

Loves hugging you because your wings wrap around him like a blanket.

He will never forgive you and Wally for dragging him around like a ragdoll just prove who could get him to missons faster.

Tim Drake

You’re both on a separate time zone compared to the rest of the world.

3 AM snack trips are a must, especially on patrol.

You both buy each other energy drinks or coffee to get through the morning. Especially if you stayed up longer than usual.

Yes you’ve used your fangs to open a can when the tab was missing. It did not go well.

You’re the only one who understands his system of disorganization and commonly help him find things he’s lost in stacks of case files.

Studies you almost constantly because your abilities are so fascinating. There’s definitely a file on his computer dedicated to you. (*cough* Deku coded *cough*)

Insists on you getting glasses despite how well you maneuver throughout the manor and the world for that matter because you accidently walked into a wall once.

He has the most unhinged photos of you where the lense is .5 and your eyes are glowing. It’s his screensaver and the pictures change every few months.

Whenever he wants something from Bruce he sends you with the most heart wrenching puppy dog eyes because the old man has a soft spot for you.

Is always awestruck when he watches you fight. Then he’s got a smug grin on his face when he notices everyone else on the team is just as mesmerized.

You and Kon get along swimmingly.

One day you decided you wanted to get your ears pieced so you asked Kon for help. That was the most traumatizing experience for Tim.

He couldn't stand to see you in pain even if it was only for a moment.

After getting over the initial panic he thought you looked really nice with the new accesories.

[rysingsun]

Some relatively low effort meals I make when I just really am Too Tired (note: not chronically ill but hopefully these are still helpful to those that are!).

Just going to assume you already know how to make sandwiches. PB&J, peanut butter & banana, or grilled cheese (level it up by buttering the bread with garlic butter and using colby jack cheese) are my go-tos. BLTs are reserved for when I can put in a considerable amount of energy and effort so I’ll leave that recipe out.

Microwave Quesadilla

- 2 Tortillas

- Shredded Cheese

- Shredded Chicken or Ground Beef (optional)

- Garlic Butter dip (optional)

- Sour Cream (optional)

Put shredded cheese between two tortillas. Add meat if desired (canned chicken is a godsend but make sure it’s drained and dried out as much as possible). Cook in microwave. It tastes like sadness but it’s better than not eating. Dipping in garlic butter or sour cream makes it taste slightly better.

Stovetop Quesadilla

For a better tasting quesadilla, melt butter on frying pan and cook on there instead. However— this will take 5-10 minutes to cook instead of less than one, will dirty a pan, spatula, and potentially pizza cutter/cutting board in addition to your plate, and that’s time in front of your stove that you’d likely need to stand for. Medium-low heat. If the bottom is golden brown and the cheese is sticking to the tortillas it’s time to flip it.

Better Canned Green Beans

- Canned green beans

- Garlic powder

- Basil

Cook green beans in microwave. Add garlic and basil. Mix.

Loaded Salad

- Lettuce

- Shredded Cheese

- Ranch (or preferred dressing)

- Bacon Bits

- Cucumber Slices (optional— requires prep)

Put it all in a bowl, grab a fork, and eat.

(Loaded) Baked Potato

- Russet potato

- Butter or margarine

- Salt

- Pepper

- Shredded cheese (optional)

- Sour cream (optional)

- Bacon bits (optional)

- Gravy (optional)

Stab holes all over potato with fork. Five minutes in microwave, flip, cook five more minutes (note: time varies based on potato size). Cut down the middle, mash sides down flat. Add butter/margarine, salt, and pepper. Shredded cheese, sour cream, gravy, and bacon bits are all optional toppings.

Pistachio Salad/Pudding

VERY mixed opinions— people either love it or hate it— but it’s a low effort dessert for events.

- 24 oz cottage cheese

- 1 can pineapple chunks with juice

- 1 package instant pistachio pudding

- ½ or ¼ bag small marshmallows

- 8 oz cool whip

- Cherries (drain & dab with a paper towel)

Mix all (except cherries) together. Decorate top with cherries. Chill for 4 hours.

Chicken (Bacon) Ranch Wrap

- Flour tortilla

- Chicken strips (cook from frozen or just use some leftovers from a restaurant!)

- Ranch

- Shredded cheese

- Lettuce

- Bacon bits (optional)

Drizzle ranch onto tortilla. Add broken up chicken strips, lettuce, cheese, and bacon bits. Wrap like a burrito.

General Tips

Preserved bacon bits are great to have in the pantry. Not as good as fresh ones but it’s one less thing to prep and adds protein to lots of dishes!

Canned chicken and canned tuna are both good options for the same reason as the bacon bits!

Never underestimate the power of throwing food together and mixing it up. Some good combinations I’ve stumbled across with leftovers are: 1) BBQ Beef & Rice: White rice, ground beef, and honey BBQ sauce, 2) Breakfast Couscous: Chicken flavored couscous, scrambled eggs, bacon bits, pepper, parsley, thyme, chives.

If you’re not watching your sugar, whipped cream and sprinkles turn yogurt into an extra special treat! Don’t skimp on toppings that you like, pile on the cheese, or sauces, or whatever (as long as it actually makes it taste good)! (I struggle to eat enough calories so I do what I can to encourage myself to eat even a little more food)

Remember: not only is it easier to eat if the food tastes good, but your body won’t absorb many nutrients if it doesn’t!

Write down the recipes that work for you on a document that you can revisit. It’s good to remind yourself that you have options! Best of luck and I hope you find recipes that feel manageable and taste like life’s worth living!

"quick meal for when you're low on spoons!" *involves chopping vegetables* *uses a stove* *includes condiments* *involves letting something set/rest/simmer* *requires multiple kitchen items that will need to be washed* *estimated prep time: 30–45 minutes*

[ifishouldvanish]

"The devil is easy to cheat."

So... I keep thinking about Mizrak and Emmanuel's conversation in the churchyard in S2E3, where Mizrak tries to appeal to Emmanuel to repent and turn against Bàthory. It's an interesting one, and worth a rewatch or two or three or seven. But the more I chew on it, the more I keep going back to the dialogue in the finale. Back to That Whole Scene™. Just, feeling this itch that there's something there. Some kind of dots to connect. And I think I'm ready to synthesize my thoughts here.

In episode 3, Emmanuel tells Mizrak, "You wouldn't question me if you'd glimpsed what I have of the other side. If you heard it sometimes in the twilight. Quiet laughter. Hell. Waiting. Whispering your name."

The laughter part is interesting, right? Like he's clearly describing Old Man Coyote/Mephistopheles. But of course to Mizrak/the audience at this point, it's the Capital 'D' Devil—or at least his own guilty conscience driving him mad. But then Maria kills him, and we actually see Old Man Coyote collect his soul.

Anyway.

Later on in S2E7, when Mizrak gets hurt, Old Man Coyote appears again. And he's laughing, and Mizrak knows that laughter must be what Emmanuel was talking about. Must be the devil. He must be damned.

So let's hop back to the finale, to the scene where Olrox turns him. Mizrak asks him, "You've seen the devil then? Waiting for me?

And Olrox tells him, "No, not the devil."

Because he knows it's not the Capital 'D' Devil, but Old Man Coyote/Mephistopheles.

But he also says, "And I think he was waiting for someone else."

I am absolutely convinced that "someone else" is Olrox himself.

Because let us go back to S2E5, when Olrox returns to the Night Creature-O-Matic. He's studying the book, and Old Man Coyote/Mephistopheles appears. Olrox says:

"I know what promises you make, and how tempting they are. And I could make good use of a powerful patron. But this doesn't belong in this world. And nor do you."

At this, Old Man Coyote leaves. This scene establishes that Old Man Coyote is trying to get Olrox to barter with him. But Olrox is clearly not willing to in exchange for whatever promise of power Old Man Coyote is tempting him with.

I am absolutely convinced that when Mizrak gets wounded, Old Man Coyote is waiting for Olrox. Expecting that if he wasn't willing to barter his soul in exchange for power, surely he will for love. Surely he'll give in and strike a deal in exchange for Mizrak's life.

So. Back to the Turning Scene. Again.

Olrox's insistence that it's not the devil, that he was waiting for someone else probably sounds to Mizrak like he's just trying to comfort him in his last moments. He kinda brushes it off with, "Still. The devil will be waiting. [...] I'm afraid, Olrox."

Which brings us to:

"There's no need to be afraid, my love. Not the devil, at least. The devil is easy to cheat."

I think Olrox's use of "the devil" here is him basically adopting the name Mizrak knows this entity by. Mizrak understands Old Man Coyote to be the devil, so he's using that language so Mizrak will understand: There's no need to be afraid of the "devil" he sees/hears. That "devil" is easy to cheat.

On first viewing, this read to me as, "You, Mizrak, can cheat the devil, and I'm going to help you. You can't die and go to hell if you're immortal."

But on subsequent viewings, it reads to me as, "I, Olrox, can cheat the devil. I can have my cake and eat it too. By turning you, I get what I want (to keep you alive/not lose you) without having to pay the devil's price."

Which I LOVE, because it makes it all sooooo much more messy. The former lets you squint your eyes and shrug and say, "Yeah, it's not exactly a GOOD thing that Olrox turned him, but what else was he supposed to do?? Mizrak was gonna go to super hell!!"

But the latter??? Ohohohoooo man.

Mizrak wasn't actually about to be sentenced to eternal damnation (that we or Olrox know of, at least). The devil wasn't waiting for him. The devil was waiting for someone else and Olrox KNEW THIS and still turned him. Not to protect Mizrak's soul/life, but to spare himself the pain of losing the man he loves again.

I've seen it said that the reason Olrox just lies back as Mizrak climbs over and bites him is because he expects that Mizrak will be upset about being turned, at least initially. But how much more appropriate does this body language become through the lens of a much deeper sense of guilt over what he's done? Of a subconscious need to punish, self-sacrifice, or otherwise try to absolve himself of that guilt? To "pay the price" on his own terms, so to speak?

And maybe Mizrak will be convinced he was going to super hell. Maybe this belief will bring him to sort of begrudgingly accept his new life as a vampire. But it will be a secret that casts a shadow over their every interaction for eternity. How long can Olrox keep that secret? How will Mizrak react should it ever to come to light? How badly will it hurt when Olrox loses him anyway—not because of death, but because his own scheme, once exposed, will likely prove to be a betrayal their relationship can never recover from???

[carawenfiction]

So...remember how I said in that update post how I might MAYBE do a TSS rewrite and post it for free?

"Maybe" quickly turned into "definitely happening". Instead of making it outside of COG, however, the finished product that's already published will be updated with the rewritten files. This means that if you've already purchased TSS through COG, you'll have the rewritten version available. That's how I originally intended to go about things with the old rewrite and is the better option here to avoid potential complications.

I've been in contact with COG and they've let me know that I'd be able to do what I have in mind even if this results in a different wordcount and very different scenes/plot points and a different kind of main story.

I realize that this announcement is probably pretty jarring since my last post stated that I wasn't sure about doing a rewrite but that I wanted to if I had enough time. After making that post, I started creating an outline for the rewrite mostly for fun...and one thing kind of led to another. I want you all to know that I wouldn't be making this post at all if I wasn't sure about this. It's because I've already begun the process and feel incredibly motivated and inspired that I can do this that I'm making this announcement.

This rewrite is not going to be like my old attempt at a rewrite, though. It's an entirely new one that I feel much more confident about.

