#childe comfort

[writing-in-glitter-pen]

II Childe’s Anger II

There's a darker side to Childe that he never lets you see. The wild temper he struggles to keep under lock and key in your presence. You were his everything, his one and only, his family---so when he almost loses you, that temper snaps forward like a venemous snake.

childe x fem!reader II angst, hurt/comfort.

word count: 2,865 cash money

content warnings: Descriptions of anger (mention of throwing things but not at reader or in reader's presence), descriptions of injury.

It doesn't matter how angry you make him or how horrible what you've done is, Childe can always be swayed by you. You could tear off his right arm then sell it for pocket change and he'd still only be able to resist your honeyed words and doe-eyed pleas for about a minute. He just turns into a goofy-faced pile of mush at any hint of romantic attention you give him, no matter how long you’ve been a couple. Usually, if you've pissed him off, all it takes for him to forgive you is a couple sweet cooings about how he's your favorite man in the world and that you'll only ever belong to him. Hearing those promises from you lights his skin on fire, and he just can't help himself from taking your wrist and tugging you up to his lips. But this time…this time you've really done something unforgivable…

You put yourself in danger.

The night before was a good night; you’d made dinner for Childe, you two snuggled on the couch, you watched a movie on the television he’d gotten from a trip to Fontaine—it was sweet and romantic and relaxing…

Until you brought up a sore subject.

While snuggled up in his lap, cheek resting on his chest, him all but purring in content and happiness, you found it the appropriate time to bring up your intentions for tomorrow.

“Ajax…", they way you sweetly say his birth name never fails to make him melt, "There’s a commission up for grabs at the Adventurer's Guild…someone is lost in the chasm and they want an adventurer to conduct the search.”

“Hmm that’s nice.”, he hummed absentmindedly, resting his chin on the top of your head and hugging you just a little tighter. He has a habit of getting too absorbed into movies; it’s actually quite cute—watching his awe-struck face and twinkling eyes on the screen. He’s like an excited little kid, lost in the movie and the feeling of you in his arms.

“I’d like to take the job.”

Silence.

You almost thought he hadn’t heard you until he stiffly reached for the remote beside his thigh and shut off the TV completely.

“…what was that?”

Something you’ve come to learn about Childe after dating him for so long is: beyond his charming, flippant character in the face of danger, and beyond his unserious approach to dire circumstances…When it comes to the protection of those he loves…he has a temper.

An easily struck temper.

“Childe. I’ll be fine. Please don’t worry abou—“

“Absolutely not. You’re not going.”, he said with that edge of finality to his voice you’ve come to be very familiar with, before standing from your shared seat and walking to the kitchen. Putting distance between you two.

Leaning over the back of the couch to look at him---not letting him escape this conversation, you argue, “It’s not your decision. I wasn’t asking. I was letting you know.”.

Normally, you’d be more gentle with your reasoning—carefully explain the safety measures you’ll take and advocate for your skills as an adventurer. But, after playing out this scene with Childe a countless number of times…

No, you can’t go there. No, you can’t do that. Treating you like a toddler that can’t handle herself...

You had, understandably, grown tired of it.

Even from the meters of space between you two, you could see the telltale signs of Childe’s unsavory, protective side rearing it’s head. The set of his jaw, the way he white-knuckles the edge of the counter he’s leaning on…the way he won’t look at you.

There was a long silence between you two—Childe a menacing statue in your kitchen. You weren’t sure if he was even breathing.

You sat there for what felt like ages—starting to get worried about if Childe was ok…would his knuckles break from how hard he’s holding onto that counter?

Finally, he spoke, his voice caught between a breathy exhale and a rumbling growl.

“If you try to go…

…I will keep you in this house until the commission is over.”

You knew he would.

Even with his demanding job, he’d find a way.

So you had no choice but to relent.

“Ok…I won’t go.”

Childe hated being like this—he hated imposing on you, hated the way he reacted to these sorts of things. He couldn’t keep his cool.

But it’s your safety. You're his family now, the most precious thing in the world to him—if anything happened to you…he’d lose himself. He’d go mad and burn every inch of this world down. It would be worthless garbage if you weren't in it.

So he had to be like this. He had to protect you. At any cost. Even if it upsets you, even if it makes you hate him, he’ll keep doing it. As long as he lives, he’ll put himself right between you and any threat—even if it displeases you. Even if he knows you can handle it yourself. Childe doesn’t take risks when it comes to you.

He felt guilty. And when he feels guilty he goes quiet, and distant. His vices are embedded within him—even if he apologizes, they won’t go away. It’s hard to apologize for...yourself. And it’s even harder for him to apologize for himself to you—the beautiful, endlessly loving, perfect person...who made the mistake of wandering into this controlling monster’s life.

You didn’t believe that, but he did.

So he went to his office.

And stayed there the rest of the night.

———

He wasn’t in bed with you when you woke up, when you turned over to reach for him only to get a fistful of cold sheets.

He wasn’t there when you checked his office, either.

...so he didn’t notice when you left to take the commission.

He may be your boyfriend, but he wasn’t your warden. He couldn’t control your actions or tell you what to do. Especially after losing his cool and leaving you to sleep alone last night. If he was just going to disappear on you, then you could disappear on him.

…you knew it was horrible reasoning, but you were too stubborn to turn back.

And what do you know? Horrible reasoning leads to horrible outcomes.

You got hurt. And not hurt like the usual cuts and scrapes you get on your dailies. No. Real hurt. You-could’ve-lost-your-life hurt.

All you had to do today was a quick check in with the search party, a little reconnaissance, and then you’re back before Childe knows it.

But during your reconnaissance, your glider was torn by a stalagmite, obscured by the darkness of the cave, causing you to land on an unsteady wooden mining structure that collapsed beneath your weight. You fell along with the rubble to the bottom of the pitch-black tunnel—your arm crushed by a wooden beam.

And you were lucky. If you hadn’t landed in a pile of corrupted muck, you could’ve died from the blunt force of the fall, but it was still killing you. Slowly. Painfully.

You were stuck, thousands of miles from the man you loved, dying, and he had no idea where you were—wondering if you’re safe. Worse, he could be out looking for you. You can picture his expression clear as day; Childe never shows terror, but when it’s you in danger, his mask falls faster than you did to the bottom of this mineshaft. You can see the fear in his wide, blue eyes. You can hear the desperation in his voice, bordering on a scream as he calls for you—his throat raspy from how long he’s been yelling for you. You can feel his heavy, labored footsteps shake the ground as he clamors around every inch of Liyue harbor in search for you. He would rather die than lose you, so his expression is that of a dying man as he searches desperately, despairingly for you. The image you know is playing out layers and layers of earth above you breaks your heart a million times over—this is your last regret. You left Childe in anger, and now he’ll never see you again.

Your vision finally faded as the corruption overtook you.

———

Childe is one to give the silent treatment, because he doesn't want to fly off the handle and say something he can't take back---so when you wake in your shared bed, your back pressed up against his chest as he holds you securely, you'll have to live through his hard gaze, his set, flexed jaw, and his silence.

“…Ajax?”

Nothing.

You try to shift but he holds you in place like a splint. And after you blink the sleep out of your eyes, you see why.

Your heavily bandaged arm is splayed out to the side of the bed; the bandages cover the various screws and other work put in by healers to preserve what they could of your arm. In your rest, Childe had been holding you still so you wouldn’t roll over and harm yourself further by moving it.

“…they don’t know if you’ll be able to use it again.”, he says, grimly. The first thing he’s said to you since you woke. He said it like it was a personal slight against him—like you broke something he loved with all of his heart. And you did. That’s exactly what you did.

“Childe…I’m so sorry.”, your voice cracks as you speak, tears quickly welling up in your eyes.

He’s silent again. His jaw looks like it might break from how hard he’s biting down on his words. You’ve never gotten the full brunt of the vitriol he’d spit if he didn’t strangle it down—but you’ve heard him give it to others.

He didn’t know you were just beyond the door of his office when he was chewing out his subordinates for a careless mistake that jeopardized an important shipment; you never knew how unforgiving and cruel you boyfriend could be before that day. The way his voice came out in a terrifying snarl, he sounded more animal than man—to the point that you couldn’t believe it was him, considered that maybe you had the wrong office, until you peeked in and saw. His wild eyes, his sharp, chaotic gesticulations, the way he threw the contents of his desk onto the ground in frustration—apathetic to if anything or any one broke. He’d always been so sweet and understanding with you, you’d never even seen him frown, but the way he spoke to those Fatui soldiers…it revealed something fundamental about him to you.

It took you a lot of time to make sense of it, a lot of thinking and insecurity and fear but you realized…the Childe you knew really was jubilant and kind, he was caring and attentive and generous…but he also really was the man you saw and heard in that office that day. The only difference was who he was talking to.

He was still your Childe. He always would be. But he was only yours. So the rest of the world got to see the ugly he hid from you. The ugly that would seep out of him—clouding his gaze in a menacing, red mist, that would turn his grip from gentle to an inescapable vice…that made him say things he didn’t mean.

So no matter what honest and loving words you utter to him, he is unresponsive, and will remain so until he's cooled down enough to organize his thoughts and deal with you.

But you don't want to wait. You don't want to go to bed with only a rigid "Goodnight." from him. After what you’d done today, you weren’t sure if he’d ever speak to you again—what if, once you healed, he’d leave? The thought horrified you. So you had to get him to speak. You had to.

Gently resting the fingertips of your working hand on the white knuckles of Childe's harshy closed fist securing your waist, you say—your voice shaky with tears but still sweet and considerate of him, "Sweetheart...would you open this for me? I'm worried you're going to hurt youself...".

From how hard he was squeezing, it was possible his nails were digging into his palm. He didn't relent at your touch, his gaze averted to the wall just past your head. That was your fault, of course, because no matter how upset you make him, you’re still the most beautiful woman in the world in his eyes. His gorgeous little girlfriend, the one he works so hard to keep safe and happy, the girl he’d do absolutely anything for. If he were to look at you, look into your beautiful doe eyes, and see those eyes full of tears? He’d lose his resolve. He’s angry with you. You did something unforgivable today. So he just couldn’t look. From the pink dusting his cheeks, you could tell he was fighting not to ogle you. Since he doesn’t open up, you slide your hand over his fist to hold it—he doesn’t stop you.

“Childe…talk to me…please?”. You sound so helpless calling out to him like that. Every instinct in his body screams to run and protect you, to respond and give you anything you need. But the only response you get from him is how he tightens his grip around you ever so slightly. Like he’s assuring himself that you’re fine—you’re safe in his arms.

“Childe…please.” the sob that caught in your throat at that please finally broke him. Brought a crack down the middle of the dam of anger and panic he had reinforced and reinforced again while you were asleep.

His voice came out in a quiet, but dangerous rumble. You felt it in your chest before you heard it.

“I don’t see why you think it’s ok to needlessly put yourself in danger like this.”

If he would’ve said anything else, you wouldn’t have argued. You knew you were in the wrong for telling him you wouldn’t go and going anyway. You knew you were in the wrong for getting hurt in a place where he couldn’t find you. You knew you were in the wrong for how you handled the whole thing.

