#screaming internally all day everyday (ooc)

[chishigure]

New blog over @ vengeancewise

Because it's a sideblog, follow backs will be from @ astralfist

[astralfist]

I have finally revamped my rules.

Pretty much shortened them by a lot. Or at least I hope it's not too lengthy.

If anybody can, please give it a read since my rules have been heavily revamped, and I also added a few new rules.

Overall though, just don't be an a-hole :|

[babygorewhore]

Let me In

After being held hostage, you’re rescued by Ghost. But the trauma of being the only survivor has made you unable to lean on anyone for comfort. Despite his efforts.

So this is my first ghost fic so I apologize for anything that’s OOC and inaccurate. This is angst and hurt comfort with smut! Please be kind!!

Warnings! Mentions of violence and death! Injury! Survivors guilt! Reader is lowkey kinda toxic! Arguing! Mentions of troubled relationships with family members. Oral! Fem recieving! Unprotected sex! Not proofread! Thank you to @xxhellfirebunnyxx for beta reading!!

You were rescued weeks ago. You had been kidnapped while going home, tortured for information on the location of a man you didn’t even know. And even if you did, you would have still remained silent. Remained cold. You were known for that. Known for your brash, intimidating and icy existence. As a child, you had learned long ago it was better to stay calm. Stay quiet if you want to survive. Never show your emotions.

You used to be expressive. Emotional. But it resulted in being called a cry baby. Dramatic. Bullied throughout school and then during training as a younger girl. Your parents constantly criticize you. So finally.

You shut it off.

When you were captured, you had been hit on the back of the head with a gun and then thrown into a cell with hostages an hour later after being unconscious. You had been assaulted. You knew by the bloody state of your legs and pants torn off. Everything hurt.

You were a good person. Strong and Steady. But all of that went away when they tortured you for three days with the group they’d taken. Beating you. With their fists. Weapons. And finally before you were rescued, they sliced at your skin with a knife. Leaving you scarred.

You were the only survivor when a military unit rescued you.

You were still being cared for medically. Still working out the details of your future. Your internal injuries are strong enough to leave you weak and almost helpless. But you pushed through. You slept a lot. Trying to recover. But it was a slow process.

Worst of all, you felt extremely guilty that you were the only one who made it. Whenever you slept, you had nightmares of the screaming. The wails of those being harmed.

You didn’t expect one of the men who rescued you to be a masked man.

He went by Ghost. He was probably around five or more years older. He checked on you. Almost everyday. But your interactions were extremely short. Polite.

You weren’t home. It wasn’t safe to leave from how hurt you were. And you missed home. You missed your own bed. You missed all your stuffed animals. It hurts that you were stuck here in an unfamiliar place.

A knock signaled you someone was at your door.

“Come in.”

Ghost walked in. His large size made him almost duck underneath the door and he carried a tray of food. “You Missed dinner.” He said simply and he set it down on the small table in the corner.

“I’m not hungry. Not really. But thank you.” You kept it short and you folded your arms.

Ghost sighed but didn’t leave. He stayed still whenever you saw him. It almost looked like he wasn’t breathing sometimes. “How’s your leg?” He cleared his throat and glanced down with his dark eyes. His mask didn’t disguise the frown that was settling on his face as he took in your dark circles. The fading bruises on your face.

“It’s still sore but I can walk a little bit. I limp.” You answer quietly. It was so difficult to say those words. You loved being able to move. Run. Dance. And now you were facing the possibility that you couldn’t. Not the same as before.

“I can always help you. When I’m here. All you gotta do is ask.” His deep voice was completely serious. He wanted to help you? He barely knew you.

“Thanks. I appreciate the offer.” You responded dryly.

Ghost shifted on his feet. He looked…awkward. “Well…I’ll let you rest. But I hopefully see you out of your room tomorrow. Being locked away in here isn’t going to help.”

You wanted to show annoyance at his tone but you kept it cool. “I’m tired. It’s hard to walk. I’d rather just stay here for now.”

Ghost nodded. “I’ll uh-leave you to it.”

He closed the door and you slowly exhaled.

You were glad to be alone. You wanted to think. Remember those who had fallen.

You dreamed about it. You dreamed about being sliced like a piece of meat. You woke up, almost screaming before you remembered you were out. The only one out.

It happened all hours of the night. You’d sleep maybe an hour before waking in a cold sweat. You shed a few tears before grabbing your cane and standing. You limped out of your room. Your pajama pants are too big, given that they were borrowed by one of the men who donated his clothes to you. Your socks met the cold floor as you walked in the kitchen.

You thought it would be empty, no one was sitting in the scattered chairs and you smelled cigarettes. Your nostrils flared at the smell and you sighed. It wasn’t much different. Being isolated in your room was plaguing your mind but this room was at least bigger.

That’s when you saw Ghost leaning against the counter in the dark. You shrieked and immediately turned on the light.

He quickly held up his hands. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Ghost's Voice was thick with regret at his stillness and you set down the hand that was on your chest.

“It’s okay. I should have looked.” You nodded as you started to pull out one of the chairs.

“Here, let me.”

“No. I got it.” You rejected his offer and sat. The cool seat sends chills up your spine. Ghost exhales before clearing his throat.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asks and you nod. “Me either. I don’t sleep most nights.” The conversation felt forced. And you didn’t want his pity.

“Yeah. It’s tough.” You toyed with your sleeves at the end of your hands before wincing at the spasm that sent up your ribs. Your breathing panted as you tried to power through it

“Shit. Wait, I’ll get you something.”

“No. It’s okay.” You start to say before groaning as a deep ache throbbed. You forgot your pain killers but you hated the idea of Ghost getting you anything.

He didn’t listen as he left and went to the medic. You hated the fuss as he came back with a handful of medication and a glass of water.

You tried to reach forward but the stretch was too difficult so Ghost warily held the pills to your lips. You opened your mouth and accepted the water that traveled down your throat. A shuddered breath came and ghost reached forward again.

“Here. Let me carry you, this chair isn’t comfortable.”

“No. I’ll be fine. I don’t need help.” You quipped at him and his hand faltered. “I just need a second.” Your tone caused his eyes to harden but he didn’t argue. A few minutes went by and the pain subsided enough so you could breathe properly and you didn’t notice Ghost had made two cups of tea. You almost groaned at his gesture but you kept silent. Your fingers wrapped around the handle.

“Thank you.” You offered and Ghost took a seat in front of you.

“You’re welcome.” Ghost hesitated before he stared into your eyes. “You need to let someone help you. You could hurt yourself even worse by doing it all alone.”

“I don’t need help. I need to practice doing it myself.” You replied and he sighed.

“Is your room comfortable? I know you still don’t have any of your own clothes and I’m sorry for that.”

“It’s fine.” You responded sharply. You were growing exhausted from his endless attempts at conversation. And he seemed to get the hint as he quieted.

You both sat there for a while as you sipped your warm tea. You titled your head. “This is really good. I’m more of a coffee girl.”

Ghost grunted. “Coffee is poison. Tea at least serves a purpose.”

Your lips quirk into a small smirk. “It keeps me human.”

His eyebrow raised. “Let me guess. You don’t drink much water, either.” You glanced down at the half empty glass. “Women.” His tone had a hint of playfulness to it.

“Men.” You marched his inflection and you looked down at your palms. They were scarred. Deeply from knife wounds.

“I have to be honest with you,” he said your name with a bone chilling seriousness. “I’m concerned. You never allow anyone to help you. You don’t leave your room. And I understand that. But if you don’t allow anyone in-“

“What? What will happen?” You said with a icy voice. “It’s not your problem.”

His jaw clenched but he didn’t answer back.

Two days passed and you still hadn’t made any progress with your walk as you hobbled in your room without your cane.

You hated this. You hated this so much as your mind raced with thoughts of Ghost spending time with you the other night. You had sat in silence after his offer of concern that you rebuffed. You didn’t know why he was so concerned with you. It wasn’t the first time he had rescued someone. You weren’t sure why he wanted to stay with you. Your thoughts drove you to stumble, falling over on your back as your head smacked against the floor.

You grunted painfully as you saw stars. Your door burst open.

“Fucking hell!” A deep voice bellowed. You felt arms scoop you up and pull you against a hard chest. “We’re going to medical.” It was Ghost. You had no idea how he could even know what happened.

“Were you outside my door?” You said shocked as your head throbbed. He carried you but you started trying to remove yourself from his grip. “Put me down.” You commanded.

“The hell I will,” He said matter of fact. “You could have a concussion.”

“And I’ll deal with it.” You told him and he didn’t answer back.

You were examined and released back to your room an hour later. The nurse told you-well ordered you to use your cane at all times. Ghost was in your room now, trying to clean up the spilled mess on your floor where you fell.

“I can get it myself.” You said casually and he stood up straight.

“That’s it. That’s fucking it. What is it? Why are you acting like this?” His voice raised. “Why are you acting like some sort of drone? Do you understand what happened to you?”

His volume surprised you but your eyes hardened. “Yes. I was there.”

That seemed to make him visibly angrier. His black clothes hug his muscles and his neck veins start to show. “You were kidnapped! Hurt! Fucking hell you have to walk with a god damn. You shouldn’t be walking at all.”

“And?” You said, bored. You went to move past him but he stepped in your way.

“No. I’m not going to stand by and watch you hurt yourself like this. You need someone to help you. I keep trying and you’re not accepting it. You’re not sleeping. You won’t eat. Drink. Or listen to anyone. It’s not right.”

“I don’t see how it’s your issue, Ghost.” He started trembling with rage and he stepped forward. Nearly in your face.

“It’s my issue because I’m worried sick. Seeing you in that pit gutted me. Seeing all those people dead-the good men we lost trying to rescue all of you-tortures me. And you wont show any emotion about it. Don't you have any sort of feelings about what happened? Or are you as cold as you act?”

“Showing how I feel about it isn’t going to change what happened.” A spark lights in your chest of anger. How dare he speak to you this way? How dare he make this about him?

“Then prove it. Prove that you even care.”

“You think I don’t care about what happened?” You said, shocked at his implication. “Just because I’m not sitting here crying about it?”

“You’re not just not crying. You’re withering away!” He shouts. Your jaw clenches. “You could die if you don’t let me help you.”

“I don’t care if I do!” You yell back. “Maybe I should have!”

“Don’t you fucking dare say that!” His tone made you snap. “Don’t throw away your life because you felt guilty. Guilty that everyone else didn’t make it. It’s not worth it and they would want you to live and be happy. You can’t just throw away everything because of them. I know how hard it is to be the last man standing but you’ve got to try.” The more he spoke. The more his voice softened and your hackles lowered. “You. Deserved. Better.”

You were surprised at his vulnerability. His way of reaching your heart. And you saw his point.

“I’m sorry.”

Ghosts' hands reach out to gently rest on your shoulder. “Don’t. Don’t apologize. I just want you to listen. You can trust me.”

You swallow.

“I wish I could.”

Your statement must have cut through him like a knife. But you knew it was better to push him away. He didn’t need to deal with your damage. Your fractured mind.

Without another word, he stormed out of the room and slammed the door shut. Causing you to flinch. But your shoulders were squared. It was for the best. He needed to leave you alone. Let you handle this. Let you heal by yourself.

Another week went by. More days of you isolating yourself. You were starting to become comfortable. Comfortable sitting in silence. Comfort in being alone where no one could ever hurt you again or remind you of what happened. Your clothes were starting to loosen. You were losing your taste. And you had a deadline of when you were hopefully going home.

Three more weeks until you were healed enough to stop seeing the nurse everyday. Where a doctor at home could look after you.

