#(but thoughts were brewing & they needed to be had. didn't feel like writing a drabble & this mfer don't deserve his own blog)

[steveha1rrington]

"if this is the choice you want to make, steve ... then so be it. but you'll find out soon enough that you're wasting your time. and don't expect to come crying to your mother and i when these people see you for who you truly are."

[tiefthieves]

Let Me Silence the Storm [Karlach x Tav (Sikah)]

hello all :) I've decided to stop being a little bitch baby and post some of the things I've been writing for my Tav, Sikah, and Karlach. This is a little drabble surrounding Sikah's fear of thunderstorms. In my mind, this takes place around the early quests of Act 3. Here's a picture of them because they're cuties! My blorbos ♡

From the balcony of the inn, Sikah sat and watched as dark gray clouds, heavy with rain, slowly crept their way up the horizon and toward the city. She could hear the low rumble of thunder as they drew nearer and could smell the raindrops in the breeze. Her stomach ached. 

Thunderstorms weren’t an abnormality along the Sword Coast. The proximity to the raging sea and the area’s pseudo-island climate brewed a perfect storm. When it rained in Baldur’s Gate it rained hard. Light showers were a rarity, only spitting in spring; for the remaining seasons, there was little snow, no showers, and no sprinkles, only drenching downpours. 

When Sikah was young she loved the rain— loved splashing in puddles, counting the seconds between thunder claps, watching lightning race across the sky. Her mother would tell her it was the gods and goddesses practicing their archery, each hot flash of pure energy an ethereal arrow. 

Lightning was just that, pure energy in a blistering flash. She reached up and carefully brushed her fingertips across her permanently disfigured skin as the memories resurfaced. Sikah could still feel the sweltering pain on her face and see the blinding bolt of light emitting from a whip which cracked like thunder. 

She gasped as something, no, someone, tapped her shoulder. 

“Shit baby, I didn't mean to scare you.” Karlach took a step back, “You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine…” Sikah lied as she stood up and brushed dust from her pants. “Need something?” 

“I was just checking in on ya, you’d been out here on the balcony for a while,” the taller tiefling leaned her back against the railing as she took a deep breath of coastal storm air. “Smells like rain.”

“Mmhm,” she hummed another passive lie, eyes still fixated on the darkening horizon. 

“For a rogue you’re a shit liar sometimes,” the barbarian observed, “What’s on your mind?” 

“It’s nothing,” Sikah winced as the skies opened up, darkening the cobblestone with heavy drops of precipitation, “let’s go inside.” 

Karlach wasn’t buying it. Something was up with Sikah and she was damn determined to figure out what. She pondered for a moment, cogs turning in her head while she reviewed the past hour. The evening had been rather normal, she thought. The party had stumbled into the tavern bruised and bloody from a day’s worth of adventuring. Firstly, herself and Sikah promptly made their way up to the inn to wash up before having dinner with the group, after which they retired to their shared room. From then on, Sikah had been out on the balcony watching the storm clouds. Even now, laying in bed with the balcony doors shut, the smaller tiefling kept an eagle eye on the window. 

“Did’jya see something suspicious out there? I can go pester Astarion to take care of it, he’s probably hungry.” Karlach attempted to draw her lover’s attention away from the window and onto her. 

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m fine, really,” Sikah gave her a reassuring half-smile. 

The taller woman raised a brow, “Darling, I love you, but you’re really bad at lying to me— which I appreciate, don’t get me wrong, but you can talk to me.” 

Sikah was silent, eyes fixated on Karlach’s fingertips as the larger woman moved to pull her into her chest. “I’m afraid of thunderstorms, of lightning, all of it,” her voice came out in a whisper. “It’s stupid. I can face goblins, devils, shapeshifters, cultists, and shadow cursed lands all without an ounce of fear, but a thunderstorm? I feel pathetic.”

“Hey now, I don’t date pathetic people, if I wanted to do that I’d go find Volo or some shit,” Karlach joked in an attempt to lower her lover’s guard. “Everyone has things they’re afraid of, baby. Usually for a good reason too.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Sikah rolled her eyes as a tiny smile dared to escape her lips. She tensed as a clasp of thunder shook the building, pressing herself into Karlach’s warm embrace. “Shit.”

“Hey, you’re alright, I’ve got you,” the barbarian cupped the woman’s cheek and ran her thumb over its textured flesh. She wanted to ask Sikah to tell the story of her scars, to uncover the mysteries that hid behind tarnished skin and bask in her bravery. Yet, Karlach’s mind was absent as she continued to pet Sikah’s cheek, softly humming as her eyes shamelessly wandered across the map of her speckled skin. “You’re beautiful, you know.” She eyed Sikah’s lips, her thumb teasing to inch closer. The smaller tiefling reached up to guide Karlach’s hand away, placing it on her chest before she draped her arms around the hellion’s neck. 

As rain continued to cascade down the inn’s window, the tieflings kept warm under the lush duvet of their bed. The next hours were spent in a lovers’ embrace; hands wandering across skin, muttered adorations, and airy breaths. With their clothes strewn across the floor, Karlach was able to fully appreciate her partner’s body in the blossoming candlelight. Sikah lay on her chest, back exposed to the air, arms hugged underneath one of the plush, feather pillows the inn provided. Her hair was down and out of its usual ponytail, cascading just barely past her shoulders. It had to be a horrible mess of tangles by now, for it hadn’t seen a brush in gods knows how long, yet her lover’s fingers effortlessly combed through it. Karlach reached out and traced her fingers over Sikah’s complexion, connecting the freckles in constellations across the map of her skin. Amongst the freckles were several scars, ranging from small cuts victim of anxious picking; to deep, discolored scar tissue from tougher quarrels. 

“You know, I’ve always liked a woman with a bit of story to her.” Karlach hummed as her nails trailed over scars, smiling as Sikah peeked an eye open and looked at her. 

The smaller tiefling raised a brow, “and by that you mean?” 

“Your body tells a story that no other can tell. Each scar, every dimple, freckle, and divett is completely unique to you. I could stare at you for hours and still manage to find something new.” Her infernal engine flickered as she shifted to prop herself on her elbow and rest her chin in the palm of her hand. “As you live you get more scars, maybe some more tattoos, all which give more stories to tell, I think it’s nice. I’ve never really cared for the flawless skin of elves, too smooth, reminds me of a naked cat.”

“I’m going to tell Astarion you called him a naked cat,” Sikah chuckled, too comfortable to budge from her current position. 

“Good, tell him, I think it’d be hilarious!” Karlach laughed. “He can stay being a pretty boy, I like my rogues tougher ‘round the edges.” 

The rogue bit her lip and pondered on her next words, tracing the raised skin on the back of Karlach’s strong hand when it rested over hers. “I haven’t told you how I got the scar on my face, have I?” Sikah shyly looked up at the stronger woman. 

“Nope,” Karlach shook her head. “If it makes you feel better, I thought it was a birthmark or something at first; but a battle scar is much more sexy.” 

She rolled her eyes, “Hush and listen, it's story time.” She moved to rest on her back, inviting the larger woman to lie beside her. Karlach’s head came to rest on the smaller woman’s chest, listening to the heartbeat she yearned for. “I told you about my time in Avernus,” Sikah began, “my two-year stint in prison, but never how I got out and what I did once I had…”

[cirqosmos]

#002 a coffee and a stranger ▶ KOGA YUDAI.

、oneshot practice.

author's note: yes i'm a sucker for this man. i'm terribly struggling alot w writing—so small oneshots, drabbles, and a koga yudai keeps me going everyday ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

the fleeting aroma of the freshly brewed coffee had you averting your gaze towards the counter, giddily kicking your feet in tiny motions as you waited in both patience and excitement as this was your first time trying out a slightly expensive coffee at a famous coffee shop in the city.

your entire life—you had spent each cent into your needs rather than wants, remaining firm in your principles in saving money till you can afford to even shift your eyes towards the 'want' section.

so why not give yourself a tiny bit of pampering today?

today seems to be your lucky day, as the coffee shop had a fairly few customers present today which means less public anxiety for you.

