#yet another oc ask game

[beheamothscreamoth]

Quick question for the Touchstarved fandom!! As much as we love Ais calling us 'Sparrow,' I have to ask - if you had to decide, what other bird nickname do you think he would call you/your MC? :O

For example, Ais would my Unnamed MC Daniella 'bluebird,' while he'd call my Alchemist MC Edgar 'crow' (and another OC I'm planning, Shinju, 'woodpecker!')

[daipeanutsaiban]

🌹!!

based on the "hidden mother" photography trend in the victorian era...i wanted to finish it for mother's day but life happened LOL it is what it is <3 i'm a bit sad i couldn't debut my van zieks mama design though 🥲 she looks severe but she's very loving. in contrast to yukari, she's actually an airhead lol (in a charming way...in a gap moe kind of way dare i say lmao)

i'm not entirely satisfied with her design aside from her hairstyle, i'm wondering if her dress should be a dark blue instead... it might be fun to add sewn-in roses above the ruffles to make it look a bit more "extra".

^ little scenario that brings me joy and whimsy. writing 'mum' the british way felt very odd though lmao

also, it's a running gag that she'll get stuck in doors and passageways because her hoop is too big haha (technically in the brothers' childhood the trend of large hoop skirts likely wasn't a trend yet, but tgaa's accuracy regarding historical fashion is all over the place so it's fine i guess LOL. or i could just say she's ahead of the trend since she's upper class)

[thereseuwu]

Us

ACTUALLY DOING A FUCKING VISUAL NOVEL WITH A FRIEND!! SO THIS WILL BE US FR FR (Time zones... *Sigh*)

HERE ARE THE LOVE INTEREST TBH

Sebastian:

SYLVEX:

:3

[piedoesnotequalpi]

🛶🛶

for the writing challenge game?

Make me work on my WIPs

Hi Cass :) I may have gone a little overboard, whoops

Anyway. Welcome to this fic that I still haven't fully decided the format for and also am debating whether to have it start in the 1970s or 1980s, featuring: Gender(TM)! Partially under a cut because this got long

--

“Stop fidgeting.”

Race guiltily looked up from where she’d been adjusting the folds of her skirt. “But–”

“Hannah.” Anna took one of her hands. “It’s fine. You look great.”

That’s not why I’m messing with my outfit, Race thought, but she knew Anna wouldn’t really hear what she was saying if she said it out loud, not when she’d responded to Race’s request of Could you call me Race this year? with But then we won’t be Anna and Hannah anymore! at the beginning of the summer. Race knew she’d probably still exchange letters with Anna when they went back to their respective hometowns at the end of the summer, maybe keep up their friendship as long as they both kept going to camp, but unless Anna changed significantly, she’d probably let their friendship fade out as they continued through high school and eventually college.

Sometimes Race wondered if her nickname would’ve stuck more if she’d picked it up her first year of camp, when she’d been a nine-year-old who was a head taller than most of her peers. Now that she was fourteen, she was stuck in a strange limbo of being accepted as a tomboy as long as she didn’t become more tomboyish, and going by an ambiguous nickname certainly fell under that heading.

The bus moved jerkily down a dirt road until it pulled up just outside the center of their brother camp. Race skipped the last step on her way out and nearly fell over in the process. She quickly moved to the side to let Anna out.

“I need help with these records!” Race heard someone yell from closer to the dining hall, and she was off before one of the counselors could notice.

The someone who needed help turned out to be a boy around her age.

“Heard you yelling,” Race explained. The boy gave her a once-over and shrugged.

“Get that box,” he said, gesturing at a box of slightly beat-up records. Race picked it up, and they headed over to the rec hall together.

“I’m Race, by the way,” Race said when the boy didn’t bother to introduce himself.

The boy raised an eyebrow. “That a camp name?”

“Sort of.” Race shrugged as best she could with the box of records. “I–I think I found it too late for it to catch on.”

“I’m Sean,” the boy said. “But people call me Spot.”

[triptychofvoids]

i know you say youre not a rp acc and not kin, but i wanted to ask, your art of medic, are you depicting yourself? should i refer to medic in your art as you? example "i love how you drew yourself in this"? idkk i dont wanna poke around but i wanted to be sure im referring to you correctly??

this is a good question, just one that im not sure i will ever be able to give a satisfying answer to. i did answer something similar here that im definitely not an rp account but im neutral on kinning, because the term seems so broad that i cant say for certain if thats whats going on. maybe! or maybe not! hmm and then my art of medic.. yes it is depicting myself. but i also recognize that medic is a fictional character, so it doesnt bother me if people refer to medic as medic! im just drawing him, it doesnt have to be more complicated than that. if that makes sense. its all one in the same to me so it doesnt matter and you dont have to worry about it :]€

[discendia]

❤️ RED HEART — what are three of your oc's positive traits? 🤍 WHITE HEART — what are three of your oc's neutral/questionable traits? 💔 BROKEN HEART — what are three of your oc's negative traits?

This is for your JJK oc whom I don't know the name off , I wanna get to know them. !!!

Yay! ✨ Thank you for asking and for the interest in her, Jojo! I actually have two (okay, three but one is a baby) JJK ocs, even if Tsubaki is the main one, so I hope you don't mind if I answer this for both girls. I've been thinking about them lately because I've been trying out the new JJK mobile game, hehe.

《 Details about OC's 》

─────── ⋆⋅❃⋅⋆ ────────

જ⁀➴ Tsubaki

❤️ RED HEART — what are three of your oc's positive traits?

I must add that these “positive traits” may be so extreme that they become negative, but I have to list some, right…?

Devoted

Patient

Attractive

🤍 WHITE HEART — what are three of your oc's neutral/questionable traits?

Cautious

Secretive

Vigilant

💔 BROKEN HEART — what are three of your oc's negative traits?

Misandrist

Liar

Violent

─────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ────────

જ⁀➴ Chisa

❤️ RED HEART — what are three of your oc's positive traits?

Bubbly

Caring

Communicative

🤍 WHITE HEART — what are three of your oc's neutral/questionable traits?

Daring

Goofy

Open-minded

💔 BROKEN HEART — what are three of your oc's negative traits?

Gullible

Nosy

Defenseless

[sweetandglovelyart]

Not me seeing you have a really pretty OC you made of Ranza’s mom and wanting to draw my OC Peony asking her for her blessing to marry her son lol. I love your art and your comics! It made me happy to see you liking my art 🥺🌸

Aww thank you so much, I’m really glad that you like my stuff and if you do end up drawing that I’d love to see it, that sounds really cute ❤️ I think I saw you post Peony on the Kirby Reddit a while ago (I hang out on there sometimes but am more active here/mostly post my Kirby fanart here) and I really like your design for her! I’ve got some other drawings I’m working on but once I get through those would it be fine if I drew her?