…but you weren’t in the wrong for doing your job.

“It’s not needless, it’s my job…”, you said, gentle as possible. You weren’t going to snap at him, but this was important to you. He had to understand, “…you do the same thing…”

“You’re my girl. You don’t need a job.”

“I can’t just sit alone in the house all day.”

“Then get a safer job. Start a flower shop. I’ll pay for it.”

“Adventuring is what I’m good at. It’s what I love.”

“You’re supposed to love me!”

And there it was. He raised his voice at you.

The way you flinched did not escape his gaze.

He was a monster and he knew it. He knew he didn't deserve you but he couldn't let you go. No matter how much he told himself he only exists to your detriment...he couldn't. let. go.

Like a dragon that stays atop it's hoard even as the walls of it's cave collapse around it. Like a raccoon fishing a coin out of a small hole---no matter how hard he tries to pry both of you out, knowing you're both stuck in his grip, he can't let go.

With that, he clamped down on his jaw again, drawing his arms back from around you and getting out of bed. He broke for the door but your helpless cry cemented his feet to the floorboards.

"Please, Ajax...please don't leave me."

You were used to how Childe would run from you in guilt--the monster, Grendel, fleeing from Herot to his cave, but this time, you just couldn't brave it. You needed him right now.

He just couldn't understand how you could bear to have him in your presence.

He felt ugly, embarrassed and ashamed, but the desperate tambre in your voice told him you wanted him. Even in his worst moments, you wanted him.

So he returned to your side, kneeling at the side of the bed like a devotee, his face just before yours and his rough hand reaching our to cup your cheek---so gentle, like he was convinced you'd shatter in his grasp. His lips were held in a firm line, but his eyes were wells of love and devotion for you.

Only for you.

"Ajax...I love you."

With his deep sigh, the pressure in the room was alleviated--fresh, new oxygen renewed into the space. The tension in his knuckles, his shoulders, and his jaw was finally released. With those three words, he had melted into the Ajax you knew, your Ajax.

"I love you too."

"I'm sorry."

"I know you are."

There was a moment where you two were just, you two. Where he stroked your cheek with his thumb and gazed into your beautiful eyes--his own held that special little sparkle that was typically lost in the void. The sparkle only you get to see.

With a hum, he let's go of you and stands.

"I'll get you some food."

And with your simple nod, he left. But this time, you knew he'd be back.

[i-am-a-l0st-gh0st]

Childe x gn! reader - Day 6

T/W- nightmare, mentions of blood, comfort,

Summary- Childe is waking up in the middle of the night, shaking, breathing heavily, maybe even crying. Y/n wakes up as well, immediately knows what is happening and starts trying to calm him down.

The gun shots echoes through the wood, childe's eyes widened. No! He screamed out, or he thought he did. He sounded like he was underwater. No one could hear him scream for help. The orange haired male ran towards the sounds of the gun shots. Only to find blood splattered over the pure white ground.

"Teucer!-" that was he only name he could get out before he realised you were awake too.

Childe was shaken, and usually he never was, even in his line of work. He felts his vusik becoming wet and blurry and he was almost hyperventilating. He turned his attention to your form. You were safe, but he didn't know if his siblings were.

"Childe..." You were cut off as he jumped out of bed, pulling the nearest shirt on. "Where are you going!"

"To snezhnaya."

"Why?"

"The dream I had... My siblings-" the tears were welling up in his eyes.

He couldn't stop them and definitely not as they poured down his face. You'd never seen him like this, he never usually cried like this.

"Your not going anywhere like that. Come back here."

"I need to go see them!"

You softened your gaze at him, and got up from the bed. The cold of the night quickly hit you, and you had to fight the urge to get back into bed. You walked over to your partner, and touched his back. He was warm, and he felt slightly sweaty.

"Childe. Look at me." He gave you gaze almost like a sad puppy dog. How could you not love him. "Please come back to bed. It's late."

"No I need to see them and make sure their okay!"

You let out a gentle sigh, trying to find some sympathy for him. His hand was soft, but slight calloused as you reached for him.

"We can call them as soon as we wake up."

"But what if somethings happened!"

"It was just a nightmare."

"But.."

"Nightmare. Please come back to bed. It's very cold without you in there."

He let out a small chuckle as he slowly approached the bed. "Fine but only if we promise to call them."

"I promise."

[luc1enn]

G R A N D I O S E —> IV. blind date?

a genshin smau | childe x fem!reader

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SYNOPSIS: You’ve always been the number one spot of people, others begging for you to even glance at them. Until the owner of a designer brand suddenly declines your request on a cooperation only for the mere reason “my sister doesn’t like your cosmetics.”

grandiose; impressive and imposing in appearance or style, especially pretentiously so.

©luc1enn — all rights reserved. do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or share my work on other platforms without my permission.

[cephei-ea]

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 sedan 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

[scarasbaefy]

seasons

chars; childe/tartaglia

; fem reader, angst to comfort

note; this is for my bff emoly who has been waiting for this since the dawn of time !!!! shes the biggest childe lover in the world. THIS ONES FOR U EMO !

; not proof-read, reqs open, join the taglist

Ⰶ  

childes life was falling apart. being a harbinger was no easy task. being a part of the FBI would be an easier task than being a criminal. at least you didn’t have to lie to your family and lover about your job.

the cold air nipped childes nose, but he didn’t mind it. he loves the cold temperature of his homeland. he was too busy thinking of other things than the way his nose tingled, or the way his hands were shivering from the lack of warmth. he dreaded to get home, where you and his siblings would be waiting for his arrival. he had already finalized his decision though.

he had to let you go.

you and teucer were playing with one of his toy horses in the living room when the sound of the front door unlocking took your attention. teucer, already knowing who it was, made his way to the door and jumped on the mans leg.

“brother! oh big brother, i missed you so much! did you bring me anything?” the young boys eagerness made you laugh to yourself as you stood up from your position on the floor. you gave childe a loving smile before wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him in for a kiss. childe immediately felt his heart drop when your lips connected, causing him to not reciprocate. 

he pulled away and gave you a small smile filled with guilt. you knew something was wrong, but masked your worry since teucer was looking up at you two. teucer loved you and childe as a couple, always asking when you would get married so you three could live together forever. 

“i did get you something, teucer. i’ll give it to you in a minute. i need to talk to y/n first though. it’s very important, but i promise i’ll give you your gift afterwards.” childe pat his brothers head, causing teucer to cover his giggle with his hands. “oh.. i see.. i’ll give you all the time you need, but call me when you’re ready!” the boy said before running off with a smile on his face.

childe held your hand as he walked you to a room nearby. “is something wrong?” you asked after he closed the door, leaving the two of you. he didn’t say anything as he stood with head head against the door, afraid to turn around and face you. the silence only made your stomach turn. after a few seconds he held your hands, all while avoiding eye contact. “i can’t be your love anymore...” he whispered, as if he was hoping you wouldn’t understand what he had just said.

you dropped your hands from his and cupped his cheek. “what do you mean? why are you saying this... what happened?” childe turned his head away from your hand to hide the tears threatening to fall. he immediately regretted saying anything. he loves you more than anything in this world, and if he had met you before joining the fauti then he wouldn’t have ever joined in order to protect your safety. 

“i’m afraid. i don’t want to ruin your life by having me as your boyfriend. i’m like a bad omen and i don’t want anything bad happening to you. i’d rather let you go than see you get hurt because of me... or worse.” he said as the tears began to roll down his cheeks, but you were quick to wipe them away. you made him look at you, tears also flowing down your own cheeks. his heart broke at the sight, knowing his words were the cause of your pain.

“don’t you dare ever say that again. we have been together for many years now and nothing has happened to me, all thanks to you. i love you so much, and i’m not letting you leave me. not now, not ever.” the stern look on your face made childe shiver. he knew you had a point, and if he were to let you go now, all his enemies would use you against him since he wouldn’t be there to protect you.

childe let out a sigh of relief before nuzzling into the hand holding his cheek. he felt a wave of relief that you didn’t agree with him or left him. he was happy you had made a point, and that you would say such kind words to a man like him. you actually made an effort to stay with him even though he thought it was best if he wasn’t in your life. he looked at you, a tired smile on his face. “i’m so stupid. i regretted my words after they came out. i never want to leave you. i now realize that having you by my side is the safest place you could be, and i wouldn’t want it any other way. i love you.” he kissed your forehead, then your nose. “i love you so much.” your cheek, then your lips. 

you took childes hand and walked him out the room. “we can continue talking later. you have a child who’s waiting for his gift.”

taglist; @exciidi @ulquiorraswife

[blankiebloo]

I'll try.

I do realize that I have some things I'm already working on, but this popped into my head and felt a little bit more important to me-

Characters: Childe x Gn!Reader, Venti x Gn!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of depression, cutting, slight mention of a eating disorder

Venti

You two used to hang around each other almost everyday, but recently, he's noticed that you've started to hang around people less and less. He's noticed all of the changes in your behavior: he's noticed that on your days off, you don't seek anyone out anymore, you're actually not seen at all. And when you are around, you look skinnier than before like you haven't been eating; and your eyes are all red too.

He caught you leaving your house on one of your days off for the first time in a while, he was so happy that you left your house that he followed you, he followed you all the way to Starsnatch Cliff and watched as you sat down close to the edge..too close to the edge.

"You know, it isn't safe sitting that close to the edge," he spoke, finally making himself known as he stepped closer to you. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you sat that close on purpose.." his voice was quiet and somber unlike his normal cheery tone.

You turned your head to the side as you watched him sit next to you. He looked at the sky in front of you, his gaze soft and worried. He didn't need you to tell him what was wrong, and he figured that you didn't wish to speak by how quiet you were.

He turned his gaze to your stiff and saddened expression, you looked so tired. "Do you wish to talk to me, my friend? I know I'm no professional but, I'm sure it's better to finally get your feelings out there instead of bottling them up, hm?" He tilted his head, waiting for you to speak or not.

You nodded and looked in front of you, gazing at the horizon but also gazing somewhere far away, some place no one could touch. You opened your mouth, and the words that you spoke instantly made Venti's heart drop, "Venti, I don't want to live anymore." Your expression was so cold and unbothered, it was like what you said was something so normal, something everyone says.

"[Name], what-" he reached out and touched your shoulder only to pull his hand back when you hissed in pain at the touch. "[Name]. Could you show me your shoulder."

His voice sounded so serious, you looked at him and your eyes started to tear up, your lip quivered as you started crying. "Venti, I-I can't do this anymore! It's getting so hard now, I don't want to live like this anymore!" You hid your face in your hands as you continued to sob.

His gaze softened as he continued to look at you, he reached out and pulled you into him and caressed your head. "Live like what?"

"Live how I am!" You yelled into his blouse, grabbing onto it. "I don't want to live hoping that tomorrow will be better only for it to be the same! I want to be happy and be able to calm myself down when I panic, not cut myself to calm down! It gets so hard to continue on living just for the sake of living, what's the point of living if I'm just going to die in the end?"

Venti's heart sank as he held you closer to himself, "[Name], I may not know everything about you and everything that happens in your life, but I promise you, that your life is worth every breathe I have."