"here's your order, miss."

a young man's voice encapsulates your heart into tiny thumps, the way he enunciates each syllable feels as if he had taken professional vocal lessons; melodic and relaxing.

thump, thump, thump.

a cup of coffee was placed before you, yet the long fingers caught your attention—till your eyes slowly shifted over to his bare forearms, one that literally showcases visible veins as his sleeves were rolled up.

and dear lord, does he have that pretty smile—along with those pair of beady orbs that held bubbling tenderness in it, the soft breeze brushes his loose black strands that covered bits of his forehead added sort of a soft pink tint—as if a manhwa panel had came alive.

you didn't even need to take a glance to know that he had a pretty smile just like his voice. but surely he truly did.

this stranger, you wonder what is his name. and was it as sweet as his voice and this fine coffee? you immediately shook your head—laughing at childish thought as you came today for the coffee, not for a cute waiter.

your eyes however, finds itself watching the back of the cute waiter.

for awhile there—maybe it's not too bad if you want him for yourself, you thought. sighing, you did—as nothing could go wrong if you ask for a simple name, right?

"hey." you called out. your eyes widened horribly, covering your mouth that had decided to betray you against your own will.

"yes?" his heels spun around immediately upon your call, curiousity glazed over his beady orbs.

"is it okay if i ask for your name?"

he blinked a few times—clearly taken aback by your question. yet it didn't last long as his lips hang slightly apart, emitting a low giggle paired with a small grin that he tries his best to suppress.

"yudai, how about you?"

2023/09/08

[sorrowsaint]

some kind of vibe

ooc : eh. little drabble because i need to write or ill die

The echo of her words rattling around in her head, her belly full of chicken parmesan from the world's strongest barbarian mother, and her heart full of heavy, Lucy jumps out a window on the first floor of Mordred Manor.

Banishment! The prayer to Ruvina--a goddess Lucy can no longer hear--and a wish for a monster to stop terrorizing innocent people. That diamond-strong desire to protect and survive. After having been a passenger in her own horrifically shattered body... Lucy shivers, rubbing her arms as she walks down the pitch black Elmville streets.

She breathes deep, taking in the crisp midnight air, and notices it doesn't taste as sweet. That, after her revival (thanks Tracker), that she doesn't feel right. She twists her head like an owl, which she notes as being cool but disturbing. She can still feel her Banishment spell, even though it's been... around an hour. Which is not correct, because Banishment becomes permanent after one minute. Which must mean something, and whatever that something is it isn't good. She sighs, rubbing her face with both palms. Why?

She thought she had the fucking answer. That love and hope could win something. That she was finally fucking right, and had some agency over her own life, and could make a change, and could help people, and-- and... Lucy stands in her yard, her eyes cast across her garden. She knows her parents are out looking for her, so the house is empty. She ignores the house and heads to the garden, kneeling beside her flowerbeds. After she came back, she kept them immaculate. Ivy helped. She watches with a dull expression as baby's breath and pitcher plants wave in the wind.

Why wasn't she able to be right? For once? Just for once, she wanted to be right. To be able to enact change instead of just... removing herself. She still felt like a fucking coward for staying dead--even if she knows it was right--and now she dies again? Pathetic. Pathetic! She thought a cold girl like her could have any answers, to be able to save a monster, to be able to undo the past by avoiding a repeat of history.

But, no. History repeated. She died again at the hands of a friend turned monster. She didn't answer the riddle. She didn't say the right thing, save a single fucking person. People were hurt. Scared. Traumatized. Because Lucy thought she was above violence. Like someone holy rather than the wretched barbaric monster she knew she was.

Lucy curls and flops to the side, her head landing in a patch of baby's breath. It grows fast and spreads a lot. She closes her eyes, but all she sees is Porter. No, a mirror, where her reflection is Porter. There's a terrifying glint in his/her eye that makes Lucy's skin crawl. She was just like he said. Incapable of changing the world with peace. Like he had told her whenever she questioned his methods. And he was right.

He was right, and Lucy was pathetic. Only good as a moldable lump, like ice one chips into a better shape. She wonders if he was rotting in hell and knew he would haunt her the rest of her life, gloating gloating gloating. That he was right. He was always right about her. She was Lucy Frostblade, and he was the god of rage and fire, and she would melt when he said.

She doesn't realize she's crying until she notices the pure white baby's breath flowers turning black. Without looking at her face she knows her tears are black. Whatever. Maybe they simply reflected the vile little thing brewing in her heart. Her shattered soul even Tracker's magic couldn't snap back together. Lucy lays there and cries.

What would she do now? She failed. She was different. She failed AGAIN. So confident, so wrong. What could a monster like her do to improve the world?

... Fix it. Fix her mistake. Find Baron, her Baron, and free them. Kill the Bad Baron. Show the world Baron could be good, could be loved, could be loving. And then she would die.

The thought of dying again crashes into her like a motorcycle going 90 in a 30. What? She would fix her mistakes and what, just... collapse into a pile of bones? Stupid, Lucy. Stupid. Idiotic. She'd first ruin her life so no one could ever miss her again and then die. Go into the mountains of chaos and fight a displacer beast barehanded. Be smote by a god as divine punishment. Just keel over.

She curls up, holding her legs under her knees with her hands. Plans come to her slowly--what can she do to fix this? Who could help her? Who could she help? How could she keep her friends completely unaware that she had shattered like a porcelain doll across the ground? How could she make sure no one would notice until she had done it and could dive into lava?

She holds her hands to her chest, where a small scar sits. Porter had tried to push a shatterstar into her chest, to force her to rise, and even when she was revived it left a mark. Emanating from the spot, translucent and ethereal, she knows there is a tether. A tie. To Baron. To Bad Baron. And she could feel that string, that Banishment, that milliseconds post revival spell that saved Mordred. The tie. She feels power course through it, to her. For her. A gift Baron might have given in earnest, but now one she takes selfishly.

It's a power that she could use to fix everything and go back to being a normal girl. As long as nobody knew and nobody could ever help her. People who help her get hurt. She won't let it.

She falls asleep in the garden, and wakes up in her bed. Her moms both nap on her bedroom floor, exhausted from scouring Elmville for her only to find her in their garden. They don't know she died. They'll never know.

She loves them. So they can't know how much pain and suffering she's experiencing.

[ashotofogdensoldfirewhiskey]

Please, darling. Can you please write more fanfics of Jily from Snape's povs like "she didn't"? I beg you please please. I really like Snape's bitterness and James's flirty character in it. I love it

I apologize for the extreme delay in answering this, but I hope this lil drabble makes up for it. Have another Jily from Snape POV moment. <3

Severus attempted to wipe the exhaustion from his eyes with a weary hand. It was nearing eleven, and he still needed to make his way back to the Slytherin Common Room without detection. It wasn't exactly a difficult feat, but it wasn't one he felt particularly up to facing at the moment.

He stared down at the cauldron bubbling frothily on the bathroom floor. He'd never done anything like this before, and he wasn't quite sure how to go about testing it now that it was theoretically done. How was he to know that it had worked? He couldn't test it on himself, surely?

It had been Lucius Malfoy who had informed him of the Dark Lord's request for the development of a potion, one that would erase several hours’ worth of memories for the drinker. Severus had not been privy to the purpose for which the potion would be used, only that the person who successfully brewed it would be greatly rewarded.

Severus had volunteered for the job, eager to prove himself to the Dark Lord. He'd already altered several established potions on his own, and had been dabbling in spell development since he was in third year. This was a task perfectly suited to his strengths, once that he could use to distinguish himself, to demonstrate his superior acumen and skill. 

He had thought it would be simple. 

He had been woefully mistaken. 

It had taken him the better part of six months to work out a theoretical approach, and once he had come up with a list of ingredients that should do the job, he'd realized it would take more than a month to brew. This posed a slew of practical obstacles: where would he brew the potion undisturbed for two fortnights? Where would he get all of the ingredients?

He'd eventually settled on brewing the potion in a small abandoned bathroom located off a hidden passageway that very few people knew about. The bathroom was tiny and cramped, and had the benefit of a magical lock. This was where Severus sat now, huddled in the small space between the door and the cauldron, staring into the depths of his creation.

This first go at the potion was finally done, but he didn't feel the sense of accomplishment that he'd thought he would at its completion. Instead, it was mostly fear and trepidation that filled him as he looked at the light green liquid. The extensive research he'd done seemed woefully insufficient in light of the prospect of handing the potion over to the Dark Lord. If it were up to him, he might fiddle around with testing it and perfecting it for months. Years, maybe. 

But he didn’t have that sort of time.

He would have to test it, albeit crudely. How, he was uncertain, but it seemed time was running thin on working out a stealthy plan. He would have to just slip it into some unsuspecting person's pumpkin juice and monitor them closely.

