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teaandsconeswrites · 1 year ago

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Old Instincts Die Hard

Birthday fic for Childe! Based on the Trust / Fear / Tool prompt from the Childe’s B-Day Bash event on Twitter.

Read below the cut or on Ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48733816

Rating: T

Length: 8.7k

Theme: Touch-Starved / Touch-Avoidant

Summary: Zhongli removes his right glove, revealing a deep brown hand, lines of golden Geo tracing the lines where human veins would run. “May I?”

Childe takes a second to process the work of art that is Zhongli, and he swallows deeply before nodding. “Sure, go ahead.”

Zhongli extends his hand toward Childe’s forearm and Childe watches every detail of the movement, the hairs on his arm rising even before Zhongli can make contact.

This is fine. It’s just Zhongli.

So why does he feel the need to draw his blade and raise it to Zhongli’s throat?

After spending the greater part of his life all too used to the threat of a blade being drawn against him, Childe has learned not to trust a hand raised toward him, lest it seek to strike while his defenses are lowered. But now in a fresh relationship with Zhongli, he finds his old instincts standing in the way of enjoying something more with the man he's come to adore.

Aka Childe is simultaneously touch-starved and touch-avoidant, and Zhongli helps him through it.

Full Tags: Canon Universe, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship ( They're very very early in dating), Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Trust Issues, Touch-Avoidant, Touch-Starved, Childe-Typical thoughts of fighting and death, Touch-related anxiety, Hugs, Soft Zhongli, Caring Zhongli, Childe Has Trust Issues, Affection, Learning to Accept Affection, Self deprecating thoughts, Character Study, Touch-Starved Childe, Non-Sexual Intimacy

Full Fic Below!! 🔽🔽

As Childe and Zhongli leave Liuli Pavillion, the final groups of evening goers and couples trickle homeward down Liyue’s streets. The taste of Jueyun Chili lingers on Childe’s tongue, his lips tingling in the aftermath, but he can’t care less as he listens enraptured to Zhongli tell him an ancient tale of Rex Lapis—a battle story, as he requested.

It’s a grand evening, and to think that after everything that happened, they can be here, spending time together just as they used to, is nothing short of a miracle.

People like him aren’t supposed to experience miracles.

When Childe, in the wake of his discovery that Zhongli was in fact the Archon he’d been seeking all along, had organised an intelligence review of all his interactions with Zhongli leading up to the Rite of Descension, the surprise of the era had landed on his desk. It came in the form of a single document with the photo of a familiar pair of dragon and phoenix chopsticks on the front, the text below detailing an alternative meaning to the gift he received all those months ago.

A gift between business partners was Childe’s assumption when he’d received them. They’d been on the ‘acceptable gifts in Liyue’ list he’d prepared before arriving in Liyue and had taken their meaning as such.

However, in light of that little discovery, along with the evenings they’d spent together, the lingering gazes, the conversations dragged just a little too long, all of which he threw away in a fit of anger and frustration, he felt something that the almighty Harbingers of Her Majesty, The Tsaritsa aren’t supposed to feel—regret. So he’d marched straight to Zhongli’s home, nearly knocking the door off the hinges with how hard he banged his fist against it.

‘Courtship,’ Zhongli had called it, when Childe confronted him.

‘A fool,’ Childe had called Zhongli, which is saying a lot, because Childe spends his quarterly work meetings around a near-dozen of them.

And now they’re here, heading back after another evening of opera and dinner, walking, walking, walking, yet neither of them make a move to return to their own homes.

‘Dating,’ Tonia had called it in her latest letter.

Childe didn’t date before Zhongli—there was no time for that nonsense-sounding sappy stuff when there was a weapon in his hand begging to be wielded. Truthfully he’s still not sure what a date is exactly. All he and Zhongli did tonight was spend time together the same as they’ve always done.

Is this ‘dating’? Have they always been ‘dating’?

If so, maybe dating isn’t so bad.

“And that is how the citizens of the fledgling Liyue were saved through Skybracer’s virtuous sacrifice,” concludes Zhongli, coming to the end of his tale.

“But what about the god who slashed the mountain? I bet they were powerful, right? How did you take down a god that can cut a mountain in half?”

Zhongli chuckles, and Childe finds himself wanting to say more things that will bring that smile to Zhongli’s face.

“Well,” says Zhongli, “that is a long tale, and perhaps more appropriate for the next time we meet.”

“And when can we do that? No, don’t answer that—I’ll pick you up first thing in the morning. We’ll do the whole day again, xiansheng, and you can tell me the rest of this tale!”

Zhongli laughs this time, although Childe isn’t sure why. But he is sure that he wants to reach out and touch that smile, to feel the creases beside Zhongli’s eyes, the stretched skin of Zhongli’s cheek under his fingers, to know that he was the one who put that happiness there.

What the heck is wrong with him?

“Unfortunately Director Hu requires my attention at the funeral parlour in the morning, so I shall be unavailable. However, I do happen to have an interesting artifact at home related to the tale we just spoke of that may be of interest to you. Should you wish to view it, you are welcome to return home with me to do so.”

“An artifact?” Childe replies, keeping his hands securely to himself and not on Zhongli’s face. “Now you’ve piqued my interest! What is it?”

