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cephei-ea · 5 months

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Some self indulgence, if you will.

No one has to read this I’m just posting to vent about something I can’t talk to anyone about.

I thought it would be fine when I got with him. I thought it would be fine when I started things, talked to him, got involved with a guy I knew was not going to care about me like I cared about him for three years. And in all honesty it’s my fault for having told myself, having known exactly how things would turn out, that I could make things work. I liked him since high school and knew enough to understand that he would never be capable of reciprocation. He was too quiet. I knew at the bottom of my gut that he would never feel the same, only say whatever he could to make me believe he did. And I’d convinced myself that despite it, my adoration for a guy who shows no effort would be able to change him. If not change him, then at least be the one to open him up after being closed off for years. And I also new it was unrealistic but I told myself that anything is possible.

And when he broke my heart for the first time as I crouched to the cold pavement sidewalk outside his house, he was just as clueless to how it pained me to watch him kiss my best friend and pretend it meant nothing as he was to my long term affection for him. It was inexplicable the way I cared for him, the way I worried for him, to this day, I can’t think of a real reason why I felt so inclined to pursue him. So finally, finally, after 2 years, I managed to capture his attention. It ended in a strange amalgamation of emotion, regret, hysteria and general pain and self loathing. Again, my fault. Perhaps if I had decided from a single moment prior to his gaze landing on me— maybe when he took my best friends hand despite her knowing how I felt, maybe when I spoke to him for the first time and he could only manage a single word response, maybe when I realized how unfathomably quiet he was— that I should simply find someone who suited me more, I would have avoided the searing pain I felt when it ended.

It began with a simple word at his game. It began with a simple “You did well,” on my part and a “No. That wasn’t good.” On his. The “it” that began having been the messages and the interchanged photos on a daily basis. With a person like him, it really couldn’t have gotten much better at the time. In the position we were in, where the most contact we made was with our eyes in the crowded halls filled with overgrown teenagers, neither of us had any obligation or expectation to hold each other to. I had no real need to be loyal in the way I was to him Regardless of that fact, I progressed things.

Though he never denied me, he could never reciprocate my initiative. After our last school year together, after countless small conversations, countless mutual photos, he finally acted. For the first time, and really the last, he approached me in the stairwell at the very last second of the last minute of the last hour of the last day I would ever see him in school. It’d been 3 months and 27 days when he finally called my name for the first time and confessed he thought I was “cute”.

The embarrassment was all too real, my cheeks red and my throat unable to produce anything other than a stutter. People passed. Or maybe they didn’t. I really would not have known, considering all I could do was tremble violently and stare into his face— not even his eyes, just his face. And after two and a half years of constant longing, unwilling loyalty and confusion, I had gotten what I wanted. Like an idiot, I wiped my sweaty palms and explained briefly that I’d liked him for a long time.

He knew that already. It was no secret.

Never was.

Another two months of summer vacation suddenly passed in an instant without incident. I wouldn’t see him again in person until the day before the start of classes. I was sick of it at that point. Having agreed to take things slow, I thought that two months was enough time for there to have been some kind of progress. Unfortunately for me, when I suggested slow, I didn’t know how different our definitions of the word “slow” were.

So I waited those two months.

And when I finally spoke to him about how I was done wasting my time, we came to an agreement to start seeing each other. So then I had my first relationship and though late in my life, it was innocent and it was real. All too real. I hadn’t learned my lesson, however. I was fool to think that our first anything, past date, would be arrive quicker. That after all my initiative, all my advances, he would take a hint and talk to me. Or make an advance and prove to me that he actually liked me and not just left it to “I think you’re cute” on that day that began my torture.

He did nothing.

It was me. It was me making advances, it was me proving my affection, it was me the entire time. And because my affection had blinded me, I never took the hint that

he felt exactly the way he said he did.

And nothing more.

I shouldn’t have seen it as “He’s told one person that he likes me and even though never to my face or even over text, it’s okay because he must feel the same way.” And instead, I should have taken it as exactly what he said and nothing more. After all, men tend to be very straightforward and say only what they mean.

So after another 3 months of waiting

And waiting

for so much as a single advance, a single sign of affection other than a hug, I realized I had decided long ago that I would quit. It was breaking me down. In a weird way, being with the man I had grown to almost love and never having been told more than twice that I was attractive over the course of a year by him, any semblance of confidence I had, had vanished as if it never existed. I didn’t realize that fact until i formally decided to end things. Honestly, I hadn’t realized a lot of things. I didn’t realize how he didn’t initiate simply because he didn’t want to, not because he was so nervous. I hadn’t realized that he didn’t feel the profound emotions I did for him. I didn’t realize how my self worth had diminished just because of some guy. Not the hottest man. Not the smartest. Not the most talented. And certainly not the most worthy.

All for the foolish excuse of liking him.

Maybe I more than just liked him. I would come to that gut wrenching conclusion when after our last call, I found myself rolling, not metaphorically, on the floor in agony. Pain. Disbelief. And an unrivaled sense of disappointment. The weeks, or months, leading up to our last phone call, were some of my worst. For hours on end I would sob at the mere idea of leaving the man I liked so deeply for so many years. The one who had me wrapped around his finger without having done anything. It didn’t end at my break down when I ended things in that last phone call. For the next two months I would fall into a fluctuating depression unlike anything I’d felt in years. Hopelessness.

I hoped for any escape, searched for any means— any means— to distract myself and drown the voices in my head until I forgot all about him. All about the pain he caused me for a year.

Nothing would work.

Nothing would work because ultimately it was my own doing that broke my heart and I was the one to end things with him after a year of being so damn patient for him. I broke my heart. That’s what I would tell myself because I hated to have hurt him and myself only to blame it on him. But in reality, I knew in the back of my mind that despite every effort I put in, it never would have been enough. Because he was the one to not like me enough. He was the one who was unable to reciprocate. And he broke my heart so many times over the course of a year. He broke my heart when he’d only ever spoken my name one time. He broken my heart when he never truly confessed to liking me. He’d broken my heart when he ignored every opportunity I’d offered to him to progress things.

More effort on my part.

And he broke my heart when he gave back none.

He broken my heart when after I’d poured every one of my pathetic emotions into a wine glass and served it to him on a silver platter, an obvious plea for him to fight for us, all he felt like saying and everything that he thought our year together was worth was

“oh.. okay. I’m sorry.”

And a whole lot of fucking silence.

So I hung up. And then I cried like a child who’d been spanked. And then I didn’t leave my room for three hours. And then for so many weeks, the thought of him sent a painful spark to my gut. Not the tingly kind. Not the kind that makes you twirl your hair. The kind that makes you want to run to the bathroom and lean over the sink, trying to grasp at any semblance of collectedness. If I thought thinking about him was painful, I had another thing coming for me when I saw him in person again.

The feeling of his hands and his warmth and every touch he gave me haunted me like a fucking wraith. Every muscle in his body was a vivid reminder of what I’d lost. What I didn’t have to have lost, but what I needed to have lost in order to keep my sanity. For my own good.

Every look, every thing he did was enough to make my head ache. Maybe it was the attachment issues. Or maybe it was the dire need for a distraction. Or maybe it was the hormones.

Or maybe I was just a terrible person.