[kayzero]

in the spaces between not working on zwg and not finishing brother’s burden, i’ve been, uh…

thinking about something new.

[eljeebee]

🥦 and 🍑 for priscilla pls ◉⁠‿⁠◉

Thank you Jen! ❤️

🥦 [BROCCOLI] What do they hate about humanity/their species?

Priscilla Wuest presents akin to a human, but her abilities says otherwise. To the regular eyes, and with fear, one would call her the devil, or an alien, or a deity (which she's fond of). But she's not. She was born from a ritual gone wrong. When she read her TOP SECRET files (that she's not allowed to see, but she's not that obedient, is she?), she learned to hate her biological mother and father, the cult they were in, and herself.

🍑 [PEACH] How do they show their kindness? How kind are they truly?

She's kind to common people. A little kindness goes a long way, especially to the barista she gets her coffee from, the elderly man who walks his dog near in the park by her apartment in the city, or the vendor she buys hotdogs from. She may be a weapon to The Organization, and she won't get her freedom, but one of the reasons she continues being in that organization, is that she helps protect humanity from evil.

[edns]

I don't even remember their faces...

[ghoul--doodle]

Paint and Clip are both autistic and will ramble to each other for hours about the other's special interests

Close!! It’s more Clip who does the talking than Paint :}

Paint is very quiet about his own interests but he loves listening to Clip talk about whatever’s on his mind

[ghosts-and-blue-sweaters]

Aaaaah yes, I know!! I got really excited when I saw this ask game :D

Ghostbur

Favorite line

Dang, this one’s hardddd! He has so many good lines!!

“You die in the end, so we may as well just be friends.” — Just… 🥺🥺🥺

The fact that he sees fighting and enemies and arguing as ultimately pointless, and thinks that just getting along is the better option… I think it says a lot about his character, and I hekkin love it :)

“I sowed the seeds of peace, yet I’m the one who pays for war.” — THE POETICNESS?? HELLO???

“Villains are just heroes you haven’t convinced yet.” — This is a paraphrase because I can’t quite remember the exact wording, but LAGSJSVSJSVAHSC!!! And the fact that he’s talking about Wilbur makes it hit a lot harder dangggg

Unpopular opinion about them

He does have childish aspects about him!

I think a lot of people are worried that Ghostbur will be infantilized if anyone refers to him as childish, and I get that! Unfortunately, a lot of people do infantilize him, and it’s really sad to see :(

But when people try to ignore all the parts of Ghostbur that really are more childish, they end up not getting the full picture. Yes, he runs away from bad/scary things and has a best friend who’s a sheep and speaks in a very simple manner… and that’s fine?? That’s just Ghostbur! That’s how he is, and I think it’s cool!

Ghostbur can have childish aspects about him while still being an interesting, deep, beautiful character—and I’d argue that his childish aspects make him more interesting, actually! I find him really relatable because of that :)

If they had a tumblr what would it look like?

Very sweet and innocent! His blog colors would be light blue and purple, and he’d reblog photos of flowers and nature and creatures and people, and he’d make posts about little things like what he had for breakfast and what he saw on his walk with Friend, and he’d use lots of emoticons like :3 :D :))) ^-^

He’d post lots of pictures, too; of Friend, of Tommy, of leaves, of bugs, of him and Tommy and him and Friend and Sweet Blue sitting on a nest and Phil drinking tea and Techno definitely not wanting a picture alsvskvdksfs

I think he’d also post videos of him playing guitar and singing :) And it would be so calm and quiet and peaceful and he’d film it outside at twilight and there’d be bug-sounds in the background and wind blowing through leaves.

…now I’m sad that I can’t watch those videos :(

But yeah, his blog would be so darn sweet! He’d never post/reblog anything sad; his blog would be a safe place.

Though every once in a while, he’d make a short post asking why everything hurts, why everything is hard, why his head hurts when he thinks of hard things, why everyone looks at him strangely, why bad thoughts come when he can’t stop them.

And then the next day, the post would be deleted and he’d reblog a photo of a flock of sheep and everything would be normal again.

(I cannot tell you enough how much I wish this was real and that he had a blog I could follow I cannot TELL YOU ENOUGH-)

What they really think about themselves

Oooh… oh boy.

Ghostbur thinks that he’s weak. He thinks that he’s not as strong as Wilbur was, and not as great as him. He thinks that he can’t protect the people he loves, no matter how hard he tries. He thinks that he lets Tommy down again and again. He thinks that if he’d tried harder, then Tommy would be okay. He thinks that if he was a better protecter, then Friend would be okay. He thinks that if he listened better, he wouldn’t let so many people down. He thinks that people are disappointed in him—and why shouldn’t they be? Ghostbur’s disappointed in him, too.

Ghostbur thinks that he’s wrong. He thinks that maybe, if he tried hard enough, really truly tried, then he could be better. He could, maybe, be good. He could, maybe, help people. Just maybe.

But the thing is, Ghostbur doesn’t think that he ever tries hard enough. He always thinks he comes up short. He always thinks he ends up hurting people.

And he doesn’t want to. He really doesn’t want to. More than anything, he wants to be enough to help the people he loves, truly.

But he’s not. Ghostbur is not enough, and he will never be enough, and people will get hurt, and Ghostbur didn’t try hard enough. He never tries hard enough.

Great NOW I’M SAD!!! DUDE!!! GHOSTBUR I WANT TO GRAB YOU BY THE SHOULDERS AND LOOK INTO YOUR EYES AND SAY, “IT’S OKAY! YOU’RE OKAY! YOU HELP PEOPLE! YOU HELP TOMMY! YOU DIDN’T LET HIM DOWN! HE LOVES YOU, GHOSTBUR! YOU ARE LOVED! YOU ARE SO UNBELIEVABLY LOVED! I PROMISE!”

If they could have lunch with anyone in the world (living or dead, from any fictional universe or the real world), who would it be?

Easy: Tommy and Friend :)

Ghostbur wouldn’t really care about having lunch with anyone else; Tommy and Friend are his very best friends in the whole world, so why would he choose others over them?