“It is the hilt of a blade used within that fateful battle. While it has weathered with time, the ornamentation is still in good condition, and serves as a reminder to the sacrifices of those who have long parted us.”

A weapon? Now this is interesting. Were Liyue’s blades forged in the same manner as today? How might it compare to those forged in Snezhnaya, both past and present? Despite the late hour there’s no way he’s missing out on the chance to hold a weapon of such historical significance, and Childe nods eagerly.

“Sounds grand, I’d enjoy that, if it’s no trouble for you.”

“It is never any trouble.” Zhongli smiles and continues down the road, reaching toward Childe’s back, his hand dipping out of Childe’s field of vision. Childe steps to the side, bringing it back into view.

Zhongli frowns briefly, withdrawing his arm to his side.

That expression means something not good, but it’s difficult to read what Zhongli is thinking. Did he do something wrong, or break some Liyuen cultural norm he isn’t aware of?

Zhongli continues walking, so it couldn’t have been that offensive, and Childe walks along beside him, waiting for Zhongli to launch into another tale. But Zhongli walks silently with that same frowny face, tying strange knots in Childe’s stomach that he doesn’t know what to do with.

They walk through a part of Liyue Childe hasn’t been to before (officially, anyway—he might or might not have tracked Zhongli during his early weeks in Liyue, in an attempt to figure out the true identity of his mysterious new contact) and Zhongli comes to a stop in front of a perfectly ordinary front door, (quite unbefitting a man who was once the Lord of Geo) twisting his key in the lock and letting them in.

Childe pauses inside the doorway to slide his boots off, taking a moment to absorb the fact that this is his first time inside the place Zhongli considers home. Display cabinets line the hall, little knick-knacks arranged in an incomprehensible manner. A plate painted with floral patterns sits beside a jade dragon, and an armoured warrior wielding a spear points his weapon toward a horse that may or may not be his own.

Hopefully it is the steed of his mortal enemy, for to point a weapon at one’s own mount would be quite foolish.

“Ah, you are admiring the soldier on the top right,” says Zhongli, not turning back to confirm. “His uniform is modelled after that which would have been worn by the Millelith during a time of intense Abyssal activity within the Chasm. He represents all those who fought and gave their lives during those dark days, and these models were created in limited numbers to honour their sacrifice.”

“Huh.”

“Now please, make yourself at home. The item we are here to see is through here.”

They continue down the hall and Childe can’t take his eyes off of the warrior as he passes, the beady, lifeless eyes staring back at him.

Would Her Majesty have a model made of him, should he fall in the line of duty? In five hundred years, will a model Tartaglia be standing in Zhongli’s cabinet, spending his days in endless battle alongside this nameless soldier? It seems like a grand way to spend eternity—maybe he should bring it up at their next meeting.

“Here we are.” Zhongli opens the door at the end of the hall, leading them into a fresh, airy room. The bed centreing it is piled high with plush pillows, and the sheets appear to be woven from silk flower.

Zhongli is one for the small luxuries, as ever.

They arrive at the bedside table and, sure as Zhongli said, there sits the sword hilt, carefully set on a stand. It’s more ordinary than Childe expected. For a sword used in such a prominent battle, the picture in his mind had been of shimmering gold, the head of a beast carved upon the pommel and intricate patterns forged into the grip, set with the kinds of glittering stones that Zhongli likes.

However, this hilt is forged of simple, dark iron, with a small trimming of gold at the pommel, where the geo symbol is carved into the metal. That figures—all the extra adornments would add far too much weight to be practical, but it ruins the image a bit.

“You may hold it, if you wish,” says Zhongli. “It is not an item I would advise be frequently handled, but on this occasion, an exception feels appropriate.”

“A chance to hold a weapon from a legendary battle? You should know me better than to have to ask!”

Zhongli gives another of those soft smiles of his and reaches forward to retrieve it, brushing the back of Childe’s arm with his shoulder. The contact sends a tight, prickling sensation through Childe and he takes a step back, relieving himself of the lingering itch.

Zhongli pauses, and Childe feels as though he’s a child again, being caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“Uh, did I do something wrong?”

“You?” Zhongli turns back to Childe, his eyes widened. “Not at all. In fact, I was concerned that it was I who made the error.”

“You? Not at all! I thought we were looking at swords here, what problem would I have with that?”

Zhongli shakes his head. “Then you do not consider this activity as a part of our courtship… Then perhaps it was I who coerced you into this arrangement without considering whether you truly held reciprocation for my own feelings.”

What is the old man on about? They’re still on their date, aren’t they? A date looking at swords has to be one of the best date ideas ever.

“Huh? I’ve been having a great time today. I even asked you if you wanted to do the same tomorrow, didn’t I?”

“This is true, yet you appear rather repulsed by my physical presence. Please, there is no need to be polite for my sake, and I shall not be offended if you do not wish to continue.”

“Ah.”

Of course it would come to this. Relationships mean intimacy and intimacy means physical proximity, which means hands roaming places he can’t see, lingering long enough to entice him to let his guard down. He learned long ago to sidestep the hearty back slaps his comrades like to share, an instinct entrenched further by that incident in his recruit days where a fellow trainee, presumably jealous of Childe’s advanced prowess for his age, attempted the same manoeuvre, only to plunge his razor between Childe’s shoulder blades. Childe ended up with seven stitches for that error (and the other recruit had needed several more, after Childe was done with him, but that’s beside the point).