One way or another, the Saturday prior to our end, I’d attended a trip for my music class. It was fun. Unfortunately for me, all I could think about was the fact that I needed to break up with the man I practically had fallen in love with. Our lead instrument player, a good friend of mine, had accompanied me there. Being that we hadn’t talked in a while, we spoke for hours on the trip.

He’d revealed that for months he was planning to break up with his girlfriend of one year. A younger girl with immaturity issues and a real knack for pettiness and making her lover feel like dog shit. I always worried for him. It was clear to tell when he was upset. It was clear when it was bothering him, she was the only thing that really bothered to the point that he would go silent. She was the type of girl that would hurt your best friend and the type that you would hate for it. But they somehow manage to keep your angel of a friend wrapped around their finger. And I hated to hear all the crap she’d pulled with him.

Our situations were identical.

Other than some differences here and there, I’d never met someone I could relate to so profoundly. It being that he was not, in fact, my ex and he was able to progress things with his girlfriend, he’d long since passed falling in love with her. And it was clear that the day prior to my own breakup, when he had ended things with her, it killed him.

So we talked. And talked. And talked more and more.

And I got attached much too quickly. It’s entirely possible that we were just rebounds to each other, but he made me feel understood, safe, supported and comfortable like I’d never felt with anyone in my life. And he managed it in a matter of weeks. When our sport season started, him as a player and me as the manager, things were bettering. Though he’d been previously psychologically improving in his situation while my feelings about mine remained at a standstill, his feelings began to worsen. He wouldn’t respond at times, he would talk slow and quietly. We had gotten so very close and spent so much time together and it hurt to see him so destroyed. I’d truly believed he was getting better. And I’m sure he was. He liked to give me the credit for that. And I’d give him the credit for my improvement.

Again, my constant of a shit mood remained for a long, long, long time. But his worsened again. And during the first tournament of the season, when my advanced athlete ex was playing, I had to watch. Manager things. And it hurt like no other. As the tournament went on, I felt my mood worsening and since my “rebound” was trying to cope with the idea of his ex girlfriend coming to visit and watch him play, he wasn’t speaking to me much. I didn’t realize when she arrived, otherwise i would have tried to stop him from walking up to her in that attractive damn walk he does. I would have stopped him from talking to her. Or done my very best to.

But by the time the break in between games arrived and quickly passed, it was time for the surprise of my life. The surprise of finding out that he lied to me. Holding her hand.

I get it. I did. I still do.

Love is an emotion powerful enough to make one do some crazy shit. But after having started things between us, gotten me wrapped around his finger and promised me he wouldn’t take back his ex given the chance, I almost cried when I saw him holding hands with her. The break was over and instead of being there for me, like I’d been there for him, through those forty minutes when I was having multiple panic attacks and trying to cope with the memories that plagued me when I looked at my ex, he spent those forty minutes attached to the woman that treated him like crap and forgot I existed. Instead of reciprocating in the same way I’d been there for him and done my very best to help him move on, even if just a little bit, he punched me in the gut. He’d lied to me, used me and baited me into thinking he would give us a try.

He used my comfort to help him feel better, pretended like I never existed when I needed him most and shit on every feeling I’d developed for him by doing exactly what he said he wouldn’t.

I couldn’t believe my eyes.

To put it blatantly, my heart broke again.

It was my fault. I was the one to get attached. He never liked me in the same way. I couldn’t believe it. I simply could not believe what my eyes were conveying to my brain.

I hoped to everything above that he felt guilty. That he ripped at least one hair out when he turned around, walking down that hallway to the last game of the tournament, holding her hand, and met my eyes for the first time since we arrived. I hoped so dearly that he felt like shit. The memories of those nights of being so close to him, feeling his touch as a coping mechanism, listening to him play his instruments so intoxicatingly, hearing his voice and relying on his comfort crashed into my brain all at once. And utter grief, from not only my ex but him as well now, smacked me in the face like a cruel joke. He had to be joking.

So when we arrived to the last game and we made eye contact, he told me,

“I’ll give her one more chance.”

And that was it.

And my grief had turned into gut wrenching dread every time I looked at him. Knowing he had abandoned me. Knowing he did so without remorse. Knowing he would never feel bad about it.

And knowing I would never be able to beat her.

Everything he made me feel in a month that my ex could not in one year tripped me and forced me into the nearest bathroom to rip my hair out.

Sadness quickly turned to anger.

Every day talks turned into silence. And comfort and nights of warm conversations and flirty glances turned into a deep hole I wouldn’t dig myself out of for a long, long time. And though my ex may have pushed me to hang onto the edge of the cliff, the liar was the one to grab my hands, pretend like he would lift me and then turn around and drop me for the girl he swore he wouldn’t return to. Resort to. My ex pointed the gun, I pulled the trigger and the liar was the one to pick it up and fire it at me himself again.

I simply couldn’t believe it.

The wound his absence left was fresh. And stung with my every memory of him. I so badly wanted to quit our sport and instrument so I would never have to see him again.

How is it possible that I managed to stop myself from telling him to fuck off when he used his shitass “one more chance” explanation on me? It was because he was so kind. And I could never say something so heartless to the man that made me forget. To the man that did nothing but fall in love.

And really, the whole thing was my fault.

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cephei-ea · 7 months

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Hey y’all

So I’m self aware and I know that no one reads these but for anyone that might, I’m not done with writing, I’m just the biggest procrastinator in existence

Furthermore this is a very stressful year academically for me and also considering I’m writing an actual book and just started seeing someone AND have a part time job,

I have 0 time

But all in good time, I shall finish more short stories for y’all’s🤏

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cephei-ea · 8 months

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Apologies to my last request, I’ve had a lot going on and I still do.

I know the piece is taking a long time, I’m just very busy but I’m working on it.

Thank you for y’all’s patience girly pops

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cephei-ea · 9 months

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Due to issues in my personal life, I’ll be taking a hiatus for a while.

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cephei-ea · 11 months

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John and Arlo 🤤

#john unordinary #arlo unordinary #unordinary #webtoon

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cephei-ea · 11 months

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who do you censor childe’s name? 😭

To let ppl know I recognize Tartagl*a as a profanity bc I know he may offend some people considering he is a ginger of course

(It’s a joke)

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cephei-ea · 1 year

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Masterlist

Here is my character list again (because I’m aware that the links are half broken): Character List

Genres:

F= fluff

A= angst

N= nsfw

S= smut

C= comfort

H= hurt

Categories:

ima= imagine

one= oneshot

fic= fic (multiple chapters)

drb= drabble

au= alternate universe

hc= headcannons

_______________

ATTACK ON TITAN

Levi Ackerman

Levi x reader - Reflection (one - a, h)

FAIRYTAIL

Natsu Dragneel

Natsu x Lucy - Golden Scales (drb - h/c, a)

Lucy Heartfilia

Natsu x Lucy - Golden Scales (drb - h/c, a)

FINAL FANTASY VII

Cloud Strife

Cloud x reader - Fluff Alphabet (hc/drb - f)

TALE OF THE NINE TAILED

Lee Rang

Lee Rang x reader - Green Juice (one - a, h/c, f)

MOB PSYCHO 100

Shigeo Kageyama (Mob)

Mob x reader - Disbelief (ima - a)

GENSHIN IMPACT

Diluc Ragnvindr (DNH)

Diluc x reader - Hydro Abyss Mage (ima - a)

Diluc, Scaramouche, Xiao, Ch*lde, Kaeya - Reaction To Your Pregnancy (Individual) (fic/hc - f, a)