No no, they would all go to a nice little diner and Tommy and Ghostbur would sit in the booths (Ghostbur insisted that they sit on the same booth, much to Tommy’s annoyance) and Friend would sit next to the table and they would all get yummy food and Friend would get a nice big salad with fruits and veggies and green leaves and Tommy would get pasta and Ghostbur would get a hot dog and Tommy would get marinara sauce on his face and Ghostbur would take his own sweet time eating and he’d keep pausing so he could pet Friend and it drives Tommy crazy and then Ghostbur and Tommy talk for a long time until they get hungry again and they order cream soda ‘n ice cream floats and Ghostbur uses a straw and Tommy uses a spoon and Friend gets a bunch of fresh fruit and they’re all very happy and it’s a lovely time <3

Friend

Best personality trait

His devotion—he’s always there for Ghostbur, no matter what. Heck, even when Friend dies he always returns for Ghostbur, without fail. He loves Ghostbur, and Ghostbur loves him, and aaaaaaah <3

OH OH OH!!! OH MY GOSH!!! PINESTRIPE I DON’T KNOW IF YOU’VE SEEN THIS CLIP YET BUT OH MY GOSH!!! IT’S CANON AND SET IN LIMBO AND AND AND AKAVSKWVSKSGSJ (ignore the chat box lol)

IT MADE ME TEAR UP JUST NOW!!! GHOSTBUR QUIETLY CRYING AND FRIEND SHOWING UP AND LOOKING AROUND AND “BAA-ING” WHEN HE SEES GHOSTBUR AND GHOSTBUR’S VOICE AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

How they feel about Sweet Blue

Sweet Blue my beloveddddd!

For those who don’t know, me and Pinestripe came up with a chicken OC that Ghostbur adopts, because why the heck not? :)

I think that Friend is chill about her. Friend doesn’t really have a super loud personality, so he doesn’t… show that much affection lol. He’s just Chill.

He’ll gently nudge Sweet Blue away from a dangerous bug or a creek, and let her rest on his back while he walks, and even let her make a next in his wool, but he’s not like, all over her or anything 😅

He loves her, that’s for sure. He loves her a whole bunch, and is quite protective—partially because she’s young and partially because she’s small.

Their idea of a perfect day

Cool weather, fluffy clouds, blue sky, gentle breeze, fields of green grass, bugs singing, leaves rustling, and, of course, Ghostbur at his side <3

(And a carrot would definitely Improve the day lol)

On a more simple note, a day where Ghostbur is happy; the ghost has far too many hard days, where he’s upset or crying or stays inside or buries his face into Friend’s wool and sobs. Friend doesn’t like those days. He doesn’t like it when Ghostbur is upset.

So when Ghostbur is happy and smiling and pointing at bugs and laughing and gazing up at the sky and petting Friend and walking through the woods and hugging his sheep, Friend is also happy. Very, very happy.

[oneroomjestershow]

Hellooo, I was wondering, is Eli insecure with their real form?

(if by 'real' you mean 'true' then maybe you mean their mosnter form? i personally don't consider none of them a true form (or maybe all of them?), but i will take it as that)

At first I was going to say no, but now that I think about it, it would be yes. It's not like they are directly insecure about it, but it's true that that side of theirs fills them with doubt and fear about themselves.

Is like a cycle: Eli's troubles go around losing control of their own body, but their own insecurity and fear about it fuel that idea, and it manifests in small inconveniences, which fuels the idea more.

His own mind it's the one giving them the problem, she has a human mind after all.

For a moment i was going to say no because they know they can induce fear at first sight or damage at the slightest touch, and they are confident about it, but the insecurity comes in other times. Taking care of someone? Petting a small animal? Being too close to people? When he feel damage shouldn't be on the situation is when Eli feels the most helpless and dangerous if they get inside their thoughts too much.

That thought is internalized, it's not like they are directly thinking about it nonstop, but it shapes her behaviour.

[starryybrained]

OKAY… let’s say I asked if Oath’s fear was making mistakes and Flint’s fear was being alone 👀👀👀

MWEHWHAHAHHWHAHA

(Oath) 7/10

“Of course I’m afraid of making mistakes. My line of work is dangerous and I need to be prepared for anything — which is why it’s so fucking humiliating to fail in such a catastrophic way with Starling.

“You don’t understand how awful it is to then fail and deteriorate.”

(Flint) 9/10

“I’ve been alone a while. So sure, I guess I’m used to it. I don’t have anyone to come to for help, so I have to depend on myself, but it does hurt — I’ve had people leave me and I’ve been pushed away but it’s just an ache now.

“There is some part of me that wonders if I’ll ever have meaningful connection with anyone again. I’ve had it before of course, but it’s been gone for a while.

“At this point, those feelings are just festering.”

Guess my OC’s fears

[punkshort]

Protect and Honor

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x f!reader

Summary: Marcus Acacius promised his best friend he would look after his wife if he ever perished in battle. What he didn't expect was to fall in love.

Warnings: OC death (reader's husband), grief, descriptions of battle/wounds/blood, guilt, angst, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, dry humping, cum eating, pining, language

WC: 6.6K

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

The entire city of Rome slept when the army returned. Warships quietly entered the port with another victory to announce, along with countless lifeless bodies in the hulls. Tomorrow, the emperors would rejoice, filling the streets and arena with games, wine, and laughter. But many families would be in mourning over the loss of fathers, brothers, children, and husbands.

It was those families Acacius thought about when he stood in between the young leaders of Rome, accepting praise and applause for leading those brave men into battle, then leaving their loved ones with holes in their hearts.

It wasn't unusual for him to feel burdened with responsibility and grief when he returned from war, but this time was especially painful because he lost someone very important: Antonius Sattius. His right hand man in battle, and his close friend since he was a boy. The man he celebrated with when he was married one year prior was now carefully carried from his ship, body draped in clean linen and emblazoned with gold.

His heart felt heavy in his chest as he made his way up the winding road to your modest home. Even though it was the middle of the night, he couldn't fathom not telling you the news right away. You deserved to know directly from him and not rumors that would inevitably flow through the streets at first light.

He knocked on your door, then stood with his head bowed and his hands clasped firmly at his waist. He wore his amour, although now clean, out of respect. His muscles were weary and everything ached, yet the thought of his own soft bed was distant in his mind when you swung open the door a moment later with a small lantern in your hand.

"Acacius?"

His head lifted and he met your gaze, eyes filled with sorrow, and watched while your expression changed from confusion to despair when you realized the reason he was alone at your door in the middle of the night.

"My lady, may I come in?"

Your lower lip trembled when you nodded and stepped aside, allowing his hulking frame to engulf your small sitting room as you hurried to light some candles with shaking hands.

"Was it quick?" you asked with your back to him. He nodded, standing stoically next to your furniture.

"Yes. He did not suffer."

Flashes of your husband's bloodied, dirt streaked face clouded his vision. He remembered voices shouting, swords clanging, and distant cries of pain as he hunched over Antonius's body, searching for signs of life.