Not that Zhongli is going to stab him (probably), but the theoretical possibility of the matter sets Childe’s hairs on end and turns his skin itchy and hot.

“Then there is an issue?” Zhongli asks, probing but not demanding.

“It’s more just…” Childe runs his hand through his hair, searching for the most straightforward way to phrase his answer. “I’m not used to being that close to people outside my family, I guess. Hazards of the job and all.”

“I see. Then it is something you wish for and simply are not accustomed to, or are you opposed to the idea in its entirety?”

“I’m not sure, never really gave it much thought.” Childe shrugs, and wow, that sword hilt is suddenly far more interesting than he originally gave it credit for. “Hey, do you think when they forged that sword—”

Zhongli steps between him and the artifact. “Childe, I am asking you to consider it. This is an important aspect of our relationship going forward.”

Ugh, Zhongli and his questions. Does it really matter? “I don’t know, Zhongli. If you want, then I can give it a go, how does that sound?”

“It sounds as though you are avoiding the question.”

Childe sighs. He’s not getting out of this.

Stubborn old dragon-qilin-thing.

Does he want to? He pictures Zhongli’s hand over his as they watch the opera together, he pictures the casual touches he’s seen come so easily to others, he pictures Zhongli tapping him on the shoulder to draw his attention to some fancy antique he’s spotted before giving Childe the eyes to tell him that he’s forgotten his mora again.

He wants those things. Or he thinks he does. It’s all too alien to know for sure.

Childe nods.“Yeah, I would. Or I think so, anyway. But there’s no harm in giving it a go, so here, try now. There’s no time like the present to get started.”

Zhongli’s shoulders soften and he smiles. “As you wish. Admittedly, it pleases me to hear you give that answer; to imagine a world in which I might never be permitted physical contact with the one so dear to me…ah, it matters not.” Zhongli removes his right glove, revealing a deep brown hand, lines of golden Geo tracing the lines where human veins would run. “May I?”

Childe takes a second to process the work of art that is Zhongli, and he swallows deeply before nodding. “Sure, go ahead.”

Zhongli extends his hand toward Childe’s forearm and Childe watches every detail of the movement, the hairs on his arm rising even before Zhongli can make contact.

This is fine. It’s just Zhongli.

So why does he feel the need to draw his blade and raise it to Zhongli’s throat?

Zhongli brushes his fingertips against Childe’s skin and instinct takes over. He snatches his arm away, backing up a couple of paces and clenching his fists, attempting to dispel the hydro swelling in his palms.

Zhongli withdraws, watching Childe with pained eyes.

Damnit. Now he’s upset Zhongli.

“Sorry,” says Childe. “Old habits die hard, huh?”

“No apology is needed; the fault is not your own.” Zhongli sighs, eyeing Childe up and down. “However, I do have a proposal—a progression of sorts—which might make the process easier.”

A progression? That’s something Childe can get on board with. Progressions were how Skirk took him from a scrawny countryside kid who could barely hold a sword to a competent warrior, able to slay dragons on behalf of Her Majesty, The Tsaritsa.

“Sure, what do you have in mind?”

Zhongli looks at him, eyes so gentle Childe could melt. “Do you trust me?” he asks, and Childe has to pause to process the answer to that question.

Does he trust Zhongli?

He’s not sure.

Should he trust Zhongli?

Probably not, after Zhongli has already demonstrated that he can play Childe like the strings of the guzheng he’s so fond of.

Does he want to trust Zhongli?

What is trust anyway?

There’s the kind of trust he shares with his comrades, the security in knowing that they’ll carry out the mission he assigns them and that he’s not going to be deceived or double crossed. His agents like him—he’s quite proud of the fact that he’s not quite as detestable as the likes of Signora—and he can count on that to serve his interests well.

Then there’s the trust he holds for his family, for his treasured siblings who he allows to climb freely over him to their hearts’ desires. Children are innocent and beautiful, not yet tainted by the broken dreams that adulthood brings, and none of them would ever cause him harm. (That’s excluding that one time when Teucer, pretending to be a knight, smacked him with a toy sword in the one spot where Childe really, really wished he hadn’t. He’d spent a few miserable minutes curled in a ball on the floor as consequence for that lapse in judgement.)

And finally intimate trust, romantic trust…

After all that’s happened, he shouldn’t even be alone with Zhongli in this room.

But he is.

So maybe he does trust Zhongli.

Yeah, this must be trust.

“Yeah, I do.” Childe nods and takes a single step toward him. “What do you propose?”

“I propose taking things a little slower, and both of us finding a more comfortable position to continue this activity.” Zhongli gestures to the bed. “Unless you find this arrangement unfavourable…”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Childe flashes Zhongli a grin. “My my, Zhongli, I didn’t know you’d try propositioning me this early on. Should I be flattered?”