So far I've written the outline for the rewrite and started reworking already existing scenes from chapter 1 as well some new ones. I'm happy to say that the difference between how the rewrite process felt years ago compared to now is like light and day. It seems like those years I've taken away from TSS were very healthy and helpful in giving me some distance and letting me figure out what kind of story I really want to tell.

My plan is to rewrite book 1 and then make 1 full continuation after that. Instead of a trilogy, it looks like this version of TSS will be 2 volumes, but that doesn't necessarily mean that it'll be shorter than originally intended. I think it's more doable for me to rewrite the first book (starting from scratch while also using some already written scenes, since I've been assured I'm allowed to do so) and then make 1 complete continuation of it rather than trying to fill stuff out over 3 different entries, and I think it'll serve the plot and story as a whole to do it that way.

That being said, I fully understand that some - or most of you - might have trouble trusting my word after me failing to do the rewrite I wanted to years ago and not delivering a second book. That's completely fair. This time I'm not rushing things and I don't feel any pressure to do this. It's not something I do out of dislike for the original, but rather out of love for what it could be and what I could make it into, if that makes sense. I'm taking as much time as I need to and am not putting any pressure on myself to do this.

My other project takes priority right now so I can't dedicate all of my time to the rewrite, but I'm working on it when I have time over or get stuck. It's actually pretty nice to alternate between two different stories that have different settings and has helped a bit in avoiding writer's block.

Here are some differences between TSS and the TSS rewrite (most of the changes I made to the old rewrite no longer apply):

The rewrite will be told in second-person point of view ("you" instead of "I"). The reason for this is that when I first started TSS I was really unused to the second-person POV, but after having spent years in the IF space it's now the other way around. It'll make writing much easier for for me, and I hope it won't feel too jarring for people who are used to the first person POV.

The Shadowman and Jealene (now "J") will both be genderselectable just like the main cast. The Shadowman will be genderselectable later on, though - it might sound strange but I think it makes sense when you have more context. J plays a bigger role than they did in the original and their personality is a bit different in this version.

Some side characters (such as most of the hideout) will be cut. This is because they felt really underdeveloped to me in the full game and didn't serve much of a purpose. Instead I'm focusing more on the main cast + a few key characters to ensure the story plot stays focused and you get more time to develop bonds of various kinds with the main cast instead.

The relationship system will look a bit different. Instead of bars showing a percentage of approval, I'll write a description of each character and what they think of you. The descriptions will shift when the character starts viewing you differently, whether that's due to rivalry, romance or friendship. My hope is that this will allow for a more nuanced relationship system/descriptions. I'll also adjust the options a bit to try and make choices more nuanced and am thinking of including the option of having ex. a heart next to a romantic choice for those who want to know for sure what they're getting into. The different responses (such as shy, flirty etc.) will stay but some of it will probably be reworked. Essentially what I want to do is allow for a wider range of MCs and how the characters respond to the MC.

The MC is going to have more agency in certain ways. I've included something plot-relevant to the main character that can potentially change the dynamic between them and the group a bit, but it all depends on how you play it.

The tone might be somewhat different. Not entirely, of course, but there are some parts of the old TSS where the characters sound a bit younger than they are supposed to be, where tension and seriousness has been sacrificed in favor of humor and where some of the interactions aren't the way I would prefer for them to be. I've gotten older since writing TSS (gasp) and my tastes have changed, as has my writing to some degree. In order to do a rewrite I'd have to write in a way that's most enjoyable for me and that I feel best fits the story I want to tell. That's not to say that there isn't going to be silliness etc., but I'm adjusting the tone somewhat and putting more time and effort into descriptions and the writing overall.

The narrative will be different, even though the overall story itself will mostly stay the same. I'm keeping a lot of elements and also aim to introduce new ones that I believe will strengthen the story and make it a more enjoyable game overall.

I think those are the main differences I can give away right now without spoiling anything. I'll make sure to post updates when I've got more to share! Once the demo for the rewrite is finished, I'll post it on the forums and link it in an intro post on here.

Thank you all for sticking by me throughout the years. I hope you'll find some comfort in returning to this world, as well as new things to ponder and excite you in this new upcoming version of the story <3

The Azuridia and Quaiel chibis are done by the amazing madebysalfi

[natsredbra]

Might be a bit of a interesting ask, but I love your work and wanted to ask if you could write something for me? And I mean just like your thoughts not a story! I know you’ve got a lot on your plate (I am eagerly awaiting everything you write 🤭) I suffer from sleep paralysis, and it’s honestly been something I have had since I was a child. It’s hard to sleep, and sometimes I actually don’t even want to go to bed because I get anxiety. And if I do have it the next day I feel weak (disoriented) and just exhausted. It doesn’t happen all the time just when I’m stressed or I happen to sleep on my back. But I was wondering (here come the comforting thoughts) I am obsessed with Nat and Lottie , (lCutest humans on earth) and I wanted to know what Nat and Lottie would do to help reader? Specifically reader who is scared and uncomfortable. Tired but doesn’t want to sleep. Whatever thoughts you have! Is 🖋️ taken by any anons per chance?

ohh anon that must be such a bitch to deal with, even if you’re used to it……here are some hcs just for you, i tried to come up with this as soon as possible - also please excuse any inaccuracy since i don’t have experience with sleep paralysis (also i wasn’t sure if you meant lottienat x r so if you did don’t hesitate to tell me!) + you’re welcome to use🖋️!!

Lottie Matthews

This girl is so caring

She knows about your problem and reassures you every night before you go to sleep

Never finds it annoying if you have to do something to ensure it doesn’t happen before bed

Makes sure to remind you to sleep on your side

Even if she wakes up during the night for some water or the bathroom and spots you on your back, she’ll turn you

And try not to wake you up

If it does happen, sometimes she’ll be awake coming back from the toilet and it’s the best deal possible

Because she’s right there to tell you none of it is real and soothe you once you gain your movement back

Trust, she’s had a lot of experience with seeing scary things that aren’t there

Once she finds you doing an all nighter and she’s heavily against it

Will do anything to lull you to sleep

And if she manages to and you have another episode (?), she definitely blames herself

But won’t show it, at that moment she just wants to be there for you

Holds you so so tight for the rest of the night

When she is comforting you, she tries to make you reflect on it and gain more consciousness about your surroundings

Natalie Scatorccio

Nat wings it a bit more

When you tell her about your problem she seems a bit unbothered

Not in a way that she doesn’t care, she just thinks it won’t be difficult do deal with no matter how much you try to tell her otherwise

Once it does happen, she eats her words quickly

She’s freaking the fuck out, not sure of what to do when you start panicking after it’s over

Nat’s just kind of there, rubbing your back and whispering sweet nothings in your ear

Contrary to Lottie, she just wants to make you forget about all of it and go back to bed

This girl just wants you to feel better :(

The night after you decide not to sleep and she hates it, she’s on your ass on it entirely

”Babe I’ll be right there with you! You don’t need to worry.”

Says things like that, though it doesn’t hold much weight for you

If you still stay up she’s very worried the next morning and is soft with you the whole day

She knows how exhausted and disoriented you are and is practically your butler for the whole day

[harmonyrae]

Ethical Dilemma

Synopsis: He needs a better grade on his Business Ethics paper and you're the only one who can give it to him. But it looks like a better grade isn't all he's after.

AN: I’ve been seeing a lot of Professor AUs with the boys and then, all of a sudden, at 1:48 AM on a Thursday, I thought “What about them as students?” and IMMEDIATELY STARTED WRITING. Anyways, here’s Student!Sylus x Teachers Assistant!Reader - let me know if you want one of these for all the boys! 

Content Warnings: explicit language & sexual descriptions, Sylus talks you through it, Troublemaker!Sylus, Downbad!Sylus, Oral (f receiving), PiV, sex with protection (yay), semi-public (kinda, they big riskin it), smut with some plot, 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 4.8k

When you received your teacher aide assignment for your final semester, you were stunned. No one else in your program was given a senior-level class to assist with. Tara got freshman English literature, Yvonne got freshman biology, and even Jeremiah got freshman world history. Why were you put with one of the strictest teachers at the university in a subject you weren’t interested in teaching?

“Maybe Business Ethics won’t be that bad. Maybe you’ll like it more than you expect.”

You stare at Tara across the lunch table. She winces and returns her focus to her salad. You poke your fries with your fork, too nervous to stomach even the simplest carbs. 

“It’s a senior level class… I probably know half of them and I’m supposed to what? Grade their tests and exert authority over them when Trumbo isn’t there? What exactly am I supposed to learn that will help me with my elementary education degree?”

“Well, most college guys act like children.”

Simone laughs at her own joke. Her high pitched snickering makes you laugh, despite your frustration. You cover your face to hide your smile, she’s got a point. 

“And I’m supposed to grade their papers using what knowledge?”

“I’m sure Professor Trumbo will give you an outline, if he even lets you grade them at all.”

Simone reaches over and takes your plate of fries away, setting it down in front of her and immediately diving in. 

“I hear Trumbo never takes a teacher’s aide. Wonder why he picked you.”

You glare at Simone, you weren’t going to eat the fries anyways, but now you’re even more nervous than before. How are you supposed to face Trumbo in an hour?

“Whatever the reason, you’re an amazing choice. And if you don’t have much to do, you can use the time to work on your aftergrad applications.”

Now Tara is on the receiving end of your death glare. 

“I told you I was considering grad school, not applying!”

Tara groans and taps your shoulder repeatedly.

“Oh come on, you know you want to! You’ll get a full ride, I just know it!”

You grab her hand and lean towards her until your noses touch.

“I’m considering it, no promises.”

Simone throws a fry at you.

“Now kith.”

You let go of Tara and throw the french fry back at Simone, ignoring her snickering. 

You're sprinting down the hall to Trumbo’s lecture hall an hour later cursing yourself for deciding to walk instead of catching the campus bus. Your sneakers are stained with mud and your skirt is plastered to your legs from how much you’re sweating. It’s unusually warm for January…

You skid to a stop in front of the doors and let yourself pant for a few seconds. You hold your breath and open the doors to see the hall nearly filled with students. Great, a big class. Luckily Trumbo is not here yet so you have a moment to gather your thoughts and dry your brow before trudging to the front of the classroom.

You hear whispers from the students in their seats and try your best to ignore the urge to listen in. Are they talking about you? Do they know you’re the teacher's aide? 

You try to be as quiet as possible as you set your things down at the designated desk at the front of the class. When you turn around you notice everyone’s eyes are locked on you. You slide into your seat and open your laptop, hoping they’ll ignore you if you ignore them.

The door at the back of the hall slams against the wall and everyone turns to watch Professor Trumbo, a lanky middle-aged man with a salt and pepper beard, march down the aisle to the front. He tosses his briefcase on the desk and taps the microphone at the podium. A loud squeak makes everyone wince. He leans an arm on the podium and clears his throat.

“Good afternoon. Welcome to Business Ethics. You’re all seniors in your last semester at this university so I know your motivation is at an all time low. Fix that. This class is not going to be a cake-walk. You have 2 essays and 2 tests. If you fail 2 of the 4 you fail the class and have to take the class again in the fall. Yes, that’s correct, you will not be getting your diploma. Therefore, don’t be lazy and don’t be late. Young lady?”

The silence is deafening and you finally look up to see who is ignoring the professor, it turns out it’s you. Trumbo stares at you with a hand on his hip. He motions for you to come up on the platform and you quickly stumble out of your chair.

“Hello professor.”