Diluc, Ch*lde, Dainsleif - Argument Pt1 (hc/drb - a)

Diluc, Ch*lde, Dainsleif - Argument Pt2 (drb - a, h/c)

Kaeya Alberich

Diluc, Scaramouche, Xiao, Ch*lde, Kaeya - Reaction To Your Pregnancy (Individual) (fic/hc - f, a)

Scaramouche (Balladeer/Wanderer)

Diluc, Scaramouche, Xiao, Ch*lde, Kaeya - Reaction To Your Pregnancy (Individual) (fic/hc - f, a)

Ch*lde (Tartaglia)

Diluc, Scaramouche, Xiao, Ch*lde, Kaeya - Reaction To Your Pregnancy (Individual) (fic/hc - f, a)

Diluc, Ch*lde, Dainsleif - Argument Pt1 (hc/drb - a)

Diluc, Ch*lde, Dainsleif - Argument Pt2 (drb - a, h/c)

Dainsleif

Diluc, Ch*lde, Dainsleif - Argument Pt1 (hc/drb - a)

Diluc, Ch*lde, Dainsleif - Argument Pt2 (drb - a, h/c)

Xiao

Diluc, Scaramouche, Xiao, Ch*lde, Kaeya - Reaction To Your Pregnancy (Individual) (fic/hc - f, a)

UNORDINARY

Arlo (Asslo)

Arlo x reader - Chores (one - a, c)

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cephei-ea · 1 year

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Genshin - Argument pt2

Characters: Diluc, Ch*lde, Dainsleif

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Synopsis: You walked out after an argument and the guys are a mess

Warnings: cursing, mentions of assault, mugging, car crash and murder/kidnapping, ch*lde content, no HCs for this one sorry😔 Can be read as a stand alone but it may be confusing, refer to part one for a full experience. (Argument, genshin 2)

A/N: can you tell i rushed the fuck out of this after realizing how long it’s been since this was requested? This is not my best writing I have to admit my heat wasn’t in it for some reason and I’ve been super busy. I was hit by some old man in a sudan a few weeks ago and I only recently healed so I just finished. Enjoy

___

Diluc

Diluc ripped the blazer pulled taut around his strong torso off and discarded it haphazardly on the floor below. The material clacked together and landed with a dull thud with its weight in front of the fire. He stood, ripping his gloves off of his hands and loosening the shirt constricting his airway.

He hadn’t experienced true panic in a long time but the thought that you were most absolutely pissed off with him gave him chills that ran violently through the vertebrae of his spine. The fact that you up and left, intensified those chills. He was unsure whether you would be back tonight, next week or ever at all, but even considering entertaining the idea of you never returning to him made his blood boil beneath his veins despite his years upon long years of steeling himself and building walls up around himself. In his mind, you could do no wrong and if his dear lover had deemed it necessary to leave the house because something he said that had stung so badly, it must have been true that he deserved it.

Ripping the leather gloves from his hands, his skin crawled at the image of your back facing him. At the idea that you were somewhere he couldn’t find you and that you could have been in immense danger. At the sour, fist clenching reminder that despite the long hours of search he conducted for you, it proved inadequate, Diluc slammed his hands aggressively against the nearby ebony console stand. In one swift, yet piercingly angry motion, Diluc had belted every set of papers, folder, candle and any other item on the surface, to the floor. The crimson seeping from his hand did not cease for a moment and instead smeared against the wood of the console stand. The fire wielder dragged a hand through his unruly red hair and found that the knots building in his locks had become out of control. The hair tie used to keep his hair from his face was proving inadequate after so many hours of running and panicking.

Finally, after nearly ten minutes of trashing his office and then another 30 spent roaming the winery aimlessly in search of the strongest liquor he had and knocking down anything in his way, Diluc sat down at his couch. With his messy thoughts and scrambled heart, the building was left in total shambles.

The fire in front of him was dimming, the numbness and amnesia it’s bright light and the buzz from the alcohol he managed to dig up gave him, at once began to fade. Luckily, with his worried heart and a pounding headache, the world favored Diluc and allowed him to find sleep. Though his rest was all but pleasant, Diluc awoke a much more sane man. His irrationality from the previous night of delirium had worn off and he was ready to ask around for you. Call in as many favors as he needed.

Against his plans and his wishes, before the redhead could manage to sit up, an aggressive, dull pounding emerged beneath the skin of his forehead. He fell immediately back onto the couch, gripping his head, skin wrinkled with pain. For a moment, Ragnvindr did not attempt to so much as open his eyes again until he was sure he wouldn’t fall on his ass or vomit the second he watched the world spin. What woke him, albeit the pain all over his body and the protests his muscles screamed at him, was the sound of the doors to the winery opening.

Had he lost his mind?

Diluc must have lost his mind.

The maids and butlers wouldn’t be here for another hour or two and the building, still, was a mess. To say the least. He shot up from his seat, praying that when he turned to the door, he would find a servant that arrived early, rather than a customer.

Not only were his expectations not met, but they were far, far exceeded at the same time. Instead, Diluc found himself staring at you as you gaped at the mess burdening the building. Your jaw all but dropped, wide eyes staring at the shattered glass of a vase he swore he liked when you asked him, papers and an old telephone from an antiques store you two visited in your free time left forgotten on the floor. Everywhere. Looking up, you noted that Diluc himself, had been mirroring his panicked mind in the state of his winery. His hair was ruffled and knotted, clothes from the night prior still glued to his body.

“Diluc what the hell happened!? Did someone break in!?” You shouted, kneeling in front of a flower vase nearby and lifting it back into place. You liked that one, thankfully it was intact. A painting of you two in your 2 year long honeymoon phase was tilted on the wall. “I leave for five minutes, Diluc!! What happened to you, why are you bleeding!?” The vase as well as the painting, however, were both quickly forgotten. You instead lent your focus to your lover, crawled out of the couch and staring at you like you weren’t real. A thick white wrapping of bandages covered your abdomen, wrapped around your waist and the smallest of patches of red had seeped through the side. Where the glass shard from earlier had hit you. Dilucs mouth hung agape, he couldn’t find the words to say to you before you were kneeled before him. Using your strength to gather him in your arms and help him up. Though it didn’t require much effort on your part, Diluc could feel you picking up the pieces right in front of him. The pieces of his heart that had dropped when you left. He was quick to wrap his muscle corded arms around your neck and hold you against him.

“I’m... so sorry.” He didn’t lift his head in fear that if he did, you would be reminded of what he did, and leave him again. “Don’t go. Please, don’t.” The red head was only put at ease when he felt your secure arms hold him back. And though your hands didn’t reach far enough to touch around his back, Ragnvindr had never felt so at home and so relieved than in your warm embrace. He finally allowed a sniffle to escape him; but was sure to block you from the view of the countless tears slipping down his cheeks. “Where- where can I go without you?” This failed, however, as it was all too clear that you’d heard his quiet sobs of relief and the desperation in his voice. The last question in his mind was whether or not you would forgive him or not. Whether or not you could move on and forgive his outburst. The fit of rage that had left a small gash on your abdomen. And even if you could find it in your heart to accept his apologies, Diluc knew this night would be branded into his memory with a hot iron rod. His fingers tightened against your clothes and the knight could swear he felt his knees weaken when he saw the blood staining your side. How could he ever recover from this? From such a wicked sin? He couldn’t, for once, imagine the day he would forget hurting the single most important person to him. The idea itself was so repulsively vile that his stomach tighten with the weight of his actions. He gently pressed his hand against the wound, through the pain seeding through his own skin. “Darling, I don’t have the words.” He shied from your gaze, constantly blinking away the tears that threatened to spill again. What could he say to you? How could he know what you were thinking?