You felt a mixture of emotions. Relief you could go home and sleep in your apartment soon but a dull ache where joy used to reside.

You thought about those nights more and more. Lost in memories of the man hurting you. The weeping of the other hostages begging to be let go for their families. Their children. Your own pleading words ignored by the sadistic intentions of the captor.

It was getting more difficult to make the few trips out of your bedroom. You didn’t want to look anyone in the eye. How would you ever face the victims' remaining family? How would you ever provide comfort? It was too late for them. But not for you.

It killed you. As your brain relentlessly reminded you of your survival.

The nurses explained it was survival guilt. A way your mind tried to cope with a life threatening event when you were the only one who made it. Maybe you shouldn’t have. It would have been fair. You sat in the kitchen again. Past three in the morning with a cup of coffee as you pondered things you needed to do when you arrived home. How were you supposed to speak to your friends? Your parents? Everyone probably thought you were dead.

“That’s why you don’t sleep.” You jumped at the familiar accented voice and turned to see Ghost walking to the table, his loose sweatpants and black t-shirt against his body while he wore a pair of sneakers. “You’re still drinking poison.” He said gruffly as he took a seat across from you.

“I guess so.” Your reply was dry as you took another sip. The cream and sugar down your throat sends a warm, tingly feeling in your body.

“That’s my shirt.” Ghost said, nodding his head down. “I gave it to the nurses a few days ago. FIgured it would be warmer than Soaps.” The nickname makes you chuckle.

“I thought so. No one else would wear all black. A man after my heart.” You laced your fingers together and set them on the metal.

He looked at you curiously. “All black?”

“Yeah. Color doesn’t really suit me. Does that surprise you?” He shook his head. Slowly and he straightened his shoulders.

“Heard you were going home soon. You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” You weren’t sure where this conversation was going. The last one went so horribly and you didn’t expect him to speak to you again. “Not really ready to face anyone.”

“Do you miss your family?” The question struck a chord inside you and you exhaled heavily. “I shouldn’t have asked you.” He corrected himself but you shook your head.

“It’s okay. I do miss them. But it’s complicated. I know how they’re going to be when i get back and im not looking forward to it.” THe information flooded through you easier than you expected.”My father and I have a complicated relationship.”

Ghost took in the words and leaned back in his seat. His legs are separating. You took a moment to subtly admire him. Even under the mask, you knew he’d be handsome. You knew he had a strong face, dark eyes and his firm brows that stuck out whenever his mask moved. His large body. Chiseled with muscle and tattoos. He wasn’t unkind to look at.

“I can understand that.” His short, gruff answer told you that must have been an understatement. “Any friends?”

“Just a few.”

“Sometimes that’s more than enough. I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you.” He offered and you looked down at the shiny surface underneath you.

“Ghost, why are you speaking to me? Especially with how our last conversation went.” You asked him bluntly and he looked at you with a glint of surprise.

“I went for a workout. Saw you were in here. Nothing complex. I know better than to push you.” His words gave you the reality check that you’d hurt him but he was still here. Offering you company. You didn’t know his duties. You didn’t know how this worked. You weren’t even sure how the rankings worked. You never left the four walls in your room.

“I see. Pretty late for a workout.” Ghost grunts.

“Pretty late for a cup of coffee. I’m tempted to snatch it out of your hands.” You weren’t sure, but you could have sworn he almost sounded…playful? Amused?

The corner of your mouth curled and you shrugged. “I’m not sure you could. With those scrawny arms and all.” Ghost huffed out a short laugh.

“I could throw you over my shoulder with one hand, darlin. Don’t test your luck.” Darling. You’d never been called that seriously before and your breath hitched. He either pretended he didn’t notice or he genuinely didn’t. “Besides. Sure you could use some strength.”

“You’re probably right.” You chuckled and held your mug tighter. You needed to warm it but getting up would reveal your limp and you didn’t want to give him another reason to criticize your choices. You shouldn’t have talked so much. He was probably getting bored with you.

“Care for something to eat?” Ghost stood and motioned. “I can make you something.” You shook your head, respectfully declining. But then your stomach growled. You didn’t even feel hungry so the noise surprised you.

“I think I have my answer.”

Ghost made you something simple. Eggs and toast but as you ate, you found yourself finishing the entire plate and your belly wasn’t in pain anymore. “Here,” Ghost said, bringing your attention back to him. He slid his plate over that still had a piece of bread a few minutes later. “You can have the rest.”

You normally would refuse but you accepted with a smile. “Thank you.” You ate it and you laughed. “This reminds me of Sunday mornings with my parents when I was younger. We used to make this all the time because I was such a picky eater. My dad wanted to kill me sometimes.” Your eyes dazed as you remember the few peaceful times in your childhood.

“I bet. Someone who lives off of coffee must not have a wide range.” His playful, low tone came back and you glanced up at him. His elbows were on the metal table. His biceps flexing as he moved. “Do you want any more?”

You quickly shook your head and you felt uncomfortable with being more expressive and you stood wobbly. “I should get going.” Ghost looked like he wanted to protest but he seemed to shift directions as he stood too. His height loomed over you until he slouched.

“Wait. Let me walk you to your room.”

“No. It’s okay.” You denied and settled your weight on your injured legs. “I’ve got it.”

“No you don’t. But if you insist on still being stubborn,” Ghost growled. “Why can’t I at least walk you?”

“Because I don’t need a babysitter.” You replied and turned.

“Fine. But I don’t have to listen.” Ghost swept you up in his arms, bridal style and you shrieked. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He carried you to your room, ignoring the glances from other soldiers as he opened the door and he sets you down on your bed.

“I didn’t need-“

“Yeah! You didn’t need help! I’ve heard it. And I decided not to listen.” Ghost was growing agitated but you ignored him.

“Thank you. But next time, please let me do it.”

“I don’t understand.” Ghost extends his arms. “I don’t understand why you’re so opposed to me helping you.”

“And I don’t understand why you keep trying!” You say to him, voice still calm.

“Because I care about you. I care about how you’re doing.” Ghost grits out. “I want you to be okay. Especially with what you’ve been through.”

“I’m fine. I’m healing.” Your response seems to send him over the edge.

“Are you even human? Do you even mourn? Or are you too busy trying to be some robot?”

The word mourn causes you to reach up and slap him across the face. His head turns and he lets out a pained grunt. You step closer, your cane falling to the ground. “You can say whatever you want about me. But don’t ever question my mourning. I don’t even want to be here because I don’t think I deserve it more than them.”

Ghost’s eyes held an emotion that you couldn’t place. You weren’t sure if it was anger. Disappointment. Sadness. But then they drifted to your lips and you couldn’t find it in yourself to move. One because your leg hurt and second his gaze was pinning you in place.

“You do deserve it.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “You deserve to be here.” Ghost says your name in an almost pleading voice. “Please, let someone be there for you.”

You don’t move away for a second, feeling his breath on your skin before you take a step back. “I can’t do that.”

Ghosts eyes close and you sit down on the bed. Your thigh begins to throb. “Please go. I’m asking you to leave.” But he didn’t listen.

Instead, lowered himself to his knees and stared into your eyes. Your breath halted and your gaze softened. A fear iced inside you as he started to lean in. Towards your lips. And you couldn’t find it in yourself to move away. Something in you cracked. A dam broke. His kindness. His efforts. His way of trying to help you and your constant rejection. It wasn’t fair of you.

An overwhelming ache seized in your chest and your eyes began tearing up. You doubled over, knocking onto him as a loud wet sob escaped your throat and you began shaking. “Oh god,” You started wailing and Ghost's strong arms crushed you to him. His hard muscular body gave you a steady place to fall as you wept.

“It’s not your fault.” He said against your ear. Which made you cry harder. You wanted to believe him. You were so tired of pulling away.

“I just don’t know how to speak. I’ve been told my whole life I’m too much.”

“You’re not.” His arms tightened around you. It honestly hurt but you welcomed the pressure and you felt his lips against your head. Pressing soft kisses to your hair.

The feeling gave you chills and your overwhelming sorrow began to lessen. The thoughts of death. Your own dark ideas eased. They weren’t gone. But his embrace distracted you. He pulled back but kept his arms around your back. “You can call me Simon. My real name, love.” The nickname sent a chill up your spine and in the heat of the moment, his dark gaze on your face underneath his mask.

With one hand moving up your torso, Ghosts fingers pulled up his mask, revealing his beautiful face. It took you aback. His jawline was strong and sharp. His nose fit the proportions of his face and his lips were naturally turned down. His tongue darted out to swipe over his teeth. You could tell that he was uncomfortable. So your palms cupped his cheeks and your thumbs gently stroked his skin.

“You’re beautiful…” you whispered. And he laughed quietly.

“Thank you, darling. I don’t do this. But I want you to see me. Just like I see you.”

Without thinking, you closed the gap between you and pressed your lips to his. Your kiss was gentle against his slightly dry mouth and he inhaled. Still as a statue and you wondered if you were making a mistake but then he returned the gesture with a force. His mouth parted and he moaned against your mouth. Your hands gripped his shirt as he deepened the kiss with his tongue, exploring the crevices of your mouth before tangling the sticky muscle against yours.

His hands were pawing at your body with a strength and dominance you’d never experienced. You’d kissed people before but it wasn’t like this. Ghost’s motions weren’t clumsy but he wasn’t gentle. He lifted himself and pushed you on your back without breaking the kiss and your stomach fluttered as he tore himself away and peppered wet kisses along your jaw, down to your neck and he grazed your collarbones with his teeth. You swallowed and closed your eyes.

“This alright?” He paused and you nodded. “No. Say it. Say it or I’ll stop.”

“No, don’t stop. Please. Please don’t stop, Simon.” You pleaded and he returned with his mouth dragging along your flesh. Goosebumps raised and your leg, the good one, wrapped around his waist as he straddled you. His thick thighs and wide torso were a little difficult to hold as he held his weight with one arm and tried not to crush you. You tugged him closer, the heel of your foot pressed against his lower back, and your fingers buried themselves in his hair.

“Fucking hell,” he growled and pulled your shirt up to your tits. Ghost looked at the faint scars and fading bruises and his lips trailed in open mouth kisses along them. Your back arched and you dug your nails into his clothed shoulders as you encouraged him to remove his shirt.

When he did, you gasped at his body. His muscular form was refined and broad. Perfect. His tattoos were wrapped around his skin in a decorative story. Your fingertips traced along them and he captured your hand. “Mmm, you’re being such a good girl. Listening and responding to me. I bet you’re wet, hmm? Just from me kissing this pretty skin.”

His words made your core tighten as he roughly removed your leggings and you quickly covered your bandages. He moved your hand away, “don’t hide from me, love. Want all of you…” he whispered and his lips lowered to kiss your hips. You whimpered at the sensation and bucked your pelvis and he let out a low chuckle. “Patience, princess. I can’t spoil you too much.” He teased and hooked his fingers along the bands of your panties and pulled them down, the center sticky with arousal. “Such a pretty little cunt, love.” He muttered under his breath as he bent his head forward and hovered his mouth above. You tried to bring him forward, desperate to relieve the pent up tension you held from denying him.

“Simon, please,” You begged. “Make it go away, just for a little while. Please taste me.” You spoke in a prayer and he groaned. Unable to deny you any longer as he slid down further and your leg went around his shoulder as he gently held your other leg down. His tongue was flat and wide as he swirled it around your clit, taking his time to savor your slick and he worked his way down to your entrance. He dipped his tongue inside, filling you up and you bit your lip to quiet the sounds you wanted to make. He must have sensed it because he shook his head, his small amount of facial hair tickling your skin.