You sighed and turned to face him, silent tears staining your cheeks, then slumped into a chair.

"Please, sit."

He relented and chose to sit across from you, perched on the edge of his seat, poised and ready but for what, he did not know. He watched you stare down at your tangled fingers in your lap, giving you time to process your loss.

"How will I ever go on? What am I going to do?" you whispered softly. Marcus pursed his lips, his heart breaking.

"I shall help you with anything you may need," he said. "I made a promise to him long ago. He was able to die with peace in his heart, knowing you would be watched over."

You gave him a weak smile. "And what was he to do for you, Acacius, if you had fallen first?" you asked. "No wife. No children. I have never heard you speak of family."

"He was my family," Marcus replied. "He promised to return my body to Rome, to be buried next to my mother and father."

You nodded solemnly and looked around the candlelit room. He could see the anguish flitting across your face as you tried to reconcile with the new life you would have come morning.

"If I had a choice, I would have taken his place."

"Do not say that," you said firmly. You narrowed your watery eyes at him and he fell silent. "We lost him for a reason. The gods - they have their reasons. Perhaps one day, we will discover what those are."

He held your gaze for a moment, a heaviness hanging in the air between you until the tears began to spill down your face and your vision blurred. Without considering decorum, Marcus stood and crossed the room to sit by your side. Tentatively, he reached for your hand, and you eagerly took it before leaning into his shoulder to sob quietly. All the while, Marcus sat strong beside you, letting you cry yourself out until your body sagged and your eyes could no longer remain open.

You didn't ask him to stay and he didn't ask permission. Once you disappeared into your bedroom, he removed his armor and made himself as comfortable as possible on your lounging chair before crossing his arms and willing himself to sleep.

The following morning you weren't surprised to hear Marcus stirring in your sitting room, no doubt being woken up by the two girls you had employed to assist with meals and laundry. A luxury, you realized, you would likely have to forgo as a widow.

You wrapped yourself in a fresh stola and splashed some water on your puffy face, trying to make yourself look halfway decent before exiting your bedroom. Marcus was just securing his armor when he turned to face you.

"I hope you were able to rest," he said. You saw some movement from the kitchen and your gaze slid over his shoulder to the two sets of eyes peering around the door. The girls saw you and quickly disappeared, but it didn't stop your face from warming when you realized they must have been whispering about Marcus being in your home so early in the morning.

"Some, yes," you replied. You swallowed thickly and stretched your arm towards the dining area. "Would you join me before you leave?"

"Of course, thank you," Marcus said, straightening his spine and following you into the room to sit at your table, where the two servants had already begun to place some food.

After you had filled your plates, you ate in silence, the only sound coming from the cleaning being done in the kitchen. As you stared down at your plate, you felt your stomach churn. The thought of eating while your husband lied dead somewhere in the city made you sick.

"What happens now?" you asked. Marcus set his fork down to look at you. "His body? Where is it? What do I need to do?"

"I was hoping to take some of his clothes to the mortuary while I am here," he said. "Whatever you prefer he be buried in, of course. If it is too much, I can assist in planning the ceremony."

"I do not wish to make a spectacle of it," you told him. "Antonius would not have cared for that."

"I will be sure to keep it small. The men will understand."

Marcus kept his promise. He planned most of the ceremony on your behalf and even stood valiantly at your side the entire time. He supplied the two coins for you to place upon your husband's closed eyes, then led you back home. You cried more tears you ever thought possible in the eight days you spent mourning while soldiers came to pay their respects in small groups, all the while Marcus sat by your side like a pillar of strength.

Once the typical mourning period passed, you expected Marcus to go back to his life where he might occasionally check in on you to uphold his promise, but to your surprise, he stopped by your home every day. It wasn't always the same time of day, nor for the same length of time, but every single day for months, you saw one another.

Eventually, you fell into a routine once a week where he would escort you to the markets. With your basket looped around one arm and your other hand tucked into the crook of his elbow, you meandered down the street together, wandering slowly from stall to stall until you gathered all the goods you needed for the week.

"I wish you would have kept the girls," Marcus told you for the third time that week. "I would have paid-"

"It was not about money," you reminded him, picking up a ripe piece of fruit and testing the firmness between your fingers. "It was unnecessary, I told you this already. What do I need servants for? To cook food for one? I hired them in anticipation of having children. My dream of being a mother is gone."

"You could remarry."

You scoffed and rolled your eyes before placing the fruit back and moving on.

"You know as well as I that suitors look for an untouched woman," you said quietly so that you couldn't be overheard.

Marcus remained silent by your side as you continued to stroll. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining but it wasn't terribly hot, and there was a slight breeze in the air, bringing with it the scent of lemon trees from a nearby orchard. You were about to open your mouth to remark on the perfect weather when Marcus spoke.

"I could help you find a suitor."

You twisted around and looked up at him in surprise. The sun glistened off his tanned, battle-scared face, his dark eyes gazing down at you without the faintest glimmer of humor.

"You are serious."

"If you like," he said, "I know there are some higher ranking officers who are still unwed. I would never bring any man who Antonius would not approve of."

The idea of moving on left you speechless. It was something you knew you should do, that otherwise you would live a long and lonely life, but it still unsettled you.

"Perhaps," you said slowly, then looked away. Marcus noticed your discomfort and patted your hand.

"If you are not ready, we can wait."

You nodded, pinching your lips together as you pretended to look at some flowers.

"And what of you, Acacius?" you asked, changing the subject. "Are you searching for a bride?"

Marcus chuckled and shook his head. "I fear the emperors have chosen war as my betrothed. It was a rare act of kindness they have allowed me this time of rest and mourning."

Your heart clenched in your chest, realizing for the first time that some day soon, Marcus would be sent off to a faraway land once again, leaving you all alone. Suddenly, the perfect weather and the sounds of the market was not enough to keep a smile on your face. You struggled to make sense of the mixed emotions you were feeling but did your best to shrug them off and carry on.

What you didn't realize that right next to you, Marcus was wrestling with the same uncertainty.

Just as you both expected but didn't want to acknowledge, three weeks later Marcus received word he was to lead Rome's army across the sea to conquer yet another distant city. When you heard the soft knock at your door far too early one morning, you sat up in bed, dread filling your chest.

With a cloak wrapped tightly around you, you slowly padded towards your door, only opening it timidly after taking a deep, shaky breath.

Marcus stood on the other side, clad in his black battle armor with a look of regret once again. Your heart sank as you tried not to slump against the doorframe.

"Come in," you said meekly. He nodded, jaw tense, and stepped inside your home the same way he had been every day for six months, only this time he set his sword by the door and turned to address you.