His hug got tighter, but it didn’t hurt; you moved your face to look at his and he was already staring at you. "You deserve to live a life full of happiness, [Name]. Promise me that you'll live, promise me that you'll try?"

Tears started to fall faster as you nodded and buried your face into his chest again, sobbing your emotions out as you tried your best to stable yourself.

"I'll try, Venti. I'll try to do it."

He smiled as he kissed the top of your head. The wind had started to pick up as he sat there with you in his arms, slowly swaying back 'nd forth, he need not play any music to calm you down, for the winds played the song of his heart, and it sang out to you, begging for you to hear it and give your life a chance.

You two sat in silence except for your sniffling. You felt him squeeze your arm twice before he says, "I'd still really like to see your shoulders though, [Name]. I need to make sure those cuts don't get infected."

"Alright." You sit up and loosen your shirt a bit so he can check your shoulders, and as he does so you continue to look up and watch as the sun sets, focusing back on that place you see somewhere far away where nobody else can go.

Childe

Usually when you two spar, he'd barely hold back, but you weren't really sparring back with him. You were more like, slowly dogging and practically hitting him very lightly.

"Comrade, are you okay? You don't really seem to be in the sparring mood today," he stopped fighting as soon as he spoke, not wanting you to get distracted and get hurt.

It's like that question just broke you, and you started crying and sniffling. Childe rushed up to you worried, "Hey, hey, it's okay, whats wrong?" He asked as he pulled you into a hug.

"Childe, I...I want you to kill me."

His eyes widened and he pulled away and stared at you, concern, shock, confusion, it was all over his face as he started to question you fairly loud, "Kill you?! Why would I kill you?! Comrade, whats wrong? Why would you ever ask me to do that?"

You started to sob as your fist hit his chest, "Why won't you?! Why won't you just end my suffering already?! You were so willing to before when you mistook me for the traveler! Why not now?!"

He grabbed your wrist with one hand and your chin with the other as he forced you to meet his gaze, "Because I care for you! I don't want you to die, I want you to live out your life to the fullest and make memories!"

He stepped back and took your hands in his. "I want you to take care of yourself."

"But why should I?" Your tone was bitter. "We all live just to die anyways, why not make it go faster?"

Childe looked stunned. His brows furrowed as he spoke again, "You should live because the world always has a place for you to be happy and free. And you just haven't found it yet, and I don't think you should give up, not yet not ever."

"Promise me, that you'll live, that you'll go out and make your mark on peoples lives and make yourself smile. You deserve to be happy."

You wipe your tears off and look to the side. "I can't promise you that. But I'll promise you that I'll try."

"Try?! But, [Name]-"

"I don't like to make promises that I know I'll go back on, that is why I can't promise you anything other than the fact that I'll try. I'll try because you asked me to." You stare into his eyes, your gaze serious and pained.

He sighs and places a hand on your shoulder, "Fine, at least try. Thank you." He kisses your cheek. "Go home and get some rest, Comrade, all that crying can make you tired." He smiles and walks away with a wave.

You place your hand on your shoulder as you watch him walk away, a pitiful and numb smile lays on your face as you speak, "I'll try."

A/N: I know that this won't fit for all people, but this is how I have felt and I took all of the things that reader has said from my own head.

I get that it's hard, and I was just struggling when I came up with idea to write this, but please, at least try. We're all trying and so am I, try because you never know when it might get better.<3

[pocarinapyon]

[🧸] Fireworks and Anxiety (Childe / Kaveh)

In which the reader has anxiety over fireworks and any explosive sounds. Now that everyone is welcoming the new calendar year, people started to get festive and set off fireworks as part of the ceremony.

But of course, your beloved won’t let you suffer from your dilemma.

Starring : Childe, Kaveh (Separate); Teucer (Minor / Mention)

Tags / Warnings : 🧸 [Comfort] Mentions of guns and explosives; Implications of anxiety and/or trauma related to the sounds of fireworks (trauma could be from gunshots / explosives / accident related to fireworks / etc); A bit of a grotesque imagery; Actually… It’s like an auditory anxiety; The Genshin hubbies comfort me you through various means❤️; These are short scenarios only though 🥺; No beta readers so I'm sorry for grammatical / spelling mistakes; Stray cuss words; Getting sleepy...; As per usual… Petnames (if it bothers you); Mentions of Childe's real name (Childe = Ajax)

Links : Pinned Post, Fireworks and Anxiety(Albedo/Alhaitham), Moral Support (Albedo)

Target audience is gender neutral

To whoever is reading, I hope you are doing well and please enjoy.

------------

🐇 Childe

Staying in a house with kids for the holidays, you trained well to refrain yourself from blurting out any cuss words. After all, you didn't want your boyfriend's family to have a bad impression on you. The first few days were fine until the last day of the calendar year came and people started to set-off fireworks.

"Shit...!" from the sound of another firework, you squeaked as the image of a flying humanoid ruin machine firing missiles at you haunted your mind.

Just a few months ago, your innards and flesh nearly scattered everywhere from being hit by exploding projectiles of an unsuspecting machine. Had you known the supposed immobile flying automation was still active, you wouldn't have approached it out of curiosity. It was a good thing you were skilled enough to dodge the explosives that your boyfriend was able to find you alive before he shot down the pesky robot.

"That's a bad word!" Teucer scolded you while giggling at your naughty behavior.

"Teucer, you know big [brother / sister] doesn't like fireworks so they would sometimes accidentally say some bad words. You'll have to forgive them if they say some bad words," Ajax gently explained to Teucer in your defense.

"Ahahaha...sorry, Teucer. It won't happen again, I promise," trying to sound unbothered by the booming sounds of fireworks, your laugh came out dryly as you replied to your boyfriend's little brother. To this, Teucer pouted but gave an approving nod anyway.

Fear and stress were written in your face and from this, Teucer understood your predicament. Wanting to be helpful, he squeezed himself between you and your lover to give you a big warm embrace.

"Aw... Big [brother / sister], are you afraid of fireworks? Fireworks are loud but they're not scary. Big brother told me it's safe as long as you're far away from where people are setting them off! They are very colorful and pretty in the sky!" Teucer cheerfully explained in an attempt to give you an objective point of view.

"Yes, I'm sure. In Inazuma, we have a friend whose job is to make fireworks. She can make various designs and also pretty colors too," you replied, the tone of your voice soft from the panic still coursing through your veins.

The wholesome conversation with the young lad paired with his friendly hug helped ground you as it distracted you from the loud noises. Ajax smiled from seeing how you and Teucer acted kindly towards each other and from there, he knew you were calming down.

After a few hours, most of the people decided to hit the sack and that included Ajax's siblings. Even then there were one or two fireworks setting off every ten minutes and with Teucer soundly asleep in his bedroom, you were back to your skittish self.

"Hey... It's okay, sweetheart...," Ajax cooed as he snuggled with you on his king-size bed.

"Heh... Hehe... Darn it... I feel pathetic...," you sighed in defeat, laughing dryly as you lost control of your emotions and thoughts once again.

"No, you're not. Everybody is afraid of something. There's nothing to be ashamed of it," Ajax replied softly while caressing your hair.

"Yeah, but I wasn't like this, Ajax. I wasn't afraid of fireworks until that - that thing attacked...!" you whined as uncontrollable tears streamed down your face from the image of a ruin hunter preying on poor you.

"You're safe, my sweet. It's what matters," was all Ajax could answer.

You and your lover remained in a silent cuddle. No words were exchanged between you two yet your hearts shared the same rhythm as you found yourself at peace from his loving and secure arms.

"Hey... You said everybody's afraid of something but I don't think you're afraid of anything at all," you remarked, finding your boyfriend's courage to be admirable.

"I am afraid of something," Ajax replied with a chuckle.

"Really?" with big curious eyes, you asked.

"Yeah," Ajax answered as he brought his lips close to your ears. With every phrase, he peppered your face with kisses, "I'm scared... I'm scared of losing the ones I love and I'll do everything to protect my family."

In a tender touch, he tilted your head so your eyes met his blue ones.

------

"That includes you, [Your name]. You're my future family."

With that, Ajax gave you a tender goodnight kiss on the lips.

🐇 Kaveh

------------

"You're shaking...," Kaveh remarked as he felt your body tremble from the fireworks that set off from afar.

"Am I...? It's... It's just cold...," you answered sheepishly, hoping your boyfriend would accept the silly excuse you just uttered.

The sky brightened once more with vibrant colors before another explosive sound echoed from the night sky. It would have been a romantic date for you and Kaveh if only you weren't afraid of the fireworks noises.

'No one's going to get hurt. No one's going to get hurt,' you kept telling yourself to hide your anxiety but by now, Kaveh already figured out what was going on with you.

"I'm sorry. I think we should return home now," concerned Kaveh suggested.

You could see your beloved getting anxious as well and you wish you could calm down at the snap of a finger so your boyfriend wouldn't fret over you. Sadly, you found yourself agitating over another set of fireworks that lit the dark sky.

"Is it the sound that's making you feel scared?" still concerned, Kaveh asked as he found you unable to respond to any of his previous statements from fear.

You bit your lips in distress. It wouldn't have mattered to you if you were the only one suffering from anxiety. But seeing your sweet Kaveh panic over your condition made you feel bad for being afraid of something aesthetically pleasing just because of a measly noise.

"Yeah... I don't like hearing fireworks...," you admitted meekly, feeling pathetic from having such a stupid fear. "Don't get me wrong! I - I love watching fireworks. It's just the noise that bothers me..."

From the way you spoke, Kaveh noticed the self-degrading thoughts flooding your mind and he opted to distract you from them.

"So, you think the fireworks are pretty?" Kaveh confirmed, hugging you in a warm embrace to help calm your nerves.

"Yeah, I do but - eep!"

Kaveh used your hands to cover your ears as he guided you back to the house. You couldn't help but feel disappointed in yourself for ruining a perfect date with your beloved Kaveh. If you didn't have that stupid fear of fireworks noises, you and Kaveh would be having a great time outside.

You sat on the sofa defeated. Despite Kaveh's kind words and insistence, you felt miserable for being such a killjoy. Staring blankly on the floor, you wondered if Kaveh would still want to date you after what happened tonight.

"Surprise~" Kaveh said as he placed something over your ears.

"Huh?" you squeaked, realizing how majority of the noises were muted out by the device. Your lips curl into a smile knowing the sounds of the fireworks won't bother you anymore.

"They're noise canceling earpieces similar to the ones Alhaitham uses. Oh wait, can you hear me?" Kaveh asked.

You couldn't clearly hear what Kaveh said but you could make them out from how his lips moved. In response, you shook your head a 'no' as you figured he was asking if you heard him.

"Really? That's good! That way, you would be able to enjoy the fireworks without worrying over the sound! Although I think it's not safe if you can't hear anything near your vicinity. You still need to be careful and alert always so muting everything isn't really a good idea," Kaveh blabbered.

You simply smiled at Kaveh, not hearing exactly what he was going on about but based on his expression, he seems to be warning you about the earpieces.

"Oops. I forgot you couldn't hear me. I love you," Kaveh said.