“Okay- okay, Diluc come here.” You placed a hand against his and gently pried it from your side, instead placing your lips against his knuckles when you felt the tremble beneath his skin. And the crimson dripping down his arms and outlining his veins. “It’s alright-“

“It’s not. It’s not alright.” He suddenly spat, eyes having softened upon watching as you forgave him.

“Diluc it’s okay. I wouldn’t lie to you, alright?” The knight latched onto your hand so tightly, you feared it might have fallen off, should he have let go. “It’s okay.” Small sniffles, and another sob erupted from your ever stoic lover. Finally the walls of the strongest man you knew were coming down and you were awaiting readily to gather him in your arms and accept every apology he chanted.

Ch*lde

As soon as Tartaglia’s key alights his car with its colored LEDs, the gas pedal is nearly floored. You couldn’t have gotten far, surely. Surely, you were okay with all of the snow and slush caking the concrete roads at this ungodly hour. Surely, you would have kept a level head while driving and ensured your own safe. All the same, Childe gripped the steering wheel like it was keeping him from losing his shit. That it was. His eyes, burning bright and blue searched every bus stop, every bench, every dark sidewalk where you may have stopped.

“Crash reported ahead.”

His navigation blared, pumping a newfound level of fear into the blood of his popping veins. He never imagined a few words could end with the love of his life running in search of escape from him, of all people. That it could have resulted in the possibility of losing you so suddenly. That the consequence to his mistake would have been so grand. The ginger ground his teeth to dust, pressing on the gas until he was doubling the speed limit. Still, not a gust of a wind of your presence or merely your scent, whatsoever. Nevertheless, his speed did not hinder him from checking the car parked on the side of the road, it’s hood decimated horribly by a girthy tree. The second he did not recognize the vehicle, he sped on, sighing a breath of relief he had no idea he’d held in until the moment it escaped him. Childe could not comprehend all of the terrible things that might have happened to you in this cold, icy weather. Nor did he want to. The guilt from his having said something cruel enough to make you leave crushed him under its weight alone. The ginger wanted to pull out his hair. Might something have happened to you during the time which you were meant to be under his protection, his worries would not have lied with his reputation. But in the fear that you would not return to him.

Childe slammed his hand against the steering wheel, blaring his horn at a slow car in front of his. He didn’t have time for this. No time to wait for you. No time to wait on this perfectly sane person. No time to be waiting around for you as if you’d fall into his hold once again. He could not, Childe opted, give you the time to consider leaving him because you really would this time.

“Piece of shit.” He seethed through his teeth, swerving past the small Sudan as soon as a clearing to the side of the road opened wide enough. And it astounded him above all else, really, how fast you must have been going to have avoided his sights for so long. The wind howled, the blizzard seemed to pick up significantly, ice and snowflakes blaring at his window. It took the ginger all too long, too much driving, too much fear, too much gas to finally catch sight of the car you’d taken. Seeing it, a newfound relief washed over him like a tidal wave and he floored the gas pedal again. Childe thanked the good heavens that the freeway the two of you had entered was fairly unoccupied. Between the cars and the lanes of the road came opportunity for the ginger to swerve skillfully between tanks of metal in order to finally approach yours. You were quick to make your exit not long after, however. He was glad you didn’t seem to notice his car following you but as he thought about it, Childe hadn’t thought about what he would do when he found you. At the time of his chase, he had been too panicked to decide on how he would get you back home to him.

The car you’d picked came to a stop in front of the ocean. Though you couldn’t see the moon nor the stars, the blizzard seemed to have calmed momentarily. Hopefully, you thought, long enough to dip your toes in the freezing sea water and distract your mind from the screams of the argument you hadn’t resolved.

Childe watched you exit the car slowly, hair blowing wildly in the wind and frost almost instantly forming on the soft locks of your hair. You hadn’t expected it, despite the weather, to be so difficult to move your legs. To step away from the car you two shared and in your mind, just one step farther from a solution with your lover. Walking away from that car was like walking away from him, so your lead-heavy legs worked like steam engines to push you forward with your hesitation. It did not pass the harbinger how you had removed your shoes and left them in the car, reddening your toes and making your fingers tremble from the sheer cold. His panic hadn’t dissolved, however, and Childe struggled to unbuckle himself as quickly as possible. His lithe fingers fumbled hurriedly against his buckle and the car door handle. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. Fortunately for him, you stopped dead in your tracks the moment you heard his car door shut behind you. With wide eyes meeting his, you paced backwards.

How did he find you? You didn’t know. You thought you’d been sure you sped enough to escape him, even if he’d followed right after you (which you weren’t actually expecting). Just as quickly as you met his eyes, he’d sped to you so quickly you couldn’t back up. Childe looked livid, volatile and like if you said the wrong thing, he would turn red and explode. So you kept your mouth tightly shut when he picked you up and quite literally shoved you into his passenger seat. Finally sitting beside you once more, he looked to you, the windshield, down at his lap and back to you again. His hands trembled, unsure of whether to touch you, support his pounding head or slam against the wheel in frustration.

“What are you thinki-…. What were you thinking!!!???” Childe screamed at you, wiping a palm against his mouth in an attempt to calm himself. “Can you even fathom how afraid I was!? There is a Snezhnayan blizzard out here right now and you want to hit, what, 110 on the fucking highway!!?? Are you out of your mind!?” His eyes were red, a sudden change from his blue irises. “What if you crashed!!?? Huh!!?? What the fuck do I-…” he covered his mouth for a moment before continuing. “What am I supposed to do? If I can’t find you one day?” His tone was soft now, cold and shaky hands gripping the steering wheel like a vice and head resting against his forearms.

“You’re yelling at me again?” You spoke after many too moments of silence but Childe didn’t so much as lift his head. “Is this how you want it to be? Constantly screaming and cursing at each other over things that can be prevented?” You were sick of seeing merely his orange tuft of hair. How could you get him to meet your gaze? “How do you think I’ve felt for months now, Tartaglia?” The ginger immediately shook his head and for once leaned back into his seat.

“Don’t say that. Don’t call me that. That’s not my name.” The harbinger was long past recognizing his mistakes. His issue now was his guilt. Because, yes, he definitely knew how you felt. Those nights coming home half breathing had flown past him. Never would he have thought that they affected you so deeply, had you not said something. And at those times when he was so very tired, so very sore and ultimately craving sleep and nothing more, screams of displeasure and fear from his lover we’re of his least concern. He imagined you felt the same way at that moment. Listening to him scream about how you could have died had the highway not been so fortunately empty was likely nothing but a passing nuisance to you now. Hearing his harbinger name form on your tongue cut deeper than any wound he’d earned in battle. That name was reserved for those he did not trust and those who did not care for nor trust him either. The only name his ears craved to hear you speak was Childe, Ajax or a pet name. Now after such a long day and so much stress and screaming and driving, Childe swore he was going to have a heart attack if you continued using that godforsaken name of his.