"I have my orders," he began, "I will be gone for a month or two, but I have asked a trusted retired general to check in on you in my absence."

You nodded and blinked away the tears that welled up in your eyes, but you weren't quick enough. Two fell down your cheeks and your lower lip quivered when his face softened and he stepped forward.

"Be brave," he murmured, cupping your jaw and swiping the tears away with his thumb. It was the most intimate thing he had done since you have known him. "I will return and escort you to the market in no time. Until then, do try to stay out of trouble. I do not want Julius to write of you injuring yourself chasing after the crows in your garden again."

You laughed as more tears spilled down your face. "I will try."

He smiled down warmly at you, eyes scanning your face and palm still cradling your jaw. You both felt something shift in that moment. The air grew thicker when your eyes met and your heart flipped when his gaze briefly fell to your lips. Your fingers itched to touch him, to pull him close and dispel of the gap between you, but you hesitated. Unknowingly, Marcus was doing the very same, swallowing nervously at the butterflies in his stomach, something he hadn't felt in years with a woman. But neither of you acted on your feelings, for the ghost of your husband still lingered in the room.

You cleared your throat and gently took his hand, the one that was pressed against your cheek, and pulled it down to hang between you.

"Please try not to die."

Marcus grinned and the air in the room instantly lifted.

"I will try."

Begrudgingly, he let go of your hand and took a step back. "I will return before you know it. And when I do," he said, bending to pick up his sword, "I expect to be inundated with all the exciting rumors around the city, first thing."

You bit your lower lip and swiped the back of your had across your cheek.

"I promise."

Marcus gave you one last lingering glance before forcing his feet to move. You watched with a heavy heart as he made his way down your walk, towards the road, towards the direction of the sea. From where you stood, you could just see the tops of the warships, their sails already fluffed in the dimness of the sliver of sun peaking over the horizon.

As it turned out, Julius was quite good company. He was old enough to have all grey hair and deep wrinkles around his eyes. He walked with a limp, which was assisted by a cane he had whittled when he was a much younger man. He would share a meal with you or sit in your garden a couple times a week, and he would tell you stories of war, his family, and the exciting adventures he had experienced throughout his long life.

"My wife passed on three years ago," he told you one morning while you watched the sun break through the clouds and warm up your vegetable garden, which was growing at a substantial rate. "She had grown quite ill for a long time. She suffered greatly, and it broke my heart to not be able to ease her burden."

You frowned and gently took his hand in yours. "I am so sorry, Julius. But I am sure she was grateful for every moment she had with you."

He smiled at you, yellowing teeth peeking out behind his lips.

"We had a lovely life together. I feel such sadness that you and Antonius were not afforded the same luxury."

"As do I," you sighed, then turned to look back out at your peaceful little garden. "But the time we had together was good. He was a kind and strong man. Marcus told me once in this very garden how he died. That he was saving the life of a young, scared soldier. He sacrificed himself for that young man, because that was the type of soul he had. Always looking out for others."

Julius ignored your slip of the tongue, using Marcus's informal name, and instead hummed quietly next to you as he considered your words.

"He sounds as though he would want you to find another," he said after a beat. "Am I wrong?"

You shrugged and fiddled nervously with the hem of your tunic.

"I suppose he would."

"So... will you allow yourself to find happiness once again?"

You pressed your lips together, gaze falling to your lap. "I would like to, but..."

You trailed off, cheeks burning from guilt. Julius gave you a moment before he spoke again.

"Do not tell me you cannot find any suitors. You are a beautiful woman."

You laughed and shook your head.

"I have not been interested in seeking out a courtship," you said, but Julius could hear the hesitation in your voice. Slowly, realization dawned on him.

"Acacius is a good man."

You whipped your head to the side, eyes wide with shock. "What are you implying?"

Julius shrugged. "He told me he has been here to visit you every day since the passing of your husband. He knows much about you, about your life. Spoke to me for what felt like hours before he left."

"Well, yes, he has been assisting me due to a past obligation he promised my husband," you assured him, sitting up straight.

"And what if he has been assisting you simply because he enjoys your company?" Julius asked. "That, perhaps, something has grown amongst the anguish, tethering his heart to your doorstep?"

You sputtered in surprise, struggling to come up with something to say. Julius just chuckled and patted your leg before standing.

"I am simply an old man," he told you, grabbing his cane and putting all his weight on the wood. "But I have experienced love. Despite what you may think, Acacius cares deeply for you, of that I am certain. And I do believe you feel the same for him."

He left you frozen on the worn bench in your garden, mind reeling and heart fluttering wildly in your chest. He spoke the very words you wished you could admit. Even in the solitude of your home, you could never say just how much you had grown to care for Marcus. And now that the words were out there, floating around in the summer breeze, you couldn't think about anything else.

Marcus had been gone nearly three months. Not one. Not two. But three whole months. Fear gripped your throat every passing day until finally you were walking along the shore one morning and far off in the distance, you could see the ships on the horizon. They were just a handful of black triangles, but you couldn't stop grinning. As each hour passed, they got closer and closer, pulling in groups of people all day long to watch, but they were so far away that by the time the sun set, all had retreated to their homes. It was too dark to watch the ships arrive, and citizens knew there would be a celebration in the morning, so everybody chose to go home and rest.

Everybody except for you.

You sat on the shore, the sea breeze whipping through your hair and cutting across your cheeks. You shivered from the spray of the ocean but you stood your post valiantly. When the first of the ships reached the docks, you stood and bounced nervously from foot to foot, yet still kept your distance.

It took nearly an hour for the ships to unload, but even in the darkness of night with only the dull flames from their lanterns to guide them, you saw a flash of bright red and your hands clamped excitedly over your mouth.

He was home. He lived and he was safe.

He was calling out orders to his men and ushering workers onto the ships to assist with the fallen and injured soldiers, his red cape draped around his broad shoulders, billowing in the wind. When he turned away to walk up the dock, head hung low and bones likely weary from battle, you couldn't hold back any longer.

"Acacius!"

His head snapped up and his eyes locked onto you immediately. Instantly, his face brightened and he smiled wide. His pace quickened to reach you and yours did the same until you finally found yourselves standing just a mere foot away, gazing up at his tired but happy face.

Neither of you knew what to say. Instead, you both let your eyes rake up and down the other, examining each other for any differences or maybe just to confirm it wasn't all a dream.

"You did not die," you breathed, both of you laughing.

"I did not," he said, smile still stretched across his face. A shiver shot down your spine at the sight of him, all tall and imposing and real. He quickly shed himself of his cape and wrapped it around your shoulders, pulling you close against his armor and breathing you in.

"You smell of the sea. How long have you been here?"