Zhongli’s cheeks pinken and he fumbles over his words. “No…no, that was not my intent. My apologies if you read it to imply—”

Spluttering out a laugh, Childe shakes his head. “Hey hey, I’m just joking. Your face was great, though. Ah, you’re funny, xiansheng. Alright, let’s try this your way.”

After taking off his jacket and draping it over the end of the bed, Childe sits, testing the mattress. It’s as soft as it looks and he lays back, sinking into pillows that attempt to absorb him into them. Zhongli joins him, keeping a cautious half-metre between them as they lie next to each other. With a long exhale, he rests his hands on his chest, and rolls his head to the side to face Childe, wearing a quiet, contented smile.

Smiling at Childe.

It’s a bit weird, lying in bed with Zhongli, and Zhongli looking so damn pleased about it. ‘There’s a Harbinger in your bed!’ Childe wants to tell him. ‘We aren’t good guys, you know!” But Zhongli already knows all that and still insists on looking at him in that way anyway.

Weird.

“So, what now?” asks Childe, eager to move on before he has to think about it any more deeply.

“Nothing, unless you wish it to.” Zhongli removes his other glove and slides his left arm out so it sits equidistant between them. “We can converse, or not, however you prefer, and the next step shall be yours to make. If you desire physical contact between us, you can act upon such desire, and if not, I shall take no offence.”

Childe stares at the hand sitting innocently above the sheets.

His choice.

He looks to Zhongli, then back to his hand.

His choice.

Well, in that case, a little closer wouldn’t hurt.

Childe slips his gloves off and slides his hand next to Zhongli’s, leaving a few centimetres separating them.

“Say, Zhongli, how about you tell a story, or a bit of history you like, or anything, really.”

“Anything I would like?” Zhongli hums and stares up at the ceiling for a few seconds before answering. “In that case, perhaps you would like to hear of the new teas Wanmin has brought in stock?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

Zhongli glances down at their hands, then turns his attention back to Childe. “Excellent. In that case, this information should be prefaced by the fact that, for reasons of competition, what I am about to tell you should remain confidential between you and I.”

Childe nods absentmindedly, edging his hand a little closer. “Sure, I’m good at secrets. So, what’s the tea?” He chuckles, satisfied with his own joke.

Zhongli’s eyes crease and a subtle smile plays on his lips. “The tea is a Sumeran blend, and Xiangling is hoping that it will add some variety to their summer menu.”

“Oh really?” Childe pays only vague attention to the words, instead focusing on inching his hand closer bit by bit. Zhongli’s hand looks softer than the hand of a man of stone and earth should—would it feel that soft to touch?

“Yes. Her current concern is whether the shipment will arrive in time. There were some issues involving some rogue fungi on the trade route from Sumeru City, and there’s the possibility of the shipment not reaching the restaurant in time for the first week of the season.”

Making a grunt of acknowledgement, Childe continues to focus on their hands, now a centimetre apart.

His choice.

In one, small movement, he links his pinkie with Zhongli’s and squeezes.

Huh. It’s soft, kinda squishy between each joint, and warm.

Zhongli has stopped talking too and watches Childe’s movements, remaining completely still.

“You’re warm,” comments Childe, unlinking their pinkies to explore the back of Zhongli’s hand with his fingertips, circling the slightly rougher skin of his knuckles. He traces a line of geo, and the beat of the earth hums under his touch. This is the hand of a god, and he’s being permitted to touch, despite his own nature being of heresy and corruption.

Well, he hasn’t been smited yet. Maybe the line between human and god is smaller than he thought.

Retracting his hand and placing it back on the bed, Childe digs his fingers into the blankets, comparing the feel to Zhongli’s hand. It’s still soft, but cold, and he finds himself wanting to put his hand right back where it was.

But he is a warrior, a Harbinger, and he must always strive to push his limits.

“Hey, Zhongli?”

“Yes?”

“Can you do the same, like I just did to you? I think I’ll like that.”

“As you wish,” says Zhongli, eyes shimmering like crystals, sliding his hand across to cover Childe’s, creating a warm pocket of air between them, a steady pressure pressing Childe’s hand into the bed.

Pressing.

Pinning.

Trapping.

“You’re tense.” Zhongli watches him carefully. “I will not do any more than you ask.”

“I know. It’s just…I’m not used to this. Give me a moment.”

His heart pounds against his chest and Childe fights to keep his breathing level. How stupid. All this from not quite even holding hands with the guy he’s supposed to like! Has he really become such a honed instrument of war that even the touch of another human is foreign to him now?

“Childe…” Zhongli murmurs, the low vibrations curling in Childe’s ear and tethering him to the present.

“I’m fine, just getting used to it,” Childe says, attempting to sound more certain of that statement than he feels.

“What does it feel like?” “Huh?”

“This.” Zhongli dips his head toward their hands. “What does it feel like to you? Describe it to me.”

Childe licks his lips, realising how dry they’ve become. At least Zhongli isn’t asking him about the messy thoughts running through his head. He’s not sure he wants Zhongli to know all that anyway—Zhongli would probably look at him like a madman if he knew. But a physical description? He can do that.

“It’s…heavy. And it’s like there’s an insect—you know that feeling where you know there’s something there and you need to flick your hand to get it off? That’s how it feels, except the thing on me is bigger. Not that I’m calling you an insect, xiansheng!”