“Mm, let me hear those sounds, pretty girl. I want to hear how good I make you feel.” You obeyed him by allowing yourself to shudder out a breathy whimper as he lapped at your pussy, licking you like a melting ice cream cone and possessively kept you still. He devoured you and relentlessly pressed harder, leaving no room for questioning who you belonged to in this moment. Your hand flew to his neck, cupping the back of it before settling around his throat. He liked that. A lot. Ghost’s teeth were barely against your cunt as your stomach was coiling inside and flexing from build up. “Oh, fuck.” You managed and turned your head to the side. “Oh god,”

“No, no, no, look at me.” he ordered and lifted himself up. You whined from the absence of his touch before he unbuckled his belt and pried off his form fitting pants. His boxers clung to his body. Looking painted on as his cock twitched against the material. You could see how big he was and you wondered for a second if it would fit. “Aw, don’t look so nervous, precious. I’ll make sure that pussy takes me without trouble.” After that, he pulled down his underwear and it slapped against his thigh. The angry purple, leaking tip hung heavily as he crawled back on top of you. “I’m going to make you forget all that shit. You’re mine right now. Don’t fucking forget that, baby girl.” He said authoritatively and you mewled as his command.

He rolled his dick against your glistening cunt, it kept hitting your center and he cupped it, further focusing on your swollen bud. “I have to show that clit some love. I know you’re ready for it,” He cooed as you desperately kept saying his name. You felt like you were leaking like a faucet. Finally, taking you out of your misery, he entered his tip inside you, the stretch immediate as you grunted. THe pain disappeared after a second and you welcomed him. Ghost crashed his lips against yours in a bruising, hungry kiss and he bites your lower lip and tugs on it.

“Simon,” You slurred as he sank deeper, halfway in.

“That's it, love. You can take it. You’re such a good girl.” He was almost unable to speak against your mouth as he thrusted, sinking into the hilt and his balls slapped against you. His thumb shoved against you and circled your clit. “Clenching around me, you needed this didn’t you? Needed my cock to keep you sane.” His possessive words made you nearly scream as he jolted you with thrusts, making the headboard slam against the wall with brute force. You knew others could hear outside but you couldn’t care less. Your mind was fuzzy as your pussy took him without question.

His hand was balanced above you, and your forehead was against his as spit connected between you but it wasn’t gross like other men you’ve fucked. Ghost was thoroughly rutting inside you, hitting every single spot you needed as you were getting closer, you were unable to keep your eyes on him. He wasn’t exactly kissing you but his mouth was on your neck. His canines sharply biting down and you cried out. It tipped you over the edge and you creamed all over his cock, the slippery and sticky substance making it easier for him to move.

He gave a few more thrust before ropes of cum coated your insides and he pressed a hand on your stomach, “Look at how I’m filling you up,” His voice was thick with a moan as he stilled and jerked inside you with aftershocks.

Ghost stayed there for a few seconds before pulling out and your pussy was dripping. Ghost gave you a satisfied smirk. “Cock drunk enough, little love? Can’t talk?” You nodded slowly.

“Give me about five minutes.” He rolled off of you and settled on his back on the small mattress. His size made it almost comical the way he tried to fit. “You feeling okay? No regrets?”

You settled on his chest and his arm wrapped around your waist. You could hear his fast heartbeat as you chest his bare chest. “No, Simon. I don’t regret it.”

Your mind was clouded but you were able to focus on the moment. Your emotions mix with a low state to a distraction. But you knew eventually you’d go back to guilt. The shame. And you’d be going home.

Until then, you would lay here with him and forget. Just for a while. And allow yourself to enjoy his warmth.

@marchsfreakshow @slvt4jamesmarch

[yanderecandystore]

Could you please do a fanfic for a male version of Yandere! Lady Dimitrescu (from Resident Evil Village game) with the reader.

I really like the Resident Evil franchise but I'm too lazy to know what the hell is happening in the older games XD I'm so sorry about that-

I loved watching playthroughs of Resident Evil Village (can't buy the game ;-;), but I felt like it was a bit empty, idk- I felt like the lords weren't really explored enough.

Also the Duke is the best husbando in the whole game- Fight me! >:3

TW/Tags: GN = Gender Neutral, I normally forget to properly name it when it's gender neutral, most of the time I just say "reader" // maybe ooc // lazy genderbent, I'm terrible with names // size difference // servant reader // mentions of gore/cuts/bruises/blood and deaths (and torture- I'm so sorry-) // reader gets hurt // mentions of vomiting

It's Dinner Already [Yandere!M!Dimitrescu x GN!Reader - Short Fanfiction]

It's dinner time already, unfortunately for you, of course.

It feels almost like a routine at this point- Which in a way, it is! You always take care of your tasks during the day, while dreading the inevitable time for dinner to arrive again.

Everyday, at this exact same hour, you and the other servants would prepare a meal for Lord Dimitrescu and his lovely… Sons…

As someone who has started "working" for their family only a month ago, you can positively say: Starving in the cold woods next to your village would have probably been a more merciful death than the ones you have witnessed at this place. You weren't as accustomed to such brutal executions at your village, actually you hardly even witnessed so much death, at least not so up close.

When you came here, you didn't expect to be instantly comforted and treated with respect- You were a commoner looking for an possibility to thrive in a noble's house, you were basically an easy target for any entitled selfish lord to easily belittle you and make you work for them until your hands would turn to dust. Yet nothing could have prepared you for such an odd situation.

Vampires. Monsters. Fiends if you were bold enough to insult them. You weren't exactly welcomed as much as you were snatched in and now forever trapped inside this castle. You can still hear their laughter… Their insane expressions of pure glee, the way they have bursted into maliciously laughing at your pain as you screamed for help trying to open up their door again and be free from that nightmare.

The chase didn't last even a second, they stabbed your legs with their scythes and brought you deeper inside this hellhole, as you cried your eyeballs out. The sons had brought you back inside so their father could take a look at the "intruder".

An absolute titan amongst the mortals. His height was only a sick reminder of how much power he had over the castle, over his sons, and now- Over you.

He may not have been as massive as he was threatening as you remind him to be, but at the time you were just in awe of his height considering you have never seen someone as tall and as mighty.

Then again- You have never seen vampires as well. Were they the same vampires as the books you've read as a kid? You weren't so sure of it…

You were hoping that if you begged for life and for forgiveness for having disturbed their peace, that they could spare you and let you go back to your village. Sadly enough, you commented on how you were only trying to look for a job as a servant.

You probably shouldn't have given them ideas, but it's too late to think about your mistakes now, however.

The sons begged to see your blood spilled, yet Lord Dimitrescu was merciful enough to grant you your "wish", as he said.

It has been a month ever since you were trapped inside and forced to work as a miserable little servant, and even if you didn't suffer the worst forms of punishments that they had in-store for you, you couldn't help but fantasize about just running away and never turning back.

You're so tired of this castle, of the smell of carnage, of the undeserved and over the top punishments, and especially of the people who would subjugate you to such things.

But at last, it's dinner time already, and you can't keep them waiting.

You feel your hands shaking as you walk out of the kitchen and into the dining room where the masters of the castle were so graciously waiting for you. You know what they're waiting for- But you can't let them distract you, for those that commit accidents are faced with fates worse than death.

Although you would rather do this process quickly, you can't afford mistakes to happen, so you take your time to set not only their meal in front of each one but to also pour "wine" into their glasses. You do all of this without looking directly into their eyes, only bowing down to each one and saying "excuse me"s in what they would call a "decent tone", as the smell of their disgusting beverage starts to irritate your nostrils. If you didn't know the main ingredient to Sanguis Virgins is, you probably wouldn't have this immense disgust over it, but right now just the thought of it makes you want to gag.

Only villains could so easily drink blood, and still make a living out of it.

Your internal thoughts of pure hatred against this whole situation almost completely blinded you to the fact that they were eerily, very quiet.

….

On most nights they would be talking with each other while occasionally making comments about you or your presence. Obviously they were all pretty nasty comments that they somehow expected you to back it up in some way or another, it's when they try to insert you into their conversation that makes you hate this occasion so badly, but it normally ends as quickly as it begins.

But as you are pouring wine to Lord's Dimitrescu, you notice that they haven't said a single thing while you were there. You stop what you're doing as you realize that they were silently observing you this whole time, and as you look into their expressions you come to think that maybe you have messed up-

Somehow, in some way or form, you may have messed up- And the fact this mistake could cost your head only agitates your already very worried mind.

….

A small moment of silence continues before the middle son, Cassandro, starts to chuckle in an almost innocent way- As if he was a kid who just said a bad word for the first time- And as he bursts into sudden laughter, Daniel leans towards Bello and loudly whispers:

"- I told you, they do this every time." To which Bello only replied with:

"- It's almost like hypnosis in a way."

The three sons were mesmerized by your ability to trap yourself in your own mind. They're probably aware that you do this as a defensive mechanism but they still find it comical in a weird way. You feel yourself get more tense as you look up at Lord Dimitrescu and see him staring back at you, with an unreadable expression across his face.

Before you could come up with an excuse to whatever you may have caused to disturb their dinner, the Lord himself spoke.

"- How inappropriate. As my sons, you three should know better than to laugh at our servant's airheaded mind-"

And as he said that, their smiles begin to disappear and be replaced with frowns and a bit of shame as they become stiff at their father's words.

"- And how inappropriate of you, too. To be so distracted in the presence of your masters, that's quite rude don't you think?"

But as he continued their bodies begin to relax once again as they realize he wasn't focusing on them- He was focusing on you.

Words have completely disappeared from your vocabulary as you start to think that maybe you won't be able to see another day after their meal is over. You try to mumble some possible responses before getting interrupted by him once again.

"- It's very rude, so very rude in fact that I think we deserve some answers. What were you so distracted about? What were you thinking that could have possibly taken over your small little head?"

Right now, he was sounding a bit condescending, thankfully not as angry as he would have been with the other servants right about now. Every little mistake was used as excuses for punishments- And if you were walking on thin ice before, right now you are one-step closer to breaking this entire lake and getting yourself killed by the freezing temperatures of the water below you.

Thanks to your luck (or maybe lack thereof, depending on how you see this) Daniel came to "your rescue" by coming up with an excuse for you.

"- Maybe they were hungry." He said without any indications of it being a joke or a lie- As the youngest yet craziest of the bunch, he always had that weird "naive yet dangerous" energy coming from him. He was naive enough to make that statement when it's very clear that you actually despise being near them, but he still was a son of Dimitrescu.

You know better than to underestimate any of these people.

The Lord didn't seem completely convinced as he side eyed Daniel who was blissfully eating his meal without acknowledging his dad's glance or his brother's looks of disapproval.

Without a warning you were pulled closer by your wrist and forced into sitting next to the Lord, who made a sign for another servant to bring you your food. This… Doesn't feel right at all, you're waiting for the worst to come yet you don't feel like you can ever prepare yourself enough for what they have in store.

"- M-My Lord- This isn't needed, I'm fine. I'll just continue my duties, if you can excuse me-" You plead, while trying to get up from your chair.

"- Oh but what host would I be if I didn't take better care of my guests? Poor thing, you must be starving if you can barely serve us wine-" And as his tone gets progressively more sarcastic and a bit louder, you can hear his sons snickering from the other side of the table, but you can't see them since you can't take your eyes away from him.

You're worried that if you look away for just one second, that you may not be able to see ever again.

"- It's so sad when one of our guests feels hungry- What's worse is when we are also very, very hungry."

"- Thirsty, even!"

"- Oh, I can feel my throat drying just at the thought of such misery!- Our dinner seems to be ruined."