“Try again. Maybe an apology, Tartaglia- why don’t we start with th-” you retorted, unprepared for him to cut you off with yet another scream.

“-That’s not my name!!!” He still wouldn’t opt to meet your eyes but you could tell he craved to with how his head shook. “I’m sorry. Okay, I’m sorry.” Finally his eyes were visible and you leaned forward to put yourself in his line of sight. Hesitant but relieved you didn’t seem angry, Childe finally complied. “I didn’t know it was so important and I brushed it off because I really didn’t think much of it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, if I knew it pained you this much I never would have ignored you.” He fought a small battle in his mind. Whether to try and grab your hand and selfishly soothe his own nerves with the softness of your skin or to allow you to come to him. He placed his shaky hand open in front of you, fingers bent and aching to enclose around yours. “Please. Don’t use that name.” If it made him feel like he’d lost you, it was clear you did not care. But when you placed your hand in his scarred palm, his fingers reacted like the teeth of a Venus flytrap and ensured you could not let go of him. He’d felt so sure of himself when he thought that you were overreacting when you scolded him for returning home hardly alive. Of course while it was clear to him how dangerous his line of work was, it hadn’t occurred to him that it would pain you emotionally as much as it did him physically.

“Okay, Childe. Tell me honestly. If me driving in the snow was so scary, how would you feel if I returned home every day from now on on the brink of death and bleeding into the carpet? Just imagine it-“ You’re voice shook with each word, holding back tears of frustration at the reminder of how much you despised the night time upon catching sight of his bandages again. The harbinger shook his head furiously in an instant. Then he did again, even more aggressively this time and his nails dug into your hand. He didn’t want to imagine that. He couldn’t. You reciprocated, knowing that he could imagine the stress he’d caused you. “Childe because I can’t-“ you clasped a hand over your mouth for a second and dragged it down with the tear that slipped past your defenses. “I can’t keep seeing you like that.” Your voice was a whisper and Childe took that as his queue to stop being pathetic. After all, he was the one who cursed himself to death or a fate worse than death a mere few minutes ago. A life without you. “And I can’t… literally can’t handle it. I’m not strong enough, I’m sorry. I never imagined you felt that you’d rather die than stay with me. If you felt that way you could have said something. I’m not here to hold you down and if you- if you di… die-“ your tongue went rigid. Hiccups and small gasps of fear erupted mortifyingly from your throat. You couldn’t finish your sentence fast enough before your lover yanked you into his embrace and curled his muscle-corded arms around you.

“My god I didn’t mean that. A life without you is worse than death. A life without you is stripped of meaning. Is bland and colorless. I can’t do…” he smooshed your face into his warm chest and you muffled a sob into his chest. “Cant do without you.” He rested his cheek on your head and rubbed it snuggly into you. “Love you so much. Cant leave me okay? Okay?” He chanted with a voice so genuinely dripping with honey that you quite literally melted into his arms. Your body went limp in his hold apart from your hands gripping the back of his black t-shirt. “You’re not leaving me. You can’t.” He smiled to himself, eyes red and trained on your smaller figure smooshed like slime to his. You only hummed in response. And if that meant you would die before leaving him; and if it meant he would kill anyone before letting you leave him, you didn’t care.

“Okay.”

Dainsleif

If Dainsleif had gone insane, he wasn’t sure. But waiting for a few hours at your shared house had never felt so long. Nothing had felt so long. The blonde could brandish his achievement of living for centuries at any moment. And it was clear in his appearance, his intelligence, experience and demeanor that he’d had already seen more than he could handle. He’d experienced wars, heartbreak, torture, decades in complete solitude with no one to care for nor anyone to care for him. When you came along and lit a small wisp of a flame in his heart, it made all the difference. He found himself quickly addicted to your smile and the way your heart beated for him and him alone. You made as much clear. This warm love for you was not exempt from becoming a problem, however. Though Dainsleif would never admit it, he loved you sincerely, cripplingly and cruelly. Dainsleif found himself searching for you at his lowest, with you at his highest and when without you, paralyzed. You'd forced your nimble fingers into the cracks of his shielded heart and wedged it open, finding a way to corrupt his steeled mind to depend solely on you and your affection in order to survive. He knew then, when you'd left him in your house alone that you'd succeeded. The moment you shut the door and whispered his greatest nightmare to his face, the blonde couldn't breathe. He stumbled over himself when his legs instinctively took action to catch up to you but it was almost immediately that he failed. His boot caught on his heel and Dainsleif almost went tumbling to the wood floor.

Should he follow you? Should he wait here? Should he call you, knowing there was no chance you wanted to hear from him? He was lost when it came to you. You were the only one who could ever rule him completely disoriented. It took him a long while to realize he had been taking himself in laps around the living room. His mind raced faster than his heart. Where were you? Were you okay? What if you’d been kidnapped or mugged or assaulted or raped? He felt his blood run colder than the endless snowstorms that ruled Snezhnaya at the prospect of not being sure whether or not someone had their rancid hands on you.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Any sailer would have been proud of the string of prays and curses Dainsleif muttered every few seconds. As long as you returned, he told himself. As long as you came back to him unharmed and alive, everything would be okay. That obsession he had with you had, somewhere along the way, had given Dainsleif the irresistible urge to brutally disembowel and skin alive any person who spoke to you for too long. Anyone who smiled just a little too much beside you. If he said he hadn’t hunted down at least one or two people for crossing a line with you, he’d be lying. Now, however, the only solution to his guilt ridden mind was to have you chew him out.

You, nevertheless, were too plagued at the brain with thoughts of insecurity and doubt to even think of returning home to your worried lover. Your mind drifted to his scrunched face, angry tone, and the phrase that lived only in your nightmares until that day. The nightmares you would wake from in a cold sweat, yearning for his reassurance and affections. Hoping so dearly with everything within you that you would never screw up bad enough to receive such a world ending look directed at you. Dainsleif was usually hyper aware of your doubtful mind. Sensing the moments when your insecurities surfaced in the slight stilling of your dulled eyes or the way your fingers twitched. Tonight, you realized quite vividly he hadn’t noticed a single one of those signs.

Instead, the worried man was questioning whether you were alive. Or if, instead, you’d been stolen off the streets at the ungodly hour it was. Maybe you’d been hurt. Or raped. Or murdered. What scared Dain the most, above anything in the universe that could possibly frighten him, was the unknown. More especially when it came to you. Not knowing where you were, if you were healthy or okay. Not knowing what to do in order to soothe his heart pounding through the gaps in his rib cage and attacking his chest. While his impenetrable immortality was a benefit when it came to protecting you, if you were not there to be protected, Dainsleif was the most powerless man on the planet. And he couldn’t stand the feeling of knowing that if you were screaming for his help to save you at that very moment, he wouldn’t know until later that night when the police arrived at his door with news that you’d been stolen from him for good this time. And that moment would crush him under the weight of every syllable. And his world would legitimately collapse within an instant. And his sanity would shatter like a cheap wine glass in front of his very eyes. And his life and his purpose would crumble away.