“I’m certain I have been called worse in my time. Insects are a beautiful part of our ecosystem, feeding the creatures of the sky and pollinating the flora for as long as Teyvat has existed. To be an insect might be considered an honour in this world of ours.”

The thick timbre of Zhongli’s voice rolls through Childe and without thinking about it, he finds himself spreading his fingers, slotting Zhongli’s between his own, and he squeezes their interlocked hands together.

Did he just do that?

Apparently he did.

It’s so clammy, and the pressure of Zhongli squeezing back isn’t too dissimilar to the weight of a blade in his hand. But this is no blade, this is a person, and people have minds of their own.

Not just any person. This is Zhongli. Zhongli isn’t dangerous. Well, perhaps in a fight, but the man has stubbornly refused all of Childe’s requests to spar, and it’s doubtful he’ll suddenly change his mind now.

It’s weird, but it’s not bad. Contrary to the back of his hand, Zhongli’s palm has a more leathery quality, a robustness built only from years upon years of wielding a weapon.

“Rough, but smooth,” he says.

“Pardon?”

“Your hands. You told me to describe them.”

“Ah, if the texture is displeasing, I can morph them into something more appropriate for—”

“No!” Childe props himself on his elbow without letting go of Zhongli. “I like them like this. They’re very…you!”

Zhongli laughs softly and looks at their linked hands. “Thank you. And it must be said—you have done well today. This is truly a precious gift.”

He’s done well. Childe’s heart beats a little faster, a tiny whirlpool forming in his midsection. He’s made Zhongli happy, made Zhongli pleased with him, and it’s the nudge he needs to take it a step further.

“We shouldn’t stop here—this is far from enough. We should be able to do more than this if we’re a couple, right? So it’s time to practise!”

Zhongli sobers, studying Childe’s face as though searching for the answer to an unspoken question.

“What?” says Childe. “I mean it! Practice makes perfect, xiansheng.”

“You are certain of this?”

“When am I not certain? Doubt is the enemy of progress, and I refuse to hesitate when the opportunity to surpass my limits is before me.”

“Then perhaps I should rephrase the question: do you wish to?”

Oh, he wants to. He wants to be able to sink into Zhongli and enjoy lingering touches and passionate kisses and, for one sweet moment, be free of the thought of a knife slipping between his shoulder blades. Zhongli doesn’t deserve a partner who can’t pay him the attention he deserves, and if there’s one thing Childe doesn’t do, it’s doing something poorly.

If he must temporarily set down his blade in order to be proficient in this, he will learn.

“Please, Zhongli. Just touch me.”

Zhongli’s expression is beautiful. His eyes widen just a little, his lips drawing tighter together, and he unlinks their hands, brushing his fingertips over the back of Childe’s hand and toward his wrist.

“It is said that physical contact has many benefits,” murmurs Zhongli, tracing the tender skin of Childe’s inner forearm, the touch of his fingers as light as feather, raising gooseflesh along their path.

“You should tell me about it.” Childe struggles to keep his voice steady, locked in a strange state between needing to bolt from the room and wanting to stay here forever, hypnotised by something so simple, but so addictive.

“Certain studies from the Akademiya have noted that touch between partners facilitates the release of hormones associated with bonding and increased affection. How curious that, as we engage in this exercise, such effects become more apparent and efficacious than I could have predicted.” Zhongli stops as he reaches the spot where Childe’s shirt sleeve is rolled to and massages the skin there, pupils widening to an oval from their usual slits.

Childe swallows, attempting to quell the bubbling in his midsection. Sure, he’s well aware that dating implies some level of enjoyment for each other’s company, but the way Zhongli voices it so directly pieces through him, deep and dangerous, and he needs to fight, fight—

No.

“Tickles,” he says, focusing on the slow circling of Zhongli’s fingers, “but warm. Weird… but good.”

With a quiet hum, Zhongli shifts closer, the sweet scent of whatever he washes his hair with wafting into Childe’s space. His touch still gentle—too gentle for what Childe deserves—he respects the boundary the fabric sets between them, not dipping under the roll of Childe’s sleeve, but over it, running his hand across Childe’s upper arm, feeling along the tricep and slipping inward to place a light pressure on his bicep.

“Those receiving frequent touch from those close to them also report lower levels of stress, in addition to other effects such as a lower resting heartbeat and lowered anxiety,” continues Zhongli, teasing at the lower part of Childe’s shoulder.

Childe’s heartbeat is far from lowered. It hammers in his chest and his palms sweat at each movement Zhongli makes, his breath catching in his throat. He’s not anxious—he doesn’t feel useless things like fear—but this is so out of his normal that he can’t put his finger on what he does feel.

Warm. Gentle. Soft. Focus on the physical.

Zhongli edges a little further up, making contact with the top of Childe’s shoulder and Childe suppresses a shudder. The vulnerable flesh of his neck is inches from Zhongli’s fingers, fingers that were once the almighty claws of the exuvia, able to rip through him in one easy slash.

Itching, crawling, scratching.

He shifts away.

Zhongli’s face falls and he pulls his hand back to his chest.

“Sorry.” Childe inches back into position. “I didn’t mean to… I’m not sure why I did that.”