You hear their whispers, you hear how they are clearly joking about this- How overly dramatic they're being over something so miniscule as you just- Ignoring them.

Let me remind you this is all because you refuse to look them in the eyes, that you refuse to give them any satisfaction for the heinous things they have done! You've seen so many people get hurt inside this castle only for their sick and twisted thirst and entertainment.

"- Indeed, my boys. My appetite is ruined, though dinner is not over yet-" Lord Dimitrescu spoke as he looked at his sons clearly enjoying your inevitable pain, but before he could continue he turns himself to you again, putting a hand on your arm and saying:

"- Wouldn't you agree?" Loud enough so that his sons could hear it, but soft enough to send the tiniest shivers down your spine.

"- …!"

"- No, no- Please, not again!-" He wouldn't dare do this, would he??

But before you could react he had already done it, you barely noticed how fast he had grabbed that knife to slice your wrist- His hand firmly gripping your arm as he made a deep enough cut so that your blood could be easier to access.

It somehow hurts just as badly as the first time his sons have stabbed your ankles and dragged you across the floor- At least you're not bumping into things like before, and even if it's a deep cut it's not as big as it could be if he used his claws to actually do this.

Oh, oh those claws- You almost thought he would use them on you… Those were something else. You can't remember exactly what happened, and why it happened, but you remember seeing him use those on another servant who may have crossed the line at some point.

Well "crossed the line"- More like "casually inconvenienced him". Lord Alcino may act like an incredibly high noble but he acts so childishly and in such an egotistical manner that you are surprised he can even have a castle like this in the first place! You don't remember what the servant has done to be so cruelly dismantled, but you don't doubt that it was for a stupid reason!

You miss that servant actually- Probably the only person who you actually talked with, and the first one to actually taught you how to do your job… You two could have been friends if he didn't intervene.

You briefly remember those moments before getting to experience the most weird sensation of all- Having your bloody cut be licked and sucked on. It hurts and it stings in a way that not only makes you want to cry but to also gag at the thought of you feeding this monster.

You refuse to look at him even in this scenario, you refuse to see him feeding off your blood… Sometimes you wish you were just as poisonous as some species of frogs, poisonous enough to make his mouth burn so he can experience a fraction of the pain he causes to others.

You tried fleeting away, you tried getting up and moving away but his grip on your arm only helped you in getting closer to him- You have your eyes closed as your only option is to cry and muffle your agony.

But as always, he is not satisfied with you just ignoring him. This was supposed to be a lesson, yet you're clearly avoiding your teacher as best as you can- But not today, little flower, you're not getting out of this so easily.

This is the first time he ever got to really taste your blood, as normally you would be behind the other servants while trying to learn how to please him, the only moments where he gets to see you is when it's dinner time, but oh- You're just so cruel!

Escaping inside your own little head while he has to content himself with just your image. Your presence is very much appreciated around this hour, little one-

He has noticed this before, of course, but it was only when he noticed his son's curiosity over the way you behave around them that made him organize this little trap. He didn't have everything planned actually, his plan only involved getting to this moment no matter what- And oh boy, has luck been on his side!

Your blood tastes better than expected of a commoner, your delicate and fearful whines of pain are just as delightful but what really gets him is this tough persona you try to convince everyone you have- You despise him, and it's clear to see why- But he knows his charms will probably work on you one way or the other.

He gripped your face trying to make sure you'll get to him in the eyes as he has a taste of you. Absolutely delicious, especially after you so gracefully "ruined" their dinner.

His sons were just watching as they continued to drink from their crimson glasses. They were just enjoying the show, as everything seems to easily amuse them- Their father was just showcasing how they were so much better than the common folk, and they have no other option but to take notes and to remember what they have to do if they ever feel ignored by the servants in the castle: Show who are the true masters of this place.

None of them were really interested in drinking from you, considering how all three seemed to recognize how their father has taken a liking towards you. No one would dare mess with their father's prey.

If you had enough strength in you, you would start vomiting as soon as this has started, but the more he takes from you the more you feel like you can barely stay conscious.

He wasn't supposed to take so much, at least not so soon- He wanted to just take a sip but he can't deny the fact he would rather drown himself in your blood than to let go.

He sighs, as he notices that you're slowly getting less and less aggressive, getting more and more tired as he drains you from this cut.

You're not unconscious yet, just barely stable enough to understand what's going on.

"- Sigh… Now that was a decent enough meal." He can't praise you for being tasty, can't have you being cocky around him.

"- Here, since I'm done here I'll take you to the servant's living quarters- And because I'm so kind I'll make sure that wound is safely secured and cleaned, so here- Come along now."

And as he stood up he offered you his hand so you could get up yourself, but you don't have enough energy to walk yourself to your room, thankfully you're already ready to go to bed and wish to never wake up again.

And as the nightmare never ends, he decides that if you are going to be difficult then you leave him no choice but to carry you there. How much has he taken from you?? Jesus, he should learn some self-control before doing this again- The absolute brute that he is.

Your vision may be a little screwed over because of the lack of red cells running through your body at the moment- But you have a weird feeling that you two aren't heading towards the servant's living quarters, as you feel like you two are quite literally going in the opposite direction.

Oh but it's fine- Right?

It'll be fine. Surely. After all, he already took what he wanted from you, and he doesn't seem to need more so- You probably won't have to worry about anything right now, dinner time is already over, you can finally relax now….

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

So I'm sick again- Sorry y'all, I just have a horrible immune system and I really don't understand what is wrong with me-

I'm sorry if you didn't like this boo :(

[clarissalance]

Who has the upper hand?

Pairing: Kaeya x G/N!Reader, mention of Varka and Diluc.

Warning: Slight swearing, Kaeya is a lil shit, reader being stubborn and scheming, immense tension

Summary: You’re so terrible at swordsmanship that you can’t withstand 2 strikes from Kaeya or, are you? 

Word count: 3k5

Disclaimer: What is written in here is based on my imagination, nothing from this fic should be taken seriously. Most of the fact I put in this fic does not follow the lore of the game so it should only be taken as a grain of salt. For example: section 8 in Knight of Favonius codebook.

A/N: I struggle so much when I wrote this piece. This was suppose to be angstier but I tone down a little bit (because Kaeya was very OOC in my draft, I think he’s still a bit OOC in this fic but I tried my best ;-;, pls don’t bite me.) 

How did author write a 50k+ oneshot? I can’t write something more than 5k properly ;-; Anyhow, please enjoy this fic. I’m going to have a good rest for 2 weeks before release a comeback. Please shower Kaeya and our new MC with a lot of loves!!!! 

As a strategist of the knight of Favonius, you don't usually have enough time to finish the towers of reports, the never-ending meetings and dealing with cheap tricks Fatui diplomats. Often, you have to skip your daily sword training session, which results in a rather miserable situation. The whole practice ground is staring holes at your defeated posture. You are sitting on the hard soil ground, and the Calvary captain is towering you, his sharp blade just a few inches away from your throat. 

It is not a strange scene for any knights to lose a spar against the Calvary captain, he should be one with the best swordsmanship after Grand Master, and maybe Acting-Grand Master, too. However, as knight, they can usually withstand him at least more than 2 blows. 

Whispers and talks start to circulate around as soon as you stepped your foot in the training ground. It’s very uncommon to see people from that department wandering around this area. The strategy department is famous inside the Knight of Favonius to be the weakling-cunning-mouthy-jerks, who always find excuses after excuses to skip the monthly knight evaluation. 

So, who gives them the right to be exempt from the test? Of course, it’s from the ultimate high chief of strategy department. Rumours say before the strategy chief works for the Favonius knight, the man was once a legendary attorney. That person can flip words from black to white, turns the defendant from guilty to innocent.  With a profound convincing skillset coming from the chief, persuading the Grand Master Varka is easy as a piece of cake. The whole department of 10 people is easily off-hook for 3 years, never participate in the monthly evaluation before the man suddenly dropped the bomb 2 days ago.  

“ I’m tired from coming with excuses to cover for your lazy asses.” The man waved his hand, his eyes staring outside the window. His nails scratching the messy shaved chin.“ Varka seems to get used to navigating my thoughts-”

“Maybe time is wearing away your skill-” At the corner, someone accidentally blurted out, and the whole table gave him a sharp look. Did he have a death wish or something? If so, everyone here can happily dig him a hole, free charge for the coffin.

The chief cleared his voice again, blue eyes melancholy drifted to the table. “So, you guys have tried your best on this monthly evaluation. I hope to see you all again next month.” 

The meeting was dismissed afterwards, and everything spiralled into chaos. The whole department hasn’t touched anything aside from the parchment papers and the quills in the last 3 years. How are they going to master the swordman-ship in 2 weeks? 

But, the worst thing is,

Your well-respected, talented, and tactful chief has run away. 

The next morning, you received the news that a foxy old man is on a business trip to Fontaine with the Grand Master. The expedition is 2 weeks long.

You should have known what he meant when the deceitful man ambiguously ended his sentence like that. Nothing goes well when the chief said:  ‘Farewell, my comrades’. 

 For the last 2 days, you have been starting to familiarize yourself again with how to hold a sword and how to swing the sword. 

As you trail along with the long-forgotten memories, trying to look through the familiar feeling when swinging the sword, you hear footsteps coming in your direction. It is familiar, with the way the person is walking, the beat, the sudden burst of noise in the air, you can only conclude it’s the Calvary Captain. The practice ground seems livelier as soon as the man steps inside, people rushing to his side to give their greetings. Maybe today is one of his practice days.

 “ Never thought I would see you here.” The young man calls out, successfully jostle you up from your thoughts. You give him a complex look and turn away, focusing on the tattered dummies. Your wrist is screaming in protest, legs wobbling. You remember those golden days when you were young when you were flexible, and your bones didn't crack as much. Oh, where the golden days have gone? 

“What do I own the honour of seeing you here, captain?” You fold your arm defensively, voice monotonously. Kaeya despites the most when you start talking in an emotionless tone. Oh, how you love riling him up in the middle of the practice ground! 

“ I come here for my weekly practice, but-” He shrugs, eyes glinting with mischief. “ look like the rumour about the abolishment of special permission for the strategy department is true.” 

So he has heard the rumours. You roll your eyes, face blanks. You know Kaeya has his own way to obtain his information, but you never thought it’d be this fast. Words don’t easily leak from the strategy department. 

“What do you need? Make it short, so I can practice for the upcoming evaluation.” Tired of his long introduction, you ask him directly. If you are going to ignore him any longer, the man will continue poking you. 

Starting an argument only wastes your time, and asserting dominance in the middle of the training ground won’t boost your ego. You’re a strategist, your weapons are detailed plans and sharp word, not sword and bow. Showing off your strength in front of those ruthless knights don't improve your relationship with them. 

“ Straight the point eh?” You give him an impatiently look, tempting to ignore him again before he flashes you a smug grin. “How bout sparing with me?”  

The whole training ground falls in silence, and you direct at the captain a confusing look. Is he serious? No one in the knight except the Grand Master can go against him, not to mention someone who hasn’t touched a sword for three years. 

“I can help you with your training, and you can help with mine” Kaeya speaks with utmost confidence that you almost nod and agree. That man is really deceitful, he knows how well your skill has gone dull, yet he still wants to practice with you? What is this man plotting?  

“ Do you realize how absurd your offer is? ” You give him a complicated gaze, voice unwavering. Everyone takes in a deep breath, tension crackling. It's not everyday scenery you often encounter. A heated argument between the mischievous cavalry captain and the tactful strategist. Nosy people gather around the pair, internally hoping for the war the breaks out. 

