✓ | eternal desires || genshin impact

➴Childe➴

(Lowkey a self-insert- just had an idea and went with it sooo, yeahh! If you have constructive criticism, I'd love to hear it!<3 Also, a Job written by someone who's never had one yet so if I get something wrong tell me that too!)

DARK CONTENT WARNING!

(Cw: Blood, murder, yandere themes, knives, sharp objects, burning, human hunting a human, stab wound, arrow wound, bullet wound, drowning, self-harm, and self-harm scars, trouble with self-hygiene, not taking care of self-harm, self-hatred, self-deprecation, doubting self, being paranoid, mentions of starving, suicidal thoughts and attempts, modern au, chubby reader, unmentioned age gape (reader is in her late teens to early 20s and childe is in his late 20s to early 30s), reader is called little girl by Childe a handful of times, sucky writing)

(Female reader, if someone wants, I can make a male version too!<3)
(Wc: 3k)

2nd Person pov

Here you are, standing in front of the mirror once again. You're only in a bra and underwear. You look at yourself, the scars and cuts on your wrists, thighs, stomach. You're deeply disappointed that you never cut deep enough, always put the bottle back in the cabinet, got out of the bath, ate something. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You close them. You walk from the mirror, grabbing the shirt you previously prepared. You slip into it, it's just a baggy black tee shirt. You slide on your jeans, opening your eyes along the way. It rubs irritatingly against the cuts on your thighs, but you don't mind. You deserve it. You wanted to take a shower last night. But you just, couldn't. It would've taken so much energy.

You hate that you can't, and you hate that you can't even explain why you can't. You slip into a jacket, slipping the ChapStick from your pocket opening it, and applying it to your lips, you just remembered, that's good. You rub my eyes, before pausing, walking into your bathroom, and getting the brush, the lights are off. Good. You don't want to see yourself. You walk out, brushing your hair. It hurts, it's knotted. It's a Monday, and you haven't brushed your hair or taken a shower in a while. You feel disgusted with yourself, you don't smell bad, though, which is a good thing. You spray perfume on yourself, slightly twirling. You slip on your socks, put on your shoes, and tie the laces. You stand up, walk out of your room, and turn off the lights behind you. You lightly sigh as you leave the room, time for work. You're just so..tired.

- <3 -

You work at a small cafe as a server, it pays well enough. The day just blurs by, there was a man today, who asked for your number. You didn't give it to him. A woman, she was nice, kind of. Two people on a date, one of them was rude and the other was just indifferent. There were more, but those were the last few. You're out now, it's 6:57, you're home. You ate before you came home. You're sick of yourself, when you're not at work all you do is lay down in bed and rot.

You find yourself in front of a drawer in your kitchen. Your hand hovers over opening it. Your sharpest knife is in there. You open it, roll up your sleeves, and take the knife into your hands. You put it to your wrist, cutting a little line, trying to work up the courage. You don't want to die; you just want things to get better. You don't even know why you're like this. You disappointed your dad, your sister, your friends. Everyone. And now they're gone. Some more literally than others. You tried to get better; you did! But you just, can't. And you hate yourself for it.

You just...

wish you weren't born.

But at least you graduated, right?

You can't do it; you want to cut deeper, you really do. But you can't. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You shakily sigh, putting the knife in your sink and turning on the water. You put your arm under it, it stings a little. You're so pathetic, that you can't even kill yourself. You wash the blood away, rolling up your sleeves and turning off the water. You walk into your living room, sitting on the couch. You rest against the armrest, your knees curled to my chest. You turn on the TV, putting on Over the Garden Wall.