#reader having slight corruption kink at a harbinger theyre both a lil unhinged

[slothgiirl]

deferred duties (childe x reader)

2.2k. flirting. cringe fail childe. no use of y/n. sangonomiya reader. this is my first time writing fro childe so idk how in character it is ngl. probs lots of spelling errors bc thats my brand. reader is implied to be a few years older than childe (i was thinking early twenties childe late twenties reader). ayatos there too ig.

The fact that the 11th Harbinger made no move to capitalize on the infighting and fractional splits in Inazuma put you on edge. The Tenryou commission continued to be leaderless since the Raiden Shogun had yet to appoint anyone into position of commissioner only caused more strife. Ambitious Samurai and noble families alike saw the power vacuum as their opportunity to rise, haining power and influence following the downfall of the Kujou clan. The peace the Divine Priestess had brokered came with its own complications leaving you in Inazuma City to advocate for Watatsumi Island. This had not been what you had in mind when you swore to protect your younger cousin as a shrinemaiden. 

“With international trade resuming we finally have pumpernickel again,” a noble jokes and you dread the punchline. “It pairs deliciously with salmon roe.” He meets your gaze, “I mean no offense Shrinemaiden. Your people are quite close to fish, are they not?”

This again.

Really. 

There was no way the Harbinger wasn’t gaining an angle. Why else would the Cryo Archon send Childe instead of a fatui regiment to collect a body? This was below his purview. 

“Truthfully I’ve never cared for salmon roe,” you reply back evenly, “the texture is off putting,” you choose a piece of fugu on rice instead, uncaring about the preparation. More than one speculated assassination in Inazuma history had been carried out by botched fugu but you had long since built a tolerance to the poison.You smile pleasantly, barring your white teeth at the man. 

Inazumans loved to remind the people of Watatsumi Island that they were not the same. As if Watatsumi Island was lesser. No. You had your pride. 

Had your people not proved their strength when they alone stood against the Raiden Shogun? Had the citizens of Inazuma City not sought asylum in Yashiori Island? 

The nobleman looks away first. 

Good. 

You’re about to thoroughly humiliate him. His fur trim around the kimono’s collar was Scheneznayan mink, not the prized Inazuman fox which could only be gifted by pleasing a kami and as such the piece would be passed down through countless generations. Of course that’s when the lone Fatuus at the event decides to speak. 

Childe, barreling through political intrigue as usual, tells you, “Then you’ve never tried sturgeon roe. I would be more than willing to give you a tin to try as long as you share,” he winks, smiling casually as ever. 

You had to admit it was endearing how he kept at it. Either Childe’s ego was overly  inflated or he was simply that confident that he could win you over. (Both were incredibly likely.)

Without missing a beat, you reply in saccharinely sweet, “I’m sure General Gorou would love to try a new type of roe Lord Tartaglia.” 

Childe’s smile sharpens, more genuine than his usual patronizing smile and laugh. “Comrade,” he places a hand over his chest in mock pain. “That was cruel even for you.”

You roll your eyes, abandoning the bureaucrats for Commissioner Kamisato. 

Undeterred, Childe follows at your heels. 

A passing thought makes you wonder how true his actions were. 

It was dangerous for anyone in your station to wear their emotions so readily, where anyone could see your weakness. It must be doubly so on the international stage the Harbinger’s worked on.  

Ayato tilts his glass of sake at you, “Shrinemaiden Sangonomiya.” 

“Commissioner Kamisato,” you incline your head respectfully. Ayato was a better man than most, though his interests were not your own, so you would never fully trust him. 

“That’s a mouthful,” Childe notes idly. 

“An astute observation, Lord Harbinger Tartaglia,” you reply pleasantly. Perhaps his aim was less concrete than the dead Harbinger, merely to sow discord in an already tense situation. Plant the seed of suspicion that the Divine Priestess remained allied in some form with the Fatui. 

Childe pouts, “there’s no need to be so formal Comrade. Not with me.”

He was too himself to be smooth in his flirtations. 

It made you wonder about his experience. He was only a handful of years younger than you. Childe was undeniably handsome in a rugged way, tousled hair and easy manner. He swaggered about Inazuma, uncaring of the scorn and glares he received from the shopkeepers. 