He gives you a small smile and turns to face the class again.

“This is my teacher’s aide this semester. She’ll be grading all of your assignments and taking attendance everyday. If you choose to treat her like shit, I am giving her complete authority to treat your papers like toilet paper. Don’t be a bitch, simple. Now, here’s the roster, go ahead and take attendance for me.”

He leaves the roster on the podium and returns to his desk to start pulling papers out of his briefcase. You stare at him for a moment, almost unsure you heard him correctly. To avoid getting on his bad side, you step up to the podium and pull a pen out of your jacket pocket. You cringe at how fragile your voice sounds on the microphone, but you push through, calling out each name and checking off everyone present. Until you reach one name, shit… you forgot he was a business major… of course he’s in this class. 

“Sylus Che?”

There’s a moment of silence and you look up, watching the students whisper to each other. 

Is he really missing the first day of class?  Didn’t he get kicked out? Oh my god, he’s in this class? He’s so cute…

“Sylus Che?”

You repeat his name, failing to ignore the whispers as your cheeks flush. Your pen hovers over the absent box.

“Present.”

His smooth voice cuts through the whispers and several students turn in their seats to search for the source. You spot a hand raised towards the back of the class and squint to get a better look. He stands and pushes the sleeves of his hoodie over his forearms before shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. 

“Sorry I didn’t answer before, I was distracted by your beautiful eyes.”

A chorus of giggles erupts and your cheeks burn. You drop your gaze to the roster and can barely make the check by his name with how badly your hand is shaking. You hear Trumbo stand from his chair and look over to watch him approach the podium. He stands at the end of the platform, his hand resting on the corner of the podium. 

“Sylus Che, if my memory is correct I had you in two of my other classes, yes?”

Sylus grins, his brows rise when he notices you looking at him again. 

“That’s correct sir.”

“And, I believe, you passed those classes by the skin of your teeth? No?”

Now the class is giggling at Sylus’s misfortune instead of yours. You bite your lip to avoid smiling. Sylus’s grin doesn’t fade, but his ears do turn red, almost matching his eyes.

“Flirting with the teacher’s aide won’t improve your chances at passing. Now, sit down.”

Sylus obeys and you continue reading off the list of names. Once you’re done, you return to your desk and hide behind your Curriculum Development textbook to text Tara.

Me 𝘚𝘺𝘭𝘶𝘴 𝘊𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴…

Tara 𝘞𝘢𝘪𝘵, 𝘚𝘺𝘭𝘶𝘴, 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 “𝘏𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘚𝘪𝘯” 𝘚𝘺𝘭𝘶𝘴? 𝘛𝘏𝘈𝘛 𝘚𝘠𝘓𝘜𝘚?

Me 𝘠𝘌𝘚 𝘛𝘏𝘈𝘛 𝘚𝘠𝘓𝘜𝘚 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦

Tara 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰?

Me 𝘏𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 “𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴” 𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵

Tara 𝙊𝙈𝙂😲

Trumbo approaches you after class and hands you a folder.

“I know you’re not a business major, that’s why I picked you.”

“W-wait, you wanted me specifically?”

He leans against your desk and crosses his arms.

“I’ve taught this class for nearly 20 years and everyone gives the same cookie-cutter answers. ‘Don’t be shady’, ‘don’t commit tax fraud’, ‘don’t fire someone without a real reason’ - I’m sick of it. I want someone who knows nothing to make these knuckleheads use common sense rather than textbook answers. I don’t want a ‘don’t do it’ I want a ‘here’s why.’”

You flip through the folder in your hands, it’s full of notes and outlines for papers and tests.

“You’re the top student in your major. You’ve been taught to deal with difficult students and essentially read people. Everyone I asked recommended you.”

You can’t stop yourself from smiling, knowing you were recommended makes you feel less anxious in general. 

“If you have any questions or aren’t sure on a grade, I will gladly look it over. But I want you to listen to your gut. Give the grade that feels right based on their answers and whether or not you think they’re bullshitting or really believe what they’re spewing.” 

You nod and shove the folder into your bag.

“You can use this lecture hall for office hours, no one else uses it except for me.”

“Office hours?”

“Oh right, I won’t be the one meeting with students, that’ll be you. If they want to beg for a better grade, it won’t be with me.”

“I have to cover your office hours too? I… what about…”

“Did you inquire about why your Education Ethics class was rescheduled for you?”

You open your mouth to reply, but your lightbulb moment silences you.

“So I do everything but give the lectures?”

“Basically.”

Trumbo stands and tucks his briefcase under his arm. He smiles and hands you a post-it note.

“Here’s my number. Don’t hesitate to call me if you’re having trouble with someone.”

With that, he leaves. You stand at your desk for a while, staring at the note and wondering how you’re going to manage the workload. When you finally look up to finish packing your bag, you see someone leaning against the wall next to the exit. You don’t need to squint this time, Sylus’s tall frame is unmistakable. 

Handling Trumbo’s class was much easier than you expected. Everyone was relatively polite and did what they were told. Only one student had failed the course so far. You were weeks away from graduation and already planning your annual beach trip with the girls.

“I’m so bored with the beaches around here… we only ever go to someplace we can drive to. Let’s go international this year! We’re graduating, that warrants a special trip!”

Tara wraps an arm around Simone and matches her pout.

“Yeah, let’s go big this year. It’ll be the last girls trip before we go to grad school and Simone is flying to Tokyo for her big girl tech job!”

You look at the girls over the screen of your laptop and roll your eyes.

“I’m still waiting on my acceptance letter. And unless one of you is paying for me, I can’t afford it. I’m saving for an apartment, remember.”

“Did you guys already order your cap and gown?”

Tara slaps Simone’s hand away from the last nacho and grabs it for herself.

“Yeah, I just hope Trumbo is pleased with my work and gives me a passing grade.”

“You’ve done a shit ton of work for him, he better give you a recommendation letter too!”

“Is there still anything left for you to do?”

“I’m grading the last paper.”

“Who’s in the danger zone? Anyone we know?”

Simone leans forward, wiggling her eyebrows with a smirk.

“There’s a handful, if they get a passing score on this paper they’ll be fine.”

“Is a certain snowy-haired sex god one of them?”

“Simone!”

Tara tries to scold her, but her smile gives her away.

“It would be unethical for me to reveal that information.”

“Bo-ring!” 

You wait until they’re both out of sight to pull out Sylus’s paper from your folder. While you love the color red, especially those ruby red eyes, you hate the sight of how much red is on this paper. Sylus is about to fail Business Ethics and it’ll be your fault. Then again, he never came to you during office hours to plead his case. He’d flirted all semester, even leaving a little note at the end of his last paper trying to woo you. But none of that would help his grade now.

You gather your things and tuck Sylus’s paper in your bag. You have office hours and then you can post the final grades. Your walk to the business building is quiet, the cherry blossom trees had bloomed last week which meant the entire walkway was sprinkled with pink petals. You trudge down the hall to Trumbo’s lecture hall and sigh, it’s so quiet at this time of day with all classes wrapped up and teachers heading home. 

You set up your desk and prepare for two hours of uninterrupted bliss. A few more papers need grading and your final essay for Child Development needs revising. You’re sipping your iced matcha and scrolling through your playlist, searching for the right vibe for this study session, when you hear a door open. When you look up you nearly spray your matcha all over your laptop.

Sylus saunters down the aisle towards you. How he made the most basic outfit look hot, you’ll never know. Ripped jeans, a loose t-shirt with the sleeve rolled up, dirty chucks - to look that effortless would take you hours. He approaches your desk and drops his backpack to the floor, he sits on the corner of the desk and props his foot up on his knee. 

“C-can I help you Sylus?”

The corners of his mouth twitch and he rubs a hand over his face to reset the serious expression he’s trying to maintain.

“Yes, Miss, I was wondering if you’ve graded my paper yet?”

You look down at the folder in front of you, knowing his paper is on top. You clear your throat and rest your folded hands on top of the folder.

“Yes, I have.”

He leans forward, his hair swaying and falling over his forehead, 

“So how am I looking?” 

Hot. Delicious. Fuckable. All correct answers, but not something you can say. Not just because you’re too anxious, but because you’re about to tell this man he isn’t going to be graduating in a few weeks. 

“Uhh… let me ask you a question.” 

He leans back and nods. 

“Do you have morals?”

He laughs, the boisterous sound echoing off the walls in the empty lecture hall.

“I’d like to think so.”

“Do you think your morals align with the ethics discussed in this class?”

He pauses for a moment, then sighs heavily.

“I failed, didn’t I?”

“Answer my question.”

His grimace turns into a grin as he gives you a once-over.

“I think the concepts presented in this class are narrow-minded and rather unrealistic.”  

You open the folder and set his paper down in front of him before crossing your arms.

“That statement alone would have gotten you a better grade than this trash.”

Sylus looks down at his paper, his eyes slowly rise to glare at you. 

“I hope you’re not expecting me to beg.”

“I’m not expecting anything, you had your chance to come to me sooner. You failed, plain and simple.”

“Hmm… narrow-minded and rather unrealistic… that seems to describe you too, sweetie.”

“You can insult me all you like, isn’t going to change your grade.”

“Oh, you’ve got it all wrong Miss. I’m not insulting you… I’m challenging you.”

You hesitate, your fingers twitching with anxiety. 

“What do you mean by ‘challenge’?”

“The prompt was about negotiations, right?” You nod. “Well, I will prove that business deals should be personalized, negotiating is just another word for interrogating in my book.”

“So you plan on interrogating me?”

He stands and slowly walks around the desk to stand beside you.

“I told you, deals should be personalized. I don’t think interrogating you will help my case.”

You cross your arms and try to tuck your legs under the desk further.

“I’m curious what you think intimidating me will accomplish.”

“Wrong again, kitten.”

The nickname throws you off, you stare up at him, your eyes frantically searching for even a hint of sarcasm. 

“W-what do you –”

He suddenly kneels and takes your hand, bringing it to his lips. He places a slow kiss to your knuckles before turning your hand slightly to kiss your palm. His breath tickles your skin and sends a shock of excitement straight to your core. 

“I tried to be subtle, but it seems you need a more direct approach.” 

He slowly starts to press open mouth kisses up your arm.

“I’ve had my eye on you all semester since the day you came into this classroom all sweaty and out of breath. Your cheeks flushed, lips parted as you gasped for air.”

He places his other hand on your knee and turns your chair to face him. He plays with the lace along the hem of your dress, letting his fingers tease your thigh. 

“You’d sit here, nose in a textbook or trying to hide behind your laptop, but every time you’d look up I’d see you look for me. The way your teeth sunk into that pouty lip of yours when you caught my attention.”

He reaches up and brushes his thumb across your bottom lip. You’re frozen in place, your heart pounding wildly in your chest and your clit damn near vibrating with excitement. You try to squeeze your legs together, but Sylus presses his torso between them. He lifts your hand once more and kisses the tips of your fingers.

“To tell you the truth, I don’t care that much about the paper. Sure, I’d love to get the hell out of this school, but I think I could suffer through another semester if I could fuck you on this desk right now.”

He suddenly sucks your thumb into his mouth, rolling his tongue over the tip and circling before sucking. You let out a breathy moan and close your eyes to try and force yourself to calm down. Sylus releases your thumb with a lewd pop. 

“No, please kitten, I want to see those gorgeous eyes.”

You open your eyes to see Sylus leaning forward, his nose trails along your jaw as his hands fall to your waist.