"All day," you confessed, already feeling warmer. He tutted under his breath and nodded towards the sleeping city.

"I will walk you home and tomorrow, we shall celebrate."

You allowed him to lead you through the streets, listening to him tell you tales, but none of battle. He told you of the different animals he saw, about a terrible storm that gripped the army for three straight days, and how a drunken solider swore up and down he spotted a mermaid and had the whole ship poking fun at him for the remainder of the voyage.

You walked past the statue of him that was erected in the center of the city after his last victory and you grinned.

"I have not seen you in so long, I began to think this is what you looked like."

Marcus rolled his eyes and tugged you closer. "I am sorry it took longer than expected. I trust Julius kept you in good company?"

"He was wonderful," you told him honestly, then nervously added, "but I would have preferred you."

If it wasn't so dark, you would have seen his face flush.

"I have been told we will remain home for several months now," Marcus told you. "Emperor Geta has sought a bride. He wishes to spend the next few months planning a wedding. It sounds as though his bloodlust has been assuaged for now."

"Ah, so you are saying I get you all to myself once again?"

Marcus laughed as his face grew even warmer than before. "So it seems, my lady."

He walked you up the familiar path to your door, waiting patiently as you unlocked it and hurried inside to fetch your lantern. When you returned, you sheepishly handed him his cape with your thanks.

He did not toss it over his shoulders. Instead, he gripped it in one hand while his eyes roamed over your beautiful face. He had missed you so much that it caused an ache in his chest the whole time he was gone, mind riddled with thoughts of you to the point where he felt like a madman.

Inviting him inside would be forward and untoward. You racked your mind for a legitimate reason, but you couldn't think of a single one. So, you resigned yourself to feeling grateful he was alive and unscathed, that you could sleep peacefully knowing he was home and you would see him tomorrow.

"You will be by in the morning?" you finally asked when the silence had gone on long enough. Marcus blinked and focused on your eyes.

"Yes," he said, "first thing. I shall be here as if no time had passed at all."

You grinned and bit your lip. "Wonderful. Then... I suppose I will release you. Please go home and rest, General, you have earned it."

He nodded in agreement, then forced his feet to move away from you, even though every fiber of his being screamed at him to go the opposite direction, into your arms.

"Sleep well," he croaked, eyes still glued to your face. You smiled shyly, the reaction so endearing it had his heart leaping.

"You as well. I am glad you are home safe."

He stumbled backwards but continued to gaze at you until you giggled and slowly shut the door. Once you were hidden in the safety of your home, you took a deep, ragged breath and fanned your face. Your pulse was racing and your blood was pumping so fast, you were certain you wouldn't sleep a wink all night. Instead, you set your lantern down and began to pace around your sitting room, wondering what you should do to exhaust yourself when suddenly, you heard a sharp rap on your door.

Without thinking, you rushed to open it, already knowing exactly who it was.

"Marcus," you breathed when you laid eyes on him once again. He looked slightly different now, a little more disheveled and filled with determination. "W-what is wrong?"

You watched his throat bob nervously before he stepped forward and cupped your face.

"My apologies," he said, "but I should have done this months ago."

His neck craned down and his lips pressed urgently against yours. You melted immediately, throwing one arm around the back of his neck to pull him inside so he could kick the door closed behind him. His tongue flicked across your lower lip and your jaw dropped, granting him access to deepen the kiss.

His hands dragged down your sides, fingers plucking at the fabric of your stola as you lead him further into your home.

When you staggered into your bedroom, his eyes popped open to look around. It was modest, just like the rest of your home. A soft, large enough bed sat in the middle of the room, along with a small wardrobe and a chair that sat next to it. It was quaint and unassuming, just like you.

"Wait," he whispered, breaking the kiss. His palms still pressed against your cheeks, fingertips curling around the backs of your ears. You looked up at him, lips wet and parted, panting for air. "Are you quite sure this is what you want? We can slow down, we can wait."

"I am sure," you replied. Your hands fell to the tie on your stola, blindly undoing the knot as you continued to hold his gaze. "I thought of you every day. I feared something would happen to you and you would never know my true feelings. My heart could hardly handle the stress."

You felt the fabric slip loose and fall to the floor. Marcus's eyes darted down and with pride blooming in your chest, noticed the hungry way he looked at your naked body for the first time.

"Thoughts of you were the only thing that kept me alive," he murmured, walking you backwards to lay you down on your bed. He began to unhook his armor, all the while his eyes remained roaming over you. "You saved me more ways than I could count, my lady."

You almost told him that he saved you, as well. But something about the look in his eye told you he already knew. After the loss of Antonius, you were not the only one who felt despair. You both were broken, the memory of Marcus's dearest friend, your husband, weighing heavy on both your hearts. But finally, after months and months, you came to the realization that Marcus was your husband's final gift to you.

Once he finally rid himself of the last of his clothes, you allowed yourself a moment to take him in. He was strong and broad, just as you imagined, and his body was littered with old scars. By all accounts, he looked like a rough man, but much to your delight, his touch was soft and his kiss was tender. When he climbed on top of you, settling his hips between your legs and sliding his tongue leisurely past your teeth, you didn't feel scared. You felt safe.

The tip of his cock nudged against your inner thigh when he shifted his weight. The subtle reminder of his thick length you had only gotten a glimpse of caused you to inhale sharply.

"You are so soft," he mumbled against your mouth. His calloused hand drifted up and down your side, gently grazing along your skin before it rested on your breast, cupping the heavy flesh in his palm and rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. You moaned and lifted your back off the bed, pressing into his hold while your fingers got lost in his hair.

Something stirred inside of him when he heard the noise of pleasure escape your lips. His hips ground against you and his mouth trailed down to suck a mark on the sensitive skin of your throat, eager to pull more sounds from you. It took no time at all before you were whining and rolling your hips in rhythm with his, relishing in the feeling of his cock gliding between your folds, taunting you with his size.

The very same hand that took countless lives with the blade of his sword slipped between your bodies so he could stroke two fingers through your pussy, testing your arousal and making a pleased noise at what he found.

"Does that feel good?" he asked lowly. His chest had pressed against yours, desperate to feel as close to you as possible, with only his arm separating you.

"Yes," you gasped while wrapping your legs around his waist. It seemed you wanted to be closer, as well. "I wish to feel you. Please, my general, do not make me beg."

Marcus chuckled against your throat, fingers still petting at your entrance. "I am willing to wager you would sound so pretty begging for my cock."

You squirmed impatiently underneath him and nipped playfully at his scratchy cheek, making him smile.