“There is no need to apologise; we are far further along than we were just a short time ago, so let us consider this a victory.”

Zhongli’s words are kind, reassuring, but his disappointment is clear in the way his gaze dips away and his shoulders fall, and Childe feels seeping shame twist in his gut. How ridiculous he struggles with a simple activity that comes so easily to every other human in Teyvat.

Perhaps they were right.

Perhaps he really did lose his humanity eight years ago.

But for Zhongli, perhaps he can grasp at those faint threads tying him to the guise of ‘human’, and put up a good show of it.

Childe shifts into a sitting position learning against the headboard and pats the spot beside him. “Come sit here, I have an idea.”

Zhongli hesitates, then nods. “Very well.” He moves into position, not touching, but close enough that his body heat radiates into Childe’s space. “What would you have me do?”

“I’ll show you. Just… go with this, alright?”

Childe shifts closer and leg brushes against leg, hip against hip. A tingle runs under Childe’s skin as they make contact, but having another body pressed so closely to his brings with it a sense of rightness. He and Zhongli are supposed to be this close, and the small part of him holding the remainder of his humanity slowly wakes in the intimacy of the moment.

Taking Zhongli’s hand in his own (why does it feel so good to touch him again?), Childe guides it around his shoulders until Zhongli’s arm is draped around him with Childe holding him firmly in position.

“How is it?” asks Zhongli.

“It’s fine.” The response is woefully inadequate, but how can he describe this? The pressure across his upper back, the warmth seeping into him, the scent of Zhongli growing ever stronger the longer they remain this close. Is it better than the arm touches? Maybe. This is more invasive, placing Zhongli in a space he would usually only allow a person to be after breathing their last breath or just before.

But Zhongli is alive. A real, alive person sitting in the bed next to him with his arm around his shoulders.

Tilting his head to the side, Childe rubs his cheek against the fabric of Zhongli’s coat. Smooth, with a slight bumpy texture, Zhongli’s upper arm muscles firm below the surface. It turns him weak and he shuffles closer, resting his head on Zhongli’s shoulder.

Zhongli is so patient and so still, and his soft, measured breaths tickle Childe’s forehead and hairline.

“This is nice,” says Childe absentmindedly, stroking his thumb across the back of Zhongli’s hand.

“It is a moment that I shall treasure in my memories forever.” Zhongli sighs and rests his head on Childe’s, loose threads of hair playing against Childe’s cheek. “And in the future, no matter what you choose to offer, know I shall appreciate every gesture, no matter how great or small.”

Childe releases his grip on Zhongli’s wrist and rests his hand in his lap, and Zhongli rests his hand on Childe’s shoulder, moving his thumb in soothing circles that seem to connect directly to Childe’s brain, slowing his thoughts and turning his eyes heavy.

Cosy. Intimate. Snug.

This is okay.

This is good.

Zhongli is far too good, far too patient.

Childe is the weapon of a foreign Archon, his actions tied to however she deems to use him. If she commanded him to never speak to Zhongli again, he would comply, for a blade can only follow the path of the hand that wields it.

And knowing his predestined duty, Zhongli would let him go, no matter how it might shatter him to do so.

“Why?” he mutters half to himself, half to Zhongli.

“In regards to what matter are you asking such a thing?”

“Why…why us?” Childe runs his tongue around his mouth, forcing out his next words. “Why me?”

“Why not you, is the question that I would return to you.”

“Because I’m…you know what I am. I don’t need to explain the obvious.”

“Childe.”

Zhongli sounds gravely serious and Childe looks up at him, hoping he hasn’t committed some grand social faux pas of Liyuen conversation. But Zhongli doesn’t look angry, or offended. He’s frowning, but his brows tilt upward, and he looks at Childe with such tenderness that Childe could melt under that gaze forever.

“That’s my name.” Childe attempts a cheeky grin, attempting to hide how his heart simultaneously shrivels and shudders at the expression aimed directly at him.

“Have you considered that I may not care for what you are, but who you are?”

Childe’s heart snaps in two and crumples inward under the weight of those stupidly simple words. His jaw is tight but his throat is trembling and Zhongli keeps on looking at him like that.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. What the heck is this?

Zhongli is leaning toward him, gaze lingering on Childe’s lips, and Childe feels his own lips part in response. He could lean forward too, close that gap and press his lips to Zhongli’s and…

Shoot, is this what it’s like to want to kiss someone? It always sounded like a messy and fruitless affair, but with Zhongli…oh, Tsaritsa forgive him, he wants to.

So he does.

Their lips meet tenderly, almost hesitant, and Childe sinks forward, balancing himself against Zhongli’s chest. Beneath his palm, Zhongli’s heart beats in time with his own, an unwavering beacon of life in a world so full of death and sin, where the strong will trample the weak and dominate those lacking the strength to dominate in turn.

As much as it pains Childe to admit his own weakness, if he wanted Zhongli could pin him to the ground under a geo seal, or crush him under a meteor, or use any of the numerous martial arts he’s mastered over the years to pummel Childe into the ground.

But here, everything is different.

Zhongli is strong, but his touch is kind, nurturing. Zhongli could pin him down and do whatever he wanted with him, but he waits for Childe to deepen their kiss, only moving his lips when Childe does the same, following every movement Childe leads.