"I love you too," you replied.

"Huh?? Wait! I thought you couldn't hear me??" unbelieving, Kaveh asked curiously.

"I couldn't. But I felt you were telling me you loved me so I told you I loved you too," you answered the flabbergasted Kaveh with a chuckle.

"Ah. That makes sense," Kaveh replied before pecking your cheeks. "Now, why don't we enjoy the evening and watch the fireworks? We can grab some more grub while walking around the area. If you still feel like the noise is too much, we can just stay in bed and cuddle," Kaveh suggested.

"Anywhere is fine as long as I'm with you."

Kaveh smiled before wrapping you in a warm embrace followed by a loving kiss.

To whoever read this, thank you for your time. Here, have a pineapple 🍍.

Are there still people setting off fireworks where I live? Yes. Yes, there are.

[neuroticboyfriend]

all your stuffed animals love you. they're not sad if they're in a box, or on the floor, or not held/played with as much. they understand. they know that you might need another stuffie more, or that you don't have enough space. they're just happy to be with you, and if you ever give them away, they'll be happy there too. stuffies are for comfort. they understand. they love you too. it's okay.

[bigturtl]

i love lawyer game

[chloesimaginationthings]

FNAF Cassidy is nervous to meet Abby,,

[myuminji]

candlelight

this certain dynamic abt millywood that goes beyond wolfwood simply yearning for milly—how he deems her as a mother, a lover, an enemy, a friend, a curse, a salvation—how milly becomes a symbol he can't put into a word, and it scares him and he wants to bury himself in it and beg for forgiveness all the same...

wolfwood knowing he has nothing to be forgiven of (that he's a sinful, sinful man) but THE YEARNING FOR ONE. the thought of how getting close to her feels like it'll melt away his 'impurities' (which is him entirely, he'll be GONE), but still clinging to her as both humanity and a heretic icon of worship......

[writing-in-glitter-pen]

Genshin Men With a Sweetheart Who is Stress-Eating

This one is kind of an intense topic, but I thought it would be a good comfort read for someone weathering this problem. You're not alone, you are completely normal, AND BEAUTIFUL! Our genshin boys are here to reassure you of that and give you all the love and support you deserve ♡

Diluc, Kaeya, Itto, Childe x gn!reader II comfort, romance

Content Warnings: Depictions of fear/anxiety/stress, descriptions of stress eating.

I am not a medical professional. Stress eating is not an eating disorder within itself, but can be a component of an eating disorder. It is not a healthy coping mechanism and can make stress worse as it generates feelings of guilt and shame. In this piece, I'm trying to remove the guilt and shame from the habit and bring comfort, not give official medical advice on ways to treat it. The alternatives I use are only tips I've researched in overcoming the compulsion. If you experience this habit, please tell a medical professional so that you can be given proper guidance on how to manage it!

♡sending love♡

Diluc would be concered at first. The first time he witnessed your habit, you were sitting at the bar during one of his busier shifts. You were agressively tapping your foot and your face was marred with a worried expression while bringing the cashews from the free bowl on the counter to your mouth in rapid succession. Something was clearly bothering you, but he was hesitant to pull the bowl away or interfere with your soothing by inserting himself. He wanted to let you know that he was there for you, that you could talk to him, that he would comfort you if you let him---but he wasn't sure it would help. So he discreetly watched you for the rest of the night (as he normally did, never able to take his eyes off of his beautiful partner), setting a bowl of clementines and a glass of water in front of you as well, touching the small of your back comfortingly as he did. You took your time peeling the clementines and finishing your glass of water, feeling better after slowing your actions down. He still gets worried about you when he sees you engaging in your habit, only because he wants to fix what is bothering you, though he knows it's not always within his power to do so. You were the most precious thing in his life—he would fight the entire world if it meant bringing you an ounce of solace. He knows the action soothes you, so he makes sure to put food that will support your body and make you feel good in front of you---a bowl of cherries or strawberries or grapes, pressing a sweet kiss to your head, your cheek, your mouth as he does. If you wanted a comfort food, that was an entirely different story--it would be in your hands immediately, but if just engaging in the action was soothing, the only way he knew to help would be to make sure you wouldn't get a stomachache and that your body felt its best.

Kaeya, like Diluc, would also be concerned. He would interfere, but not for any reason other than wanting to make sure you were ok. After he came home to you staring off into the distance with fear in your eyes as you shoved a spoon into a tray of apple pie over and over, he put his hand over yours, halting your action for a moment, asking, "is something the matter, love?". He wouldn't let you feel embarrassed ashamed for even a moment. He just wanted to understand what was compelling you to self-soothe this way. He would let you vent to him about whatever it was that was causing you such immense stress. If he could fix it, he would have you two come up with a plan of action to right it together. If you couldn't solve it that night, or it wasn't in his power to help you solve it, he would snuggle up next to you on the couch and ask for a spoonful himself. The compulsion just became dessert as you two shared it until you'd had enough. You enjoyed the treat together, because he would never let you sit with your troubles alone.

Itto would take a while to notice. He just thought you liked food as much as he did. He wasn't the most observant guy, so he wouldn't immediately clock the stress weighing on your features. He'd see you tucking into a big bowl of ramen noodles and he, the perpetually hungry oni he is, would only think to ask for a bite. Then another. Then another. Until you were both fighting to slurp down the soup. If he saw you compulsively eating, he'd just assume you were hungry and take you to get something better to eat or make you something better to eat himself. Have you ever tried this guy's yakisoba? Of course you have. It's delicious. After he caught on, he didn't stop his process of making/getting you food that would actually comfort and fill you instead of letting you eat whatever was in front of you. He discovered that, even though he didn't know it at the time, he was supporting you by having you in the kitchen with him or sitting beside him at a ramen stand whenever you were in these episodes of pain. That just being near you and diverting your attention to food you actually wanted was the best way he could support you. After you decided you were done with the Yakisoba, he'd hug you around the waist with one hand and pick your plate up with the other, kissing the top of your head and saying, "My pretty sweetheart with an oni's appetite. I couldn't have asked for a more perfect partner!".

Childe knew what stress-eating was before you showed signs of it...because he stress eats too. He noticed it in himself after he had joined the Fatui; the anxiety of his family's well being hanging in the balance, the grueling hours he had to put in, the insecurity and misdirected anger, all showed up in the need to consume. His heart ached when he noticed you doing it--he empathized with the pain in your chest and disruption in your stomach. He wasn't going to make you do anything you didn't want to do, but he would offer to take you on a run or ask you to spar with him when he noticed you engaging in the habit. What worked for him was to get his blood pumping and stimulate himself in a different activity, instead of sitting with the stress he needed to compulsively soothe. After he wore you out, he would give you a space to talk about whatever was going on that was causing you to engage while he held you close. He would assure you that you are loved, that many people, even him, developed this habit, you aren't alone in your plight, and that you had absolutely nothing you needed to be ashamed about. This was a normal compulsion you experienced in response to a situation where you were suffering. All he cared about was making sure the scource of the stress was disposed of, so you wouldn't be in pain any longer.

[loveritas]

₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Daydreamin'

Ft. Diluc ノ Zhongli ノAyato ノ Wanderer ノ Alhaitham ノChilde ノ Wriothesley

sum: meet cutes with the genshin men <3

contains: sfw, fempov, reader is short in zhongli's, these take place in random au's wc: 8.6k (roughly 1k - 1.6k per part)

a/n: i have missed writing fluff so much !

❥ - 1.6k

The masquerade was alive, full of colour and movement; the huge ballroom was a sea of masks and shining fabrics. The whole room was filled with music, a lilting waltz to guide every step and turn. Couples moved in time around you, their faces hidden.

You had been partnered with a man who was a gentleman but you didn’t seem to click, and though his dancing steps were passable, they lacked the style that truly made dancing a pleasure. You concentrated on following the rhythm, not letting your mind stray too openly. The masked anonymity of the ball was exhilarating, yes, but so far, the evening hadn't held much excitement.

Your eyes automatically scanned the room, and that's when you saw him.

Tall and poised, with his pale blue hair tied back in place, he moved with an ease that seemed to command the eyes of everyone within his vicinity. His mask was a beautiful work in blue and white, framing sharp features and a couple of piercing, unfathomable eyes. 

While your partner was stiff and formal, this man carried with an air of quiet intensity that set him apart from all others. His hand was steady at his dancing partner’s waist, his steps precise, but there was an ease to him that made it clear he belonged in this kind of setting.

You tried not to stare, but when his partner twirled, his eyes met yours across the dance floor. It was momentary, just a glimpse before he was carried away, but that single jolt of awareness ran through you. You felt restless all of a sudden, the steady rhythm of the waltz not enough to keep your thoughts from straying.

And just as the melody took on a brighter, more playful tone, so did the pace of the dance. In an instant, you whirled around quickly, releasing your partner's hand only to be caught by another. It was a seamless, yet exhilarating shift, but before you could even register what happened, you found yourself face-to-face with him.

The man with the blue and white mask.

"Good evening" a smooth, lilting voice greeted. "Fortune does appear to be smiling on me, tonight." He was quietly confident, gloved hand steady over yours, the other resting lightly against your waist. For a moment, words just wouldn't come.

"I—hello," you managed, your voice faltering under his piercing gaze. "Good um, evening-"

His lips curled into a very small smile—the kind of smile that made you feel like he knew something you didn't. "You don't sound entirely certain," he said, his voice light and teasing but not impolite.

You caught yourself smiling back at him despite the flip in your chest. "I guess I wasn't expecting the evening to take such an…interesting turn."

"Interesting?" His brow arched beneath the edge of his mask as he moved with fluid grace, steering you into the next step. "I hope that's a compliment."

"Perhaps it is," you said, finding your stride with surprising ease. He danced with an unhurried confidence, as if the rest of the ballroom did not exist, and it was impossible not to be drawn in. "Do you make a habit of catching people off guard?"

His laugh was low, a sound that felt like a secret shared just between the two of you. "Not usually. But tonight seems to be an exception."

And then, of course, the two of you would twirl together—perfectly timed—and the room would spin with you in that moment. For a moment, it was as though the music itself had slowed to let your steps catch up, the world narrowing to the warmth of his hand at your waist and the steady rhythm of his movements.

"Have we met before?" you asked, the words tumbling from your mouth before you could hold them back.

He cocked his head to one side, studying you with an unreadable look on his face. "Not formally," he replied after a moment, the word tightly controlled. "Though I must admit, I did notice you earlier."

There was something underlying in what he said, an almost calculated quality to the way he picked them, which made you feel that there was more in his answer than he was letting on. "You noticed me?" you asked, curiosity getting the better of you; you know your eyes locked for a moment, but you didn't think he'd noticed.

"Indeed," he said. Light and precise were his footsteps, as if each step was rehearsed. "You stood out. It was hard not to notice."

You felt flustered at that, though you attempted to downplay the thought in a careless tone. "That sounds unlikely in a room full of masks and finery."

"Perhaps," he allowed, his voice light but with a sharper undercurrent to it. "But even amongst all of this, there are some things worth looking at closer."