“Fuck the paper, kiss me.”

He looks up at you, his eyes full of desperation. At this moment, you can’t recall a single lecture about educational ethics and you don’t bother trying. You grab his face and pull him to you, his lips just as needy. His hands reach around and he pulls you to the edge of your seat.

“Get on the desk for me sweetie.”

You follow his instructions without hesitation, all rhyme and reason chucked out the window with your sanity. All you can think of, all you can feel, all you can sense is him - just him.

“That’s it, lean back for me.”

You lean back, letting Sylus lift your dress to reveal your panties. He grabs the back of your neck and brings you forward, crashing his mouth into yours. His other hand squeezes your hip and dips down to cup your clothed pussy. You shiver as he gasps into your mouth, his hand rubbing back and forth, only making you more feral.

“You naughty thing, this wet just from a little flirting?”

You throw your head back and firmly grip his t-shirt to keep from falling back.

“Shut up… ahh… as if you’re not hard right now…”

He chuckles as he licks the side of your neck. 

“Oh I am… and I can’t wait to be so deep it’ll take you weeks to forget the shape of me.”

You moan loudly, your body shaking as he finally slips his hand down the front of your panties to touch you directly. His fingers trace your swollen clit and tease your entrance slowly. You press yourself against his palm and he groans into your neck. Your fingers clutch the back of his shirt. He takes a step back and pulls it over his head as you yank off your cardigan. He clumsily pulls your dress over your head and runs his hands through your hair, gently tugging to tilt your head back so he can kiss your neck again.

“You’re so fucking beautiful…”

Your mind is blissfully empty, for the first time in years… You’re not thinking about papers or tests, student loans or grad school. You’re just letting your body take control. You let your hands slide down Sylus’s torso, every muscle shivering under your touch. A subtle click and zip, you don’t even realize you’re pushing his pants over his hips. 

“So eager… you want it, kitten?”

You let him go and lay back on the desk. His eyes don’t know where to look. He leans over and presses kisses to your stomach while his hands shimmy your panties down your legs. Your back arches off the desk as he kisses you, every tender kiss sending a fresh wave of arousal through you. You sit up suddenly.

“Am I going too fast?”

You shake your head and tuck your fingers under the hem of your bra, yanking it over your head in one swift motion. His pupils dilate as he takes in your fully naked body. 

“I want it, all of it, touch me please, fucking touch me…”

He wraps his arms around you and pulls you flush against him. His bare skin against yours makes your head spin. You can feel his heart beating and all you can think is how badly you want him to touch you, to hold you, to consume you. He pushes your shoulders until you are on your back again. His tongue is eager to taste every inch of you, his lips drag along your neck, down to your collarbone, to the swell of your chest, closing around your nipples to suck and lick at the tender flesh. He continues down your stomach and over your hips, and then you whimper as he lifts your legs to rest on his shoulders. 

“Yes, keep making those sweet sounds, you sound so good. Moan for me again angel.”

His tongue dips straight into your pussy making you groan and writhe. He continues to fuck you with his tongue, his nose rubbing against your clit until you feel like you’re about to explode. His hands grab your ass and lift you, pushing his tongue further inside. Your legs shake and you reach back to hold onto the edge of the desk, gripping something to try to stop your legs from snapping shut against his head. 

“I want you to come for me, I need to taste you. Please I need it…”

His voice is so desperate, so raw, you don’t even have to think you just release. Your cries of pleasure are matched with his own, just hearing him moan has you seeing stars. You hear him sucking and slurping like your pussy is a damn water fountain and he’s never seen water before. You’re trembling and almost crying by the time he lifts his head from between your legs. He crawls over you and buries his face into your neck, smearing your release onto your collarbone. 

“You taste divine… better than I imagined…”

You run your fingers through his hair, letting your legs finally relax and hang off the desk. 

“You imagined what I’d taste like?”

He rises and rests his elbows at your side, his face flushed such a pretty shade of pink.

“I couldn’t get you out of my mind. I needed you, I still need you.”

“Sylus…”

His eyes drift from your lips to meet your gaze.

“Fuck me.”

His crimson eyes darken as lust takes over. He stands and you lift yourself up onto your elbows. You watch as he peels his boxes off, evidence of his own climax staining the fabric. 

“Did you…”

“Cum from eating your pussy? I sure did.”

You sit up fully and loop an arm around his neck, his body collides with yours and you waste no time. His mouth slots over yours and you part your lips to invite him in. His tongue traces your lips and presses against your tongue until you’re delirious from the lack of oxygen. Your hand reaches down between your bodies to wrap around his cock. He tenses and you slowly stroke him until he’s gasping.

“I can’t wait anymore…”

He frees himself from your grasp to grab his wallet from his jeans. He retrieves a condom and tears it open with his teeth. You snatch it out of his hands and roll it on as he whispers your name. As soon as it’s on, he’s lifting you off the desk and lowering you onto his cock. 

“SYL– oh… Sylus fuuuuck…”

You wrap your legs around him and cling to him, his face buried in your chest as he slowly stretches you out. 

“Holy fuck, she’s so tight… breathe for me sweetie, you can do it.”

You throw your head back and moan loudly, the sound of your cries bouncing off the walls and turning you on even more. Your pussy pulses and you force yourself to take a deep breath, your belly expanding. He bites your nipple and you nearly cum again. He lowers you quickly, his teeth rolling your nipple distracting you enough to take the rest of his impressive cock.

“You’re taking me so well, she’s sucking me in now, you feel that?”

You nod frantically, the deep rumble of his laugh makes your stomach clench. You need more.

“You want me to move, angel? Is that what you want?”

You nod again, your nails digging into his back. 

“Use your words, let me hear that beautiful voice. Please, angel, speak to me.”

“Yes yes Sylus… fuck me, move please I need you - I need you to move…”

The next thing you know, your back is hitting the desk and his cock is slowly pulled out. Just as you’re about to take a breath, he’s ramming himself back inside. You scream his name and grind your hips forward. 

“Shit… do that again, grind on me, angel.”

You roll your hips and feel his cock twitch inside of you. Your walls flutter as you match his pace. The sounds of skin against skin, the lewd squelch of your leaking pussy and his guttural groans fade and all you can hear is your heartbeat. The tension you’ve felt for nearly the whole semester, finally reaching its peak. 

“Sy, Sy, Sy! I’m going to…  I’m…”

“I know, I know, me too… Let me feel you… come on, I have you.”

Your body trembles as you cum on his cock. A growl erupts from Sylus’s chest as he falls apart. You can only feel his cock twitching and his hips pulsing, you’re almost angry at the condom for keeping you from feeling him completely. And now, you can’t stop thinking about what it would feel like for him to fill you.

“I wish I felt that, I wish I felt you fill me… fuck…”

Sylus groans into your shoulder, his chest heaving as he tries to come down. 

“There’s always next time, sweetie. If you want there to be a next time.”

You whine as he pulls out. He removes the condom and tosses it into the trash can next to your desk. You sit up and reach for your bra, clumsily pulling it on over your head.

“What are you doing? What if someone sees that?”

Sylus grabs some tissues from Trumbo’s desk and returns to you, gently spreading your legs to clean you up. 

“Frankly, I don’t give a damn.”

He turns to clean himself and you hop off the desk to grab your panties and dress off the floor.

“Okay Mr. Rhett Butler.”

“Oh, you got the reference.”

“I didn’t peg you for a movie buff.”

“Well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

You’re about to put your dress on when he stops you. He stands in front of you in his boxers, his hands settling at your waist. Your breath catches as he pulls you forward. 

“I meant it, you know.”

“M-meant what?”

He leans down and places gentle kisses to the side of your neck. 

“I don’t care about the paper. The only deal I want to make involves seeing you again.”

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙: @trishiepo0 @not-so-quite-human @kitsunetori @babyx91 @libriomancer @lilyadora @crowskitten22 @letharue @silverbrain @alastor-simp @drama-trauma @0tterteeth @mysticcollectionvoid @godzillaglitter @godoffuckedupcats @m00nchildwrites @plsdonttakemyname @hauntedbysmut @withering-dream @lostwingz2236 @simpfortheseven @freddy-2002-blog @plsdonttakemyname

[steppenwolfslair]

I am of the firm belief that the Dry Devil gang wouldn't really give all that much of a shit about Hans and Henry being together. Truly.

Some would give them constant crude jokes (Kubyenka, Janosh), some really wouldn't care (Zizska), Katherine would probably be very understading, hell even Godwin I think would understand (after one night of intense life changing honest drinking with both of them). And Musa? Musa should be the ruler of the entire planet, Musa i love you.

These are all people living on the fringes of society already and no matter how much historical propaganda and misinformation has seeped into our understanding of the medieval ages and it's morality, people and well... everything, remember that there have always been people who didn't give a shit, or would just go ''well that's weird'' and move on. Of course there were plenty that were very judgemental, ones that would ostracize and run people out of town and even commit violence. I am in no way saying there was a universal safe space for queer people like there are now but they were there, and many lived, and many were happy. There have ALWAYS been ways for queer people to find each other and live and share in their joy and love.

''But it was illegal in certain countries!!” do you think every Tom, Dick and Harry was calling the fucking authorities on two dudes living alone by themselves with no wives who never got with other women? Nope, they probably knew what was going on and didn't care enough to do shit. Sure they gave em the side eye, a dirty look every now but they lived. Many people just fucking lived.

Barnaby in the game itself is actually a great example. Everyone knew and yes there were assholes who gave him shit, yes he had to go and seclude himself somewhat but at the end of the day when people needed help they came to him and they left him alone. And I'm sure every once in a while a person like Henry came in and said ''what they did to you was wrong, YOU did nothing wrong''. If Henry is nice to him he even says ''well maybe i could try and go to town more often'' or something like that.

There have ALWAYS been people who have cared, who despite everything cared more about people than anything else; religion, dogma, stigma hell even law be damned. And I think the Dry Devil gang are those people.

Hansry 5ever gang gang.

[clockwayswrites]

Alright my darlings! City Pigeons Bleed Green is all but done! Masked is getting updated soon. I'm squinting at a possible Soup update. Helping Hands just got done. I have some freedom!

I am considering that Birdritch will be what I start to edit and put up as the next long fic, mostly because it already has an absurd thirteen chapters to edit, but I want to run though some of my current short(er) fics as I do so and get them done and published too! So, I figured why not let you all vote?

Up for vote we have:

Danny in Metropolis (title pending)

Kon Kent has a new classmate in Metropolis--one that he has a crush on. By there are some concerning things about Danny Fenton: his nosebleeds, how he won't eat food from home, how jumpy his is about Superman, or even being treated to things... oh, yeah, and his parents work for Lex Luthor.

The Haunting of Danny Fenton

Danny Fenton was being haunted. Annoyingly, that wasn’t at all unusual. Danny was sadly used to being haunted. One could even claim, if one was being pedantic, that Danny haunted himself. Sure, since Danny had moved away from Amity Park and the mess his life had been there, the haunting were a lot less frequent, but they still happened from time to time. The thing was, is this haunting was different. Different in a way that made Danny worried about the ghost and their well-being.

Nightbird's Song (Explicit, but skipable scenes.)

To Nightwing, Danny's building is a sanctuary in the night. He wants to wrap himself up in it forever. But he can't. Not as Nightwing. Not as a hero. Not as flawed as he is. To Danny, Nightwing ins a man that he loves deeply, but he knows saying as much will case his songbird away. He'll wait instead. Wait until Nightwing is ready. Or at least that was the plan.