He sighed. He would figure this out in the morning. Sleep was itching at his eyelids, and his back ached from being hunched over the potion for so long. He needed to go to sleep, and he needed to do it now.

Opening the door carefully, he peeked out into the corridor. It appeared empty. He gathered his things and threw them unceremoniously into his bag. He slung his bag over his shoulder and exited the small space, casting his usual magical protections over the room.

He began making his way toward the Common Room. The biggest drawback of his chosen location was its great distance from the dungeons – he had to pass through patrolling teachers and prefects to make it back, and he had very nearly been caught on more than one occasion. There was little he could say to explain away his bag full of illegal potions ingredients - some of which he’d had to go to Knockturn Alley to purchase - should his would-be captor choose to investigate his possessions. 

He simply could not be caught. 

Despite this fact, he wasn't being as careful as he should have been tonight; sheer exhaustion had made him lazy, and he took a more direct route than he ought to have done toward the dungeons. Though at the time it had felt like a necessary risk worth taking, he would come to deeply regret it later that night, when sleep would evade him as deftly as she did.

He heard them before he saw them. Or rather, heard her. He would recognize the melodic peal of her laughter anywhere. 

It used to be that she laughed that way with him. She didn't, anymore, although that fact was neither here nor there.

“--and Mum had to pay off my instructor with a year’s supply of hair serum.”

Severus would recognize that voice anywhere, too, though for different reasons. James Potter.

“You were a terror,” Lily laughed, her voice dripping with affection.

“Categorically.”

Severus paused, an acidic wave of hatred eroding his stomach. How could he have forgotten? It was Thursday, the day Lily and Potter traipsed around the castle together in a pathetic performance of Head student patrols. From the sounds of it, they were about to round the corner ahead and discover him, frozen, in the middle of the corridor, decidedly out of bounds and carrying a bag full of illicit potion ingredients. The thought of being found by them - together, no less - far worse than any punishment they could possibly dole out, Severus scanned the corridor frantically for an escape route.

Lily’s voice was growing closer - “I’m not sure you should sound quite so proud of that…” – and Severus’ eyes landed on a shabby tapestry that he knew concealed a small alcove. It would trap him there until they left, but he would, at least, be hidden. Without any time to consider alternatives, he threw himself behind the tapestry and waved his wand to still its fluttering behind him, hoping that he had been quick enough to avoid detection. The alcove was small and cramped and just large enough for him to fit, albeit uncomfortably. A particularly jagged stone was digging into his back already. 

“Oh, I’m not,” Potter replied easily. “Because now I’ll look like a tit in front of your mum.”

Lily snorted, while Severus gritted his teeth. “Funnily enough, I don’t think my mum actually cares about proper ballroom dancing technique.”

“Phew,” Potter replied in mock relief. Their voices were now right outside of Severus’ little cubby, mere feet from where he crouched, hidden. His hand twitched around his wand, the opportunity to catch Potter unawares deliciously appealing, wondering if it was worth the detention. But no, he couldn’t, not with this potion…

How he wished he could. 

“You really don’t have to come, you know,” Lily said. “I don’t even want to go, it’s going to be dead grim.”

“You can’t rescind the invitation, I’m really looking forward to it.”

To Severus’ horror, their voices were not growing quieter with distance; it seemed they had paused just beyond his hiding place, lingering to chat, trapping him in this tiny uncomfortable crawlspace to listen to their unbearable banter. Severus could not have imagined a more sadistically designed form of personal punishment for himself if he’d tried.

It was a matter of policy that he avoided Lily and Potter at all costs. Seeing them together made him feel both ill and corrosively bitter. They had been together for months now, holding hands and snogging everywhere and looking so irritatingly happy. When he first saw them together, he’d decided Potter must have hoodwinked her, somehow, must have put up some sort of front to trick her into believing he was decent, and it was only a matter of time before she saw through it down to his rotten, arrogant core and ditched him.

But she hadn’t, and the days had turned to weeks, and the weeks to months, and still they were together, looking no closer to ending things. He couldn’t reconcile it, the Lily he had thought he’d known and the one who could want Potter. That the Lily who could cast Severus aside after a single mistake could apparently find it within herself to forgive him.

Fuck her. He wanted to hate her, but settled for hating that he couldn’t instead.

“That makes one of us.”

Lily’s voice was light and sarcastic, but there was an undercurrent of sadness that Severus recognized immediately. Against his will, Severus’ mind whirled, trying to make sense of their conversation. 

“She wants you there, underneath it all.”

“My mum wants me there,” Lily corrected. “Petunia only invited me to make her happy.”

Ah. Petunia. Severus knew Lily’s relationship with her sister was strained; he’d never understood why Lily seemed to care so much. It was clear to Severus that the sister was jealous, because Lily was magical and extraordinary, while she was nothing but a Muggle. But that was Lily, always caring about people she shouldn’t. 

“Would you rather we didn’t go?” Potter asked.

Severus nearly snorted and gave away his position. Of course Lily would want to go wherever her sister invited her. Potter clearly didn’t understand her at all. The thought nearly erased the pain that Lily had invited him to come with her to some sort of important family event, and the implications that went with it.

His back was starting to ache, crouched awkwardly as he was.

Lily heaved a great sigh. “No, the only thing worse than going is not going.”

“Then we’ll go,” Potter said decisively. “It’ll be good fun, you can show me Muggle music and I can wear a fancy tuckadoo getup–”

“-tuxedo-”

“Right, that. And I can show you all of my wasted ballroom dancing potential.”

Lily laughed, again, like she always seemed to when Potter wasn’t even being particularly funny. “It really isn’t going to be any fun, you know. Petunia is going to say something wretched to you, probably about your hair–”

“My ego can sustain it, I think.”

“And Vernon is going to ask you about what sort of car you drive–”

“Think he’ll be impressed by a brand new Comet 220?”

“And they’re going to make you feel really unwelcome, even though –”

“Lily.” Potter’s voice was suddenly firm. “They can say whatever they want, I really don’t give a flying fuck. I love you, and if you want me there then–”

“What?”

Lily’s voice sounded as shocked as Severus felt.

“I don’t care what they said to me, I–”

“No, not that. You– you said– you…” Lily’s voice trailed away.

“Oh. Oh,” Potter replied idiotically, coming up short. Had the imbecile really not even known what he’d said? Was Severus unfortunate enough to be trapped here, forced to listen to the first time he said those words to her, tumbling out of his mouth in a mistake, not even intentional, not even careful, not even precious, the way Severus would have been, the way Lily deserved to be told? 

The silence was heavy. Severus wanted to vomit. He didn’t deserve her, and yet he had her anyway. 

“Did you mean that?” Lily’s voice was small, inscrutable.

Potter let out a sigh. “I didn’t mean to say it like that, but fuck, of course I mean it. Have I not been wildly obvious?”

“Obvious?”

Potter choked out a humorless little laugh, sounding far more nervous than Severus had ever imagined him capable. “I shouldn’t have said it like that. Things are great, I’m not trying to– to rush anything. We can forget I said it.”

“No,” Lily interjected sharply, as Severus felt a savage pleasure wash over him. Potter had fucked it up, as Severus knew he would, being thoughtless. “No we can’t.”

“Right,” Potter breathed. “Right, yeah. Probably not, but–”

“I love you.”

“I didn’t – what?”

Severus quite nearly fell out of the alcove, had to grip the craggy walls to support himself. She loved him? Potter? She loved him?

“I love you,” Lily repeated like a dagger to his heart, and her voice sounded like a smile that Severus couldn’t and would never see. “Quite a lot, actually.”

Potter, apparently struck speechless, took a moment to say anything.

Several moments, in fact. Suspiciously long moments. And then, Severus heard the distinct scratchy sound of robes rubbing up against a stone wall, and a deep breathy sort of sigh that sounded far too much like coming up for air.

He didn’t know why he did it. Perhaps it was some sort of sick masochism that caused him to prod the ancient tapestry ever so slightly forward, creating a crack just large enough for him to peer out and see them, about six feet down.

Potter had her up against the wall, pinning her there, kissing the life out of her like a fucking dementor. Her hands were fisted in his stupid hair, and her legs were hitched up around him as he held her there. He’d seen them kissing before, always against his will, but something about this one was particularly excruciating to witness, something in the desperate insistence of it, something in the way she clung to him like a life preserver, something about the deep intimacy of it that left him feeling like someone had scraped out his insides with a spoon.