Maybe this is Zhongli’s strength, knowing that he could seize control of the situation at any moment, but chooses not to.

Gripping Zhongli’s shirt in his fist, Childe tries dipping his tongue forward to tease between Zhongli’s lips. Fontainian kissing, he’s heard it called, but he’s not going that far today, just enough to feel the dampness of Zhongli’s lips, explore this strange, wonderful man who is a pillar of strength yet a handhold of security.

If Zhongli is all of this at once, then he is stronger than Childe could have ever imagined.

Childe pulls back, drunk off the strange fuzzy high running through his entire body, and Zhongli looks the same as how he feels—wet lipped, wide eyes, nostrils flared with elevated breathing. Throughout the kiss, Zhongli continued to hold him close, and now they are done Childe doesn’t want him to stop.

“That was quite good.” Childe grins. “We should do that again sometime.”

“‘Quite’ is insufficient to summarise the degree of pleasure your proximity brought me, but yes, with the sentiment I would agree.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“Is it truly dramaticism to accurately define the—'' Zhongli makes a surprised muffled sound as Childe clamps his hand over Zhongli’s mouth.

“Cut it out!” Childe laughs, removing his hand to rest it against Zhongli’s cheek. “You say such silly things, xiansheng.”

Zhongli laughs, leaning into Childe’s palm. “Very well, I shall hold my peace for now. But if you ever wish to hear all that I intended to express, there is plenty to be said, and I would be eager to share it.”

If Zhongli were to say those things, Childe would surely explode. Or implode. Or something equally violent. It’s too much, and he’s a parched man being dunked head first into a lake, drowning in the affection Zhongli pours over him.

But with time, as he reforms himself to overcome any obstacle, he will adapt to this too, and someday Zhongli will be able to speak his mind. He’ll make sure of it.

“Then I’ll ask you, one day, that’s a promise,” says Childe, lifting his pinky to tap it against Zhongli’s cheek.

“Then I shall look forward to that day.” Zhongli lifts his hand, reaching toward Childe’s face, but he retracts it before making contact, his smile fading slightly.

The joy fades, replaced with a nauseating ball of guilt in the back of Childe’s throat. Zhongli deserves a normal relationship with a normal person, not a weapon ready to strike him down at one wrong move. He deserves more, better.

“Zhongli?”

“Yes, Childe?”

“Can I trust you?”

He’s not sure why he asked it. The answer itself holds no merit—any logical person would answer yes, regardless of their intent—but somehow the whole world hinges on that single response, permission for himself to…he doesn’t know.

He doesn’t know any of this.

But he wants to.

Zhongli sighs, squeezing his arm around Childe’s shoulders. “My dearest Childe, if I were to construct a road of Geo and set its path to Celestia itself, if you were upon it, I would bow not even to the Heavenly Principles themselves. Let there be no more half-truths, no more deception, and no more schemes between us. If you can trust my word, then I shall uphold that trust until the earth retakes me.”

“So that’s a yes?”

“It is.”

Trust. He can trust Zhongli. In this, anyway.

Zhongli isn’t going to stab him in the back, or slice a blade across his throat. Zhongli wants him. Zhongli likes him, and Zhongli wants to show him that. It would be so easy to let go, to accept all these strange and unfamiliar and wonderful things, but when he imagines Zhongli’s gentle touch roaming across scar lines and tissue taut from repeated electro burns, his heartbeat accelerates and his palms flash cold.

If only he could persuade his body of this, stow away those instincts that have kept him alive for nearly a decade, yet now hold him back from truly living.

“Then I’m going to try something. Don’t move.” Childe folds his hand over the back of Zhongli’s, intertwining their fingers as he lifts it toward his face. “You can’t hide what you want from me, so it’s up to me to give it to you.”

Zhongli frowns. “I would not wish to force myself upon you; I desire only that which you do also.”

“I want this. I want you, Zhongli, it’s just…complicated.”

“And that is perfectly acceptable—we have many days ahead of us yet; there is no need to rush yourself.”

Patient. Kind. Gentle.

Zhongli is safe, right?

What is he thinking? Doubt is unbefitting of a warrior such as Tartaglia. If he’s choosing a path, he must march upon it with full conviction, and embrace the consequence of that decision.

Zhongli is safe.

He pushes Zhongli’s palm against his cheek, his face burning and his pulse pounding in his ears.

Safe. This is safe. There is no danger here.

Warm. It’s warm, and geo energy pulses softly through the lines running through Zhongli’s skin, mildly tingly but not unpleasant.

Childe slides Zhongli’s hand down, brushing his lower cheek and jawbone, holding it against his neck.

A blade to his throat, the flick of a wrist. Red, red, red gushing over silken bedsheets. Limbs heavy, refusing all commands to move, to run. His body flung to the floor, a puddle of iron scented liquid pooling around his head.

Get up. Fight. Fight. Fight.

“Childe, I am here.” Zhongli’s voice drags him back to reality.

Childe swallows, trying to focus on Zhongli’s face. He’s too light, floating above the bed (which is thankfully not covered in his blood), but Zhongli’s hand is still on his neck, floating with him, steady and unwavering.