Stardust Dance (Explicit. It's just smut.)

Dick needs a break from his life. All of it. Good thing there's a club with an enchanting person in it that has caught his eye.

Mx. Minx (Maybe explicit?? but skipable scenes.)

Danny is a damn minx. Jason doesn't much mind.

Battinson/John smut (title pending) (Explicit. It's just smut.)

John just finished a set and was out smoking when a delightfully shy man joins him. A delightfully shy man who is a fan... and someone John wants to take back to his hotel.

Neon Adjuration (Explicit, but skipable scenes?)

It’s about Jason returning to Danny and the town full of the dead again and again to gently lay with Danny in the dark of the night and beg ‘Come back with me’. Because Jason doesn’t want to live without Danny any more but Danny doesn’t know how to live at all. It’s about how Jason begs.

Not so Imaginary sequel (title pending)

Self explanatory! Danny's POV focusing on him settling in with Diana as his guardian, healing, and seeing Jason.

(Why is 'A Hill to Die On' not on this list? Well, because that mofo is going to be in the 'big' camp. Or at least bigger.)

[tesslinua]

Storm of Magic Region Quarterfinal - Dainix VS Erin

Propaganda

Dainix:His hair!!! He’s so pretty he probably has anime sparkles. His eye is so soft, and the eyepatch is cool. Puppy energy. I want to hug him and for him to take care of me. Being partially shirtless and transmasc is such a move. Self confidence is hot

HE IS SO PRETTY OH MY GOD. his ponytail. and his dumb little sidebangs. and his stripes.... very based of him to go around shirtless all of the time i enjoy it vvery much for normal reasons i like seeing his chest and his abs and his back. that one frame where he hugs erin in petrichor? i stare at his back muscles and get a fever every time. also he is so nice and sweet personality-wise i think he'd be one of the most dateable. he has some issues yeah but hed be willing to put in the work yknow?

i try to describe why hes pretty but i get so dizzy thinking of how pretty he is and pass out

Erin: Hotter when evil

He's a sad pathetic little wet rag hubrising and faking his way through life and he SUCKS and I HATE him and I hope he DIES /posi think i can safely say i am THE erin enjoyer. so buckle up. okay. for starters. i love me a good twink. that's the baseline. plus he has pretty black hair. plus he has indigo eyes (the best color). plus he wears a waistcoat and a cape. his TATTOOS. his fucking tattoos. how long did those take. theyre so intricate and they cover the entirety of both forearms. he couldve just gotten the runes necessary and hid them with a bandana like tarren but this freak doesnt do anything halfway. why would he? he's the elemental magus. he has to flaunt his status. that panel where he has his shirt open showing the void rune and he's got this concentrated/frustrated/stressed look on his face while he's reading his journal? makes me lose all higher brain functionings. also his eyes reflect the color of whatever magic he's casting. Pretty. he is. such a smug showy hubristic bastard and his ego infuriates and infatuates me. normally i hate people like this BUT he's also pathetic. he gets so cranky when falst steals his bag and when theia doesn't let him in the archives. and that fucking "by now, i… i hope you'd trusted me to know what i was doing" in ripples where hes looking down and he's so small in the panel. COME ON MAN whats your fucking problem. he's so sure of himself all of the time but it's so easy to make him crack and every time it happens i am filled with unbridled desire. i need to make him crack i need to make him realize the throne he thinks he's on is made of glass i need to watch him doubt his status and power. he is so much hotter when he's stressed. like when alinua says kendal didnt wake up post-zuurith? the pure anguish and fear in his face? Goddamn. not to mention the boat arc. that was the best example of him being soooo sure of his power, his control, and then having all of that shattered. "i HAVE to do everything alone! nobody can match me! nobody can help me in a way that matters! it always comes back to me to carry the weight, and if i fall, nobody can catch me! gods and legends want to help me? can any of you part the clouds, still the seas?! can you save me from the dragon?" drove me fucking insane every time i think about that i need to eat glass (yes i looked up that page to get the quote exactly right yes i spent approximately 10 minutes kicking my feet and giggling) seeing him get beat up is so nice i think it should happen more <3 i lov e seeing him battered and bruised and afraid and bloody and also i had never experienced sexual attraction to anyone, real or fictional, until i discovered erin fucking ruunaser, so like. thats an accomplishment i think.

[endofthelinegang]

Hello!!

Can I maybe have HCs or a little snippet of Matt Murdock trying to help a sick reader? Like, just a simple cold? How would it be like? 🥺🥺

Thank you in advance!! 🫶🫶

bruh i am literally sick rn, someone be my matt murdock i am DYING

The first sign of your cold hits late at night, and Matt notices before you do.

He’s beside you on the couch, listening to some legal brief Foggy sent over, his fingers lightly trailing up and down your arm—absent, soothing, just there.

You shift slightly, tugging the blanket closer, barely registering the way you swallow a little harder than usual.

His touch stills.

“Your throat hurts,” he says softly.

You blink, barely realizing it yourself until he says it out loud. “…A little.”

The way he frowns is almost imperceptible, but you catch it—the smallest crease between his brows, the way his fingers flex against your skin.

“Did you feel off earlier?” His voice is gentle, but there’s an edge of concern.

“I’m fine, Matty,” you murmur, pressing your face against his shoulder, exhaustion creeping in.

He doesn’t argue—but that’s when you should’ve known you were doomed.

He shifts slightly, pressing his cheek against your hair, listening.

You barely register the way his breathing slows, how he maps you in real-time—the way your chest rises, the faint strain in your exhale.

When he speaks again, it’s quiet, certain.

“You’re getting sick.”

The next morning, you wake up feeling like you got hit by a damn truck.

Your throat is raw, your body aches, and your head is stuffed full of something awful.

You groan, burrowing deeper into the sheets, trying to will it all away.

Then you realize Matt is already awake.

More than that—he’s not getting ready for work.

You crack one eye open, voice hoarse. “You’re still here?”

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, sleeves rolled up, tie abandoned, a faint smirk playing at his lips. “You sound worse.”

“Wow, thanks.” You try to sit up, and instantly, his hand finds your back, steadying you before you even sway.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“To—” You wave weakly, trying to indicate something—water? The bathroom? Your brain is foggy as hell.

Matt just hums. “That’s funny. ‘Cause I could’ve sworn you’re staying right here.”

Good luck trying to take care of yourself.

You try to push off the blanket, but suddenly, Matt’s hand is pressing it back down—gentle but firm, like he’s dealing with someone who doesn’t know what’s good for them.

“Matt,” you groan, voice muffled in the pillow. “You have a job.”

“Mmm.”

“Go do that.”

“M’busy.”

“Doing what?”

His lips twitch like he’s fighting a smile. “Making sure you don’t die.”

You have never been more aware of how much Matt notices things.

You shiver? Blanket.

You sniffle? Tissues.

You try to sit up, just slightly? His arm is there, steadying you before you even realize you need it.

He moves so effortlessly, like he’s reading you second by second, knowing what you need before you can ask.

It’s almost infuriating how good he is at it.

“You’re hovering,” you rasp, giving him the best glare you can manage.

He tilts his head, considering. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re stubborn,” he murmurs, shifting closer, his hand sliding up your arm in slow, deliberate strokes. “And I know you. You won’t stop until you have to.”

He makes you tea with the kind of care that feels sacred.

He hands it to you carefully, fingers grazing yours, and doesn’t move until he’s sure you have a good grip on it.

“Sip,” he says softly.

You take the smallest drink, the heat unwinding something in your chest.

Matt makes a pleased sound, brushing his thumb over the back of your hand.

“See?” he murmurs, voice dipping into something warm, fond. “Told you I’d take care of you.”

You can feel how much he loves you in the quiet moments.

The way his fingers brush through your hair, absent and steady.

The way he leans into your space, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

The way he tucks the blanket around you twice, like he needs to be sure you’re safe.

And when you finally start to drift, exhaustion dragging you under, you hear it—

The quietest, most barely-there whisper against your temple.

“I’ve got you.”

Final Verdict?

Matt doesn’t just take care of you—he makes sure you feel loved through it. You’re his priority. His responsibility. His person. And he’ll gladly sit by your side and out-stubborn you until you accept that.

[getaapologist]

More servant!reader, just some small self-indulgent something for my birthday. Hope you enjoy!

[ Previous servant!reader blurb can be found here ]

The moon’s glow filtered in through the archways leading to the terrace, filling half the room with soft light. And that was how Geta watched you, your half of the bed bathed in light, his half shrouded in darkness. And to him, it felt right. Because it was your half. He allowed no one else, had taken no one else here. 

Unusual. Concerning, even. Mystifying. 

Did he… care? Admire? Love? No, surely not.

And yet… he laid there, guarding your peaceful slumber, perfectly content to drag his eyes along every line of your face, each strand of hair, each eyelash. It was a laborious task, but he felt it was necessary.

Because like it or not, he had come to a startling revelation these last few days. He would not allow you to leave him, would never share you, even had dreams of you being trapped with him as you fell swollen with an illegitimate heir. There may never be an Empress, but it did not mean he could not treat you as such in private. 

He had no need for his former concubines, but he kept them anyway, if only to keep up appearances. Caracalla could have them if he wished, or they could simply gorge themselves on sweets and wine. Consider it a luxurious retirement.

But he did not know how to explain this to you. How could he explain that he wanted you to feel affection for him, when he technically owned you?

And why did he desire such things?

So that’s where his thoughts stayed stuck, well into the night. Only once you turned a bit and your cold fingers found the skin behind his knee did he let his concerns dissipate enough to allow him to fall asleep.

“Emperor?”

You hesitated saying anything at all, but you desperately needed to relieve yourself. And his grip proved impossible to free yourself from. 

Movement. Arms tightening around you, his nose pressing more firmly against your throat.

A groan. A small noise of acknowledgement. 

“Micturire volo,” you whispered, fingers pressing at his arms.

One final squeeze, his large palm relinquishing its quarry, arms sliding away as he let out a disgruntled noise. He pressed his face into the bed in the absence of you, long limbs stretching out to take up the entire mattress. 

Upon your return, you allowed yourself to take in the sight of him. A rare indulgence. You shouldn’t have, but you had to look.

Geta still slept in the center of the bed, his pale skin contrasting with the dark sheets. He was a vision, it was as if he was carved from marble. He laid on his stomach, one leg pulled up, arms tucked beneath his head. A shapely bottom, resting above pleasantly thick thighs. The expanse of his back unmarred, save for a pale white scar across a shoulder blade.

Climbing back into bed, you sat up near the edge, hesitant to disturb him further. 

Curiosity getting the better of you, you leaned over him, fingertips hovering over the stark white line carved into his skin. And as you looked, you noticed others, much smaller, almost unnoticeable unless you were really looking for them.

And you were.

Well, there had to be dozens. Their cause unknown, you couldn’t help the concern that flared up in your gut. 

It was improper, the way you felt for him. It could not be, could never be, but it was. You were not blind.

His large hand wrapped around your wrist, one eye opening to see who had the gall to disturb him. His grip slackened as he perceived it was you. 

“Little lamb,” he croaked, eye shutting again. “What are you doing?”

“I did not wish to disturb you, Emperor,” you explained.

“And yet I am disturbed,” he grumbled. “Come to me, keep me warm.”

He pulled you in, covering you with his entire body, one hand tangling in your hair, the other pressed against your side. 