If you should have returned home, you didn’t know. What was clear to you was that you were ready to make up with him. Whether he wanted you there or not, you were unsure of as well. But you were prepared to pack your bags if he asked it of you. If what he said was true, in that extreme moment of anger, then it would be better to remain there, at the beach you walked down as you released every milliliter of terminal heartbreak in the form of every tear your eyes could manage. Avoiding the thought of him was impossible; as you’d found a long, long while ago, without being dead. Dainsleif occupied and owned every fiber of the pathetic excuse for a brain you called your own. Any waking moment was lived entirely in hopes that maybe he would praise you, give you a kiss or lend you some of his precious time. And now that your world had crumbled before you, you weren’t sure of how to react. Sure, there had been nights were your dreams turned to nightmares in which Dainsleif would leave you, abandon you or incidents like these would occur. But similar to dying in a nightmare, you’d woken up before they progressed and were left to dread every idea of an outcome. Now that those vile words had actually been directed towards you, all that preparation to feel indifferent about heartbreak over the years went out of the window. As you sat silently and pathetically alone by the water, you sobbed with fear. Fear that you weren’t sure of how to react. How to move on. How to respond to his humiliating confession. How was it possible to move past this? You’d wanted to believe so desperately that you were dreaming still, your brain finally able to fabricate some form of a story to break your heart again. Alas, you heard your lover speak it with his own lips. And ignoring the invisible fist gripping your heart painfully, you stood with shaky legs and a trembling lip. You knew what was to come.

Now, whatever you may have thought was to come, definitely had not looked anything like that. Arriving home to find your calm, collected boyfriend ripping his hair out. Like literally he ran in laps around the room, hands gripping the light of his locks and letting an unnatural amount of hair fall to the floor. You cringed at the awful state of your home. Had the house been ransacked in that short period of time you’d been gone? And was Dainsleif so disoriented that he would let an intruder tear your home apart to such a degree? Why was there a knife lodged into the flat screen tv that took you three months to save up for? With part of the carpet torn up from the floor and the biggest knife of them all gripped tightly in your lovers hand. Of course, that wasn’t the least of it. Plenty of other sharp objects had been stuck into various spots around the room, a plate or two shattered on the kitchen floor and your dining table quite literally knocked over.

You were surprised at the level of shock Dain must have been experiencing considering the fact that he didn’t so much as notice your return to the house for a few minutes. You stared in awe at the prospect of your sweet lover making a mess of the place. He’d never been one for a mess, for trouble and certainly not for any kind of chaos. Being as calm and collected as he was, it was out of character when Dainsleif whipped his head to you with wide, red eyes when your keys fell with a tension shattering clatter. It was like he’d seen a ghost with his hollowed irises. Had he truly been jumped in your absence? If he had, it wasn’t like your immortal lover was incapable of defending himself. He was more than adept at subduing any threat that crossed his path.

“Dainsleif what happened in here?” You asked in genuine concern. He could only open and close his mouth in shock, likely not having had expected you to return. And most definitely not having a word to say in response. In all honesty he, too, did not know how the apartment managed to reach such a state. More than likely, the disheveled rooms were a reflection as well as a result of the delusions he’d fabricated in the confines of his own mind. It showed in the trembling of his fingers that were gripping another knife he planned on throwing into some other expensive piece of furniture.

“You… here… why-when did you-why did you come here?” You hardly had to ponder the answer to his question. You knitted your brows together, confused beyond belief.

“What do you mean why, Dain? I live here. With you. Remember?” You scoffed, trying to imagine a reason behind his clear outburst.

“You haven’t… chosen to leave?” The five words he’d spoken out of fear in that moment told you everything you needed to know. He was afraid. He’d expressed his grief and crippling fear in the destruction of countless items in your home together. Finally— and likely for the first time that night— Dainsleif looked around him at the chaos that had ensued. It would take a burglar effort to cause as much damage in a number of hours that Dainsleif had in only one. It astounded him what he was capable of when he didn’t put his mind to it. Truthfully, he’d felt so many negative emotions for the first time that night that the memory of destroying the house was but a fleeting concern. Now with you having returned when he could have promised that you were to leave him, Dainsleif teared up.

“No! Why would I leave you, Dainsleif that is ridiculous! Did you do this shit!? What are you, five!?” It’s clear in your tone of voice that you’re not happy with him, but Dainsleif could not care less about how angry you would be with him. Even if he hugged your leg with sweaty skin and teary cheeks, at least you would interact with him. Thankfully he opted to refrain from touching you. You looked angry. Confused or overwhelmed. He couldn’t tell which. You looked so troubled that despite his desperation for you touch, he wouldn’t risk losing you.

“Are you upset with me?” He whispered, straining his wilting muscles to stand up. You weren’t mad. Not with the looks he gave you. Not with how much he loved you so preciously. You knew he hadn’t meant what he said. Dainsleif wasn’t the type and never had been. You weren’t stupid; well aware of the fact (especially with the disorder in your home as a consequence to your absence for a mere hour or two) that he had regretted what he said. The look in his eyes when your eyebrows furrowed at his question reassured you of it.

“Dainsleif I’m not mad. I just wouldn’t have taken you as the type to trash the house in a hissy fit in a matter of, what, an hour?” His face scrunched with what looked to be discomfort.

“No! Please don’t do that. Be upset with me. Hit me.” Was he angry?? Surely not. He stepped closer to you and gripped your wrist. Thrusting your hesitant hand against his chest and repeatedly slamming it against himself, he looked as though he would cry. “Yell at me.”Watching your lover as he lifted your hand once more and hit it harshly against his face broke your heart. Thud after thud, he was unrelenting. “Hit me and label me with terrible names. Hate me.” You began to bawl. Maybe your arm pulled back in protest but Dain had always been stronger. Smarter. More experienced. You couldn’t overpower him or his insatiable desire to feel you release your anger onto him. You tried. And with all your might to stop him from forcing your hand against his skin. To stop even yourself from leaving such red marks against his skin. “I’m sorry.” Now he slowed. Suddenly he loosened his grip on your hand; it hardly mattered. Your guilt ate you alive. You made him feel this way. If you’d had no heart to be upset with him for what he’d said, now you certainly had no right. You weren’t even strong enough to tell your lover to stop hurting himself. It hardly mattered whether he would retain the damage or not. Never would you lay a hand on the man you loved. Dainsleif, however, could say the same thing when it came to how tears spilled down your cheeks. He’d been the cause despite his endless promises to protect you.

“Don’t make me do that to you.” Your wrists fell from his hands. “I could never do that-“ your sniffles must have ripped courage from Dainsleif. He’d found the strength to wrap his arms around your smaller frame and crush you against him. “I could never hate you. I don’t ever want to hurt you.” Burying your face into his warm chest, you kept a mental note to speak with him. I’m the moment, your priority would be to hold him in your arms and drill the fact that he was long past forgiveness into his heart.

___

Thanks for reading

Sorry for the delay, it will be a normal occurance

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cephei-ea · 1 year

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aghh i forgot to ask if the reader could be female😭😭😭(for the request where reader fights john/joker)

Noted🫡

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cephei-ea · 1 year

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hihi!😊

I’m new to your blog hehe, I found it through your arlo x reader. argument oneshot (which you NAILED by the way) and now im obsessed with your work because woah

anyways could you write a oneshot based on the reader (who’s dating arlo-secretly or publicly idk) having to fight john during the joker arc and arlo gets involved and the aftermath of the fight? like if the reader is hospitalised☺️! kind of like when joker and remi fought🥲

anyways have a good night/day💗

Hello! Thanks for your request and compliment 😔❤️

Absolutely I can write this it sounds super exciting. Again, with UNO I haven’t caught up in a while so I’m going to use the internet and skim through some chapters to get this as accurate as possible!