She loved him.

He let the crack he had made between the tapestry and the wall fall closed, dropping his forehead to rest against the cold stone wall across. He tried to tune out the sickening sounds of their snogging, of Lily’s heavy gasps, of their soft humming.

He’d been wrong before. This was the most sadistic form of torture he could imagine, this moment right here.

She loved him and she was snogging him and she wanted him and Severus wanted Potter to feel this pain one hundred fold for the rest of his fucking miserable posh life.

After what felt like an eternity, Potter finally pulled his tongue out of her mouth long enough to speak.

“Nobody needs detention tonight.”

Lily Evans told him she loved him, and this was how he replied? What a joke. What a sick, twisted, ridiculous joke that Severus was here to be tortured with this interaction. 

“What?” Lily said, sounding about as confused as such an inane, inadequate comment deserved. 

“I think our patrol is done,” Potter clarified. “Castle seems safe.”

“Oh, yes,” Lily agreed quickly. “Very safe.”

“About time we turned in for the evening, don’t you think?”

“Yes, definitely.”

“Good. Because the woman of my dreams just told me she loved me, I’ve never cared less about people being out of bounds.”

“You never cared about that at all.”

“Oh, well. You love that about me, apparently.”

Lily laughed. Again. “Hey, you love me too, remember?”

“Yes,” Potter replied airly. “But that was always a given. You loving me is much more newsworthy.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“Felt plenty newsworthy, to me.”

Severus wondered what he had done to deserve hearing this.

“Well, I love you, and I meant it all.”

“I know you did.”

“We’ll go to Petunia’s wedding and we’ll make the most of it, even if Vernon prefers Cleansweeps.”

“Thank you,” Lily said, her voice inflected with such affection that Severus’ heart ached with it.

“And who knows?” Potter replied, suddenly sounding mischievous. Severus heard the sound of their footsteps and deduced that they were finally, finally leaving, off to go whisper sweet nothings to each other mercifully out of his earshot. “If she’s really ghastly to you, perhaps I’lll propose at the reception. She won’t mind, will she?”

Lily snorted. “Oh my god.”

“Only joking. That would be poor form. I’d do it at the ceremony.”

“Perhaps I’ll propose to you during the toast.” Lily’s voice was far away now, it sounded like they had nearly reached the next corridor.

Potter let out a surprised bark of laughter that carried all the way to Severus. “Don’t tease me, Lil, that’s cruel.”

And then they were gone.

Severus sat, dumbstruck, in the alcove for a few more minutes, before his aching back screamed at him to move. He clambered out awkwardly, not looking at the space of wall that Potter had pushed her up against, and made his way back to his dormitory in a sort of haze.

He would lay for hours, sleepless, reliving every flirtatious comment, the image of them kissing so intimately seared into his brain with a hot iron.

She loved him. She loved him. She loved him.

And she would never love him.

How he wished this fact would release him from the torture of his love for her, but it twisted like a knife instead.

He realized with a deep sense of irony that he should, indeed, have tested his potion on himself, for he would do nearly anything to erase these memories from his mind, cursed as he was to relive them until his dying day.

[glazelilyy]

drunken words are sober thoughts (I)

pairings (separately!)- diluc ragnvindr, kaeya alberich x gender neutral reader

word count - 5411

genre - hurt/comfort, angst

format - drabbles

warnings - very self deprecating thoughts in kaeya's, heavy alcohol consumption, drunken behavior, vomiting, crying, removal of some clothes (no sexual implications whatsoever), skinship

summary - after separating from you, whether it was on amicable or less than amicable terms, he finds himself crawling back to you in a drunken stupor and hoping that you'd take him into your arms again, and you know that you've missed him just as much

a/n - i haven't noticed how much i incorporate drinking into my writing despite never having tasted a drop of alcohol before myself :P i'll stick with my apple juice for now, but wooo pain! (i might make a part two to this [either continuing these drabbles or using new characters], but i'm not quite sure yet hehe :P) hope you enjoy!

disclaimer - i want to note that no one should ever make you feel as though you have to take them back, regardless of if they're drunk or not. you have your own pride that needs to be maintained and respected and that should always come first!

the weight of the alcohol pressed heavy against his tongue.

whether that odd feeling was foreign or not, he didn't particularly care. all that mattered was the mind numbing sensation that the sweet, amber liquid brought with it.

the bar's air felt dense around his tight knit shoulders, wound from days of ceding to the overwhelming thoughts that anchored his shipwreck of a brain down to grainy, pudgy sands that drew him further underground. the thoughts that weighed the heaviest were of you: your laughter, your vivid and radiant smile, the tinges of mirth that lined each of your teasing remarks or genuine compliments, the sheer, honey-like warmth of your love. but, most of all, he remembers the end, and it's an end that saddened him in ways he never thought possible.

how he longed to pick up a feathery quill and rewrite the end of the passage; a new ending in which there is no ending, where he never left you standing alone, or pushed you past your limits far off the edge of any stony cliff. a continuation, where you'd be wrapped up in his love and warmth and one in which he'd wrangle down any stars that should catch your eye.

but he knew better than to force your hand and play pity on a drunken fool. he knew this and yet his unsteady feet had enabled the memories lined within his muscles to carry him out of the bar's doors and on the familiar path to your house.

moonlight bathed his sunken form in an ethereal glow, and yet he's never felt so far from angelic. the claws of regret had sunken their sharp, crimson talons into the soft, fleshy bits of his skin and he welcomed with open arms repentance for his words, said or unsaid, and his actions, committed or not.

before he knew it, his bleary eyes found purchase scrambling for semblance at the familiar foot of your door and though the small, rational part of his brain knew that no part of him was worthy to stretch his hand out to meet you in the middle again, the alcohol that blurred lines between the grooves of his brain allowed just this once for the id to overtake the ego just as his knuckles fell quietly against the thick wood of your door.

character-specific drabbles utc!

diluc could never handle his alcohol well. a single glass of red wine would have him slumped over in a corner somewhere, sleepy smile on his face and cheeks flushed a pretty, lush crimson to match his firey locks. it was largely the reason he avoided the shrill taste of the very same liquid poison he'd brew for others.

the single memory of a drunken diluc was one you were sure to never forget, which is why you came to the conclusion that you had been so caught up in your reminiscing that the subject of your thoughts had appeared at your doorsteps in a hallucination. surely this diluc, whose eyes drooped with an invisible weight and whose cheeks were flushed a familiar yet unfamiliar pretty pink, wasn't the master diluc who avoided alcohol like the plague, surely not, right?

his body slumped to the side, seeking the wooden doorway as a brace for his sagging body to lean on. still clad in his day clothes, he appeared completely fine if not for the flush of his face, the midnight crescents under his ruby eyes, and the sag of his usually kept ponytail; the ribbon dangled loosely over his shoulder from whatever wild locks it managed to contain within its grasps. his breaths were heavy in his throat and though his eyes threatened to shut firm, the peeps of striking red peered back at you with an undeniable flame that it seemed not even he could quench.

"diluc?" curious were your eyes that searched for meaning within his. his lips parted to respond but his body timbered forwards like a lumbering tree before a single word could slip by. your arms braced for just a moment before the weight of his body pooled into your grip.

your feelings swirled in tsunamis all around your mind and heart, yet you didn't have the will to leave him all by his lonesome on your doorstep even if you no longer adorned the title of his lover. though you couldn't deny the obvious biting thoughts that ate away at you: just what was he doing at your doorstep of all places?

with heavy grunts and labored breaths, you slung his arm over your shoulder and led him to a nearby couch where he all but collapsed, face smushed like a child's into the cushiony pillows. you snorted halfheartedly; diluc was always a sleepy drunk, but the light in his eyes told you that his mind was desperately fighting against the urge to slip into that comfortable, dark oblivion of sleep.

just as your legs moved to shut the front door, the warmth of his hand encircled your wrist and halted your movements.

"stay..." he slurred as he shifted his face outwards from the soft fabric of the pillow to peer up at you with pleading, ruby red eyes that glimmered with an unknowing emotion and flickered the colors of fireworks illuminated by the crackling fireplace.

your heart twisted and turned in the cavity of your chest at his words and you felt compelled to melt under his gaze and travel back in time when you were known as "my love" to him instead of simply just "(y/n)".