“They are from my father,” he finally muttered. 

The scars. 

“I am sorry, Emperor.”

His weight left you, a grunt leaving him as he turned over, his back facing you. 

“Do not pity me,” he spoke, his voice cutting. He suddenly sounded very much awake.

“I… I do not. I…” 

You could not explain your feelings without making a fool of yourself. 

So you shut your mouth, wisely.

Trusting that he would not cast you aside, you reached out, fingers smoothing over the old wounds, down and around his ribcage, hand pressing against his chest. Lips against his scars, body pressed against his back. 

“Little lamb, please,” he whispered, turning his head to look down at you from over his shoulder. He was vulnerable. Tired. His big brown eyes possessed a weariness you hadn’t seen in him before.

“Emperor, I did not mean to–”

“Geta,” he corrected.

Your breathing stopped. The lines hopelessly blurred, as if they were ever really solid to begin with. Made of silk, with too much slack.

“Geta…” It felt foreign, but right. 

“Just hold me.”

You obeyed, settling in behind him, cheek pressed to his shoulder blade. 

His fingers ran across the knuckles of the hand you kept against his chest, continuing until he returned to sleep.

You did not last much longer, dreaming of a life you couldn’t have.

A/N: micturire volo is essentially 'I need to go pee.'

[ More servant!reader can be found here ]

[un-unavoidableanxiousball]

I'll Play With You

Masterlist²

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: Squid Game

Pairing: platonic: Salesman x Reader,

Characters: Salesman, Reader, Frontman (briefly), Oh Il-nam (briefly),

Tags: gn!child!Reader, slightly anxious Reader, hurt/comfort, fluffy feelings, fatherly!Salesman, psychopatic Salesman(it's mostly implied), overall references to Salesman's job, some worldbuilding...?, ambiguous timeline, sus pacing,

Warnings: slight violence (slapping ;) ), slight manipulation (blink and you miss it), not so vague obssession, although Salesman should be his own warning

Summary: Once again when meeting Reader, Salesman finds them upset. But this time it's a diffrent reason than usual. He tries his best to lighten up their day. How fortunate he's well versed with games.

Word count: 5233

Acronyms: (y/n) - your name,

This is A CONTINUATION of my other fic >> "Excuse me, Mr. Loaf Man?"

A/N: how tf am i supposed to know how 1. school system works in korea; 2. how mature/childish a 10 year old is; 3. must I project that much ? T^T 4. ...how good are the security measures in korea??

2nd A/N: I got distracted at some point to see for myself how hard gonggi is... Holy shit, it's hard. I couldn't even progress to picking 2 at the same time. Tho I did play with paper stars... But still how?! I am hooked on perfecting it tho. shush-

A/N the 3rd: I did some ✨worldbuilding✨. Why? I couldn't possibly tell you. I don't know, it was just an itch I needed to scratch. =]

He has found peace with the constant obssession and protectiveness towards (y/n). Which might have factored on his job…

He doesn't neglect it. No. It's the opposite. He's better since meeting (y/n). Now, with their safety in mind, he completes his part swiftly and far more players are recruited by him. Mainly, to make sure he has time to spare for (y/n). Moreover, equally as important, to unload his negativity on those far more deserving of it. He doesn't know what he'd do if (y/n) was on the wrong side of his violence.

Even the entire mess with Seong Gi-hun doesn't matter at this point. The Salesman has found the perfect ground. No longer recruiting in subway stations, there's no chance at getting caught.

When his status report made it to Frontman, he was questioned as to the change of his recruitment results (read: improvement).

"Your effectiveness has raised spontaneously and spectacularly in the last 2 weeks. May I ask what inspired that?"

"No." Plastic smile unmoving. "Besides… I just pick up the necessary slack, sir."

Frontman stills. "…What slack?"

Pleased at successfully rufling his feathers, he answers: "Recent."

If he thinks that mask is doing anything to hide his expressions; he's solely mistaken. Emotions are far more a whole bodily reaction. "My reasons, had I any, wouldn't endanger the games any more than sir's latest intrests, sir."

Salesman has impecable control over himself, he can say anything with any expression he wants to get a desired effect. He learned early on that he needed to blend in, to act normal. Control was essential for restraining his impulses. Whole life to learn and master the art of persuasion.

While Frontman might be his boss, he's still a player he once recruited. They tolerate their faux dynamic. Salesman fakes respect toward him and Frontman deludes himself he isn't feeling inferior in his presence.

"…Excuse me?"

Salesman needs him to back off. As he indulges in player 456, he should leave Salesman's life and what happens in it alone. Salesman doesn't disrespect him more for it. Well… doesn't show disrespect. Even if he should. Frontman's position is far more important and demanding for Hwang In-ho to lose focus. Sloppy. Il-nam would be disappointed.

"Nothing, sir." An innocent smile on his face, meant to give off 'I-mean-no-disrespect' and disarm anyone. Although both know Frontman doesn't fall for it. "..I simply couldn't help but wonder why you, sir, entrusted me with observing officer Hwang Jun-ho. Nor do I understand the point of the social experiment with the homeless… Sir never took interest in that before." Because that's all you're interested in, right, sir? There's absolutely nothing at work that's pushing you to behave this way. It's not like I know anything about anything after all.

Seeing him tense with indignation was rewarding.

"It's not your place to question my orders or decisions. You'll do well to remember that."

He grinned internally. "Of course, apologies, sir. Won't happen again."

"As long as you're dedicated to your duties, I suppose. Dismissed." With that Salesman leaves, triumphant.

It's been a month since that fateful day in the park. The number of times you met can be counted on two hands. And he doesn't see either of you pulling away.

He has fallen into a routine, and this time, constructed around his meetings with (y/n). Ensuring he's a solid, reliable factor in their life.

In fact your trust in him has solidified. You don't shy away from him as much. You volunteered some little details he wouldn't learn otherwise. And you aren't afraid to share how your time was in school.

He knows you enjoy math, but the teacher is too frustrating. You feel lost when she explains something new in a way you don't understand; having to ask a classmate for help and not even receive it most of the times. You feel jealous and excluded seeing everyone being friends with everyone, but you don't know how they do that because making friends is hard.

You like to draw. Flowers and leaves are your favorite and they end up better than other things you make. But that's only because you're of the belief that girls should get flowers. So you draw them for your mother to cheer her up. You draw the tulip the best, but your favorite flower of all time is a sunflower.

These are the little things that make you you and he cherishes that knowledge.

Among those days you met on, 6 of them were when you were upset beforehand. To try and cheer you up, he resorts to ice-cream or eating in that one family diner you're so fond of, for whatever reason.

Mostly it's the fault of your parents the day before, one of your teachers or just a hard lesson.

So it didn't really surprise him when he saw you sitting on the bench with slumped shoulders. Your gaze locked down at your swinging legs. Seeing you like this will always twist his heart with unease.

He sits down next to you. "My little sunflower, you shouldn't waste such a sunny day glooming about." His thumb traces small circles on your shoulder. "Look at me?" You only slightly lean to his side, but don't loook up. "Please? I'll be very happy if you do."

That works. You slowly raise your eyes at his face.

"There they are;" he boops your nose, "My beautiful sunflower." He says with amplified excitement. You let out a quiet giggle at his antics.

His own smile widens at the sound. "See? Here's my favorite thing in the world; my flower beaming at me."

"You're silly. I'm not a flower."

He exaggerates his pout, "No?" then furrows his brows in concentration, "Are you a bird then? A dove?" he gasps and whispers, "…a canary?!"

"No!" You shake your head, but the grin on your face betrays you're having fun. "Not that!"

He widens his eyes in dramatic curiosity, "What else can you be?"

You burst out laughing, "You're so silly! Silly, silly, silly! I'm a human child. Human!"

"Is that so? It was really silly of me not to think of that." He shakes his head in mock disbelief.

Inside he rejoices, he made the smile come back on your pretty face. He refuses to consider himself soft. Prefers not to think about it in fact. He's just as dangerous as he's always been.

"So what do you want to do today (y/n), hm?"

You shrug your shoulders, "Don't know.."

He hums thoughtful. He looks at you in closer detail. There's still a slump about you, although not as pronounced as before. The smile from minute ago is a little faint but still wide enough not to disappear for your face. "Did you do your homework?" You nod with a quiet "yeah".

He purses his lips, "So are we heading somewhere to eat or do you want to just walk around?"

"Eat?"

"Okay, come on. Anything in particular?" You shake your head, "Your favorite then?" You nod in agreement.

He stands up, not without taking your backpack beforehand. "Do you feel like carrying it or do you want me to?" He asks to gauge how you're feeling.

On one of the earlier meetings, overeager and still drunk in his obssessive mood, he offered to carry the backpack for you.

Although by the time he spoke he already had a grip on your backpack. Why it felt like something of a need or instinct he had to fulfill, he didn't know.

But you were quick to tell him no. When he asked why, you just stated you like having the weight. That there are times when you were restless without your hands occupied.

Who is he to take a chance of comfort away from you?

"Today's a 'Me' day."

So he just holds it up at your height and helps you put it on. With you settled, you head out of the park. Him holding your smaller hand in his.

A couple of minutes pass.

Salesman finds the unusual silence from your side unnerving. Before, you weren't unwilling to share if it was parents or school. So he tries to gently ask you for explanation to your sadness.

"…what happened this time, hmm?" He gives a little swing to your occupied hands. He feels your hold tighten.

He has to strain to hear your answer. "It's stupid…"

"(y/n), it's not stupid if it's upsetting you. I won't laugh. Promise." He squeezes his hand, reassuring.

He glances at you to see you fidgeting with the straps, a subtle thinking frown. But you don't speak up the rest of the way.

What kind of thing could be so upsetting? He thought he already shown he can be trusted. What did he fail to provide then that you're hesitant?

You come inside the small diner, he tells you to choose a seat. Meanwhile he goes to order Dak Galbi for you and Tteokbokki for himself.

He smiles politely at the counter server who, at this point, recognizes him. "Let me guess… Dak Galbi?" He hums. "…and what do you feel like today?"

"Tteokbokki."

"Alright," she inputs the total cost to the register, "you know, you two… are such a heartwarming sight. We don't get many families in here."

His smile never wavers and he just pays with his card, "Thank you." But inwardly, a dizzying delight twists in his chest. To be perceived as (y/n)'s family already… It's addicting.

He knows how he behaves. He's possessively protective, he looks forward to the day you'll be his alone. He's been helping you with anything and everything that caused you some problems. How quickly he, against all odds, took to a fatherly role. To imagine seeing you grow up and mature…

He sighs.

Soon he'll become your only parent, he'll make sure of it. But not yet. You're not ready. It'll taste far sweeter when you'll be seeing him like that.

He takes in a deep breath and walks to the table you chose today. Which is to say, the booth in the far back but next to the window. Your backpack rests next to you on your right, that way you're closer to the window.

If the booth was touching the glass, you'd definitely be resting your head against it. As it is, you're looking out onto the street. The same thinking expression evident on your small face but less intense.

Did you decide to tell him? Is that why you chose this table?

If so, then you don't want to be overheard but don't care if you're seen. It's embarrassing but not as shameful. You won't get any judgement nor pity nor anything bad from him. Never.

He joins opposite of you. His eyes never leaving your face, but ears are alert to your order being called out.

You quietly speak, "You're not gonna laugh at me?" and shortly glance at him to watch for truthfulness behind his reply.

Never at you. You will learn and trust it by heart. "No."