Right now I’m procrastinating writing my Genshin sequel so as soon as I’m finished with that, I’ll get this one done 🫶

I apologize ahead of time if it takes a while but it definitely will get done! 😘

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cephei-ea · 1 year

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need me a part two of comfort for the dain childe and diluc after an argument 😫😫😫😫😫

As soon as I saw this I was giggling n shit💀

Don’t ever make me do that again.

Absolutely😈 it might take a while but it’ll be angsty and some hurt/comfort

If you’re thinking anything specific for the request, lmk and I’ll try to implement it!!

Genshin boys when you walk out after an argument PT 2 is on the way 🧎‍♀️

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cephei-ea · 1 year

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jimin.

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cephei-ea · 1 year

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Genshin - Argument Pt1

Characters: Diluc, Ch*lde, Dainsleif

Genre: angst, HCs

Synopsis: you walk out during an argument, when the guys say something hurtful.

Warnings: yelling, cursing, mentions of assault, mugging and murder/kidnapping, ch*lde (ginger) content, I REALIZED right after writing Diuc’s part that I’d gotten carried away so the rest after him are shorter

THIS IS UNEDITED EXCUSE ANY MISTAKES🙏

___

Diluc

* Y’all were arguing over him overworking himself.

* You we’re just concerned for his health, but he just wasn’t seeing it from your perspective.

* After all, it wasn’t you who was spending all of your hours, well into the morning and hardly getting any sleep, any food, any rest, for the past month.

* You’d brought up the concern to him before, but all he would do is brush you off and insist you’re overreacting.

* Tell you that he’d be done soon,

* to not worry.

* Only to return to his work immediately like he hadn’t just promised to put down his pen.

* File after file after document after signature, you both knew it was exhausting, but the man was too used to his old bad habits

* One day, you decided to bring it up again, seeing the cold plate of food you left for him on the table hours ago

* And the deep purple bags beneath his eyes.

Smoothing your lithe fingers along his shoulder blades and dragging them up towards his shoulders, where you pause to massage his muscles for a moment. The man sighs and temporarily puts down the pen, rubbing a hand down the curves of his tired face and placing the other on yours, against his shoulder.

“Darling, come to bed?” He finally turns and solemnly shakes his head, even after seeing the sadness taking its place in your eyes. “Please?” You plead, softly brushing a strand of right red hair behind his ear. “You’ve been working enough.” The man leans into your touch; but furrows his brows.

“I can’t. The winery needs remodeling and all kinds of attention. It’s not just any work, and surely none that I can ignore.” He stands and calmly exits the room, leaving you behind, still staring at his chair with an irritation in your eyes he had failed to note. You take a breath in and quietly blow it out through your mouth, a weak attempt at calming yourself. Diluc is filling a tall glass with water and sipping it with closed eyes when you enter. The moon behind him reflects through the window and makes him glow; beautiful.

“Diluc we haven’t gone to sleep together in weeks. Please. I’ll help you in the morning, but I can’t let you lose so much sleep.” You plead again, stepping toward him to coax him away from his never ending work. He shrugs you off almost instantly.

“Listen!-“ he sighs after his short outburst. “Just leave me be, I don’t need you meddling in my work. It has nothing to do with you.” Your brows knit together, a crease forming above the bridge of your nose. “Don’t concern yourself, just go to bed and I’ll join you later.” His replies were curt, and bland, lighting the flame underneath your emotions.

“M…” you began— but the words caught in your throat before your mouth could catch up. “Meddling?” On your lovers part, he wasn’t doing much better handling the stress than you. He couldn’t explain why he was pushing you away, he needed you now most. You were the only one he’d allow close to him and the only one who could calm him. But as of then, he was getting irritated, likely a result of his sleep depreciation and his grip on his glass tighten. More and more until he couldn’t compress the glass any farther without hurting himself and you. “Diluc what are you on right now?” The man let out a shaky breath. His mind no longer on the fact that he had so much work to do. “Why are you being an ass to me right now?” You sniffled. The lights seemed to grow dimmer, a thick tension settling between you two, as rare as it was.

“I’m getting angry and I don’t want to yell at you, just leave me alone and stop being so overbearing. I can’t stand it.” Your pot of emotions began to boil.

“What the fuck did you just-“ the loud screech of glass shattering, landing and then disordered and scattered across the walnut wooded floors interrupted you. This followed the brassy slosh of water that dropped in place and spilled sloppily around the room. A hand of yours shot to your mouth, eyes now wide after feeling a painful sear across the skin of your abdomen. You grunt, a high pitched hum he seemed to miss. Soon after the disruption ensued the near quiet drops of blood against the glass below your lover as his hand bled from the gashes across his palm. You felt one yourself, the trickle of red hot blood slipping down your hip— one of them must have knicked you. His hand bled profusely, but he only squeezed it into a fist. The limit to how much you could take had long been crossed, and now, you felt unsafe. He opened his mouth to speak but he didn’t have time to convey his message, you’d left the room entirely, a hand at your waist as you hurried out of the room. It took your lover a moment to catch up, and when he did, he was hauling ass to the front doors, only to find them wide open and you nowhere in sight. Frantically, the man had searched high and low around the winery for you. Inside and out, had very maid and every butler on the look out— all while regretting what he’d done; repeating the same cursed over and over. Demeaning himself for hours on end. Diluc Rgnvindr, for the first time in years, was a wreck.

It was late at night when your lover finally gave up, opting to wait you out and having faith that you would return to him. Diluc was sitting on a couch near the fireplace, his hands intertwined and supporting the rest of his head. His leg was bouncing like a cheap washing machine, eyes fixed on the dim fire light and his brain fixed on you. What might have happened to you late at night, your eyesight impaired by the darkness and without your weapon or armor. Wearing nothing but your clothing for bed. The thought made his short fingernails dig so deeply into his bones that new beads of crimson pooled at his skin. Maybe you’d gone to a friends house. You were probably safe.

But what if you weren’t?

And what if you were in danger?

Or even worse— what if you never returned?

Childe

* The argument started when he returned home with even more injuries than last time.

* You’d had this argument before and Childe knew by the way your hands trembled and you bit your lip,

* You weren’t happy having to patch him up again.

* Placing away the medical kit, Childe stood from your shared bed and limped over to hug you from behind.

* It escalated so quickly, the ginger hardly had time to react.

* You shoved him off, immediately wiping the tears that pooled when he couldn’t see your face

* “Babe?”

* You immediately yell at him. “NO.” your smaller shoulders quivering as tears streamed down your face. He wished he could see you.

* “You promised me!! You swore to god!!”

* You were right, he thought. He’d given you his word that he would take better care of himself.

* But what did that matter when he needed to fill his quota for the week? The Tsaritsa is relentless.

* “I know babe but you don’t have to yell at me. Just calm down.”

* “Calm down!?”

* Suddenly you got beef with a ginger 💀

Childe placed a hand on his head, dragging his palm down his face and rubbing the crease between his brows with a thumb. You wouldn’t listen. Not when you were upset like this. But after relentlessly fighting for hours, he didn’t have the energy for this. Not now. Not tonight. The lights overhead suddenly felt all too bright, urging on the pounding in his head.

“Ajax, I mean are you even fucking listening to me!!?? Why must you always have the attitude of a child when I’m being serious right now!” His teeth ground, fists clenched.