The words just hung in the air between you, and you didn't know what to say. His eyes were fixed intently on yours; you couldn't help but gaze into their depth.

"And yet," you got out, finding your voice again, "we still only ended up here by chance."

"Chance?" His voice was suddenly low and touched with silent amusement. He turned you around easily, the room blurring for a moment before his hand steadied you once more. "Let's just say. I'm not in the habit of leaving certain things entirely to chance."

His words made you pause, your eyes narrowing slightly as you regarded him. "What does that mean?"

He chuckled, low and rich; it was almost a confession in itself. "The flow of a dance like this," he began, his voice silky, like the music wrapped around you, "is not quite as fickle as one might expect. Patterns begin to emerge, if you look for them, and well, it becomes possible to guide the outcome.

Realization dawned and you blinked up at him, stuck somewhere between incredulity and fascination. "You mean you counted the steps? To make sure we'd-"

“To make sure we’d end up here, yes,” he finished for you, his tone unapologetic but not smug. His gaze remained steady, his expression calm as though this was the most natural thing in the world.

Your breath caught in your throat as a rush of feelings struggled for dominance: flattery, curiosity, perhaps even a touch of indignation at the subtle manipulation. "And why go to all that trouble?"

His hand at your waist tightened ever so slightly, anchoring you as his voice dropped just enough for only you to hear. "Because the chance to dance with you wasn't one I was willing to miss."

The sincerity in his voice took you aback, and for a moment, you were silent. His confidence had been apparent from the get-go, but now, beneath that, you saw something more—something almost vulnerable in the way he waited for your reaction.

"Well," you said finally, your lips curving into a small smile as you met his gaze. "I suppose I should be flattered, then."

"Flattered," he repeated, his voice playful but with a hint of heat, "is a good place to start. Though I'd be lying if I said I wasn't hoping for more than that."

You tipped your head, his words creating a shiver in your chest. "More? Such as?"

"Perhaps," he said, bringing his face inches closer, his voice lowering just enough to speed up the pulse, "to finally see the face behind the mask. It seems somehow unfair to be so drawn to someone so captivating without really knowing who they are."

You laughed softly, "Isn't the whole point of a masquerade to keep such things a mystery?"

His eyes met yours and held just a little too long, "And while the masquerade is lovely, I think I'd rather see you without the mask."

You looked away, the heat in his words catching you off guard. "That's a pretty bold assumption," you said, trying to keep yourself together. "What makes you think I'd even want to show you?"

His fingers tightened on yours just a fraction, but the spark sent shivers through you. "Because I think you'd enjoy it," he said, his voice low, almost mischievous-sounding. "I am only guessing that you're one of those persons who sets a great store by mystery, yet wouldn't balk if that mystery were to be let go at the proper time.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you couldn't help but smile at his confidence. "That's quite the gamble."

He shrugged, the smile never leaving his face. "Sometimes the best things are worth taking a chance on."

"I'm sure we could find a time-perhaps after the masks come off-when we can have a real conversation." He stopped there for just a moment, then added, "Maybe even a date."

You laughed softly, and a spark was lit under your chest that you couldn't quite explain. "You're confident-”

He leaned in closer, "If I weren’t sure, I wouldn’t be here.”

The dance was coming to a close, the music slowing, but he didn't let go of your hand. He gave you a smile full of unspoken promises, "I'll wait, then. But I think you'll find you won't want to wait too long."

You smiled back at him, feeling the chemistry between you build with each passing moment. "Maybe I'll keep you guessing for a little longer."

He gave a small bow as the dance finished, his eyes never leaving yours. "I’ll take my chances."

❥ - 1k

The chatter of other parents waiting in line outside the classroom filled the hallway, a blend of polite conversations and nervous laughter. You stood near the wall, holding your bag and glancing occasionally at the door. Parent’s Evening always had this awkward tension—trying to gauge how much trouble your child may or may not be in based on the teacher's expression when they called you in. 

Off to the side, a deep voice rumbled, "Long line, huh?" You turned to find a tall man leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He was handsome in a rugged sort of way-broad shoulders, sharp jawline, and piercing eyes. His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, and there was an air of calm about him that felt oddly magnetic.

“Yeah,” you replied, offering a small smile. “They should’ve scheduled these things better. It’s like they expect us to wait all night.”

As your conversation with the handsome stranger flowed, a burst of laughter from down the hall caught your attention. Glancing over, you spotted two familiar figures.

They were crouched together near a display of student artwork, heads close as if sharing some top-secret joke. Your child gestured animatedly, while his son leaned back, laughing so hard he nearly tipped over.

Wriothesley followed your gaze, a soft chuckle escaping him. “Well, looks like the wait doesn’t bother them.”

“That’s my kid,” you said, a touch of pride in your voice.

“Annd that’s mine,”

You exchanged a look, realisation dawning.

“They’re best friends,” you both said at the same time, the words tumbling out in unison.

The synchronicity made you both laugh, and the easy warmth of the moment was enough to chase away the awkwardness of the initial encounter.

“Explains a lot,” he said, straightening up slightly. “Every day, my son’s got a new story about the ‘coolest’ thing your kid did or some scheme they’re planning.”

“Oh, trust me, I hear all about it too,” you replied, grinning. “Your son apparently always brings the best cookies to school and hands them out to everyone?”

Wriothesley smirked, rubbing the back of his neck. “I can’t take praise for that, I’m not the greatest baker, but the shop-bought ones? Can’t go wrong there.”

The teacher’s voice drifted into the hallway, calling another name—still not either of yours. The two of you had a little more time to linger.

The lightness in his eyes softened. “Honestly, though, it’s nice. Knowing my kid has someone like yours to lean on. Makes everything feel a little less… overwhelming, you know?”

You nodded, your own smile fading into something more thoughtful. “I do know. It’s… good for them to have someone. Especially when it’s just the two of you at home.”

There was a brief pause as that unspoken understanding settled between you, the noise of the hallway fading just slightly. His eyes lingered on you, thoughtful now, as if piecing something together.

“Just the two of you?” he asked softly, his voice careful but curious.

You nodded, shifting your weight. "Yeah. It's uh- been that way a decent while now. Just me and my kid figuring things out as we go."

His face softened, and a flicker of something vulnerable crossed it. "Same here. It's just me and my boy."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. Somehow, despite the ease of their rapport and the warmth in the exchanges, you hadn't expected to hear that. "Really?

He gave a short nod, his hand absently rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. It's not always easy, but. he's worth it, you know? Even when he's teaching half the class how to be a menace."

You couldn't help but laugh at that, the shared understanding pulling you closer. "Oh, trust me, I get it."

His eyes wandered over your form before taking in the colour of your eyes Then, as if catching himself, he straightened slightly, his tone softening. "So, uh… what do you do? When you're not chasing after your kid, I mean."

You told him, your response setting off an easy back-and-forth that felt surprisingly natural. He listened intently, nodding at the right moments, even laughing softly when you shared a self-deprecating story.

"And you?" you asked, truly curious.

“Nothing as exciting as you,” he said with a teasing grin before adding, “I’m a prison warden. Keeps me busy, but… it’s good. Makes coming home to my boy feel like the best part of my day.”

The sincerity in his voice struck a chord, and you found yourself smiling again. “That’s… really sweet.”

He shrugged, a faint blush colouring his cheeks, though he played it off with a small laugh. “I try.”

The kids reappeared then, tugging at your sleeves and talking over each other about some grand plan they’d concocted. Wriothesley crouched down to their level, his larger frame surprisingly gentle as he spoke to them.

As the teacher’s voice finally called your name, you hesitated, glancing back at him.

“Looks like that’s me,” you said, your tone light but reluctant.

He nodded, his smile warm. “Good luck in there. And, uh…” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck again, a hint of nervousness creeping into his otherwise composed demeanour. “If you ever need a break from all this, maybe we could grab a coffee tea sometime. No pressure.”

Your chest tightened at the unexpected invitation, but his genuine tone made it impossible not to smile.

“For the kids?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

His grin widened, that boyish charm impossible to miss. “Of course. For the kids.”

“Sure,” you said, smiling at him. “Why not?”

As you walked into the classroom, your child waving enthusiastically behind you, you couldn’t help but glance back. He was watching with a soft, thoughtful expression that almost made you feel like giving love a second shot wouldn’t be so bad.

❥ - 1.1k

The city was busy as you stepped out of your favorite café, the warmth of your freshly brewed tea seeping through the cup and into your hands. Turning the corner, you collided with what felt like a brick wall—or rather, a man in a sharply tailored suit moving with single-minded determination. The impact sent your tea splashing upward, landing squarely on his pristine white shirt.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” you blurted, your voice full of mortification as you stared at the growing stain on the fabric.

The man—broad-shouldered, towering, and clearly out of place in the crowd of harried commuters—paused mid-step, looking down at his now-ruined shirt. His crimson hair gleamed under the sunlight, but it was his striking eyes that pinned you in place as he met your gaze.

“It’s… fine,” he said after a moment, though his tone was stiff. He reached into his pocket, pulling out some tissues with the kind of poise that suggested he’d dealt with worse.

“No, it’s not fine!” you protested, fumbling to grab some napkins from your bag. “Here, let me—oh no, this was hot, wasn’t it? Did I burn you?”

“I’m fine,” he repeated, his tone softening slightly as he noticed the genuine concern in your expression.

You grabbed a napkin the cafe had gave you, attempting to help,, hovering uncertainly as he dabbed at the stain. “I’m really, really sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going—”

“I wasn’t, either,” he interrupted, his lips curving into a faint, polite smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Despite his calm demeanour, you could tell he was in a hurry. His eyes flicked toward his watch, a sleek, expensive piece that looked like it cost more than your entire month’s rent. You followed his gaze and bit your lip.

“You’re on your way somewhere important,” you guessed, wincing. “A meeting?”

“Something like that,” he admitted, though he didn’t sound annoyed—just resigned. He folded the damp handkerchief neatly, tucking it back into his pocket. “But accidents happen.”

“Still, I feel terrible,” you said, wringing your hands. “Can I… uh pay for it to be cleaned?”

At that, his eyebrow arched slightly, and the corners of his mouth twitched, as if the idea amused him. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary. It’s really not a problem,” he said, his voice low and smooth, with a quiet authority that made it clear he was used to being in control. “But…” He paused, glancing at the puddle of tea on the sidewalk. “You might want to be more careful next time.”

“Right. Of course,” you mumbled, feeling like a scolded child despite his lack of actual harshness.

He glanced at you again, noticing the way your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and something in him softened. Normally, a situation like this would have him irritated—late for a meeting, ruined shirt, a stranger apologising profusely but not being able to go back in time and undo it. In his world, time was money, and getting distracted by little accidents was a waste. But for some reason, he found himself looking at you, feeling a strange mix of irritation and something else—something that made him pause longer than he normally would. There was something about the way you looked—flustered, apologetic, and yet still trying to make things right—that made him pause.

Diluc found himself caught in a moment of unusual stillness, the frenetic energy of the city seeming to blur into the background. His eyes lingered on your face—a blend of soft, sincere concern and undeniable beauty. He couldn’t quite place why he felt compelled to stay longer than necessary. You were a stranger, after all. But there was something about the way your lips quirked in worry and the brightness in your eyes that made you hard to look away from.