You nod and breathe in deeply, "There's this… event thing… at school." your voice slow, soft and quiet.

"I don't get why they're doing it, also it's mostly mandatory anyway… But my parents expect me take part in it." You take a short pause, "…actively…" You look away from the window and down at your lap. You nibble at your lips for a moment.

"And I don't—"

"Teokbokki! Dak Galbi!" You flinch at the interruption. It wasn't particularly loud but you didn't expect it. Lost as you were in your mind and worries.

Hopefully you won't close up… Salesman stands up to collect their meals.

He comes back with the tray as swiftly as he can. He puts your respective dishes on the table then the tray aside.

He has to try and pick up where you left off. "Is that what your worried about? Active participation?"

You shrug, "Kinda..? It's not like mom and dad will see if I do or not. Even if family has permission to join in with us. I heard a teacher even encourage others to bring them along." If it's not the possibility of your dad's attention that upsets you about participating, what is?

"You're not telling me something." He raises a brow seeing you shift in place, "What's the event about?"

"Something about appreciation for tradition, but like I said, I don't really get it…"

"Go on.."

"We're supposed to play games, like Gonu or Gonggi… but I didn't really play games much. Especially those team ones…" A blush spread across your cheeks. "I didn't know some of them even existed until the teacher explained."

How sweet of you. To be so embarrassed of inexperience. You not having opportunity to play simple games, lays if not on your parents then on other kids. Fortunately for you, he's very familiar with them.

He'll be the one to teach you how to play each and every game. It delights him.

"…I tried gonggi before but.. I always failed to pick up three." You fiddle with your chopsticks for a moment and then take a bite to keep your mouth occupied.

He tilts his head slightly in curiosity, "Besides gonggi, do you know how to play other games?" You shake your head.

He inhales sharply. Of course, you don't. Better for him then.

"Gonggi looked the easiest and I can't even reach the end." Your voice trembles.

"And when is this school event happening?" How long does he have?

"I think two weeks? I'm not sure…" Good enough.

"Then I'll play with you. I'll teach you. Every game there is." You look at him in clear surprise.

"What? Now?" Your gaping mouth stirs as much bemusement as endearment.

"We can start today. But perhaps we should finish eating, no?"

The cute blush comes back to adorn your face. You look down at your plate, "Are you sure you want to play with me?" then at him, searching, "Aren't games for kids?"

He can feel and see the slight frown that flashes on his face hearing that. It's wrong. A falsehood that grew to diminish that childish spark, to teach, far more early in life, that the world judges and does so harshly. He'll begin teaching you from this point. You must know, will know, the most important fact. "Listen to me, I want you to remember this and take it to heart." he leans forward as far as he can, "Are you listening?"

You mimic him and also lean forward slightly, boping your head in answer.

"Games aren't sentient. They don't discriminate. Everyone can play, young, old, girls and boys, teachers, students… Anyone." His eyes scan your reaction, the parted lips, the sheer wonder and astonishment swirling in your eyes. Although a second later a sliver of confusion or doubt slips in them.

"But then why does nobody really play after growing up?" True marvel… Asking great questions.

"People choose not to. They try to blame the lack of time. Though most adults use said time… unwisely. At some point society decided playing games is immature or unbecoming. So adults conformed to that opinion. And as kids grow they follow, and imitate, their own parents. And circle begins anew." He straightens up, "Besides… These days, you don't really see younger kids playing outside either. Do you?"

You purse your lips, brows furrowed, thinking, maybe deciding for yourself if you trust his judgment. Whatever it was, you've come to a conclusion.

"…and anyway. Why wouldn't I want to play with you? I play ddakji regularly enough anyway… Playing with my darling sunflower won't be a chore. I will play with you and you can't change my mind. And anyway, didn't you call me silly earlier? Maybe the rules don't apply to me, hm?" He smiles in amusement. "Now let's finally eat."

Both of you made the way to his house.

He has a little over an hour and a half until you have to get home. He'd have to choose a simple game for today.

Two of you take off your shoes, him first and you following his example. He leads you to the main area then tells you to sit and wait for him to come back. Although he wouldn't care if you, in curiosity, got more closely aquientenced with the the space.

After all, he lead you through a path that's easy to navigate and remember. If he gets his way, you will be fully familiarised with his house; and soon.

Next meetings will focus on teaching you how to play games and let you improve, perhaps even perfect them. But his goal is to make sure you're comfortable near him and in his house. To signal to you that belong here and will always be welcomed by him. You memorising the path leading to his house will be a sweet, sweet bonus.

He plans on dedicating a guest room as your bedroom. He'd let you decorate it however you want. And he'd make sure the quality of everything you'll wish for is the best.

But he can't let himself get carried away.

First he has to choose which game to start with. He enters the study room. He approaches the closet, one which he doesn't use all that often anymore and where he stores things needed for multiple games.

As the recruiter for the Game, he has a certain type of freedom. He can choose with which game he wants to recruit the trash. The only requirement is that the punishment for failing has to be humiliating. Slapping them wasn't really the go-to choice before, he caused it to be so.

After he's been promoted to a recruiter, he has mastered many, if not most, of the games. It was simple training for the role.

His first recruits might've been successful, but hadn't been as satisfying. However the day he chose to play ddakji with the potential player - an annoying and distasteful boy - he struck him. A solid slap across the cheek. Seeing that shock, disbelief in his eyes, that delightful splash of pain on his face; it calmed and lit up excitement in his psychopathic brain and body. From there on he stuck to that method only.

Apparently, since then, he had far better results of recruitment than any other coworker of his. He gained the attention of the Host. In fact, he received summons to Host's quarters. He heeded it. They held a conversation which impacted Salesman to a degree.

The elevator opens with a delicate ding.

Recruiter #27 steps forward toward the Host's quarters. He wonders what's this about.

Apparently it's abnormal to be invited- no, summoned by Him, and moreover, meet in His quarters nonetheless. When the Host has a duty to uphold, an order to give or simply supervises, He comes out.

Nobody goes to Him.

Why is he here?

The Host had His back turned toward him. His eyes catch the top of the mask Host wears, barely registering His grey hair. But he feels a brief spark of intrigue at Host's suit choice, a shade of crimson pops out in the room. His spine is straight. Posture unbothered and relaxed.

Clearly, He's very confident.

No matter his thoughts, his own outer image is undisturbed, calm and confident. He steps out from the corridor and halts.

"You've summoned me, Host, and so I'm here, Sir."

The Host turns around.

His breath faltered. It might've been for a second but it felt longer.

An Owl. Symbol of wisdom and fortune. The Mask is made of gold, by far the most obvious attribute about the wealth part of owl symbolism. An ageing rich man… Do You consider Yourself 'old and wise'? Is that why You've chosen an owl?

Masked head beckons to the seat on His left. And Recruiter #27 swiflty listens to the quiet command. He sits down. And stays there for minutes in silence, patient and unmoving. All the while the Host keeps standing. He doesn't feel bothered by this. Such a simple and delightful way for a little power play — he doesn't mind.

The Host is openly staring at him so he returns the favor. Perhaps He's even analyzing? Are You looking for something specific Sir? What is it, I wonder?

Then He spoke, breaking the silence, "Do you wish to know why you're here?"

Recruiter didn't really have to think about this one. "If You wish to share Your reasons, Sir, I'd gladly accept the knowledge."

Silence falls between them again. Both of them scrutenizing each other unabashedly. The stand off comes to an end when Host speaks again.

"You've impressed me." He takes a few steps toward him. "This year we got more calls from possible participants than for any of the past Games. Most of which had your identifying number."

Recruiter has to slightly tilt his head upwards to look through Host's owl mask and into His dark eyes. "Thank you, Sir. I'm glad to be of service."

"So you are." He takes a step back, "You've been assigned to recruit because your potential was evident. Now, you'll get to be on a higher position. Your type of dedication will be of use to me."

The thought of having more power around here should've spark some kind of desire, delight and satisfaction within him; however he only felt a dull pang of passivity. "Higher, Sir?" He doesn't strive for power, or powerful positions, he's quite satisfied where he is. Actually — correction, it's not the kind of power he wants nor needs.

"You'll gain access to things and places only I have access to. Don't worry, you're a recruiter and that won't change; your number and rank will. Think of it as a discreet promotion."

Recruiter tilts his head at that, "May I ask why discreet, Sir?"

"It will be discreet because no one will be informed of your higher status. Not anytime soon, anyway. Moreover — you won't receive it until next year. See…

My fellow sponsors have been voicing complains. 'It's repetetive' and 'Not as exciting as it was in the beggining', 'Bit too short, don't you think?' or my personal favourite: 'Time might fly or crawl by but they die off just like flies. Where's the fun? The excitement? You're growing lazy, my friend'." Every complain was voiced in impeccable english. Host's voice did a weird inflection at 'flies', He sounded mocking the entire time. "Then you came in, and to my amazement, managed to attract more potential players." Recruiter hears smugness and satisfaction drip from Host's words. "So, I decided to increase the amount of players in the next year's Game, consequently I plan to extend the duration to six days.

Expressing my… gratitude for you creating this opportunity, seemed in order." The Host finally sits down facing Recruiter #27, "I'm not blind though. I can see you're not jumping with joy at getting a chance to climb higher among the ranks. So to make this a little more engaging for you, I propose a wager. If the amount of calls we receive — curtesy of your coworkers, yours won't count — reaches over 80% of the number I decided on; you win. If they don't manage to, you lose. I think it's rather simple, no?"

Recruiter #27 is intrigued, this surely would make things more interesting. "Can Host explain what number Sir is reffering to? Overall amount of players or just the added amount?"

Host nods, "I had the final amount in mind, It's higher and harder to reach. If the raised value was 132, overall being 404, your coworkers would have to reach 323 calls."

"May I ask what's the number Sir chose?"

"No, you may not. That's what will make it exciting for you. Wheather you get your promotion or not depends on the results of our little wager. Of course, you can't influence other recruiters nor interfere in any other way. Do you accept, Recruiter #27?"

"Yes."

And that was that. That year passed by and Salesman got more access and became Recruiter #10 (which did imply an advancement of rank since every recruiter had a number from 20 to 29). The Host wasn't surprised when he won. Were you truly clairvoyant, Owlish Host?

After that they exchanged words on occasion, Salesman usually kept to himself. Every conversation of theirs was enlightning. The Host was one of the only people Salesman truly respects — even to this day. But there was a mutual understanding, if you will, between them.

Then He was diagnosed with cancer and asked Salesman for a favor. To recruit Him. He wished to experience the Game as a player before he died. He wished for the whole experience — therefore, he had to be recruited. So the Host chose him, Recruiter #10 and Salesman agreed.

He was handed a file, unassuming, looking identical to any other file on potential players. But he knew what it was. He opened it and for the first time, since being summoned to Host's quarters that day, saw His whole face.

Unobstructed by the mask.

He did his job as promised, approached Him in a train station; offered a round of ddakji. Everything was the same, money for winning and slaps for losing. It felt… fulfilling of sorts. There wasn't that sadistic satisfaction at other's pain, but he didn't feel pity or apologetic either. It was simply a task, but it didn't feel as simple.

Perhaps he should've asked, maybe, just maybe, Il-nam would've stirred him in the right direction again…

An Owl truly reflected His personality. A Creator of a Game where the unfortunate get a fair chance at prosperity, gaining life-changing amount of money. A guiding Owl trapped in a human body, trying to point out society's obvious self-deceptions to said society.

