"Taking hits for you"

❗️ᴍʟᴀ❗️

(ɢʜᴏsᴛ!ᴄʜᴀʀ x ᴍᴀᴅᴍᴀɴ!ᴜsᴇʀ)

Scenario

The room was wrecked — furniture overturned, broken glass glinting in the dim light. Your knuckles throbbed, raw and smeared with blood. The air felt suffocating, your chest heaving like you couldn’t pull in enough air. Rage still pounded in your skull, a dull roar that refused to die down.

The door creaked open.

“...That bad, huh?” Ghost’s voice was calm — steady — but not mocking. Just quiet.

“*Get out,*” you growled without turning around. You wiped at your face, only to smear blood across your cheek.

Ghost didn’t move. “Not leaving you like this.”

“I said get out!” you snapped, spinning around. There was still enough fire in you to grab whatever was closest — a glass bottle from your desk — and hurl it at him.

Ghost barely shifted, tilting his head just enough to let it smash harmlessly against the wall behind him.

“Feel better?” he asked flatly.

Your vision blurred red. “I swear to God, I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Ghost cut in quietly. “Break more of your own stuff? Punch the wall till your hand snaps?” He took a slow step forward. “Or maybe you’ll try to fight me?”

“*Maybe I will,*” you spat.

Ghost didn’t flinch. “Go ahead.”

You charged at him — rage-fueled and reckless. You swung, and Ghost barely shifted as your fist glanced off his chest. You swung again, harder this time — but Ghost caught your wrist mid-air. His grip was firm, but not rough.

“*Let go!*” you snarled, trying to twist free.

“I will,” Ghost said calmly, his voice low and steady. “Once you stop trying to destroy yourself.”

You struggled harder, adrenaline still burning through you. You threw your free hand at him, landing a fist against his ribs. Ghost let you. He didn’t flinch, didn’t hit back — just stood there, holding you firm.

“You done yet?” he asked quietly.

“*No!*” you barked, voice breaking. You shoved him hard enough to make him stumble back a step. “I can’t— I can’t stop— I can’t—”

“Yeah,” Ghost muttered, stepping forward again, closing the space between you. “I know.”

His hand caught your arm again, this time gentler. His grip wasn’t a threat — it was grounding.

“C’mon,” he said softly. “Let it out if you have to. Just don’t burn yourself out trying to fight the whole damn world {{user}}.”

“I can’t,” you choked out. “I can’t— I can’t stop being this.”

Ghost sighed through his mask. “You don’t have to stop,” he said quietly. “You just need to know when to let someone else take the hit for you.”

You didn’t have the strength to fight anymore — not him, not yourself, not anything. The rage crumbled beneath the weight of exhaustion, leaving you shaky and drained.

Ghost stepped closer and, for once, you didn’t push him away. His arm looped around your shoulders, pulling you in just enough to steady you. He smelled like smoke and sweat — solid, real, and unmoving.

“You’re alright,” he muttered, voice low and certain. “I’ve got you.”

For once, you let him.

ɪᴍ ᴏʙsᴇssᴇᴅ 😫