"i'm just going to close the door and get you something to drink, i'll be right back." you cooed just above a whisper and did your damndest to ignore the muffled whine he let out as his fingers left the softness of your wrist.

after shutting the front door and pouring some crisp, cool water into a tall glass, you found yourself crouched in front of his drowsy face, eyes still persistently open despite the obvious dark circles that hung from his beautiful eyes and the fan of alcohol on his breath.

the glass hovered in front of his face momentarily before he understood the silent cue and pushed himself up on wobbly arms away from the warmth of the couch.

"careful-!" you warn, rushing to support his body with your strength just as he was about to plummet back down into the fabric of the couch.

with your help, you manage to get him sitting upright and held the glass to his chapped lips, ushering him with gentle childes to take careful sips. despite not having touched him in so long, your hand moved instinctively to rub gentle circles along the small of his back as the water ran down his throat in rivers.

the silence that had once been lingering now remained a threat in your ears that pounded and vibrated with every one of his shaky breaths. your heart caught itself somewhere along the thin line of your throat as you fully processed that diluc was here again. it had only been a short while since you parted ways and thought the parting was amicable and civil (much too civil to the point where it felt like a business deal in your mind), the pain that lingered in your heart in the aftermath had never subsided and seemed to pulse and shake violently when his head drooped to the side and landed on your shoulder.

diluc, on the other hand, could barely form a coherent thought. he'd been drinking heavily after shutting himself in his office for the day and flitting through paperwork to ease the gnawing sensation that grappled his stomach with every thought of how distraught you looked when he suggested to stop seeing each other. but what else was he to do? for a man crystallized in amber, stuck in the past with no way out, his heart had been pierced by every attempt of yours to convince him that he was worthy of love, and loving. a man who had tried so hard to part the seas of his schedule for even a sliver of a moment with you, he realized he had failed the minute he came home one late night to hear your hushed cries of sorrow from beyond his bedroom door.

no, he truly didn't deserve someone as kind and patient as you, and so he let you go with a heavy heart. "this is what's best for them," he told himself as he helped you pack your things and gave all of his handkerchiefs for you to wipe your eyes and blow your nose with. he'd never let you see the rivulets of tears that poured from his eyes the minute your figure disappeared beyond the horizon, far away from his neglectful touch.

and so he found himself hunched over at angel's share's counter with an empty stomach that soon began to fill with the vile poison he so bitterly hated. yet alcohol was the only thing that numbed the gnawing in his stomach and placated the wolves in his heart. even with the tingles that spread throughout his body, he still found himself right back where he started.

diluc's warm breath mumbled out a string of incoherent words against the skin of your collarbone just as a strand of his thick locks fell in front of his face. against all your will your fingers tenderly tucked the loose strand behind his ear and lifted his chin so his eyes connected with yours. if he leaned any closer, he'd taste the familiar saccharine drop of your lips.

"why are you here?" you asked, voice feathery and lighter than air.

you'd never seen diluc shed a tear, exactly how he'd prefer it to be. but upon the well of his eyes at your seemingly innocent question, he knew he could hide his tears from you no longer. the dam had broken and given way to reveal the soft, fleshy part of his heart that he had concealed with iron cages and bars so long ago. the first of his tears streaked downwards and slipped off from the tip of his nose before a barrage followed and his rivers expanded into oceans of sorrow and regret.

there was no denying the hurt that diluc had put you through, and yet the love for him that you had set aside, carefully wrapped in a simple red box and tied with a shimmering, golden bow, had begun to unravel with every sob and muffled cry, or wordless grip of your clothes from your former lover. the guilty monster in him began to wrangle and push against the contraction of his stomach and hissed as your arms wordlessly came around his shaking body, and held him close against your aching heart.

"y-your kindness...i-i'm not w-worthy of it..." his feeble voice laced with emotion stammered out, face hidden in the crook of your neck like a small child as he hiccupped the last of his sobs into your skin.

"i know you're drunk, but don't say such nonsense," you gently chide him and smooth over his ruffled locks with gentle motions, "whether it be from me or anyone else, you're always deserving of kindness, diluc."

a sparking sensation erupted from the spot in his hair where your fingers had been and sent tingles throughout his body. though his mind had wandered on late nights, it never truly hit: how much he missed you. your warm laugh doused in sugar, your kind touch and gentle words, and the soft feel of your lips on his. how he missed you, all of you, so much.

" 'm sorry...for pushin' you away...not...being there...for...you."

you'd never expected to hear the very words you'd longed for from the man who still had you wrapped around his pinky. his choked words were hardly a resemblance of the man who seemed so devoid of emotion when he severed ties and cut down your title as his lover in the most business-like manner. yet even with his shortcomings and the time that had passed since you parted ways, you never truly moved on.

"we can talk about this in the morning, okay?" you hummed despite the burning sensation that pierced your eyes crinkled in mirth. you'd long since caged the tears from your parting behind thick, concrete dams that you prayed he'd never bear witness too, but it seemed that prayer was in vain upon the first streaks of tears that cascaded down your face.

he cradled your words like a newborn baby; his actions truly weren't alright in his mind and yet you so warmly opened your arms to him despite all he'd done to you. you were willing to give him a chance and that was all he needed.

"come on," you sniffed and dragged the soft sleeve of your shirt against the back of your watered eyes, "let's get you more comfortable." you rose from the couch and crouched in front of him to rid him of his boots in an attempt to get him more comfortable.

but his tears seemed to be ceaseless and your gentle, feather light touch brought to light how ungrateful, neglectful, emotionless he'd been. with each boot you removed, another memory of your sullen face contrasted with your beautiful smile would pop into his head and he'd find himself at a loss for words. your hands shed him of his thick coat and slid the tight, dark grey vest from off of his torso.

through bleary eyes masked with salty tears, your fingers wrapped around the charcoal, silk ribbon in his hair and with only a very light tug, his crimson locks came undone and fell in waterfalls upon his shoulder and in front of his flushed face. his hair still felt as soft and downy as the underbelly of a baby bird; bouncy and fluffy, you were met with little resistance when your fingers carded through his locks.

with every single one of your warm touches, he felt himself succumb to the ache that you were no longer his, even if you looked at him and treated him as though you were.

"(y/n)." he croaked out in a hoarse whisper, hand outstretched to you as if you'd fade from his drooping eyes should he take them off you for even the slightest moment.

you managed a weak smile and set his boots and coat aside to focus your attention on him. "yes?"

he was so sleepy, so tired, but he begged for even just a minute more of consciousness as he fought against the invisible weight that pressed down against his eyelids. he leaned forwards and gently took your hand within both of his and captured your gaze within his own like a moth to a glimmering flame.

"i will w-win your....love....again...i-i want to...be worthy of you...and your love." his words came out clumsy and slurred but they resonated in the chambers of your ears clear as the sharp string of a violin.

his hands felt like the burning walls of a furnace and seemed to hum with vigor and passion that you hadn't seen spark in his lovely eyes for what seemed like a millennia. your hearted swelled two sizes too big for the small confines of your chest as your free hand overlapped his and bathed him in the warmth of your light.

relief coursed through his veins and let loose the buckles and restraints that had been keeping him upright. diluc succumbed to the warm embrace of unconsciousness and slumped forwards, where your arms were waiting: ready for him for fall into your embrace and win back a heart that already belonged to him.

it took a lot to get kaeya inebriated to the point where his words began to stitch together and his charming persona would wither away into quietness and solemnity. it was the very reason why he'd drink until only his feelings were numb and mind fuzzy with the sweet taste of bliss; too much, and he'd fall into an abyss where his thoughts would consume him and leave him feeling like a shriveling, cold shell of himself (and that was never good for gathering information, now was it?)

it took a lot to get kaeya inebriated, which is why you found yourself at a loss for words when you opened the door and came face-to-face first with the unmistakable waft of alcohol, then the empty, sullen look on the infamous captain's face. you knew how well kaeya could handle his alcohol; a few bottles of dandelion wine and he'd be standing upright and conscious enough to be able to beat even diluc at chess.

but the kaeya who stood in front of you wobbled on his two feet, arms gripped onto the wood of the doorframe in an attempt to stay upright. no flirty one-liners or charming remarks in hand, his visible eye found yours and seemed to communicate with the bitter silence and only the faint chirp of crickets in the dead of night.