The logical part of his mind urged him to move on—his meeting, his schedule—but the thought of leaving felt… incomplete.

He cleared his throat, his deep voice gentling further. “You really don’t need to worry about the shirt. It’s not the end of the world.”

You blinked, as if surprised by his reassurance. “Still, I feel bad. I’ve ruined your morning.”

He shook his head slightly, his lips curving into a faint smile, one that reached his eyes this time. “If anything, it’s made it a little more… interesting.” His tone was laced with something playful, a rarity in his otherwise measured demeanour.

The way your eyebrows lifted in surprise made his chest tighten unexpectedly. It was as though he’d accidentally caught himself wanting to linger in this fleeting encounter—an anomaly in his meticulously ordered life.

“Let me buy you another drink.” he said suddenly, catching even himself off guard.

You stared at him, blinking in confusion. “What?”

“Your tea,” he clarified, gesturing to the now-empty cup in your hand. “It’s only fair I replace what you’ve lost.”

Your mouth opened, then closed, as if you were searching for words. “But I—no, you don’t have to do that. I should be the one offering—”

“I insist,” he interrupted, his voice carrying a quiet finality that left little room for argument. There was no hint of impatience, only a calm confidence that suggested he wasn’t accustomed to being refused.

You hesitated, biting your lip. “Are you sure? You seemed like you were in a hurry…”

Diluc glanced at his watch again. For a brief moment, he considered the importance of his next appointment. Then, with a surprising sense of ease, he decided it could wait.

“I have a little time,” he said, meeting your gaze again. “Besides, I’d hate to leave you feeling guilty all day.”

That faint smile returned to his face, and his eyes held a warmth that made your heart skip. There was something magnetic about him—his quiet confidence, his poise, and the subtle charm that softened the edges of his serious demeanour.

“Well… okay,” you relented, your voice small but tinged with a shy smile. “But only if you let me pay for your dry cleaning.”

His laughter was soft but genuine, a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. “No need,” he said, the amused glint in his eyes suggesting he didn’t particularly care about the shirt anymore anyway.

He gestured for you to lead the way, and as you walked back toward the café together, you couldn’t help but feel like the city’s chaos had suddenly slowed down. With every step, the weight of your earlier embarrassment lifted, replaced by a curious warmth that lingered in the space between you.

❥ - 1.2k

The golden light of the setting sun bathed the garden in a soft, amber hue as the wedding reception continued around you. The hum of chatter filled the air, mingling with the clinking of glasses and the distant sound of music. When it was time to take your seats for the food, you found your assigned table tucked near the back of the venue. As you approached, you noticed you weren’t the first to arrive. A man sat in the chair next to yours, flipping through the menu card with a casual disinterest.

He looked up as you neared, and for a moment, you were struck by how effortlessly striking he was. His silvery hair, streaked with teal, gleamed under the warm lights, and his sharp eyes gave him an air of detached confidence.

“Hi,” you said brightly, sliding into your seat. “Looks like we’re table buddies for the night.”

He gave a polite nod, setting the menu down. “It seems so.”

The lack of enthusiasm might have deterred you if not for the faint, curious glance he gave you, as if wondering why you were addressing him in the first place.

“So,” you continued, undeterred, “are you here for the bride or the groom?”

“The groom,” he replied simply. “We were classmates years ago.”

“Oh, nice! I’m here for the bride—she’s a friend from work. This whole thing is gorgeous, isn’t it?”

He glanced around the venue, as though appraising it. “It’s… elaborate.”

You stifled a laugh. “That’s an…interesting way of putting it.”

His lips quirked into the faintest smile, though he didn’t say more. You took that as an opening to keep the conversation going.

“Do you go to a lot of weddings?” you asked.

“Not if I can help it,” he replied, his tone dry. “But occasionally, duty calls.”

“Fair enough,” you said with a grin. “I kind of love weddings. The food, the music, the atmosphere—it’s all so happy.”

He raised an eyebrow at your enthusiasm, like he couldn’t quite fathom it. “I suppose that’s one way to look at it.”

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who sits and judges everything,” you teased.

“I prefer to call it observation,” he countered smoothly. “It’s more productive than forced small talk.”

You laughed, and he seemed momentarily surprised by your reaction, his expression softening slightly.

“Well, I’ll have you know, I’m excellent at forced small talk,” you declared with mock seriousness. “I’ll keep us entertained all night if I have to.”

“Somehow, I don’t doubt that,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

The conversation continued through dinner. Despite his initial reluctance, Alhaitham was surprisingly easy to talk to. He had a dry wit that paired amusingly with your sunny optimism, and he seemed to enjoy the back-and-forth. When the dancing began, you noticed he stayed firmly seated, watching the lively crowd with the same calm detachment he’d worn all evening.

“No dancing for you?” you asked, leaning toward him slightly.

He gave you a pointed look. “Do I strike you as someone who dances?”

“Not even a little,” you admitted with a grin. “But you’d look great out there. Imagine the dramatic twirls.”

“Hard pass,” he said, though there was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

“Well, I’m terrible at dancing, too,” you said cheerfully. “So we can sit here and judge—I mean, observe—together.”

“An acceptable compromise,” he replied, inclining his head slightly.

The night unfolded with an ease you hadn’t anticipated. Alhaitham, for all his aloofness, seemed genuinely engaged as you bantered back and forth. The initial polite detachment in his demeanour gave way to something subtler, warmer. While his words remained measured and his tone calm, you started catching little glimpses—fleeting but unmistakable—that he was paying closer attention to you than you realised.

It began with small things. During dessert, as you waved your hands enthusiastically while recounting a story about an awkward first dance at a previous wedding, his gaze lingered—not on your plate, not on the crowded dance floor, but on you. His eyes followed the way you spoke, as though memorizing the way your smile tilted or the soft cadence of your laughter.

“I have to say,” you finished, leaning back in your chair with a grin, “this wedding is definitely one of the better ones. I’ve been to.”

His lips twitched, his smirk almost imperceptible. “High praise. I agree, though I imagine your presence has something to do with that.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Wait—was that… a compliment?”

He tilted his head slightly, his expression impassive save for the faintest gleam of mischief in his eyes. “Merely an observation.”

“Uh-huh,” you teased, narrowing your eyes at him. “Noted, Mr. Observer.”

He didn’t respond right away, but there was a quiet amusement in the way he refocused his attention on his glass of wine, swirling it gently as though debating his next words. Finally, he said, “You’re remarkably good at making these events less… tedious.”

You leaned forward, resting your chin on your hand. “Okay, now I know that’s a compliment. What’s next? You’ll tell me I’m your favourite dinner companion?”

“If I did, would you stop asking questions?” His tone was dry, but there was an unmistakable flicker of amusement behind it.

“Absolutely not,” you shot back.

The festivities wound down, the lively hum of conversation replaced by the soft rustling of guests gathering their things. You stood near your table, slipping your shawl over your shoulders as the cool evening breeze swept through the venue. Alhaitham stood beside you, as composed as ever, though there was a subtle ease to his posture now, a quiet warmth in his expression.

You smiled, feeling a flutter in your chest at his admission. “You’re not so bad for a reluctant wedding guest, you know.”

“And you’re surprisingly tolerable for someone who insists on small talk,” he said, his tone dry but laced with something softer, almost playful.

He glanced away briefly, as though debating something, before reaching into his jacket pocket. Without a word, he pulled out a neatly folded napkin and handed it to you. You unfolded it, only to find a string of neatly written numbers in crisp handwriting.

“For the next time you find yourself at one of these events,” he said, his voice calm but his eyes steady on yours, “and you need someone to… observe with.”

You stared at the napkin, a warm smile spreading across your face. “Is this your way of saying you’d tolerate my company again?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “I’d even go as far as to say I’d welcome it.”

The honesty in his tone, subtle but undeniable, caught you off guard. You looked up at him, clutching the napkin like it was a secret treasure. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“I’d expect nothing less” he said, his smirk softening into something gentler.

❥ - 1.4k

The gentle hum of the elevator filled the air as you stepped inside, juggling your bag and a stack of papers you were determined not to drop. You barely noticed the man already inside until you turned to press your floor button and realised it was already lit. Your eyes flicked to him—a sharp-featured young man leaning against the corner with an air of disinterest, arms crossed.

His violet eyes, striking even in the dim light of the elevator, briefly met yours before darting away. His indigo hair fell in soft, slightly messy strands around his face, the casual tousle at odds with the crisp, clean lines of his attire. Something about him exuded quiet intensity, and you couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking as the two of you stood in silence.

Just as the elevator jolted into motion, he seemed to shift, his stance straightening ever so slightly. A few moments passed before, quite suddenly, the elevator stopped with a soft lurch.

“Oh,” you murmured, instinctively reaching out to steady yourself against the wall. The lights remained on, but the numbers on the display froze.

“What just happened?” you asked aloud, glancing over at him.

He shrugged, feigning nonchalance, though a faint flush crept up his neck. “Looks like it’s stuck,” he said, his voice low and clipped.

You frowned, pressing the button for your floor a few times. Nothing. Then you tried the "door open" button, with no better results. “Great,” you sighed, leaning back. “Guess we’ll have to wait it out.”

“It happens,” he said, not quite looking at you.

You nodded, trying not to feel awkward in the confined space. You glanced over at him again, noticing how he seemed strangely composed for someone stuck in an elevator. In fact, there was an odd tension in the way he stood, his arms folded tightly as if he were holding something back.

After a beat, you broke the silence. “So… do you think someone’s already working on it?”

He nodded quickly. “Yeah. I pressed the emergency button.”

You blinked. “When?”

“Just now,” he said, his voice a little too quick. “They’ll fix it soon.”

Something about his answer struck you as odd, but you didn’t press. You instead leaned against the wall and let out a small laugh. “Guess it’s not the worst scenario.”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, his lips twitching as if he wanted to smile but didn’t know how. “True,” he muttered. Then, after a long pause, he added, “Does this sort of thing happen to you a lot?”

You tilted your head, caught off guard by the question. “Getting stuck in elevators? No, not really.” you laugh a little, “Why, does it happen to you?”

“...Not exactly,” he said, shifting uncomfortably.

His gaze flicked to yours then, and for a moment, he seemed completely still, like he was caught in a thought he didn’t want to share. He opened his mouth as if to say something but closed it again, his expression tightening.

“Are you okay?” you asked, concerned by his sudden silence.

He nodded too quickly. “Fine. Just… not great with small talk.”

You laughed gently at his honesty. “That’s okay. We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”

He hesitated, the faintest hint of frustration flashing in his eyes before he spoke again, his words awkward but sincere. “I… don’t mind…talking. To you.”

Your surprise must have shown on your face, because his cheeks flushed faintly, and he looked away, scowling at himself. “Forget it,” he muttered.

“No, no, it’s fine!” you said quickly, smiling at him. “It’s actually… kind of nice. You just don’t seem like the type who talks just to fill the silence.”

He glanced at you again, and something in his expression softened. “I don’t.”

“Well,” you said lightly, “I guess I’ll take it as a compliment, then.”