“I don’t need your nagging right now.” His voice was quiet. And by that alone, you knew he was irritated. But with the countless sleepless nights and migraines; worrying about where the love of you life could possibly be at those ungodly hours of the night. Wondering if he was even alive and only receiving your answer in the morning, when you would find him passed out on the floor, bleeding profusely from injuries that littered his skin. Soon to be scars soaked the carpet beneath him a crimson red you’d almost gotten used to; had it not been for the endeavors of your lover.

“I don’t want you to fucking die how is that nagging, Ajax!!??” Having to spend hours cleaning out Tartaglia’s blood from your carpet was traumatizing, your hands would often be stained red with his blood by the time you finished, late into the night.

His wounds hurt. Was it the stress or irritation that caused the aching beneath his skin; he didn’t know.

“I’d rather ‘fucking die’ than have to put up with you every day.” He whispered in a tone he could have sworn was quiet enough. When you didn’t snap back immediately, the eleventh harbinger feared for the worst. Turning to you fully now, he searched your face for any clue of what you may have been thinking. He merely found trickling tears at your jaw and a crease above the bridge of your nose. “Wait, hold on, I didn’t mean th-“ you storm past your lover, closing your bedroom door behind you when you enter, as if that’ll stop him. He enters not long after to find you already with a duffel bag half filled and your left hand wiping tears away from your skin. Lip trembling pathetically. He panics; he hadn’t realized the potency of the effects of his words and what they could do to you. “Hey, nonono! Put down the bag, cmere. Baby, please-“ he pressed the bag into the bed and pulled you away from it, into his chest despite your protests.

“Childe, I swear to god get your hands off me.”

“No, I’m sorry. No, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean what I said, love, I never would say something like that to you-“ He was cut short when you shoved away from him, glaring indignantly into his softened, yet concerned, blue eyes and spinning away soon after. You booked it out the door, before he even realized your absence, you’d already grabbed your car keys, slipped on the easiest pair of boots and coat and were unlocking the front door. Oh how Childe wished he were quicker. The moment the door slides open and he’s almost caught up to you, hears the rush of some of the hardest rainfall you’d gotten in months. A few lightning strikes flashed in the distance and with one last look from you, you slammed the door behind you and left.

“Fine then. Wouldn’t want you to die.” Childe could have sworn he was ready to cry. He’d been too late by just a second or two and he ends up slamming his fists against the door. The Fatui was fast, however, and violently swung open the door as quickly as he could. A mere few seconds after you’d left. The scowl on his face deepened and the panic in his eyes had set. You were long gone. The ginger sprinted for the garage, only to find the door wide open and your expensive car missing. He didn’t mind the pouring rain soaking him or the gravely concrete beneath his feet. The only thing he could focus on was your absence and the storm you had driven off in and how he remembered he was going to mention you needed to get your brakes checked. They seemed to have been acting up as of late.

“FUCK.” The man cursed deeply, looking around frantically to make sure he hadn’t missed you. Maybe your car was being repaired and you were still here? The only way to avoid his worst case scenario, Ajax believed, was to not allow the opportunity to present itself. For the first time in a while, Childe was reminded of how damn sudden loss was. How it could happen at any moment to anyone for any reason and the panicking man would have no clue until after it were too late. He’d forgotten.

He’d forgotten to appreciate you.

He’d forgotten how he had no time to waste fighting with his loved ones. Especially with you. And with this in mind, Tartaglia booked it inside for the keys to his Rolls Royce. The sleek black car he’d picked out with you beeping when he unlocked it. And though sitting in the car that had infinitely too many memories of you for him to handle, if he wanted to ensure the creation of more memories, the ginger had no choice but to drive until he found himself driving you home.

Dainselif

* This poor man was sitting by the fire for hours, mind plagued by the idea that he would inevitably lose you one day.

* However, instead of saddening him, it only angered him.

* The stick he had been playing with snapped between his fingers, a clear demonstration of his frustrations.

* Hearing the rather loud snap across the hall as you readied your shared bed for the night, you looked up.

* Why was your lover still up? With the fire on, no less?

* You stalked over to the fireplace, only to find him hunched over and leaned on his knees like he was crying.

* You rushed over and lifted his head.

* “Don’t touch me.” He couldn’t stand the feeling of your skin on his, despite his crippling addiction to it.

* If he enjoyed it too much, the loss would only be worse.

“Dain? Love what’s wrong?” Your voice was filled with concern that Dainsleif found irritating. He almost never angered. And when he did, he tended to push you and everyone else away.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” His anger was concise, his tone snapping at you so harshly that you saddened. He’d always been sure to lace his words with the sweetest of sugar, to make sure he wouldn’t scare you off. Hearing it without the love it usually had told you something was very wrong.

“Dainsleif don’t push me away, please.” You sat beside him and Dainsleif felt like he was losing his mind. Maybe it was foolish, but he never intended on caring so much for someone. Much less falling in love. His love for you had grown dangerously deep. In that he would kill for you. He would find a way to take his own life if you commanded it of him. He would play dead until the end of time. The sofa dipped beside him and he clenched his fist.

“Just stop.” His voice was hushed. “Leave me alone.” He raised his voice at you, which he never did. Clearly, he was very upset, but if he wouldn’t let you know what it was that caused this outburst, you couldn’t help. It was so unlike him to act this way.

“Dainsleif don’t you dare raise your voice at me. I’m here to help you not for you to take our anger out on. Just tell me what happened and-“

“I wish you would just disappear.” And of course Dainsleif didn’t mean it literally. But he’d never felt so terrified. He wished the feeling of vulnerability away; not you. Never you. Not ever in millions of life times would he ever be able to wish you away.

“Oh yeah?” You sighed, standing immediately and walking to the door. The blonde was very fast in realizing his mistake, lifting his head to look at you. By the time he could even stand, you were up and walking out of the door. His heart pounded like a drum in his chest, his chest aching beneath his skin. “Goodbye Dainsleif.” You would never leave the love of your life. Of course you wouldn’t. You couldn’t. But you wanted to at least get back at him. For making your heart crack after you’d placed it so carefully in his palm. You throw a jacket over your shoulders and bolt out the door. Surely the traveler will be able to hook you up with a nice place to stay, after all, he’d always been so kind to you.

Now, it took Dainsleif all too long to realize that you were actually gone. He lifted his head in a feeble search for you, still hardly able to process the fact that you’d abandoned him. If you looked him in the eyes and asked him why he truly said those things to you, he would be speechless. The moment his hazy thoughts were able to piece together what was happening, he sprinted to the door, hoping that if he opened it, you’d still be there. Alas, his hopes were for naught and the realization that you’d abandoned him, and that it was his fault, knocked the air out of him. The fear he had acted upon had come to life, and Dainsleif could swear to Celestia that he couldn’t breathe. He wasn’t sure what he would do if you didn’t return quickly. And even if you didn’t, Dainsleif would sit on the couch for centuries, waiting for you until you returned for him to place against his awaiting lips. Exactly where you’d left him, head in his hands and tears threatening to fall at any second.

A/N:

I realize this is very very late and I apologize

I didn’t expect my workload to increase by so much

#dainsleif #childe #tartaglia #diluc #childe angst #dainslief angst #diluc angst #genshin #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin x reader #childe x reader #dainslief x reader #diluc x reader

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