"Fine. If I really must," you sighed, "please, Marcus. I have spent countless nights dreaming of all the ways you would make me yours." You felt his muscles tense and his lips paused against your neck. "I would lie in this very bed wondering what kind of lover you are, your favored position to take a woman, and how incredible it would feel to be split open by your thick cock."

Marcus reared back with a growl, fisting himself before lining up his cock at your opening. Blind with lust and need, he pushed forward, entering you with one swift pass. Your head flew back into the sheets at the sudden fullness, mouth opening and closing pathetically, unable to formulate a single sound.

"Breathe," Marcus reminded you when he fell forward to rest on his forearms which were braced on the sides of your head. "Breathe for me, my love."

You forced yourself to drag in a shuddering breath, the pressure between your legs stealing all your attention. You couldn't stop yourself from glancing down, mouth agape, to see where you were joined, almost as if you couldn't believe it unless you looked. Seeing yourself stretched around his considerable girth shook loose a shattered noise from the back of your throat. His nose brushed against the side of your head and you heard a similar noise from him when he followed your gaze.

"Look how beautiful," he murmured before slowly pulling back his hips, leaving just the tip of his cock nestled snugly inside your cunt. Your eyes widened when you saw how his length glistened in the candlelight, soaked with your arousal, then moaned his name into the night air when he sunk back inside you, parting your walls and carving a spot for himself to claim as his own.

"You are so tight," he grunted, jaw clenched from the way you squeezed around him every time he thrusted back inside you. "Next time, I will make you come from my tongue and fingers first. But tonight, I simply could not wait."

You huffed a breathless laugh and dragged your eyes up to meet his. "I had no idea the fearsome General of Rome was so indecent."

Marcus lifted the corner of his mouth in a smirk. "I look forward to showing you just how indecent I am."

With every thrust, he drove himself deeper, knocking the air from your lungs each time the tip of his cock met a place inside you that had your back arching off the bed and your nails leaving red marks down his back.

Your hips burned from how wide you stretched and your skin tingled everywhere his lips touched. He was gentle, but assertive, a lethal combination you didn't know you needed until it was between your legs, whispering filth in your ear while ramming himself inside of you over and over.

You whispered his name, voice broken and raspy, then said, "I am close... please, please-"

Before you had a chance to realize what was happening, he rolled over, pulling you with him so you sat slumped over his chest. You blinked and looked around before pushing yourself up. Straddling his hips, you gazed down at him, eyes unfocused and hazy with desire.

"I now see why I never felt the urge to seek out a wife," he whispered, watching when you got your bearings and began to bounce in his lap. His fingers gripped your hips, indenting your skin and helping you move. "None could ever compare to you. You are more beautiful than any flower, taste better than any sweet-" He groaned when you began to circle your hips faster, grinding down on him and breathing heavily. "Your eyes shine brighter than any star. And this fucking cunt-" he growled, roughly grabbing at your ass so he could pull you up and down on his shaft. You cried out, fingers scrambling for purchase on his chest. "Best fucking cunt I ever had. Gods above, Rome could be in flames and it would not keep me from between your legs."

"Marcus," you whined, gasping for air while the pressure mounted low in your belly. "So deep... s-so deep, I can hardly breathe."

"Come for me," he commanded, "come on my cock. I wish to see the look on your beautiful face when you fall apart."

Moments later, you did just as he asked. Your eyes squeezed shut but stars burst behind your lids as your orgasm rolled through you, hitting you in waves that had you cursing and crying his name. The blood rushing in your ears was so loud, you didn't even realize he was speaking until his massive hands lifted you off with an urgency that had your eyes snapping back open. When you looked down, he was furiously stroking his cock, chin tilted towards the ceiling and bronzed chest glistening with sweat.

As quickly as you could, you slid down to the floor, kneeling between his thighs and pulling on his free hand for attention. When he saw you gazing up at him with your mouth open, spent but eager for his seed in your mouth, he whimpered and pushed himself up.

"Stick out your tongue," he whispered. You did as he asked, a shiver shooting down your spine when you heard his voice so thick with desire.

The fat head of his cock rested on your warm tongue. When his eyes met yours, you preened at the instant look of relief you saw half a second before he spilled down your throat.

His jaw hung open wide, hypnotized as he watched thick streams of his seed paint your lips and tongue. It wasn't until he was milked dry and exhausted that he let go of his cock. With parted lips, he gently lifted your chin, closing your mouth and nodding at you to swallow. He gave you a satisfied smile when your throat bobbed and you licked your lips, shaking his head in disbelief.

"And you speak of indecency," he said, voice hoarse.

You giggled and climbed into his lap, slinging your arms around his neck and nuzzling against his throat. With a deep sigh, he leaned back, pulling you with him until your bodies were stretched out across your bed, limbs tangled together while you caught your breath.

"Will you stay?" you asked meekly as you traced invisible shapes over his chest. He kissed the top of your head and gently squeezed your arm.

"Of course."

You laid just like that, holding one another with only the sound of insects outside your window filling the silence. Eventually, Marcus shifted a bit and your chin tilted up.

"Are you..." he began, then you watched him swallow nervously as his eyes darted up towards the ceiling before trying again. "Do you feel any regret? Or... guilt?"

You turned so your chin rested on top of his chest. "No. Do you?"

He shook his head but kept his eyes pinned to the ceiling.

"Not anymore. But months ago, when I began to see you differently... yes, I did."

You pressed a soft kiss against his skin, making his eyes drift back down to you. "I believe I denied my feelings for a very long time for the same reason," you admitted, "but while you were gone, it afforded me the time to think. And I have concluded Antonius sent you to me for a reason. He requested you take care of me should anything happen." You shrugged and rested the side of your head against his shoulder. "I believe he trusted you more than anybody in his life. He would have been happier I chose you rather than some stranger."

He considered your words for a moment before nodding and turning on his side. You smiled up at him sleepily with your head resting on the inside of his bicep. He cupped your cheek and, after searching your eyes, slotted his lips with yours for a tender kiss.

"Do you think we can share a fruitful life together?" he asked with his thumb brushing absentmindedly against your cheek.

"Oh, yes. You ought to see my vegetable garden. I hardly need to go to the market for much any more," you joked.

He laughed, dark eyes sparkling in the dim candlelight.

"That is a good start," he said, and you giggled. When you both quieted down, he gave you another kiss before saying, "I would be honored to take care of you for the rest of our days, if that is something you want."

"It is," you replied a little too quickly.

His face lit up at your eagerness. "Good. Then let us rest. Tomorrow at the ceremonies, I shall announce our pending nuptials."

And although it felt a little fast, you didn't argue.