“ You know well that I can’t properly block your first strike.” Light-hearted, you joke, but there is no hint of amusement in your voice. Sharpe eyes glaring at the blue figure, you notice the man remains unfazed. 

" Shouldn't you choose a more competent opponent?" 

The sound whispers and talking about the reasons why Kaeya picked such an easy opponent start to circulate, and you can’t help to curl your lips up. Within a  few seconds, you have effortlessly turned the gossiping direction toward your desired path. Flashing Kaeya a victorious grin, you tap your foot impatiently, waiting for his reaction.

You should have worked at PR damage control or marketing instead! The diplomat would have been fine too! At least, you wouldn’t need to practice swordman-ship.

As you mulling on your terrible choice of career, a chill runs down your spine. Tilting up, Kaeya is beaming sweetly at you, the frost slowly creeping up and nipping your shoes. Look like you just pressed the wrong button. 

The man narrows his eyes, and you gulp nervously, avoiding his calculating gaze. Kaeya chuckles, his voice laced with worry, wavering and hurtful. 

“I just want to help you improve as fast as possible. The test is coming in two weeks isn't it?” 

The whole table has turned, and people start to say how considerate and thoughtful the cavalry captain is. The crowd starts to criticize you and tell you to be more grateful and stop suspicious of his unconditional help. Oh, you wish he wasting it on you, many knights in this training ground would love getting advice and improvements from him. 

Applause for our dear Calvary captain, smoothly seeking empathy from the crowd and turning the favour back to him. No wonder how fast he climbed up the rank. 

Bantering and arguing with a person like him is meaningless, so you accept his offer and drag your sword toward his direction. Let finish this within 2 strikes. 

Moving to the centre of the field, both of you face each other, his eyes scanning you sceptically. What is this man plotting again? Bowing, you finally give him a warning look before standing at your ready position. Kaeya holds his sword, analyzing your starting posture. 

As soon as the whistle blows, you charge at the man, opening the spar with a direct hit. Kaeya quickly raises his word up to block the first blow, the sound of steel clashing loudly. He then forcefully diverts the sword to the left, a classic way to counter the strike. 

Knowing your limited strength against him, you take a step back and swiftly angle the blade downward, aiming for a weak spot at his waist. This move would create a noticeable weakness on your right, and only the idiot doesn't use this as his advantage to disarm you. 

You’re right, he uses the loophole you planned, successfully disarm you within 2 strikes. The sword slips from your hand clanging loudly behind as your foot slips and fall on the ground. 

His sharp blade is just a few inches away from your neck. The calvary captain wears a solemn look, his cerulean eyes imbued with irritation. Seems like he figures out you purposefully planed to end the match in 2 strikes. 

Quickly raising your hand in defeat, you shoot him a taunting grin. The referee declares Kaeya is the winner, and people start to clap and cheer loudly, but overall no one is surprised. As the match end, audiences start to disperse, return back to their tasks. 

Kaeya put his sword away and offers you his hand. You stare idly at the gloved hand a moment before putting yours on. The man effortlessly pulls you up, your body flush against his. With Kaeya so close to you, your first reaction is to push the man away, but his firm grip says otherwise. He inches closer, dark blue locks brush your cheek, tall figure towering you intimidating. 

“Why end it so early?” He leans down and whispers, your body tenses up visibly. “Surely, you could handle more than 2 strikes of mine.” The young man in blue hums, his voice sultry. 

“ What are you saying? I haven’t touched the sword more than 3 years.” You remind him, hands pushing his chest away, trying to create some distance. The man doesn’t budge an inch. 

“Your strikes doesn’t say so. The first strike was not bad.” Noticing your effort to push him away, Kaeya stands straight, heels dig into the ground. His lips curl up at the helplessness flashing in your eyes. He loves seeing you struggle, seeing how anxiety and desperation rising in your sparkling orbs. “I think you could at least have a decent fight with me.”  

“ Quit spouting non-sense Kaeya, let me go. We are in public.” You let out an annoyed hiss, punching his toned chest. He still wears the uniform improperly like that, the exposed tan chest can be under many layers. Sometimes you don't even know the reason why doesn't he just button the shirt up properly. Finger grazing at the bared skin on his chest, you turn your head away, cheeks heat up. 

The man loves seeing you squirming in his trap, and you’re not going to let him see that. Anything, but satisfying his masochist hobby. 

“You don’t like skin-ship?” The man fakes a gasp, his orb sparkles with mirth. “But you were being touchy with your friend. Why can't we be a bit touchy? ”  His tone suggestively, the tall man snickers at your blushing mess. Out of everything, why would he mention that? You give him stinky eyes, brows furrow deeply.  

“I’m not touchy with you.” You deny dreadfully. Archon, how long have you wasted your time here with this slithering serpent? 

Kaeya arms wrap tightly around you, your body moulds perfectly into his embrace. You hate how perfectly you fit into his hug like this, but you can’t deny how warm he is, despite the fact he wields cryo. 

“ When will you let me go?” Your voice starts to grow weak, dragging slightly in discomfort.  Kaeya curiously looks down, noticing your pouting. Sensing his gaze, you turn your head away but his fingers have quickly grabbed your cheek, forcing you to look at his deep blue eye.  

“Give me a kiss, then I'd let you go.” His voice serious, but what he just said is not. You look at the cryo wielder horrendously, mouth gaping. His face is composed and relax, like what he just ask is like asking about the weather, asking about your health, not for a kiss. Is he being serious? What in the world did he just ask? A kiss? Excuse me, a what? 

“You...you are not being serious.” You wriggle your way out, escaping from his fingers, but his embrace tightens, caging you inside. Damn it, Kaeya. He’s messing with you. 

When you flash him a furious look, the man shrugs nonchalantly, his cerulean lock fluttering gently in the wind. Suddenly, you have an urge to wipe off that calm demeanour. He can’t be serious. Why does he have to go all the way to annoy the shit out of you? 

The smug grin hanging on his face, the mischief in his blue eyes, the arching brows, everything about him screams a flirt, yet you feel so mesmerized. Blinking a few times, you have to constantly remind yourself this man is not trustworthy. From the attitude to the way he looks at you, to the way he acts around you. Nothing from his action is truthful. Like Diluc’s warning, you can only believe half of his word and action. 

“ Of course I’m being serious.” His voice solemn, but you can see the amusement in his eyes. If he doesn’t like you, why would he spend so much effort bothering you this much? What reaction is he expecting from you?  

“ I really like you, Y/N” Kaeya confesses cheerfully, and you can faintly hear a few gasps around. Not this again...

Archon, you’re going to die early at this rate. You just want to practice for the upcoming evaluation, not becoming a hot topic for all Mondstadt citizen to gossip about. 

And this man too, how can he easily slip out those words when you just heard him flirting with another woman the other day?  You already told him numerous times that you’re not interested in dating him, or anyone right now! 

Hung your head down in exhaustion, you tap his shoulder, mumbling quietly. “ Fine, fine.” You finally open your mouth, too exhausted and bothered by his stubbornness. He only wants a kiss, and you won’t hurt giving him one. Just a kiss then you can get back to your practice.  

“Just don’t confess your love to me in a crowd like this again.” Before closing the deal, you weakly add a bargain, nudging him.  

The calvary captain looks surprised, his eye widens little, not expecting you to agree. Normally, it takes another argument or two before you comply with his request. Kaeya timidly raises his gloved hand to your face, gently caresses your cheek. This time, you lean into his touch, nuzzling your face into his palm, eyes glimmering softly. Despite a cryo wielder, his hand is surprisingly warm. 

The man in blue curiously peeks at you, he feels like a feather tickling the itchy spot. Are you plotting an escape route? Since when did you become so obedient? He has never seen the soft fur under the spiky façade you set up to face with the world, but strangely, he likes this version of you more. 

Noticing his relaxed stance, you carefully gently wrap your fingers around his wrist while keeping eye contact with him. Kaeya eye widens, startles at your sudden touching. Trying your best to not break the unspoken connection, you bring his hand away from your cheek. In those cerulean eyes, you see a hint of disappointment, but it quickly dissolves. Slowly, you draw closer toward the hand hanging in the air, lips fluttering on the smooth skin on his wrist. 

The calvary captain instinctively moves back, trying to escape from your sudden contact. Ironic, he is the one who innates the hug and demands a kiss from you. Tightening your grip, you press your wet lips on the exposed part of his wrist dedicatedly while maintaining eye contact with him, eyes drown with submission.

Kaeya stares at you in awe, maybe not expecting the passionate look in your eyes. His azure eye fills with mischief, now replaces with confusion and hesitation. You notice how his ears have dusted with pink despite the winds blowing in the practice ground. The man avoids your eyes, flustering. 

Whispers and gasps start to remind you of the crushing reality, so you let his hand down while grinning cheekily at the cryo wielder. Poking and breaking Kaeya meticulously façade is always something you want to try. The man is a living devil, so it’s extremely unusual to see him losing his composure. 

Sneakily, you untangle his other arm wrapping around your waist, plotting an escape route. 

However, Barbatos doesn’t let you slip away that easily. Quickly regaining his composure, Kaeya snakes his hand around your hip again, tightening his hold. Unlike the first time, the sneaky bastard lifts you up and has the audacity to throw your body on his shoulder, carry you like a sack. 

“ Yah! What are you doing?” You exclaim, fluster at his sudden antic. Kicking and punching on his shoulder, you try as many as you can, but somehow, Kaeya manages to dodge all of them.   

“ You said you will let me go when I give you a kiss!” The crowd uproars, stares and gossips poke pointedly at your back. You don’t want to hear those comments from those knights again. They're not going to let this live down, aren't they? Bury your face in the Kaeya's furry collar, you let out a frustrating sigh, punching his shoulder as hard as you can. 

“ You give me a kiss on my wrist. That doesn’t count.” Kaeya nonchalantly strides away from the practice ground, unfazed by your attempt to escape. This man is a beast, how can he not budge an inch with all of your kickings on his shoulder? 

“ You didn’t specify the place. A kiss is a kiss!” You emphasize, and you can feel his shoulder shaking. Is he laughing? “You didn’t keep your promise.” Fuels by the rising anger, you kick your leg aggressively, struggling to free yourself from the iron-clad grip. This time, his strong arm wraps around your calves like a chain.  

As soon as you raise your head up, the familiar pathway hits your memories. Shit, he is heading toward the headquarter, likely to his office. You can’t let anyone in there see you in this state. Punching his back profusely, you shot back. 

“Not fulfilling the contract is breaking the Knight of Favonius's code of cond-.” Before you can finish your sentence, the man smacks your calves loudly, successfully shutting your mouth. Speechless by his sudden punishment, you let out a disbelief breath.    

“ There are no such a section states about fulfilling contract inside the code of conduct, so stop making the rule up.” Kaeya smugly grins, and you can already picture his blue eyes glinting with mischief, the signature shit-eating grin on his handsome face.

" There is, it's in section eight-" Before you can finish your sentence, Kaeya cuts in, waving his hand dismissively. 

" Section eight is about interaction with your co-worker, there is none about keeping contracts." The calvary captain humming, trying to recalling the content of the book. Speechless by the detailed memories of his, you can only close your mouth, quietly waiting for him to drop you down. If you stay still on his shoulder, will he let you go? 

" You know, not everyone reads and memories the knight of Favonius handbook, you are just unlucky that I know the book by heart." Seeing you deflate weakly on his shoulder, Kaeya lets out a chuckle, patting your head comforting.       

Before heading inside the HQ, the man doesn't drop your down but leans in closely, his whisper tickling your ear. “But at least I had fun seeing you squirming in my grasp.” 