There had to be someone who’d been charmed. Some green girl back in his country who could overlook his bloodthirsty remarks? 

“A kind gesture Lord Tartaglia,” you say with finality, wanting to interrogate Ayato now that you had him cornered, “but I only wish to show you the proper respect that is due a man of your station.” Words were such an effective weapon. 

Childe splutters, blinking, processing. His ears have turned an interesting shade of red, darker than his copper hair. 

You take the opportunity to turn the tables on Ayato. “I have heard troubling reports that my requests with the Kanjou Commission have been blocked. I only seek to finally work towards the solution Kujou Sara and the Divine Priestess spoke of when it comes to importing and exporting. It does no one in Inazuma any good to tax goods entering and leaving from Watatsumi Island as if they were from another nation, wouldn’t you say?”

You know it’s Ayato’s doing. To what end is the question. 

“A most unfortunate situation indeed,” he replies evenly. 

“Matters such as these only stall the work to restore Inazuma from its wartime state.” You really weren’t looking to be difficult. The Kamisato clan had worked towards overturning the Vision Ban decree. Still, bitterness remained. It had been your people who had subsisted on rations, who had been on the front lines. 

“I agree with your sentiments entirely, Shrinemaiden.” 

A nonanswer. 

“The Tsaritsa would never allow such an arrangement,” Childe muses sedately, “insurrection and special administrative zones.” 

You frown. Neither had the Electro Archon. Orobaxi has been slain not long after raising your people from Ekanomiya. 

Ayato is quick to craft a response. “It is all thanks to the Raiden Shogun’s benevolence that she tolerates the many forms of worship and cultures unique to each island.”

Childe scowls, “it’s a tenuous peace at best if the nation is not united.”

“Even if it is by force,” Ayato asks pointedly. 

“If it means an eternity of peace afterwards,” the fatuus shrugs. You’d have preferred fervent zealotry to this casual acceptance of the Tsaritsa’s worldview she had no doubt ingrained in every Schenezayan since birth. Inazuma was not as liberal as Mondstadt but questioning the Electro Archon’s will was hardly cause for arrest. 

“The Raiden Shogun is wise to allow plurality among her people,” you say as a matter of fact, “otherwise the Fatui’s undermining of Inazuma’s government might have continued on undiscovered.”

Childe shrugs, “I won’t complain if it means she doesn’t strike you down Comrade,” he flicks your ear which once again strikes you as inexperienced if this is the best way of flirting he can come up with, “I’d hate to see you a charred corpse like Signora. . .bloodshed is more satisfying.” His blue eyes gaze past you, daydreaming of battle and running his hydroblades through a worthy opponent. 

By now, you know Childe enough to write off his words. It wasn’t a threat. You don’t think he’d threatened much, simply get to the point and draw arms. No, this is just Childe being Childe. The quirk didn’t even bother you. 

Yes, he was bloodthirsty, but he was not an uncontrollable mad dog. 

All the same, Ayato takes pity on you. “If I may do so without overstepping, may I have this dance Shrinemaiden?” He holds out his hand, ever the gentleman. Of the Inazuma bureaucrats, you liked him the most. 

You sense Childe fidget besides you. 

“I appreciate your concern over my vows, but I assure you a dance will not break them,” you place your hand in his, letting him lead you to the dance floor. This way you could have a private conversation over the Kanjou Commission’s laws governing Watatsumi Island trade. 

~~

You had arrived earlier than anticipated onto Ritou Island. It would be some time before your meeting with the Kanjou Commission. 

Already, you had memorized the terms, the concessions you were willing to make, and what you refused to bend on. Trade negotiations were not so different from battle strategy. Kokomi’s military treatises applied here too. 

You wondered how your cousin was managing back home as you walked around the beach of Ritou Island. 

You were not at all surprised to run into Childe. Kujou Sara had sent notice of yet another departing squad of Fatui soldiers. In fact, the small part of you unfettered by duty and loyalty was thrilled.

“Comrade!” Childe grins, a touch of softness in his blue eyes you don’t want to think too hard about. (There were lines that could not be crossed.) 