The smallest smirk ghosted across his lips, and he nodded almost imperceptibly. The elevator felt a little less stifling after that, the tension easing as the two of you settled into a companionable silence.

What you didn’t notice, however, was the faint press of his fingers against the emergency stop button, hidden just behind his back. The faint blush on his cheeks deepened as he glanced at you one more time, silently cursing himself for how ridiculous he felt—and how glad he was that he’d pressed it anyway.

“I’ve seen you before,” he said abruptly, the words coming out more bluntly than he’d intended.

You blinked, tilting your head as you tried to place him. “Really? Where?”

His gaze darted to the floor for a second, then back to you. “In one of the other departments. You work on the third floor, right?”

You nodded slowly, surprised that he knew. “Yeah, I do. I didn’t realise you knew that. Do you work in the building too?”

He crossed his arms again, his posture stiffening slightly. “Kind of. I’m usually upstairs.” He gestured vaguely upward. “But I’ve passed through your floor a few times.”

“That’s funny,” you said with a soft laugh. “I guess I haven’t noticed you before.”

He shrugged, his expression unreadable, though there was a faint flush high on his cheekbones. “Not surprising. You’re usually… busy. Focused.”

You smiled at that, a little flattered despite the awkwardness of the exchange. “I guess that’s true. I get caught up in my work sometimes.”

“I noticed,” he murmured, so quietly you almost didn’t catch it.

There was a beat of silence before you tilted your head, curiosity flickering in your eyes. “So, what do you do? Upstairs, I mean.”

He hesitated, as if he hadn’t expected the question. “Oh it’s…not interesting” he said finally, his tone nonchalant..

“Neither is what I do,” you said, grinning. “So I guess we have that in common.”

A small, wry smile tugged at his lips. “I guess so.”

You leaned back against the wall, studying him for a moment. His sharp features, the way his arms stayed folded tightly as if trying to guard himself from the world, the flicker of something softer in his gaze when he glanced at you—it all made him a puzzle you wanted to understand.

Wanderer shifted his weight, uncrossing his arms as if steeling himself for something. His violet eyes flicked to yours, then away again, before he finally spoke, his voice low and almost hesitant.

“You know… since we’re stuck here and all,” he began, glancing at you briefly, “I was thinking… maybe after we get out of this, we could… grab lunch or something.”

The suggestion hung in the air for a moment, and you blinked, caught off guard. “Lunch?” you echoed, tilting your head slightly.

“Yeah,” he said quickly, his usual sharp tone softened by a faint flush colouring his cheeks. “You’re always busy, right? Maybe you could use a break.”

You blinked again, then let out a soft laugh. “Well, when you put it like that, how can I say no?”

His lips twitched into a faint smirk, relief flickering in his expression. “Good,” he said simply, as though that was the end of it. But you could see the faint tension still lingering in the way his hands stayed tucked in his pockets.

“I think that sounds nice,” you added, smiling warmly. “Did you have anywhere in mind, or are we just winging it?”

He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I’ll think of something.”

Before either of you could say more, Wanderer subtly reached behind him and pressed the emergency stop button again, releasing it with a soft click. The elevator gave a slight jolt and then resumed its motion, the floor indicator lighting up as if the issue had miraculously resolved itself.

“Oh,” you said, straightening in surprise. “It’s working again!”

Wanderer arched a brow, schooling his expression into one of mild surprise. “Huh. Guess they fixed it.”

“Finally,” you said with a chuckle, relaxing against the wall. “That wasn’t too bad, though. Good company and all.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, his smirk deepening just a little as he glanced at you. “Could’ve been worse.”

As the elevator dinged, signalling your floor, you gathered your things and turned to him. “So… lunch?”

He nodded, his gaze steady for once. “Lunch.”

❥ - 1k

The lecture hall was already buzzing when you arrived, students filing in and chatting while the professor prepared at the front. You slipped into your usual seat near the edge of the room—a spot with minimal distractions and a clear view of the board. It was the ideal spot.

Or, it was.

“Hey, hey, hey! Mind if I sit here?”

Before you could even glance up, a whirlwind of energy plopped down onto the seat next to you. You turned to find him—Ajax, also known as the human embodiment of a golden retriever. His ginger hair was messy in that purposeful way, his bright blue eyes practically sparking with energy, and his grin was as wide as the ocean.

“Oh, uh…” you started, unsure how to respond.

“Great, thanks!” He tossed his bag onto the desk, completely ignoring the fact that you hadn’t exactly agreed.

Ajax leaned back in his chair with the ease of someone who had never doubted his welcome. Before you could so much as adjust your notebook, he started rummaging through his bag, pulling out what looked suspiciously like a crumpled bag of crisps.

“You don’t mind, right?” he asked, already popping it open, the scent wafting into the air. “I missed breakfast. You ever accidentally hit snooze like, five times?”

You blinked, unsure how to respond to the whirlwind of words. “Um, sometimes?”

“Right? Anyway, you seem like someone who doesn’t skip breakfast. Organized. Responsible. Probably always on time.” He tossed a crisp into his mouth and grinned at you.

“I…” You glanced at your notebook, feeling your cheeks warm under his bright attention. “I guess so.”

“Knew it-” he declared triumphantly, “I’m never wrong about these things. It’s like a gift.”

The professor began the lecture, and you thought maybe—just maybe—Ajax would settle down. For a solid five minutes, he stayed quiet, munching on his crisps and tapping a pen against his notebook. Then, he leaned over slightly, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

“So, be honest. Do you actually take notes, or are you one of those people who doodles during class?”

You bit back a smile, gesturing at the neatly written bullet points already filling your page.

“Figures,” he said, sounding impressed. “Your handwriting-” he gestured vaguely toward your notebook. “It’s pretty. Like, did you take a calligraphy class or something?”

You huffed a quiet laugh, clearly trying to stay focused. “No, it’s just… how I write.”

Ajax leaned in a little, his voice teasing. “Yeah, well, it’s very intimidating. Makes the rest of us look bad.”

You rolled your eyes, but he caught the faint smile tugging at your lips. “Somehow, I doubt you care about that.”

“You should let me borrow your notes sometime,” he added, giving you a playful nudge with his elbow. “I’ll pay you back in snacks. Or coffee. Or both.”

“I don’t think snacks are an acceptable trade for hours of note-taking,” you said, your voice dry but teasing.

“Ah, but I bring excellent snacks,” he said, holding up the bag like a trophy. “And I make for great conversation, not so bad to look at... You’ve gotta admit, this class is more fun with me around.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he cut you off with a mock gasp. “Wait, don’t answer that. I don’t think my ego can handle it if you disagree.”

Despite yourself, you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And yet, here I am, sitting beside you,” he said, popping another crisp into his mouth and flashing a wink.

As the lecture dragged on, Ajax continued his antics, though they softened into something less disruptive and more endearing. He whispered comments about the professor’s overly dramatic hand gestures, pointed out a tiny bird perched on the window ledge, and even offered you a crisp—which you declined with a polite shake of your head.

“Y’know,” he said after a pause, his tone softer but still playful, “you’re kind of an enigma.”

You frowned slightly, looking at him out of the corner of your eye. “An enigma?”

“Yeah,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re quiet, all focused and put-together, but then you smile, and it’s like—bam. Sunshine. Caught me off guard, honestly.”

You froze for a second, the compliment landing unexpectedly. When you turned your head to look at him fully, Ajax’s grin had softened into something warmer, his blue eyes holding yours for just a beat too long.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, but your voice lacked the bite you probably intended.

“Ridiculously charming?” he offered, leaning back again with a self-satisfied smirk.

You groaned, shaking your head and turning back to your notes but you couldn’t hide the faint smile.

For the rest of the lecture, he mostly behaved himself—though you could feel his occasional glances, lingering just long enough for you to catch him once or twice. Each time, he’d flash you a cheeky grin, like he wasn’t even remotely sorry.

When the lecture ended and the shuffle of packing up began, Ajax turned to you again, slinging his bag over one shoulder. “Okay, so here’s the deal,” he said, grinning as if you’d already agreed to whatever he was about to propose. “Same spot next time, yeah? I’ll bring better snacks, maybe something with chocolate. You seem like a chocolate kind of person.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his easy assumption. “I—”

“Great!” he cut in before you could protest. “It’s settled. See you Wednesday!”

And just like that, he was gone, bounding out of the lecture hall with the energy of someone who’d had three cups of coffee this morning.

❥ - 1.3k

The quiet murmur of a bookshop’s ambiance wrapped around you as you wandered through the aisles. The scent of old pages and freshly printed novels mixed in the air, a calming backdrop to the soft rustle of paper as other customers leafed through books. You found yourself in the history section, your eyes scanning the spines for the title you’d been meaning to pick up for weeks.

There it was—finally. Unfortunately, it was perched on the highest shelf, just out of reach. You stood on tiptoes, stretching as far as you could, but the book still eluded your grasp. Letting out a soft huff, you glanced around, wondering if there might be a stool or ladder nearby.

“Allow me.”

The deep, resonant voice startled you slightly, and you turned to see a tall man standing beside you. His amber eyes were warm and steady, framed by long, sleek hair the colour of dark chocolate with faint streaks of gold. He wore a well-fitted vest over a crisp shirt, the kind of attire that seemed more suited to a museum curator than a bookshop employee. Yet the small name tag on his vest confirmed his role here.

“May I?” he asked, a faint smile playing at his lips as he gestured toward the shelf.

“Oh, uh, yes. Please,” you stammered, stepping aside.

With an elegance that seemed effortless, he reached up and plucked the book from its high perch, holding it out to you as though presenting a rare treasure. “This one, correct?”

“Yes, that’s the one,” you said, your smile growing as you took it from his hands. “Thank you so much….I didn’t realise the shelves here went so high up here.”

He chuckled softly, the sound like a low melody. “The shelves in this section are rather tall. A peculiar design choice, considering the average customer’s height.” His gaze lingered on you for a moment, his smile deepening. “If you ever require assistance, please don’t hesitate to ask. My name is Zhongli, and I’m here most days.”

“Thank you, Zhongli,” you said, glancing down at the book in your hands. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

His eyes softened, and he inclined his head slightly, a gesture so refined it almost felt like a bow. “Enjoy your reading. That particular title is quite enlightening.”

“You’ve read it?” you asked, curious.

“Many times,” he admitted, a faint gleam of fondness in his eyes. “If you’d like, I can recommend others in the same vein. There are several works that complement it quite well.”

Your smile widened. “I’d like that. I might have to come back for those recommendations.”

Zhongli’s gaze lingered on you briefly, a warm, easy smile gracing his lips. “You know,” he said in a tone as calm and composed as ever, “you have a very natural beauty. It’s... refreshing, in the best way.”

His words caught you slightly off guard, and you glanced down at the book in your hands, trying to keep your composure. “Oh, um, thank you. That’s nice of you to say.”

“I mean it,” he continued, his expression earnest. “Your smile is particularly radiant—it brightens the room more than you might realize. It’s the kind of detail one notices immediately.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, feeling a mixture of flattered and flustered. “You’re quite observant, aren’t you?”