And then it hits you, the bastard purposely falls for of your antic. 

[chromosome23hq]

august 11th, 1997, 6:05 am, silverhouse apartments

One fine morning, with a mug of coffee in one hand and a watering can in the other, Billie Foster was not prepared for the crack of a gun to kick her into a vision. A crowd. A masked figure. Mayor Peter Webber, now with a hole in his forehead. So many lives altered in one fell swoop that the crowd overwhelmed her. A small stampede had Billie stumbling back into her apartment. Coffee in her monstera and water soaking her feet. She didn't get a chance to see anymore details, only a masked figure and an untimely death.

It’s not something Billie can just ignore, especially when it comes to the death of a public figure, much less the mayor. She needed to tell someone, an officer of some sort who can protect the mayor from anything. It’s when she remembers them, the Omegas. It’s a part of their job description to protect the weak and innocent, which includes the mayor. A heavy and deep sigh leaves between her lips. This is not how she wanted to start her morning. 

august 14th, 1997, 11:45 am, somewhere in the city

This has to be the most boring protection assignment in the world. For the past few days, all Yazmín Navarro Montes’ (also known as Siren) done is escort Mayor Peter Weber everywhere to defend him against an assassination threat. He still has his bodyguards, but extra cushion with Yazmín here, as Prism described it. Of course, it’s unspoken that this also works as great publicity. She had wanted nothing to do with it, which meant Prism had to pick her for this. Her luck always worked that way. Today, she’s starting to wonder if this threat was real at all, or a phony stunt to benefit the mayor and the Omegas. There’s been no suspicious figures lingering around his office or home, no attempts, and no threats sent to him. 

Still, Yazmín doesn’t slack on her job. She always has an eye out, ready to push the mayor out of the way or stop a would-be killer. They’re outside for a few minutes when something starts to bother her. There’s water everywhere she can sense, then suddenly there’s a spike. It’s nowhere near winter, but something freezing just entered the vicinity. No one stands out in the crowd, until—

Already running behind schedule after sleeping in late, Ethan Sato pays no heed to his surroundings as he cuts past a gentleman on his journey to class. He’s cursing himself internally, vowing for the umpteenth time to start going to bed earlier, when his internal monologue is drowned out by a wave of terror. Ethan stops in his tracks, his heartbeat thundering, panic squeezing down on his chest. Breathe, he needs to breathe. He takes in one, shuddering breath, knowing that this—whatever this is—isn’t his, then turns around and he sees—

“Oh, my God.” He claps his hand over his mouth. Behind Ethan is the Mayor, haloed by his own blood as he lays on the footpath. It takes Ethan a solid minute to process what he sees, what he feels, before he scrambles backwards, yelling, “Help! Somebody help!”

As soon as his co-worker had walked in, Jaewon Oh had scampered off for his break. An entire hour away from inane questions was exactly what he needed. Deciding to take a stroll to his favorite nearby coffee shop was done automatically, he ate there almost everyday. Unfortunately for him, his hour was coming to an end and so he made his way back with an extra sandwich in his hand. 

He was contemplating whether or not he could get away with leaving the store early when he saw it. Or, rather, them. A person in a mask appeared seemingly out of nowhere and Jaewon, curious, watched as they walked ahead of him with purpose. something about this didn’t feel right, he wasn’t sure exactly what was going on but there was a sinking feeling in his gut. 

Should he do something? No, yes? He was just about to shake off the feeling, not wanting to get involved in business that wasn’t his own, when he saw a man ahead of him go down. It took him a moment to register that it was the mayor and said mayor had just been shot. The masked figure was running and Jaewon watched, frozen to his spot, as they did so. On the sidewalk ahead of him the mayor lay dying, the particles of energy around him turning a meek gray as the life left him. 

Jaewon took several steps back and pressed himself against a storefront, brows furrowed. it couldn’t have been a normal bullet, a gun going off was loud. this had been too quiet. suspicion rose in him, humans could quiet a gun, sure, but not to that extent. could … could it have been a mutant? Jaewon looked back at the scene that was now filled with people, all as terrified as they were shocked, and wondered. It certainly seemed like a possibility. shit, he’d just witnessed the mayor getting shot, the mayor being killed. Soon enough police sirens would echo down the street and detectives would go looking for bystanders. Not wanting to be questioned, he quickly walked in the opposite direction and stewed in his own theories.

Sitting on the stairs of a building that had been ‘under construction’ for five years now (he’d been keeping track of time—the crew seemed to have abandoned it), David Castillo withdrew his flask and took a swig, eyeing the passersby—trying to find who best to focus on. Woman with the dog thinking about how the groomers screwed her poodle’s nail polish up completely? (he didn’t agree, they looked marvelous)—she walked by too fast. Man with the shirt that read ‘D.A.R.E - to keep kids off drugs’ and was already thinking about that sweet weed he would score later? Also too fast. 

That was the only problem with a staircase in the middle of an ‘under construction’ type of place!

Voices swirling around, from those thinking about their affairs to those thinking about their loyal spouses, he shook his head viciously. 

And then a strong voice emerged. 

Strong emotion.

Strong passion.

Strong thought.

‘Got ‘em.’

Followed by screams—real ones.

And a silence. Even amongst the screams... a silence.

It’s too late. 

There’s barely any noise between the mayor standing in front of Yazmin, and dropping to the ground. Blood is everywhere. Some of it’s even on her suit, her hands. She had bent down to hold the wound without thinking, before realizing it’s all too late. 

There’s people running away in the crowd, and that’s how she knows the shooter isn’t far ahead. She’s running before the bodyguards do, head going through anyway she could to slow them down. Every option can lead to civilian injuries or worse. Shit! Yaz speeds up, water rising from her side pouch and striking out toward the assailant’s ankle as they round the corner. It misses by an inch. 

As she enters the alley, she sends a dozen sharp edged droplets at the wall with a yell for them to stop. But no one’s there. The only evidence that remains is a spray painted symbol.

august 17th, 1997, 5:34 pm, ramer cemetery 

Peter Webber is found dead on sight. Upon inspection, they’re unable to find a bullet but water is found. Because of Yazmín’s ability and past criminal record, the suspicion falls onto her. Banks and schools are closed early that day, and remain that way until the funeral. National news channels cover it nearly twenty-four seven, wondering how the mayor of one of the most prominent cities in America was shot in broad daylight and by who. All channels in New York cut into their current programming to broadcast the funeral, from the funeral home to the drive to the cemetery. Crowds line the streets during the procession to show their love for the beloved mayor, as well as grieve his loss and the loss it is to the city. His children and wife thank those for being there with them through this difficult time. The vice mayor, who was sworn in days before, tells the city they’ll get through this together and follow the vision Mayor Peter Webber had.

august 18th, 1997, 9:30 am, new york city hall

This isn’t the first time that Han-Byul Song (also known as Prism) stands surrounded by cameras, microphones, and journalists waiting for what he has to say. But he can say that it’s the first time dealing with them like this. Individuals who once looked at him as if he was like them, now they see him as something else. It doesn’t sit right with him, none of this sits right with him. However, he’s a professional and never the type to let someone see him when he’s at his lowest. With a straightened back and squared shoulders, Han-Byul begins his statement. 

“Ladies and gentlemen of the city, my name is Prism and as you all know, I’m the current leader of the Omegas. We are tasked with protecting the lives of the innocent, both mutants and non-mutants. Recently, we were given the mission to watch over and protect Mayor Peter Webber, sending one of our own to act as one of his bodyguards.” His eyes fall on Yazmín, the young mutant standing beside him with a cold stare and a rigid body. “Despite our best efforts to protect the mayor, we—” Failed. The words fall from his tongue but it doesn’t feel like he’s the one saying it. He can see the questions that are ready to leap out of their mouths, the hunger in their eyes, beasts. They were all beasts. “However, this doesn’t mean that our mission ends here. We’re now undergoing an investigation to look for and capture the person behind this. Once we find this individual, we’ll bring justice to all of you but also Mayor Webber.” 

There are questions, lots of them, and he answers, some of them. There isn’t enough or maybe that’s what he tries to tell himself as Yazmín takes his place to read over her apology. He’s listening but also not, he’s mainly just watching her and the crowd. Even though she was there acting as a bodyguard, she’s a suspect. Just because of her ability, just because she’s a mutant, just because they needed a scapegoat. 

OOC INFORMATION:

Mayor Peter Webber died on August 14th, 1997 and his funeral was held on the 17th. Various radio talk shows and news articles report on his death. Your muse can react however they want to this! 

The masked killer is Daichi Kato (played by Admin Kashia). No muse is aware of him killing the mayor, outside of Magneto. Yazmín is under the suspicion of partaking. 

This marks the true beginning of The Brotherhood showing themselves to everyone, which also means they’re recruiting people in. Your muse has the decision to join them but be aware of the true purpose of The Brotherhood! The spots are unlimited. 

If you play a Xavier student or staff member, things will be tense as Charles plans on what to do next.

And that’s the way the pussy crumbles.

[whyralltheusernamestaken]

“I feel safe with you”

Bakugou x fem!reader

Fluffvember Day 16

Warning : slight gore (like VERY little), No swearing 

Fluffvember Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Word count : 867

A/N : he's kinda ooc here but I just wanted it to be so soft UwU I lowkey happy with how this turned out ngl Hope you enjoy

Nothing in the 15 years Bakugou had been alive for could have prepared him for what was happening right now. It wasn't everyday that someone would come crashing through your dorm window, hitting your back wall with so much force that it caved in slightly, their body falling limply by the door. He had ran all the way back to school to get Recovery girl as he was scared that any attempt to move the person would hurt them even more. By the time they arrived back at him dorm room, a few people had huddled around the door, whispering about the arch in the Bakugou's wall. Pushing them harshly away, he then slowly opened the door, making sure it wouldn't hit the person inside. He let Recovery girl in before closing the slamming the door close on his friends and classmates. "How is she?" he asked, pacing around his room. He stopped and looked at the girl before ripping his gaze away. Half of her head was caked in blood, her black eye and broken nose had been healed, however blood and slight bruising still remained. "I've healed her broken bones, but we should get her to a hospital." "No, she could be a villain for all we know." Truth to be told, Bakugou simply wanted to keep her in his room and as his secret, an overwhelming sense of protectiveness washing over him. There must of been a reason she landed in his room and not Icy hot's or Deku's. "And it would be safe leaving a villain here?" she asked. Gritting his teeth, he rattled his brain for a response. "Well at least I could defend myself." "Bakugou, I don't think this is a good idea, especially with current events. You've been attacked twice by villains already." "I don't need you reminding me." he spat out, his fists clenching and unclenching. Taking a deep breath, he looked Recovery girl in the eyes. "I'll be fine, just let me take care of her." "Fine." Getting permission to keep someone else in his dorm proved to be much more of a hassle that he anticipated. The teachers had gone over so many rules and conditions that at the end he wondered why he had even bothered. It wasn't like he knew her. Surely it wasn't that his heart had clenched at her horrible state and he just had the urge to wrap her in his arms. But it wasn't as if he wanted to take care of her. 