"kaeya? why are you here?"

he couldn't answer your questions even if he wanted to. that stubborn part of himself that mangled around the cages of his heart wouldn't allow you to know the turmoil he'd dogged himself through: the thick layer of mud he willingly jumped into as penance for what he'd done to you. his beautiful, crystal eye trained itself numbly on breach between the warmth of your home and the frigid cold of the outside. he was now exactly that: an outsider, and the one to blame was himself.

"...didn't know where else to go." was all he offered in a voice that sounded like it had sailed far away from his reach.

the anger you held towards him had simmered down to sorrow and a small, pulsating core of regret. your break up had been rotten and fueled by stress and arguments, and though it hurt to recall the names he had spewed at you from the very same lips you kissed good morning and good night each day, the words you had said in retaliation turned the contents of your stomach upside down.

but the threat of such an argument seemed not to be present when kaeya appeared to be less of himself than he usually was. an empty husk, a cold, void of nothingness, he allowed you to lead him by the arm inside and watched as you locked the door.

"come here, sit. you need to sober up." you ordered, trying to keep the waver in your voice from surfacing as you brushed past him and pulled out a chair from your dining table.

his wobbling legs found their way to their seat, praising relief once he plummeted downwards and found solace on the chair. you hastily swiped away at the budding tears that had found their way to poke and prod at your eyes as you hovered over your sink and waited for the glass to fill with water. your mind drifted to his face, devoid of emotion or any semblance of the kaeya you knew you loved so much. his eyes had dulled to a faint mauve instead of the lovely, vivid lilac he usually sported. so lost in your thoughts, you watched over and over again as the water spilled over the rim of the glass and floated downwards along the sides while your mind enveloped itself in a flurry of thoughts.

tossing your feelings aside, you emptied a bit of the water and turned the tap off before turning around and setting the glass in front of him.

"here, drink some." you ushered with a warbled tremor in your voice.

kaeya stared blankly at the tall glass of water as if it were a foreign object that his eye could not perceive. he limply looked up to you with his lidded eye and an expression that you couldn't quite place, though if you tried you'd guess..."confused", would be the first thing that comes to mind. you had forgotten: he often became quite disoriented when heavily drunk, and yet despite this his feet had carried himself all the way to your door for a purpose, right?

you shoved the thought aside and pulled up a chair to sit beside him, taking the glass into your hand and bracing the back of his head with your other hand as you gently tipped the glass towards his lips. kaeya swallowed generously before tapping your forearm twice, signaling you to yield your pursuit of his hydration.

he couldn't bear to look you in the eye, not with the guilty swarms of black ooze that engulfed him and swallowed him whole, nor the tendrils of regret and self resentment that saw that he'd never see the light of day again.

he'd been playing the day he left you over and over again in his head, wondering why he just had to succumb to the monsters that raged wars in his stomach and spew such dirty lies to your face. he didn't care that you called him a "selfish bastard" or "lying prick", because to him such words were of the utmost truth. selfish bastard, lying prick, selfish prick, lying bastard, they were all so true in his head. you deserved much more than he could ever offer, because what could he ever truly offer to you? his raging alcoholism? the wealth he didn't have? a chance at stability? to him, he was worth nothing, nothing at all.

"hey," you started, dipping your head a little to make eye contact with him, "talk to me."

he hadn't realized his body was unconsciously shriveling in on itself until he registered the dip of your head and the slight dangle of your shirt.

kaeya, devoid of his usual layers of charm, seemed little more than a confused child whose eye had lost its sparkle of mirth and cunningness. you hesitantly placed your hand over his and silently urged him to talk.

he opened his mouth to say something, anything that would give him even a sliver of a chance at winning your love back, but instead what resurfaced was a bout of black slime and ooze that had been swimming in his stomach from the moment he screamed those vile words and left you standing alone. he gagged on the vile air and hurriedly stumbled from the chair, rushing to where he remembered the bathroom to be.

all of himself came out in heaves just as his knees hit the tile of the bathroom. the ceramic bowl began to fill with all of his regrets and the liquid poison he'd willingly swallowed as penance for his sins. he knew so well that he deserved every bit of this pain; there was no room within himself for compassion or love, only destruction and suffering.

but even as he spewed out his insides, he felt the softness of your hand rub circles into his back and your other hand push aside his cerulean locks from the carnage. such simple gestures had his heart swollen and bursting and it was enough to smash through the glass panes of the dams behind his eyes. tears streamed down his face as he choked on his heaves and sobs, fingers gripping the rim of the toilet seat as if he'd fade away into nothing if he let go.

your heart twisted and contorted as you watched him slump forwards, exhausted and empty in mind, body, and soul. the toilet flushed downwards with his innards, bidding him goodbye yet remaining embedded deep within his heart.

"oh kaeya..." you mumbled and scooped him into your arms. you knew you couldn't stay mad at him for long, and with how his clumsy feet had found their way to your door, you knew his anger had all but dissipated as well. you planted a soft kiss on the crown of his hair and wiped away the sweat from his brow and the tears from his eye.

"let's get you cleaned up, okay?" he had no strength to respond, but the slight nod of his head was all you needed. you asked him once more if you could remove his clothes, to which he once again gave a limp nod and watched through bleary eyes as you peeled away each layer, each buckle and each belt of his clothes. his periwinkle cape and dust matted scarf found their way into a corner of your bathroom until he sat in nothing but his boxers on the lid of your toilet.

you turned to exit the bathroom to retrieve a pair of spare pajamas he'd left behind one too many nights when his hand caught your wrist, grip tight and desperate, laced with words that he wasn't sure he could say right now.

"please...don't leave me..." he pleaded, voice uncharacteristically weak and devoid of its usual teasing mirth and warm afterglow.

your heart had been scattered into pieces when he so viciously called you horrid things and severed your ties with an angry sneer on his face, but you were sure the look of desperation on his face coupled with the break of emotion in his voice and the tight grip on your wrist was enough to re-shatter your broken heart.

"i'm not-" you paused to clear your throat and be rid of the emotional crack that threatened to invade its way into your words, "i'm not going anywhere, just gonna get you some clothes, okay?" you allowed yourself to submerge beneath his depths and wander close enough to hold his teary face within your hands.

"...wanna come..." he mumbled, tugging your hand as if asking for permission.

you let out a warbled, strained laugh and brushed away the tears from your eyes as you nodded. kaeya refused to let go of the warmth of your hand, even as you padded with gentle and patient steps towards your bedroom and picked out the pajamas he'd left behind so many nights ago, still neatly folded and placed beside yours. you ushered him to sit on the edge of your bed and helped him step into the feet of the soft, cotton pajamas while he fumbled with the shirt, ultimately needing your help after getting the arm holes mixed up with the neck hole. you bit back a smile and fixed his shirt, tugging it over his head so that his head and its fluffy locks popped out on the other side.

"there you are, gorgeous." you cooed with a small smile and raked a hand through his silky locks.

kaeya was never one to shy away from intimacy, but being so inebriated he could hardly hide the flustered look on his face from your prying eyes.

you led him back to the bathroom, hand in hand, and had him sit once again on the toilet seat while you prepped a toothbrush. the minute you turned your back from him, kaeya's hand reached around to unclasp the eyepatch from his head. the fabric fell into his hands like water and nearly slipped through his fingers if not for your quick reaction time.

you'd never seen kaeya without his eyepatch, but you really wished he'd shown you sooner. his hidden eye was so beautiful; it sparkled as if it contained within it millions of galaxies, stars, and constellations. golden pupils peered back at you from within a midnight, inky sclera. you ran your thumb over the imprints on his skin left behind by his eyepatch before you whispered, "beautiful."

a sober kaeya would've taunted and teased you for how much you babied him right now, but he remained quiet and obedient as you gently scrubbed away the bits of alcohol and carnage from his mouth with the bristles of the toothbrush. he allowed you to wipe the froth from his lips and lead him to your bed, hand in hand as per his request, where he all but melted under the covers of your silken sheets and watched as you placed a bucket by the side of the bed.

"in case you wanna puke again." you dryly chuckled and shrugged your shoulders, before pulling up a chair and sitting by his bedside.

"what are you doing?" he asked, propping himself up on his elbow to sit upwards.

"sitting with you until you fall asleep, which you should be lying down for." you gently chided as you rose from your seat and placed your hands on his shoulders to urge him to lie back down.