He chuckled, a rich, low sound. “I suppose I am. But in this case, it’s impossible not to be. I’m certain I’m not the first person to tell you this, though.”

“Well, it’s not something I hear often in a bookstore,” you replied, your smile widening despite yourself.

“Then allow me to be the exception,” he said with a small, confident nod.

The two of you stood there for a moment, a comfortable silence settling as the ambiance of the bookstore buzzed faintly in the background. Zhongli glanced down at your book again, his thoughtful expression making it clear he was not one to speak without intent.

“That book,” he began, gesturing to the title in your hands, “Explores a fascinating era. Have you always been interested in this period of history?”

You nodded, feeling more at ease, a smile crossing your face.

His amber eyes lit up, and he crossed his arms, leaning slightly against the edge of the tall bookshelf. “You have excellent taste.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that “That’s high praise coming from someone who seems like they might be a historian themselves.”

Zhongli chuckled softly, the sound carrying a hint of amusement. “Not quite, though I’ve spent a great deal of time immersed in historical studies. You could say it’s a passion of mine.”

“I can tell,” you said, tilting your head. “You speak about it so eloquently. Have you worked here long?”

“Long enough,” he replied cryptically, though his smile didn’t waver. “And long enough to learn which shelves require a ladder and which ones are within an acceptable reach.”

You laughed at his response, the sound light and genuine. “Well, your knowledge certainly came in handy today. If it weren’t for you, I’d probably still be strategizing how to climb the bookshelf without breaking any bones.”

“I’m glad I could save you the trouble,” he said, a playful glint in his eyes. “Though, I must say, I suspect you would have approached it with admirable determination.”

“Maybe,” you said with a shrug, grinning. “But it’s probably for the best that I didn’t have to try.”

The two of you fell into a rhythm of easy conversation, Zhongli proving to be an impeccable listener with a knack for making even the smallest details feel significant. He shared recommendations for other books with a quiet enthusiasm that made you wonder just how vast his knowledge was. At one point, he mentioned a nearby café where he often went to read, his casual suggestion tinged with the faintest hint of an invitation.

“Do you spend much time in bookstores?” he asked after a pause, his tone curious.

“Probably more than I should,” you admitted with a soft laugh. “There’s something so comforting about them. The quiet, the endless possibilities on the shelves… it’s like a little escape from the world.”

Zhongli’s expression softened, and for a moment, he regarded you with a look so earnest it made your pulse quicken. “I couldn’t agree more,” he said quietly. “It’s rare to meet someone who appreciates the nuances of a place like this. Most people simply pass through without truly seeing it.”

His words lingered in the air, carrying an unspoken depth. You glanced down at your book, your fingers brushing against the embossed title. “It sounds like you’ve seen a lot of people come and go.”

“I have,” he said simply. “But encounters like this… they remind me of the value in taking notice.”

Your heart fluttered at his sincerity, and before you could second-guess yourself, you asked, “Do you think you’ll be here tomorrow? I might need help finding those other books you mentioned.”

Zhongli’s lips curved into a warm smile, his gaze steady and reassuring. “I would be delighted to assist you again. Come by anytime.”

With that, you exchanged a few more pleasantries before parting ways, but the connection lingered, the promise of another meeting sparking a quiet anticipation in the back of your mind.

reblogsノcomments are greatly appreciated <3

© lovesculprit → do not copy or translate any of my works

[elixrr]

“could you be seen with me and still act proud?”

➢ Jing Yuan, Argenti, Aventurine, Dan Heng, Blade, Xiao, Childe, Wanderer, Zhongli

➢ Star Rail / Genshin x [GN] Reader

➥ (their answer + reaction to this question)

➥ (comfort / fluff)

✧ - JING YUAN

“Why, of course. I would hold your hand up for the whole of the Xianzhou to see.”

This was pretty expected of the sly general. However, what was unexpected was the way he took you in his arms and lifted you up—bridal style. You begged him to put you down as he opened the doors of his and your room, now making his way outside to remind the whole Xianzhou that you're his and he's yours.

✧ - ARGENTI

“Dearest love—of course, I would be so proud to have the chance to take the hand of mortal beauty itself, and, if it were chivalrous, I would boast about your beauty everywhere I go.”

Ever so poetic, Argenti pulls your heart strings again with his creative (yet cheesy) lines. He loves you; that's a fact that nobody can deny, and he believes that you were sent down by Idrila herself with how attractive you are. Without a hesitant thought, he backs away and offers you his hand—will you accept the offer in which he takes you from place to place, hand in hand, to show the whole world that your his love?

✧ - AVENTURINE

“You wanna take a bet? Here, I'll take you out to dinner if you guess my answer correctly—get it wrong, and I decide on what I'll do with you.”

With a wink and a smile turning into a smirk, it's always hard to guess what Aventurine is thinking, but with the clock ticking, you hardly get time to really think, and so you curiously answer with “no.” A smile grows on his face, and he leans in close, holding your arms. He whispers in your ear, “I guess that means you have to do what I tell you tonight.”

✧ - DAN HENG

“Of course. I do... I do love you, after all.”

His sentences are kept short and simple (with a little bit of blush), just like how they always are. Now, unlike most people on this list, he isn't bringing you outside to let the world know that you're dating, but he would feel and does absolutely feel proud to have you as his love. He reassures you that he would never feel embarrassed or feel the need to hide his love for you, no matter the crowd he's surrounded by.

✧ - BLADE

“Yes. Nobody's taking you, and nobody's taking me. Everyone had better know that you're mine, and the same goes for me.”

His response was rather threatening, but that's typical with Blade. His words are as sharp as his sword, but they're also as meaningful as sharp; his intent is nowhere near ill towards you, and he only means that he's dedicated himself to you already, and it's a dedication that he would never feel embarrassed or guilty for. Now, take his hand—he'll promise the world that you're his tonight.

✧ - XIAO

“Yes. Why wouldn't I be?”

In Adeptus Xiao language, he means, “yes, of course I would. Archons, holding your hand is a blessing itself.” And, though he doesn't admit it, he still feels it. You are his first and only love in several millennia. You, of every person to ever set foot in Liyue, managed to capture his heart when nobody else could. Xiao loves you, and he feels that he will forever, so he prays you'd banish him if he ever hurts you or hides his love away for something trivial because that means the karma got to him and that he's gone mad.

✧ - CHILDE

“Of course, babe! You know what? Let's go on a date right now— everything's on me!”

And that's simply Childe. Without a word, he disappears and reappears with your favorite outfit in hand, and has you put it on (in private as he waits outside the bedroom door), and when you're done, he's suddenly dressed nicely with roses in hand, and he takes you out on a date. How? No clue, but know that he's letting the whole region know that you're his right here and right now.

✧ - WANDERER

“Huh? That's a stupid question. Why are you asking me, anyway?”

Yes. He means yes in every way possible. His sharp tongue speaks the opposite, but Wanderer truly means that he would show you off to the world if he had to. If he has to, mainly because he finds the concept of love in its entirety as stupid, but he also loves you too much to let you leave him, let alone have someone else think that you're some vacant partner just waiting to be taken. Now, hold both of his hands. He'll glide you above Sumeru City and show everyone there that you're his if you're still thinking about the question.

✧ - ZHONGLI

“Well, of course. Would you like to take a walk around the harbor for me to prove that?”

Zhongli senses your insecurity, and he wishes to alleviate your worries, so he takes you to a popular teahouse by a bridge. It's not that grand or special, but he keeps you close to him as you both sip away at your tea and embrace the company of one another.

yes, this was a heathers reference.

[hazelira]

baby assistant at dada’s work (#2 of 2024)

The next morning, Jay found himself adjusting the tiny straps of your daughter’s pastel pink backpack while she stood on tiptoes, trying to peek at the shoes he was tying for her. Her little face lit up with excitement as she realized what the day had in store.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” you teased from the doorway, watching as Jay meticulously ensured every strap, buckle, and sock was perfectly in place.

He glanced at you, raising an eyebrow. “She’ll be the best assistant this office has ever seen,” he replied confidently. “Right, princess?”

Your daughter beamed, throwing her arms up. “Yes! I help Dada!” she cheered, her enthusiasm infectious.

He chuckled, lifting her into his arms. “Let’s go, then. Don’t let me down, assistant.”

When they arrived at the office, all eyes turned to the sight of the stoic and intimidating Jay walking in with his toddler perched on his hip. Her small hands clung to his shirt, and her curious eyes darted around the sleek, professional environment.

The first stop was the meeting room. Jay set her down on one of the oversized chairs, the leather swallowing her tiny frame. She kicked her feet, clearly enjoying her new throne.

“Dada, what dis?” she asked, pointing at the rows of binders and papers on the table.

“That’s work,” Jay replied, kneeling beside her. “Important stuff. But don’t worry—you don’t have to do any of it. You sit here and look cute.”

She giggled, covering her mouth with her little hands. “I can do dat!” she declared proudly.

The meeting began, and seeing Jay’s daughter in the room instantly softened the tense atmosphere. She sat quietly at first, content with the colouring book he’d brought for her. But halfway through the presentation, she got curious.

“Dada,” she whispered loudly, tugging on his sleeve. “Why dat man talk so much?”

The room went still, a few muffled chuckles escaping from Jay’s usually composed team. Jay glanced down at her, his lips twitching in an effort not to smile. “He’s explaining his work, sweetheart. It’s important.”

She tilted her head, clearly unconvinced. “But… too much words,” she muttered, causing another ripple of quiet laughter.

Jay smoothed a hand over her messy hair, his tone calm and indulgent. “That’s how work is sometimes. Lots of words.”

She scrunched her nose but nodded, returning to her colouring with a serious expression. The rest of the meeting continued with a much lighter atmosphere, the team occasionally glancing at the little girl who had somehow managed to charm their intimidating boss.

Later, at Jay’s, she sat on his desk while he reviewed some documents. She babbled happily about her favourite toys and how she wanted ice cream after work, her tiny feet swinging as she spoke. He nodded along, occasionally adding a “Really?” or “Wow!” as if her stories were the most important updates of his day.

“Dada,” she said suddenly, looking at him wide-eyed. “Do you work every day?”

He looked up from his papers, her question catching him off guard. “I do. Why?”

She frowned her little brow furrowing. “Dat’s too much, Dada. You need pway time.”

He couldn’t help but laugh softly, setting his pen down. “You’re right, princess. I’ll make sure to take more playtime.”

“Pinky pwomise?” she asked, holding up her tiny pinky.

He smiled, hooking his pinky around hers. “Pinky promise.”

By the end of the day, Jay walked into the lobby with his daughter tucked under his arm, her head resting against his shoulder. She was exhausted but happy, her small hands clutching the colouring book filled with her masterpieces.

When you met them at the door, she lifted her head slightly, her sleepy voice bubbling with excitement. “Mama! I helped Dada at work!”

You smiled, brushing her messy hair back. “You did? I bet you were the best assistant ever.”

“She was,” Jay said softly, looking down at her with a warmth in his eyes that only grew when he saw the proud smile on her sleepy face. “The very best.”

[bunnieswithknives]

I love pain and agony

part (2/2): prev