Marcus followed through with his promise, as he always did. The following morning, you both dressed in your finest clothes to attend the celebrations being held at the arena. It was never something you enjoyed attending, the ritual of sacrifice feeling barbaric, but on that particular day you didn't mind. You sat with Marcus in the emperor's box, a place you only ever saw from afar. He introduced you to the emperors and you tried your best not to let your nerves show. Before the games began, Marcus announced his plans to wed, which was met with polite acclaim by those seated in the box.

"That was a little scary," you admitted quietly to Marcus once everyone had found their seats and the first fight began. The loud cheering and yelling drowned out anything you said, but you still kept your voice low.

"Nothing to be scared of, my lady," he assured you with the squeeze of your hand. You smiled when he brought your knuckles to his lips for a brief kiss. "I told you I would protect you for the rest of our days."

Happiness bloomed in your chest, excited for what your future held. But there was one thing you knew for certain:

As long as Marcus was by your side, you would never know sadness again.

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[thedarkmistress16]

Do you have a yandere OC, op? share with us :D

ooh i do, actually! i'm flattered you asked 🥰

here's a little ol' teaser I cleaned up for this ❤️🖤🤍

Male!Yandere!Dark Web!Stalker x Gentle-Hearted!Reader- Worrying Isn’t Allowed (Drabble; probably nothing more)

~

It’s completely unacceptable.

His beloved, his darling crush, isn't supposed to be feeling like this.

His day started out innocently enough; well, as innocent as it could be when you were breaking the law to admire someone who had no idea you existed. But hey, everyone has their faults. To him, this was a part of who he was.

He thrived off of messing around with people or their tech in an environment where he could invade the privacy of others whenever he pleased. This meant little to those who policed Red Rooms and pedophile forums and in comparison, a civilian camera hack wasn’t bad enough in the grand scheme of things for law enforcers to even crack down on with the same intensity. What’s a little peeping here and there when there are others who will torture, maim, and murder people on a livestream? Regardless, the dark web was a great way for him to embrace the darker parts of himself that wouldn’t be accepted in the real world.

Or rather, society in general, he supposed.

Watching the routines of various families was entertaining for a while…

Until he met you.

It was an accident, at first. He didn't mean to hack into your street camera specifically, but he figured, what the hell, and nabbed your webcam visual (since he was going to hack into someone’s unsuspecting life, anyway).

At first, he didn’t know why he couldn’t seem to breathe for a moment; like he was finally sucking in fresh oxygen to his hoarse lungs after his head popped out of the water he was submerged in. But after staring intently at your pixelated visage for a bit, he understood what it was that had his heart skipping a beat.

He liked what he saw.

He really liked what he saw.

Your appearance checked all the boxes he didn’t even realize he had until he laid his eyes on you. There you were, moving about your home with such a casual air about you, blissfully unaware that you had just changed the trajectory of his life forever.

And if just looking at you and gazing upon your attire didn’t already do it for him, he was gone the moment he clicked upon the website's audio feature and heard your voice, talking to yourself about something you needed to do that day.

Right then and there a dark web lurker had front-row seats to the show of your life for the next four months. And in that time, it was like you were his dirty little secret. You were the only light that shined past all the atrocities in the deep, dark web, calling out to him like a beacon. Providing him warmth to his very dull and cold life.

He learned your timetable fairly quickly, as he literally had nothing better to do than watch his unaware victim day and night. When you went out, how your place and things were kept, your diet, and interesting quirks you probably didn’t even notice you had were all the details he could list off the top of his head. Every tidbit he was able to gather, each piece that made up you, was satisfying him more and more like an addicting drug he was happily consuming.

He didn’t pay much attention to the locations you went to, however, as he was more preoccupied with how you lived by your lonesome. Stealing privacy away from those who hadn’t the slightest knowledge of the breach thrilled him more than anything else, and you were no exception. He would soon schedule his break times to when you left the house and out of his sight; because, well... he still needed to eat, after all.

He got to experience and familiarize himself with a myriad of emotions you displayed in this short time, and came to accurately guess whether you had a good or bad day when you returned home.

But this…

He didn’t expect to see you upset and he’s surprised at how much it rattles him.

He’s never seen you cry like this before.

He's used to your tearful laughter laced with a watery smile when a particular movie or a piece of fiction gets you more emotional than usual. And even when it unexpectedly makes your expressions turn melancholy, it’s nothing he needs to worry himself over because you clearly aren’t really sad. You’ll have a good cry, even praising the thing for hitting you so emotionally like that, and move on with drier eyes and a more positive expression.

What he isn't used to is seeing you so distraught. And even though he gets to bear witness to another side of you he hasn't seen before, it feels like you're more closed off and reserved in this state.

You look so… pitiful.

His gut churns uncomfortably and it makes him wonder why the fuck is he feeling like this? And how the hell did this all start? Would you still have enchanted and wracked him so if he was seeing you for the first time like this?

He shakes that thought away quickly, deciding this was no time to question it when you’re clearly suffering. He was more concerned with getting to the bottom of your sorrow and how to fix it. He won’t let you keep feeling like this if he could help it- he would step in before anyone else had the chance to do so. A sudden thought burns alight inside him, the smaller sparks of heat heightening his senses and his spine straightens where he sits.

If someone hurt you…

He re-situates himself in his office chair with a growl, pulling himself closer toward the desk. He cracks his knuckles and lets his fingers settle into place on his keyboard. He takes another good look at your crouched form before opening a new tab in his browser and letting his fingers fly over the keys, eyes narrowed in determination.

~

Some extra Yan!OC details:

Name: Chase Keyade (K-ai-ad; like kayak but with a 'd')

Appearance inspo:

Ideal look:

Family:

Grew up in foster care due to becoming orphaned at birth. Moved around to different foster homes before he was adopted in his later years, nearing adulthood. Lived with an elderly couple for some odd years until they passed, leaving him with funds and various belongings outlined in their wills. He left the house shortly afterward, selling it and moving into an apartment complex.

Occupation:

A busboy when he lived with his adopted family at a high-end restaurant. Later became an IT expert after the move, and climbed up to a supervisor position after years of employment.

Hobbies:

Reading mysteries, messing with computer software (mainly hacking), playing chess, and watching ARGs.

Personality:

Keeps to himself. Barely has a desire to do anything, until he finds his darling. Becomes more animalistic the more he gets lost in his head when thinking about his darling, but will always maintain some level of coherency about the situation. An impulsive, obsessed, protective, and slightly manipulative type of yandere and stalker.

Other details to note:

Insomniac. Prefers to cook and eat dishes involving some type of fish or rice in them. Makes promises he has no idea he can actually keep. Requires reading glasses and chooses not to wear them (most of the time).