"wait," he reached a hand out to stop the pressure on his shoulders, but suddenly felt so vile and disgusting for making you touch someone as vile as him.

but there was an odd ability you had to somehow read his thoughts, and you quickly shut them down by guiding his hand into yours. "you wanna talk?" he nodded in response and shifted over weakly so you'd have room to sit by the edge of the bed.

"can i hug you?" you asked, rubbing your thumb over the back of his scarred knuckles.

his heart lurched in his throat at the mere, simple words. he's no stranger to intimacy but the mere offer of a hug had his heart doing backflips. his arm tugged you forwards so you sat in his lap and allowed his strong arms to wrap as tight as he could around your body while you did the same, fitting together like a puzzle piece that had been yearning for reconciliation.

like a gentle rainstorm in spring, you felt the first drop, then two, then ten as he freely cried into your shoulder and pressed the back of your head into the crook of his neck. any closer and you'd become one with him.

"i'm so sorry...for everything. i d-didn't mean it, any of i-it." he sputtered out between muffled cries, fisting your shirt into his hands.

"it's all my fault..." was the line that had you ripping your head away from his neck and looking him dead in the eye much to his dismay.

he could hardly maintain eye contact, too ashamed to even face you head on until your hands gently cupped his face and turned his head to face you.

"kaeya alberich, look at me." you ushered in a firm yet gentle voice when his eyes darted around the room, drinking in each corner and crevice; anything that wasn't you.

the soft pads of your fingers gently pinched his cheeks in retaliation, and you felt your heart swell when his beautiful eyes finally fell upon you.

"it's not all your fault, i was wrong too. you weren't the only one yelling, i said things i didn't mean either." you finalized your words by taking his hand and placing it on the thin fabric of your shirt that separated him from your skin. under his touch he could feel the palpitating beat of your heart thunder under your skin.

"this heart beats for you, you know? take some responsibility." you lightly joked and cracked a teeny smile for him. you hadn't expected his eyes to well with an ocean's worth of tears nor for him to draw you back close into his arms again and spread his tears along the shoulder of your shirt.

"i-i can't...i'm not worthy, i have n-nothing to offer you-"

"i don't need anything from you, kaeya," you coo and rub your hand up and down the line of his spine, "just yourself and your love is worth more than riches and jewels or fame."

your words felt akin to a dream to him rather than reality, for how was it possible that someone so kind and loving as you could welcome a monster into your home and your heart. he realizes he must have voiced this thought aloud when you shake your head and pull away from his grip for just a moment to hold his face in your hands.

"you're no monster, kaeya," you breathe, taking the time to tuck some of his locks behind his ear, "you're a human, a man, and you're a man who deserves love. and though we'll fight sometimes, it doesn't ever mean that my love for you will waver."

he takes a shaky breath against your skin before speaking next, "can i still be yours?"

your eyes crinkle in mirth as you caress his face and turn his gaze towards you, "you never lost me, pretty boy."

date published: september 18th, 2021

[yanderes-galore]

Your blog is hella dope! I was wondering, would you consider writing a generic yandere drabble about a yandere obsessed with his friend’s sister? Like, would the yandere feel the need to get rid of his friend? How would they interact at all?

Sure!

Here's our character names and ages:

Bryce Morris - 22 - Your Yandere

Elena (L/N) - 22 - Your Sister

(Y/N) (L/N) - 21 - You 💜

You can be biologically related or adopted sisters to Elena

Bridge

Yandere! Male OC Scenario

Possible Trigger Warnings: Yandere behavior, Stalking, Non-con picture taking, Jealousy, Possessive behavior, Slightly mature language, Delusional behavior, Obsessive behavior, Violence, Murder, Blood, Gore, Dead body, Manipulation, Deception, Kidnapping, Forced relationship, Darling is a sister in this.

Bryce and Elena were college friends. That was when you first heard of Bryce. You hadn't even met him until you were 19.

He always had his hair dyed a deep blue and had piercing forest green eyes. His skin was also a dark shade and he was always wearing that blue hoodie that matched his hair.

Bryce had always been nice to you and Elena, flashing heartfelt smiles towards you whenever he saw you. According to Elena he was always in a better mood after seeing you.

Elena was your sister. A down-to-earth and serious girl that cared for you more than anything. Her hair was a soft orange color with clashing blue eyes. Her skin rather fair.

She had always got along swell with Bryce. Yet, you could tell ever since he met you, the man seemed irritated at her presence.

You thought they had simply got into a little fight... nothing major! All friends quarrel amongst each other. No one got along perfectly.

"College and work is so hard to balance right now...." You hear your sister breathe, slumping in her seat. You sat with her in the kitchen, passing a cup of coffee. She had come to visit you to take a break.

"Do you need extra money or something? Is Bryce helping?" You ask while watching her take a sip from the carefully brewed cup. Elena snorts softly at Bryce's name.

"Bryce? He's helping the best he can. We have our own duties and he always seems to be away from his home at night. You'd swear he parties, despite him not seeming the type for it from what I know of."

Elena swishes the miracle liquid in her cup with a spoon.

"Not like we share the same major, either. I just wish he didn't disappear randomly at night."

You nod in agreement before sitting back in your seat.

"From what I've seen he's such a nice guy! You'd think he'd help his college friend out at least, right? If you need anything I'll try to help."

Elena looks up from her cup of thoughts and frowns.

"You have your own duties. We're both busy, it's best you try to support yourself first. I got myself covered." Elena reassures you before checking her watch. "You go to work at that retail joint soon, yeah?"

You groan, Elena laughing lightly at the reaction you had. You had worked that job for at least a year now. It helped with your own expenses.

"Yup. You just gonna stay here or are you heading to work too?"

"I don't entirely have a choice, so, work."

With that you both exit your small apartment. Both ready to start your day once you got in your cars and drove off.

Nothing exceptional happened at your retail job until a familiar face walked in. How could you not recognize that blue hair and hood.

"Ah, I thought you'd be in!"

"Why, Hello, the one and only Bryce Morris." You greet with a friendly smile. "Sleep in?"

"Wow! How'd you know?"

"Elena stopped by to chat. She told me you've been out partying."

Bryce leaned by your register, trying to ignore you bringing up Elena.

"Well, yeah. I've been doing it a little to take the stress off. College life is difficult, I'm sure you understand?"

"Oh, trust me, I know."

Bryce studies your exhausted face before standing up.

"Yeah... I just came in to see what's up and maybe catch some breakfast. We should hang out soon."

"I'd love to. Although, Elena may be busy."

"It can just be you and me! You trust me, don't you?"

"Of course I trust you, Bryce!" You chuckle softly, Bryce soaking in your laugh like it was a lovely tune. "I'd love to hang out."

"Good. How about in two days? Busy then?"

"Not that I know of! Now, hurry, you're holding me up. I'll see you then!"

"Yeah! Can't wait!"

------

The soft clicking of a camera is barely heard by anyone. Green eyes hyperfixate on every detail from their hiding spot. A young woman sleeps softly on her bed within the pictures.

"You're so stressed and exhausted all the time... just like your sister."

The man huffs beside the window, looking in softly.

"She must be dumping her problems on you. Poor thing... I'll take care of everything for you."

Adjusting his hood, one final picture is taken before he left. The night birds played their song even as he got in his car. It was time to head home.

It was getting pretty late after all.

------

Elena had to of been really busy lately. She barely texted you but you never assumed anything. Even whenever you're busy you don't answer texts for a day.

You simply went to work, chatted with Bryce for a bit, then continued before going home. Admittedly you were saddened you never heard from Elena today, but you didn't want to bother her.

You even asked Bryce but he didn't say much about it.

"She has a major she has to do and is trying to balance a job. I'd think it's understandable she can't answer."

You understood his response and didn't bother trying to contact her too much.

Except for a small 'Hope you're doing well :)' text before you went to bed.

------

"You've been nothing but messy, ugh."

A man groans, blood coating his shoes and clothes. Green eyes were bloodshot at the scene. He wasn't expecting to get so messy.

"I really thought we could get along! But, perhaps you were only a bridge to a greater treasure. Don't worry your little head~"

His hand pats the bloodied ginger's head, staining more of the red liquid onto his skin.

"Your sister is safe and sound with me. I'll make sure all her needs are met. You can trust me, her future boyfriend, I'm sure of it!"

There's no response, not like he expected one.

A bloodied dagger was then cast to the floor before the man wandered away from the scene to clean things up.

Like the person laying there didn't matter to him.

------

"I was planning on bringing over some small booze for the occasion, how's it sound?"