Seems rather pointless. Did You feel cursed, I wonder?

Salesman catches himself from reminiscing further and realises he was standing before this open closet the entire time he was lost in thought.

Something simple...

He reaches for a jegi and a vase with chopsticks — Jegichagi and Tuho.

It's something, they can play by themself if they wanted…

He returns to the main area and isn't surprised to see you standing by the counter looking enticed by the fruit bowl. "Sorry for making you wait, (y/n)." You visibly startle and quickly turn to face him, "Help yourself, if you want one." He gestures toward the fruit. He sees you hesitantly pick some grapes.

He goes to put down the vase on the floor near the couch, that way, when playing, you won't have the sun blind you.

"I settled on jegichagi and tuho. Both are pretty easy to understand and play. Which do you want to try first?"

"What's tuho about?"

He leaves the jegi on the arm chair and approaches the vase again. "A game of tuho needs arrows or sticks, in our case chopsticks," He shakes the hand holding said chopsticks to emphasize, "and a vase. The height of the vase is relative to the length of what you're throwing. And it can't be too wide or it wouldn't be as fun. You take a few paces," he demonstrates by taking four steps back, "maybe ten, away from the vase; and you throw chopsticks." He makes a gesture as if he's about to throw but doesn't. "The objective is to not miss. The person that has the most chopsticks in that vase, wins."

"I want to try it then!" You excitedly jog over to stand next to him.

"Be my guest, you'll go first." He hands you half of the chopsticks (eight), and steps aside to give you some room.

You take a stand, feet hip-width apart, your right leg more to the front. So far so good. You make your throw. But it lands slightly to the right of the vase.

Your next throws also miss but each time they are less and less off. Over all not bad for a first timer.

"Not bad (y/n). But now's my turn." Salesman takes his own stance with some idea how to scew his throws to not score. But you pull on his jacket, "No. You go farther."

He's not going to complain, extra distance does nothing to his accuracy but it'll be helpful in not advertising his skills. "Why?"

"You're taller than me. From here you'll score easier. Back away." You speak with confidence, assured.

Keen on the idea he nods his head in agreement and backs away until he basically touches the TV with his right shoulder. He makes his throws, which one of them went in. You were equally entralled by him playing, you didn't seem upset at him scoring. You happily collect the chopsticks and come back to the same spot after giving him back his share of chopsticks.

The process was repeated. You improved, each time coming close to scoring, your chopsticks bouncing off every time. There was a point where one of your chopsticks went in but bounced back out; much to your frustration. However you get a hang of it after that, scoring one in eight at a time.

But soon your arms grew a little tired so tuho came to an end. Since Salesman kept track of the score, he shares it with you. At the end it was 17:21 for him. Apparently you're not a competetive type as you didn't look upset. You had fun and that's all that counts for you.

There's still some time left so you move to jegichagi. If before your arms were essential then now it's your legs turn.

He also shows you how it's done, this time, doesn't downplay his skill as much. He stops at 12 kicks. After that you kept looking at him with awe, as if what he did was something miraculous. You try to kick the jegi. You take rather well to it. In no time you managed to keep it in air by kicking it three times before it fell to the ground.

Time seems to fly by around you. So while Salesman was aware of the passage of time, it still surprised him how short it seems.

When the clock struck a little too close to 4:30PM, he had to put a stop to your fun. His heart clenched at your shattered expression. Disappointment clear in your eyes.

You have to return home. He dislikes the idea far more than you. He'd rather keep you in his house, his space, comfortable and happy than there where he knows you're mistreated.

He assures you that next time you can go straight to his house to play. That would give more time to play and he'll introduce you to other games; Ddakji or Gonu perhaps?

He walks you back the same way you arrived. And leaves you mere minutes before your mother arrives.

He watches the car drive off. He wonders what the mother thinks (y/n) does when they have to wait around for her arrival.

If she thinks at all…

The lack of interest in (y/n)'s time at school certainly opens a door for him. He doesn't ignore such deliciously laid out opportunities. The key is to prepare as well as he can in those 2 weeks.

Let's hope you'll like the surprise…

GOD, it's finally done, I'm really sorry if this felt rushed TwT or weird

(who cares?!)

[onlyangel4]

picking up the broken pieces. seth rollins. roman reigns. part two.

cheater!seth rollins x reader. roman reigns x reader.

synopsis: after your world turns upside down overnight, roman is there to help you put the pieces back together.

faceclaim: eiza gonzález

part one // part two

series taglist: @tinyxrose @daemyratwst

authors note: no hate at all to seth and becky i love them so much this is just for the plot. this is going to be quite a few parts. do comment if you want to be tagged in this series.

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showing up at charlotte flair's house uninvited probably was not the best decision that roman had ever made in his life but he needed to see you. he needed to be there for you. you had been for him before, in the smallest of ways.

he could remember a time after a particularly difficult match you had swung by his dressing room with a bottle of water and a cookie that you had baked at the home you shared with seth. it was a smile action on your behalf but it had pulled roman out of his head and brought him back down to earth. he had been incredibly grateful for you.

he wasn't even sure if you would consider him a friend but he saw you in that light. he cared about you even if you did not talk often. he had always thought that you could do way better than seth but you had been happy with him and that was enough for roman.

when roman arrived at charlotte's house he could see your car parked in the drive and a sigh of relief left his lips. you were here and that meant that you were safe, that was what meant the most to roman. he parked his own car before walking to the front door knocking on it.

a stunned charlotte opened the door looking at him with a furrowed brow, "roman, what are you doing here?", she spoke keeping her voice hushed.

"is she here?"

charlotte didn't even need to ask who he was talking about. she simply stepped out of her front door shutting it behind her before turning to face him, "she is upstairs, asleep. she got here at 6am", charlotte explained, failing to notice you wrapped in a blanket peering out of the window.

"how is she?"

charlotte let out a humourless laugh, "about as good as a girl whose boyfriend cheated on her with her best friend could ever be"

"has he tried to see her?"

"becky and him were calling her so much that she threw her phone at the wall and smashed it, things fucked"

"i just needed to know that she is okay, we don't talk much but i was worried"

"i know, she has this energy, like sunshine and the idea of him ruining that has made me so angry", charlotte spoke and roman nodded in agreement.

roman was about to thank charlotte for looking after you and leave but the faint sound of the doorhandle rattling caused his eyes to shoot to the doorway.

and there you were wrapped up in a blanket, hair a mess, eyes red and puffy from the countless tears that had fallen from them and as soon as he saw you roman felt a deep anger in his soul, how could someone do this to you?

you didn't say anything as you stepped towards him, he instinctively opened his arms and you collided into his chest recieving the tighest hug from the man, more tears fell from your eyes and onto his shirt. his large hand rubbed your back, "i don't know what i did wrong"

"nothing, you did nothing wrong y/n", he whispered softly. he waited for you to pull away from the hug before looking down at you, "you are going to be okay. you have me and charlotte. we will make sure you are okay. we are here for you", he spoke the words like a vow.

y/ninsta

liked by charlottewwe, romanreigns, paulheyman and 682,982 others

tagged: charlotteflair

y/ninsta: the rumours are not true. i am not leaving the wwe and that is all thanks to this woman (and a couple others) who have been my support system at this time. thank you to everyone who has been there for me, especially you charlotte. i don't know what i would've done without you.

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y/ninsta posted a story

written: back on raw tonight, missed y'all

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in the middle of everything you did contemplate moving companies, just to get away from it but that felt like a major coward move in your opinion. you would be running away from everything that had happened instead of facing it face on in order to get proper closure.

today was going to be an easy one, cut a promo that you are back and better than ever, get interrupted by liv morgan, have an argument in the middle of the ring, setting up a singles match between the two of you, no actual fighting just a way for you to ease yourself in without pushing yourself too far.

you had been walking backstage of the arena looking for a quiet place to prepare yourself when your eyes landed on a pacing roman.

when his eyes landed on you, his pacing immediately stopped. as he turned his head to give you a smile. you and roman had text and called quite a bit after that day at charlotte's house but with his busy schedule this was your first time seeing him in person.

"you look good", he said, his voice a little lower than usual.

"well i was a mess the last time you saw me so anything is better than that", you said with a small laugh.

"you look good when your crying too", he chuckled and you just shook your head at him with a smile.

he opened his mouth to say something else something about how proud he was, how strong you’d been but he knew you didn’t need to hear that right now. instead, he took a step closer.

"you sure you’re ready for this?"

"i have to be, everyone needs to know i'm not just going to disappear because of what happened" you said quietly, the edge of nerves creeping into your tone.

"then go out there and remind them who the hell you are."

that comment made you smile softly, "thank you for your support roman", you said honestly, "are you sticking about?"

"i'm not missing this"

he ended up walking you right to where you were entering from and when your music hit you gave him a wink and then walked out into the arena, the cheers from the crowd swallowing you whole.

you climbed through the ropes of the ring grabbing the microphone that was handed to you, "you know i've been away for a while", you started and the crowd began chanting 'we missed you'

"i missed you too" you started again, "i just needed sometime to sort some stuff out, and you know at one point there i wasn't sure if i was actually ever going to come back", the crowd went silent.

"but i realised something. when everything felt like it was falling apart, the world crumbling around me, this ring still felt like home. no matter everything life threw at me, i was still dreaming of the day i got to come back here and come back to you lovely people to do what i love the most.", the crowd cheered again.

"so anyone back there that thinks that they can break my soul, you are going to have to try a lot harder because i belong here. in this ring"

you were confused, liv's music should be playing by now that was the plan but instead you felt a strong impact on your back. a chair shot. they were easy to to take when you expected them but this was unexpected and hard. you fell down onto the mat dropping the mic.

a mic the assailant picked up, "you talk too much", becky's voice rang in your ears before she walked out of the ring leaving you there dumbfounded.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

roman was quick to come looking for you after what had happened. you had not told him that the plan was to have becky interrupt you, he could have sworn liv was supposed to be the one to call you out.

his suspicions were confirmed when he heard your voice down the hall and he began to follow it.

"what the fuck happened out there!", you were shouting

and when roman entered the room he realised you were shouting at adam pearce.

"she told me she spoke to you, decided that it was best for business"

"what is best for business?", you spoke not shouting now but still rage in your system.

"she wants a match against you at wrestlemania"

"oh fuck that", you spoke shaking your head. roman gently reached a hand out placing it on your shoulder, in an effort to help calm you down from your heightened emotional state.

"it would have a lot of public interest", adam continued, people love your story.

"it isn't a story it actually happened", you retorted.

"think about it y/n it would be good for the company"

"no i'm not-"

"make it a mixed tag match", roman interrupted and your head whipped round to look at him.

"becky and seth, you and me"

"you want me to go against my ex boyfriend and ex best friend"

"you said you wanted closure"

"there is no way they would let us win", you spoke.

"then we are going to have to win properly, not rely on them to sell moves"

your eyes looked at adam, "could we do that?"

"i'd have to talk to them but it would work"

"oh so you will tell them about that but not me about becky", you spoke still salty from earlier

"wait", roman interrupted, "let me tell seth, next week. i won't play dirty, won't lay a hand on him i just want to be the one to tell him"

adam paused for a moment weighing up his options in his mind.

"you really won't touch him"

"i promise"

"okay you can tell him next week"

and with that adam left the room leaving you and roman alone.

"are we really doing this?"

"not only are we doing this, we are going to win this", roman spoke tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

and you began to believe him.