He had repeated that to himself several times yet here he was, arms draped lazily over her figure as she slept. ~~~ She woke up with an sickening urge to scream, throwing her hand over her mouth as her eyes burned. Looking around, she could only make out faint outlines. Reaching up, she tugged aside the curtains slightly, letting some light flood the room. Next to her was a figure, whose face she could now see. His eyes were closed and from the rhythm that his chest rose and dipped in, she could confirm he was asleep. Picking up his arm, that was around her waist, she placed it softly on the bed before slipping out of the covers. Her bare feet plodded across the carpet as she made her way to his cupboard. Opening it and letting the light show it's insides, she smiled slightly before climbing in, settling in a slightly uncomfortable position. She tugged the doors close before closing her eyes. She couldn't complain about her situation, despite the confusion. Instead, she opted to finding somewhere that reminded her of her safe place at home; her wardrobe. ~~~ He woke up when the light poured in, eyes squinting in confusion to why his curtains were open. When he realised the person beside him had vanished, panic settled in. His breath had hitched, throwing open his curtains before looking around. When he realised she wasn't in his room, he ran to his bathroom, and then back to his newly replace window, which had remained locked. Resisting the urge to shout at the top of his lunges, he harshly opened the doors to his wardrobe, preparing to grab a coat and run out of his room, only stopping himself when he noticed the girl huddled at the bottom of his closet. Crouching down, he pushed back the hair, jumping back slightly when her eyes opened sharply. "M-morning." he internally cursed himself for the stutter before returning his attention back to the girl. "What are you doing here?" She looked around, her eyes flickering to the contents of his wardrobe to his room and back to his face. "It's always safe in a wardrobe." she reasoned, her voice small and shaky and she continued to stare at him. "It's safe here." he said, opting to give her a small smile and he motioned to the entirety of his room. "I'll protect you alright?" Biting down on her lip, she shook her head. "It's not safe out there." Letting out a sigh, he sat down, and took the time to just look at her. She sat with her back hunched over and fiddled with her fingers nervously and she waited for a reply. "It's safe here. I'll keep telling you that because it's true but you'll need to learn to believe it." Taking her silence as a response, he continued. "Just repeat it after me. You're safe here." Her lips remained shut, causing him to let out a scoff, as he ran his fingers through his hair angrily. "You're safe here, you got me?" His voice had risen above the soft tone he had used a moment ago and she visibly flinched. "I'm sorry I-" "I'm safe here, right?" she cut him off, offering him a small smile. "What?" her response had taken him off guard slightly, him thinking that it would've taken him hours to get her to repeat after him. "Yeah." he replied slowly before catching himself." Yeah you are." Nodding, she started to move out of her space in the wardrobe, wrapping her arms around his figure as he froze. Resting her face in the crook of his neck she whispered. “I feel safe with you”

[next]

[alchemist-shizun]

I saw you in a dream. (Then it came to an end.)

Read on Ao3!

Happy belated birthday to one of the best people in the world: @lance-alt! I promised I’d do something for you on Monday, but of course I have to make people wait for the juicy stuff. (read: the juicy stuff will be your tears after this, probably.) Love you bro!

General taglist: @whizzie72 @sapphire-knight @burningpersonflapsuitcase @softanxiouspatton @royallyanxious @kim-argent-moon @lance-alt (tell me if you want to be added or removed)

Taglist: @unsocialchapeau

Word Count: 2,626

Characters: mainly Remus, Logan, Deceit, Roman, (mentioned Virgil)

Pairing(s): onesided!Intrulogical, implied Loceit

Warning(s): Angst. So much angst. Also unresolved angst. Yelling, Swearing. Might be a bit ooc cause I can’t write Remus the way I’d like.

Summary: What do we not do for a loved one? What do we not do for the sake of a friendship? What do we not do to make sure we destroy ourselves in favor of others? And how exactly did Remus think he was going to be perfectly fine?

A/N: I am not sorry. This is a human AU btw. Enjoy! :3

❝Though I am bruised

Face of contusions

Know I’ll keep moving❞

Remus would have never blamed D.

It was middle school, and middle schoolers were widely known for their passion of brushing off specific people who didn’t appear quite as appropriate for themselves in their eyes.

He had always been a devastating tornado according to those around him, unable to be tamed unless given space to burst until not even a gentle breeze was left to tickle his skin.

D, on the other hand, knew how to be cool and poised, but that didn’t mean his nature was the one of an innocent puppy.

No, better yet, he was more like a domesticated beast.

That truly gave the teachers a hard time, because once combined they became inseparable and never really ceased to meddle with them.

And yet … students were most definitely inclined to avoid Remus at best, while when it came to D only curious and interested glances were given.

Remus would have never blamed him though, D didn’t even realize how far better they were treating him compared to his friend. He only focused on how close-minded people still were in there.

Who was he not to join in his complaining?

Everything would have been fine with him for as long as their friendship stayed that way. A messy supportive two-participants family.

It felt like a welcoming and roaring fire at the same time, the chaos they brought just with their understanding looks and smirks.

They knew they were going to end up with a long lasting friendship and they were proud to remind those around them by never losing sight of each other at school.

And it was okay that way, with only just D accepting him the way he was, he didn’t really need much else.

Until that cursed afternoon.

There was an extracurricular sort of contest their school held right after lessons every year, but Remus could barely remember what it even was about

All he remembered was that damned marvellous thoughtful and focused expression when he looked a bit to his left to the boy sitting next to him.

Oh, the irony.

It had been right then that it had hit him. That maybe … maybe there was already something else. A something that transformed into something more with every little bit of interaction they shared.

Roman knew him, they were in the same class, and he had to complain at least once a day about how unnerving the guy was, always challenging him do debates Roman was so inclined to win that it took a third party member, Virgil, to separate them.

How the three of them were still close friends after three years was still a mystery to many.

So that was when he first heard about Logan.

But his brother and him weren’t exactly known for having the safest household in the world, so inviting friends over was a hard no. Then, the actual first time Remus had seen him was when he entered middle school that year.

At first he hadn’t obviously realized his crush, but after he had spent the minimal amount of time with Logan, it was so blatant that even he couldn’t deny it to himself.

He could have also labelled it as the first time someone other than his brother and D had recognized him as another human other than a weird poltergeist to avoid. There was a way he spoke with that low tone and thoughtful arguments that would have probably made him melt right on the spot. Or maybe it was his sharp features, or the way he thought he had looked at him that one time.

Remus was deep down the river at the base of the cliff, the tip of his hair barely managing to be untouched by the water.

Damn Roman. Damn Roman and his storytelling, and how Remus had always rooted for Logan in their discussions, how he had already taken a liking into him and had already doomed himself.

It was break, fifteen minutes of pure relaxation, and Remus and D had already spent the first five minutes together, trying to get away from the stress of the ending of the first term.

D’s eyes lit up as they turned a corner, Remus followed his gaze as he spoke.

« Hey! Why is this the first time I see you since school started? » a toothy smile displayed on his lips. It was almost as bright as the one he reserved to him.

« Your cousin is impossible to move from his seat. » Logan’s crystalline voice cleared. « So Roman and I mostly stay in class with him. »

« Ugh, » D rolled his eyes. « I apologize on his behalf. » he didn’t hide the fond tone when he talked, though.

« No, it’s quite alright by us. » had he ever not turned to Remus, maybe he wouldn’t have regretted meeting Logan in the long run. « Oh, I didn’t even introduce myself properly the other day. » he stretched out his hand. « I am Logan. »

« I know. »

Panic.

Fuck. Fuck what did you just say, why. Now he’ll think you’re creepy, too.

D put an arm around his shoulders. « Yeah, he’s Roman’s brother. » perhaps a saviour? « And sometimes he’s just as dense as him. »

Remus scoffed. « Lies. I’m a better idiot than him. »

That got a chuckle out of both. He felt delighted.

As he saw Logan about to withdraw his hand, Remus took it almost instantly.

Oh my god what the fuck are you doing?

« I’m Remus. » the bell rang and maybe his ears were too.

« My pleasure. » Logan conceded before letting go and starting to backtrack to his class. « I’ll see you two around. »

And as fast as he arrived, he was gone.

Like a blurry hallucination or those spots you see when you get up too fast from the couch.

The rest of the day-

Well, he didn’t remember much anymore.

Maybe the fact that he and Logan did actually have something in common.

When there was a group of three, there would always be the two that shared the stronger chemistry. And if Logan didn’t feel as close to Roman and Virgil, Remus sure as heck knew if anyone interacted with D and him, he would have felt like something was off most of the times.

There were flashes of memories that crossed his mind ever since Logan had left middle school to start his first year of high-school.

Most were all the meet ups they had with D during break, the glances he caught and buried deep down in his heart, the laughter of all three of them, how their dynamics colliding were actually definitely working well together.

What he remembered mostly were the furtive tears that were shed on their last day.

He never told D about that.

It was when he went home that he couldn’t have hidden it from Roman any longer. His brother had affirmed that he had been crying even more than himself, which was saying a lot.

So the words came out like a destructive flood, deleting with a burning strength all the hopeful thoughts.

« Rem, listen here. » Roman, thankfully, had spoken up before his mind would have travelled down risky paths. « Not seeing each other almost everyday doesn’t mean you won’t be friends any longer. »

He had only looked up from the pavement. Were he to look back at this memory years after he’d have thought himself to be pathetic.

« And you can definitely meet after school whenever you want. If our parents won’t let you, I’ll come with. »

And that they did, slowly trying to gain their parents’ trust to let them go out by themselves until they were both attending high-school.

Another three years would have passed before the lethal “last day” would come again, but the trio made sure to imprint the best memories together while they had the time.

Only that the most unexpected things happen at the worst times.

Remus and D were both in the third year; things seemed to be going smoothly as ever, between all the tests and mental breakdowns for said tests, Remus would have never thought to cross the threshold of his school and be met with loud yelling not too further away from his class.

Normally he wouldn’t have really cared much.

Unless the two subjects were Logan and D. Which they were. Which had also made him pale with a horrible feeling in his guts.

He couldn’t make out what they were saying as the screaming in his thoughts didn’t leave him alone.

« MIT, Logan. Seriously! You’re insane! »

« I had my reasons! »

D scoffed and put his face in his hands for a beat. « Refusing because of your friendships is not a valid reason! »

Remus was confused. He really didn’t want to be there at all.

« It is when you don’t want to lose them. »

« You wouldn’t have, you idiot! »

« Guys what’s- »

« There is a reason if we’re friends! »

« -going …? » he could see the profound rage in D’s caramel irises. One glance and you’re dead.

« You didn’t trust us to maintain our friendship, did you? Is that why you refused the international internship? »

« That’s absurd, that’s not what I mean! »

« It sounds a lot like it’s exactly what you mean! »

Remus connected the dots.

Friendship. MIT. International internship. Logan had refused to be an intern abroad only because of them. He had been too afraid to loose them as friends if he were to be away too long.

And, of course, D was mad about his lost opportunity. He would have never admit it at that moment, but he felt guilty, too.

« You sure talk a lot and pretend you’re smart but, really, you’re just as stupid sometimes. »

The look in Logan’s eyes changed.

Oh no. Oh no no no no.

« Fine then. I’ll keep on being stupid on my own. » he walked away in a instant, steps long and furious, opposing the low tone of his voice, but matching the seething fire in his chest.

« D- »

« Please, don’t. » D looked at him with broken eyes. « I’m fine. We’re fine. I’ll see you during break, okay? »

Remus only nodded and headed to his own class. He pretended he didn’t feel awful as he walked by the door to Logan’s own class.

It was as D said. Fine.

Everything was going to be okay.

Except it wasn’t, because that was the last time both of them talked with Logan.

The two wouldn’t even look at each other and Remus couldn’t help but side with D. That meant he wouldn’t have interacted with the older boy either.

And so time passed … months. Avoiding each other when all you ever wanted was to share at least a single word.

It wasn’t okay. It wasn’t fine at all, it hurt so much and Remus didn’t know how longer he would have been able to handle it.

Yet, he was too afraid to do anything. He wouldn’t have wanted to loose D’s friendship too because of a reckless action. And he did lots of them. So, for once, he stayed put and let the Fates do their work.