“Lord Tartaglia.” You greet him easily.

He clicks his tongue. “Haven’t we been over this,” he waves a hand between you and him. 

You arch a brow, “and yet proprietary must be observed. I am surprised you are not used to it, given your role, I imagine you deal with the political arena more than me.”

Childe rolls his eyes, scrunching up his nose as he closes the distance between you. “Yes. I’m quite sick of it. The double meanings and bullshit.” You can see the freckles dusting his skin, a light scar on his jaw that was no doubt healed by a skilled allogene. 

“I thought I’ve been very clear?”

“No,” he nods, “you have. Which is why I’d much rather you call me Childe.” His smile is sweet and teasing and you can’t help the way your heartbeat speeds up. 

“There’s no difference.” Both were aliases. 

“Indulge me.” 

“No,” you shake your head, looking out over the water. “I don’t think I will.” You smirk, “it would set a terrible precedent.” 

“Ha, probably,” Childe admits in the same sort of brutal honesty he often spoke in. “Not that you mind Comrade.” To prove his point, he wraps his arm around your waist.

“I haven’t decided that yet.” 

This could never be anything but a fling for you. You had sworn vows after all. It would be alright if you and Childe were on the same page. (His stay in Inazuma was short after all.) 

Childe pulls you close, while looking towards the horizon. With clear skies, you could just make out the peak of Dragonspine. 

His body was warm against yours. 

You swallow, steadying your breath. 

“The water around Inazuma is so clear,” he comments nonchalantly, “perfect to spill blood in.” 

You snort. 

Childe is so. . .

“You’d make a much better Divine Priestess.” 

There’s no way to interpret that but as a threat against your cousin. You turn to look at him. “Kokomi led us to victory. The Shogun’s army would have crushed ours if not for her. Besides, I have no ambition to be Divine Priestess. It’s a huge burden.” You knew how exhausted Kokomi was all of the time. 

Childe frowns. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’d do better. It would be easy enough to defeat her.” He sucks on his bottom lip, looking every bit an excitable child, “I’ve never fought a descendant of a god. But I have fought gods.” An offer.

Only you weren’t sure if this was a personal affair or Fatui plot. 

You flick his ear. “Careful Childe. If you threaten my cousin it’ll be your blood in the water.” It was no secret Kokomi was your cousin by blood. 

“Promise,” Childe asks, voice gone breathey. 

You try to ignore the flush to his cheeks, the fondness in his dead eyes, the way his fingers had tightened against your waist, digging into your skin. It was hard when your own skin felt aflame. His attention, knowing Childe wanted you so clearly; it made your thoughts all fuzzy. 

“That is how threats work,” you pause, “Childe.”

He grins, leaning in, meaning to kiss you. Instead, Childe bumps your nose with his. 

You wince. Not that he’d put you off. No. You liked Childe. You could be honest with yourself about that much. His eagerness; the way he spoke candidly; the expanse of pale freckled skin visible along his abdomen: it was a pity about the Harbinger business. Still, a fling wouldn’t hurt. Childe’s inexperience sent sparks down your spine as you imagined what it would be like to teach him how to please you: to bite down on his bottom lip until it bled. 

Childe flushes scarlett as he steps away. He rubs your nose bridge with his thumb, “apologies comrade.” He attempts to play it off, chuckling, but his eyes keep flicking from your face to the ground. 

You can’t help yourself. You reach up, pinching his cheek, “Eager aren’t we?” 

“Heh. Well yeah.” The ginger man practically swoons. 

You laugh, patting his cheek before indulging yourself and raking your fingers through his moussed hair. “So you are self aware.”

“I wouldn’t make a fool of myself for just anyone.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“Or offer to usurp their Priestess cousin,” you reply archly, shoving him away.

Childe blinks. He looks you over. “You’re right. A woman like you,” he licks his lips, “you’d be the Divine Priestess if you wanted to already.”

Ignoring the heat under your skin, you turn away from him, intent on resolving actual matters and not arriving late to your meeting. (It was more fun this way.)

You didn’t want to think about how you’d miss Childe when the last of the Fatui troops loose on Inazuma soil (illegally all thanks to Signora) were rounded up and expelled from your country.