"It don't drink much, Bryce, but I guess a little doesn't sound that bad...."

An excited laugh was heard over the phone.

"Great! I'll be there later today."

"Just hope Elena doesn't give me crap for drinking with you."

Bryce goes silent for a moment. You thought you said something wrong before he answers.

"You're both adults! You can be a little less dependent on her, right? Let's just have fun."

"I mean, I guess you're right-"

"Alright, I gotta head out, see you!"

"See you...?"

The line then goes dead and you're left cleaning the house. Elena hasn't answered in about 24 hours now and you're growing concerned.

Bryce won't tell you anything. You doubted your parents knew. Perhaps it was time to check in on her.

Quickly you shoot Bryce a text.

'I'm kind of worried for Elena, I'm going to check on her before we hang out, okay?'

As you grab your keys and head for your car, the phone buzzes. You check it before getting in.

'Alright. Take as much time as you need :)'

Cautiously you make your way to the door. Your hand goes for the doorknob, but it opens without effort. Now you were scared.

You smile to yourself before driving off. Worry pools in your stomach once you get to her place. The car was still here... was she really this busy?

"Elena, what's happened...."

Entering the house, you're met with the smell of decay. Your stomach lurches before you dart through the house. Whatever you were to be met with, you had a feeling you'd hate it.

It isn't until you encounter a smelly mass with orange hair that you scream. A scream so intense you didn't feel the bile burning your throat.

A scream so loud you didn't hear someone behind you.

"Well, this isn't how I wanted to hang out...."

Before you turn, an object smashes into the back of your skull. You fall to the ground, hands and knees covered in blood not your own.

Your vision blurs but you can make out Bryce in front of you.

"I can clean you up later. Yet, it seems I'll have to change our plans."

You close your eyes and slump. You can't focus anymore. Bryce picks up your limp body softly.

"Come on, dear, you need a change of scenery. I'll clean this later. For now, let's get you somewhere to rest, love."

You try to struggle but your head is throbbing.

"Good girls don't fight, okay? I just want to be the best boyfriend for you! You need not worry about a thing.... let's go home."

Unfortunately, you just weren't listening anymore.

Soon succumbing to darkness with Bryce being the last thing you see.

Bryce Morris, the ex-friend and murderer of your sister.

Bryce Morris, your new psychotic boyfriend.

[jennsmischievousmind]

Coming Up on Bondi Rescue - A Max Ayshford story part 2

It's not my thing to write drabble - I need structure - so here goes part 2 of Coming Up on Bondi Rescue -A Max Ayshford story

Back at Bondi's beach couple days later Kyle's girlfriend, Jendayi joined the team, another teen to watch.

Playing Chicken Fight with the teens in the water, you find yourself carrying Ava on your shoulders, knowing her fierce character you knew Kyle's girlfriend wouldn't win. And you were right, Ava pushed her, sending Kyle under water and Jendayi tumbling into a wave. Fearing she might hit her head on a sandband you quickly grabbed her arm, she took the wave but at least didn't get hurt, no spinal injury today.

Ava got down your shoulders just how she got on, climbing down your waist and thighs. No wonder she was a good cheerleader.

"Oh my, look" she yanked at your hand, "the lifeguards!"

She reacted as any teenager would in front of cute guys. But it wasn't because she liked them, it was because she knew one of them had took interest in you. Max. At least she felt it, as she would say, even though she had seen the guy 5 minutes while you bid goodbye.

After Hazel's parents were found, Ava and Kyle came to fetch you out the lifeguards' tower, eventually meeting Max, Jake and Harries.

You pull your swimdress down a little since you had a ridiculous sunburn high on your thighs from a few days ago while you were skating in shorts.

She looked at you, her devious smile plastered on "Don't ..." you warned, and she run to the buggy. "Troublemaker" you mumbled

"Hi! Can we take pictures? She asked with no fear in the world. Kyle was staying by your side while his girlfriend and his sister started taking pictures with Max and another lifeguard named Jessie.

"Y/N, come!" She called out, then caught your arm almost throwing you into Max's chest.

"Sorry, hi," you cleared your throat, trying to not stare at his chiseled torso.

"How are ya?" He asked, while looking straight ahead at Kyke taking the photo.

"Fine, thks, you?"

"Great now" you both adored a shy smile.

Kyle frowned, handing Ava her phone. He was watching Max like a hawke.

"Hm, I'll be up in the tower in about," he turned around to Jessie grabbing his wrist to see his watch, "an hour. If you, and the kids," he remember they were here, "want to have a lifeguard experience."

"Yeaah, let's do it!" Ava obviously was thrilled

"Please, Y/N!!" Jendayi pleaded, Kyle on the other hand shrugged. You made a note to talk to him later.

"Ok, we'll come up in an hour then" you smiled, he offered the biggest smile you've seen from him so far making your legs wobbly.

"Tower to north rhino, you got a man struggling at the back"

"Copy mate" Jessie answered the talkie and Max ran into action, grabbing the board on the other side and sprinting to the water.

You watched him, barely stopping the drool out of your mouth seeing his ripped back muscles.

Get yourself together you internally slap yourself.

"I'm hungry, can we get back to the towels," Kyle grumbled

Ava crashed into you locking her arm around yours "Who doesn't want a lifeguard experience .." she chuckled

"Ava!" You gaped at her naughty comment.

"Kyle, what's going on with you and the lifeguards"

He brewed on his own in his mother's kitchen.

"He's jealous"

"What? Of who?" Ava didn't reply, munching on her pop-corn instead.

"I'm not jealous! He finally argued, "I .. I don't want Y/N to get hurt by another guy that's all!"

You were speechless. You'd never imagine he would be concern about uour relationship that much. He knew your abusive ex-boyfriend but ...

"I'm so sorry Kyle, that you took it up on you to worry for me, really I would have never thought.." you gave him a tight hug.

"Now I need you to stop worrying for me, okay. Live your teen life, I'll be fine now."

"So no more death stare at the Max guy" Ava spoke uo with her mouth full almost chocking.

"Max?" You wondered "Oh! Max...right. Yeah please don't scare him away." The three of you laughed it off.

You had broken up with your 3 years boyfriend after he once again took his anger upon you, yelling and accusing you of all sorts of things that were going wrong in his life. In the end he was just a loser. Thinking about it now, you never thought you could be one of those woman who doesn't escape the situation sooner. Hell he even didn't want you at the beach because he didn't want guys to look at you.

It had been about 6 month now, you were feeling so much better, and enjoying Bondi Beach as much as you could. He on the other hand was still harassing you from time to time, but you told yourself you won't let what he could say by text or vocal messages, keep you up at night.

You wanted to move on, you had take some time for yourself and meeting Max at the perfect timing, you decided it was time for you to start dating again. Now someone else could keep up at night for better reasons.

An hour later you were up in the lifeguard tower, Max was here, Harrisson a smiley boy, a tall blond named Maxi and Yatesy.

Max opened the door, before you could tell them to behave the teens ran up the stairs to see the view from there, the CCTV and else.

"If they break anything ..., I'm sorry," you told Max who was still by your side on the ground floor.

"It's alright, I'll take responsability, it's worth it"

Taking in his words you were trying to come up with somerhing, but in the corner of your eyes you saw Kyle eyeing the shark alarm. "Don't you even dare!"

Jendayi slapped Kyle's arm, she was keeping him in line, great!

You sight, "see, that's what I'm talking about," Max laughed leading you up.

About 20 minutes later, even though chatting with Max and the other lifeguards was great, you decided it was time to go you didn't want to abuse their hospitality, and they were working in the end.

"Go on!" Harrisson pushed him

"Hm, Y/N!" you stopped at the door "Yeah?"

He bit his lower lips, a thing you noticed he tend to do sometimes "We lock the tower at 6.30, would you ..would you like to go out for a drink tonight?"

Ava squealed behind you, Kyle grabbed her dragging her to the pavement.

The corner of your lips quirked up, "I'd love too." He beamed "meet you here at 6.30 then" you leaned in pressing a hand on his chest, going on your tiptoe to reach his cheek, leaving a gentle peck on his sharp jawline. The smile he had was lovely, never faltering, making you melt.

Taking a few steps to the main road you heard a sudden ruckus from the lifeguard tower, the door was still open, whooping with laughter erupting from the place, you chuckled to yourself. Ava talked about it all night during diner with their mom. She was almost more excited than you.