Which ended into the fight remaining unresolved, Logan graduating from high-school and both of them never meeting him again.

Roman had tried to bring up the argument multiple times, but Remus had decided to bury everything deep down and avoid ever bringing it up.

Like a ghost, Logan appeared to exist only in his mind. A mind that he didn’t seem to want to leave. Even despite all that had been going down his ridiculously tough teenage life.

Remus and D had no idea how they made it through the final exams.

They also had no clue how they almost completely lost contact after the beginning of university.

Maybe it wasn’t loneliness he felt after that. Maybe it was more disappointment.

It wasn’t like it was anyone’s fault, though. Their lessons never matched, so during the week it was almost impossible to meet, sometimes they had jobs in the weekend to pay for apartments nearby their universities.

Texts became a burden they both forgot to remember to answer, it was as if anything was a priority to socializing and it was driving them insane.

Even sad.

Then one day, out of the blue, D had texted him in a way he hadn’t done in too long. He sounded greatly excited and he had told Remus he needed to meet him as soon as possible.

He had a surprise!

Remus was radiant that day, finally getting the chance he deserved to recover their friendship.

It was a Friday afternoon, he was walking down the street towards the place they had agreed on to meet.

D was right in front of him. But enough meters away so that he couldn’t recognize yet the person walking alongside him. Remus narrowed his eyes, almost squeezing them shut at some point. Did the sun have to be so bright right above them that day?

He put a hand on his forehead to shield his vision.

He wished he didn’t.

Not because the guy next to D was Logan.

Not because his heart made three somersaults before twisting one last time as though he fell in love all over again at once, hitting his chest like a violent wind in a snowstorm.

Not because he was smiling so wide his face would have fallen off any second.

But because, as his eyes focused and examined their figures, he noticed the details.

Like their joined hands, fingers intertwined the way he would have wanted to but had never been brave enough to do.

How they looked lovingly at each other before turning back to him.

His own smile faltering for a second and then going back as it was before. Normal, sure, but fake. Fake, but not blatant enough to be discovered.

He couldn’t do this to them.

And sure he was going to be happy for them right? They had been friends. He was going to survive by internalizing everything in himself, right? He was going to forget about all his feelings in favour of his closest friends. That was the right thing to do.

It happened to everyone.

It did.

He could survive.

Hurting in the process, but he could.

The day went by in an instant, a terrible, calamitous and painstakingly long instant in which he hoped he had been hallucinating all along.

Remus had wiped everything he had seen while on his way home. He forcefully removed any kind of thought in his head so he could bask in the numbness until the silent chaos of the world around him stopped making sense.

He threw the door to his home open.

Except that it wasn’t his home and that he had somehow gotten to Roman’s own apartment, red eyes adorning his face in a brutally doleful expression.

His brother was immediately at his side, arms wrapped around his chest, with an understanding look in his eyes and anticipation for the tears to come.

He had known about Logan and D getting together before Remus, so he had seen something like that coming.

Yet Roman didn’t know it would’ve hit him hard too, seeing his brother so broken.

So he let Remus cry his soul out, while nothing else could have been done.

Dreaming, perhaps.

That was all he had left.

[izupie]

100 Relatable Writer Things

(Courtesy of the creative writers from the Kacchako Discord server. We suffer together fam.)

doesn't write for 84 years 

starts a billion things, no time to finish or update

daydreaming about writing 

thinks about writing in shower, has no writing utensils

about to fall asleep, sudden motivation and inspiration

stuck at dayjob, pure, unadulterated motivation and inspiration

arrives home too tired to write

sits down at computer to write, spends two hours on the internet doing everything except writing

listening to music and it slows your writing to a snail's pace.

accidentally write the lyrics instad of dialogue

ignore typos

your Internet sucks and you can't connect to Google docs for a day.

trying to write angst only to slowly turn it into fluff

you remember you have pets and wanna cuddle them over writing 

you have a carefully written plan, that all of your characters are ignoring and start going in directions you are unprepared for

your characters do what they want, fuck u 

you realize you wrote a plot point too early and then mash the delete button.

you bingewatch a sitcom and plan all of these everyday aus and don't write any of them and demolish ice cream in the dark instead

you stare at your screen after doing nothing for an hour and the whole time you are internally screaming.

you open your story document and suddenly realise the bookshelf in your room needs alphabetising 

you look back at the manga for reference but end up just rereading the manga 

you fantasize about your characters and blush because they're so attractive

you realise you've been making weird expressions at your screen while you've been typing

the people around you have also noticed.

people wonder if you are okay in public settings writing angst

you brainstorm amazing ideas for your fic as you sleep but when you wake up you don't remember shit

having idea bouncing buddies to help with your au and end up creating a separate au

getting aus mixed

finding somewhere to write smut where nobody will accidentally look over your shoulder

you write smut in public but you're so tired that you don't care who sees anymore  

doing dumb shit like "bakugou looked at bakugou" and publishing it

you finish writing a chapter and look over your outline only to learn you skipped doing a scene.

try to quickly edit things, end up combing through chapter again

lots of picture refs for characters

forgetting your time scale while writing. how much time has passed? idk man

writing a one shot that becomes a 20k multichap

hitting 4k a chapter and crying it's not enough

hitting 19k a chapter and thinking, "maybe I can do more."

wondering if word count its too short/long

just crying. in general.

intending to write an epic slow burn and dropping it two chapters in for another idea

having a fully written arc expecting 10 chapts but with editing it becomes 7 chapts somehow

wanting to write a slow burn but getting so excited to get to the big part you just say fuck it

having so much of an au build up that you are excited for that it unintentionally becomes slowburn

intending to write a serious fic but you don't want to put the characters in any more pain than they canonically are so you turn them all into major goofballs

OR character didn't get enough pain canonically and it was supposed to be funny story

writing angst and pain because you're a masochist

love watching readers cry

taking pleasure in watching them cry

blasting meme music in your ears as your readers scream at you about breaking their hearts

hoping for fanart

teasing spoilers bc you want validation

running from rabid readers

sometimes you write for an hour and have done 500 words. Other times you blink and 3k words are suddenly there.

having a decent steady schedule or becoming spastic update qween, there is no in between. Bonus points if you do separate fics like this

watching a movie, inserting characters for yet another au

taking polls what to update next

never listening to the polls you create

making a schedule and sticking to it. Your fans think your organized but it's more like controlled chaos.

motivated to do something but what? 

literally buying a journal with goals and a tentative update schedule so you can keep your ass in check

not using said journal bc lazy

having monthly updates but writing more than half of it in the last week.

WHAT THE FUCK DO I TITLE IT

what's editing

can someone edit my stuff pls

writing the title of the chapter and then nothing else that day.

write, no edits, only write. Cry

69... 

setting a day to respond to comments. forget

stare at comments with awe and fear

wordvomit, keyboard smash

comments are life

kudos are resurrected life

holy shit a bookmark???????

holy shit someone recced me

wanting to share but don't want to be annoying

wanna collab?

surfing tumblr for writing refs bc your english sucks

i love dialogue~

i hate dialogue

does this sOUND NATURAL THO

is this too descriptive or not enough?

how do i describe this place i've never been to

have i used [blank word] too much?

more pic refs

said is too plain, but they're not doing anything but sitting and talking

does this smell description sound too fanficcy?

having a color bible

is this ooc?

how would you describe a <____> hitting the <___> floor?

how do i describe violence accurately

how many followers/readers will i lose to this

what does <___> pain feel like?

compare yourself to other popular writers

what are you writing has several word docs open

googling stuff that makes you sound like a murderer for rESEARCH

staring at your phone praying someone reviews it soon

how do i write texts or IMs

having that one follower who always comments

BONUS:  Is it truly finished or am I just sick of writing it

[chishigure]

Work was bull and I actually broke down in a long time, so I'm probably gonna be quite slow tonight and a little selective. Maybe.

[chishigure]

IDK why, but my motivation for writing has just been absolutely low???? Not sure if it's because I've become overwhelmed with writing, or maybe I'm just having a burn out irl and now my anxiety has been all over the place, and depression has started to build up for me again.

Like I want to write again, but everytime I try to work on some drafts, nothing comes out. I'm just braindead, and I don't want to force myself to write because that won't make anything fun for me, plus that would also just make me not want to write anymore if it's just forced.

If I'm writing then it's just dash commentaries or small shenanigans, but overall... I'm not even sure if I'll ever have motivation to write again because I'm just burned out and everything is just so mentally draining for me now, even when I try do to the things that I use to like doing.

Now these days if I'm not at work I'm just playing a simple MMO that I can just vibe in, or I'm laying down and watching TV.

[chishigure]

Hello friends. It's probably been obvious, but I'm just gonna get straight to the point and not make this into a very long post.

The state of this blog, until I can manage to get this muse back, is extremely low activity/very low activity (practically could be considered inactive at this point. I loved writing Souji (and Kaoru). He was another muse of mine that was really fun to write, but now I just can't find the muse to write him or most of my other muses these days (that are not my S[o]uth Park muses).

I have only been on this blog because this blog has been acting as a hub blog to most of the sideblogs I have moved over here. My current active muse these days has been a S[o]uth Park muse (Craig), which is a silly show for adults that has been around since like 1997. I would not highly recommend watching or even playing the games if you are not too fond of very crude humor, or dark humor, otherwise feel free to follow Craig. I will follow back from here. I just ask that before considering following Craig (or any of my S[o]uth Park muses in general that I have listed on my pinned post) that you read my disclaimer post (which I also included in my pinned post for all of my S[o]uth Park muses), and of course reading my rules (which tbh my rules are all the same).

[astralfist]

SOUTH PARK RPERS UNITE!!!!!

[chishigure]

I love y'all... And I swear this is not aimed towards anybody. This is merely just a friendly reminder that if y'all are going to post or reblog insect/arachnid content, please tag them somehow. I have a horrible phobia of insects/arachnids, and I also really hate how y[o]utube or f[a]cebook keep friggin showing or recommending me insects/arachnids videos or photos. Like plz no. Can you not????? And there's like no way I can blacklist those on those two.

I don't mind mentions or words involving insects/arachnids. I just really don't wanna see any photos or videos of insects on my dash cuz I think they're gross and creepy and all that like ewwwwwwwwwwwwww LOL. Butterflies are okay btw, though I would not want to touch one.

Also for future reference I usually tag triggers or squicks as "___________ cw" or "___________ mention cw". If you use something else to tag triggers or squicks, feel free to let me know and I'll use that tag to blacklist whatever I kinda hate seeing too or if you kinda hate seeing.

[chishigure]

Not me wondering how y'all write threads on mobile

[astralfist]

I might lose mutuals and other followers for this, but look, if you're going to act all "Woe is me my life sucks and I'm so lonely and sad and I have no friends or people who care about me and love me uwu boo hoo", I'm sorry, but if you're going to continue to act like that, no one is going to want to be around you.

You need to grow up and learn how to help yourself and move on. If you're going to therapy, that's good. But also know that even therapy can only do so much and in the end it's entirely up to what you wanna do for yourself for the better.

I understand everybody goes through a rough time. Hell my grandpa passed away not too long ago, and it's not only me who's still grieving. But we're not going to just sit and mope around going "woe is me" and try to have people feel sorry for us, or we feel sorry for ourselves. I also understand everyone grieves in their own way and all that, but if we keep being sorry for ourselves, we're just going to lose more and more people dear to us in life.

TL;DR

If you can't take care of yourself then you can't exactly take care of others.

Stop feeling sorry for yourself.

Stand up for yourself.

Better yourself.

Grow up.