It’s just Zhongli, and just Childe. No blades or claws or teeth baying for his blood.

Fight.

No, not today.

Childe tethers himself to Zhongli, locking onto those kind eyes of his, shimmering like fine cut gemstone but soft like honey, and slowly he descends back to where he lies, bedsheets solid beneath his body and Zhongli’s arm still holding onto him by the shoulders. He swallows, taking stock of the pressure against his neck, of the faint hum of geo vibrating with the rhythm of his own pulse.

“So am I,” he says, giving Zhongli the kind of smile he likes to see. “I’m here, Zhongli.”

“That you are. And while you instructed me to remain still, I would like to ask your forgiveness in advance for my next actions.” Zhongli shifts forward and before Childe has a chance to register what’s happening, Zhongli presses his lips to Childe’s forehead, lingering there a moment before drawing back, leaving a moist patch in his wake. “You have much to be proud of today.”

Proud? Of being a normal human being doing normal human things? If anything, the fact that today proved such a struggle is further evidence of how much better suited he is to being a weapon than a human.

Zhongli talks such nonsense.

Childe averts his eyes. “I don’t think so. This is what I should be able to offer you; I’m not taking pride in something so ordinary. A warrior must seek his pride in pushing the horizons of possibility, not walking the path others have already forged.”

There’s a pause, then Zhongli sighs. “Childe, will you look at me?”

He can’t. If he looks at Zhongli, those damn eyes of his will bore straight through him, opening up parts of him he swore he’d locked up for good, never to be released again to a world that would dig its claws into any vulnerability he dare show.

But letting a simple pair of eyes break him would be weak, and Tartaglia is not weak.

Slowly he looks back to Zhongli and nearly melts. Despite all the trouble Childe’s put him through, Zhongli smiles at him, subtle and tender and all too kind, only for him.

“If you refuse to be proud of your own achievements, then I am left obligated take that mantle in your stead.” Sliding his hand up to cup Childe’s cheek, Zhongli strokes his thumb against the corner of Childe’s lip. “For how far you have pushed through your limits today, I am proud of you.”

Cheeks hot. Palms too cold. Mind racing.

Pride? What pride is there to be had in this?

Heartbeat in his throat. Skin tingling. Stomach churning. Oh, Archons, he’s going to be sick.

What foul magic is in these words to make him feel this way? He likes compliments as much as any man, but he never felt this way upon receiving the medals of service pinned in his quarters of Zapolyarny Palace.

No, it is these devious words Zhongli utters, turning him weak and cold and too hot all at once.

“Childe, did you hear? I wished to tell you that I am proud of you.”

“Cut it out!” A surge of adrenaline flashes through him and Childe flips out of Zhongli’s hold and shoves him flat to the bed, pinning him by his wrists. “Cut it out,” he growls, tightening his grip.

“Cut it out? I’m afraid I do not follow.” Zhongli doesn’t struggle, doesn’t fight back, he just lies there, watching Childe’s face with quiet concern.

Childe wishes he would fight. He could raise a blade to a blade, but there is nothing he can do to defend himself against Zhongli’s treacherous mouth.

“Stop saying… that.”

“Ah, that I am—”

“Yes, that.”

“Why?”

“What?” “For what reason should I cease telling my beloved how I feel about him?”

“Because you…” Childe trails off, steadying his breath and taking in the situation—Zhongli pinned underneath him, his own mouth twisted in a snarl. Archons, he truly is the weapon he seeks to become, a blade unable to comprehend anything other than how to strike out at friend and foe alike. He releases Zhongli’s wrists and braces himself on his hands above Zhongli, knees tucked at each side of Zhongli’s waist. ��I don’t know. Sorry, I shouldn’t have… are you hurt?”

“It’s alright; given the circumstances, it is not unexpected for you to be on edge. But there is no need to be concerned, for I am unharmed—fortunately, pillows are not a terribly solid surface to land on.” Zhongli chuckles and turns his head to place a kiss at the base of Childe’s wrist. “And if my words were too much for you to bear in your current state of mind, I would also like to extend my apologies.”

No, he doesn’t deserve this. He was the bad guy here. He pinned Zhongli, and now Zhongli is apologising to him?

Zhongli didn’t even say anything wrong. He was being nice. He told Childe that he was proud of him. Proud. For something he did that didn’t involve sticking a blade through a creature’s skull. When was the last time anyone told him that?

And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad to hear it again.

“No, it’s not you, you didn’t do anything wrong, you just caught me off guard and I… Anyway, it’s my fault, and if you want to say it again, I won’t stop you this time.”

Zhongli pauses, then a beautiful smile draws across his face. “Childe,” he says, reaching up to brush the back of his hand against Childe’s cheek, “I am proud of you, and may you ever hold those words close in your memories, lest you be at risk of forgetting them.”

Childe’s throat is tight, and his chest compresses in on itself, squeezing the air from his lungs. His eyes sting and he clamps his teeth on the inside of his cheek, sucking until his mouth is dry and barren.

What the fuck is wrong with him? All because of some stupid, sappy words.

Pathetic.

And Zhongli keeps looking up at him, keeps smiling, keeps stroking his cheek. Zhongli, who lies all the way down there on the bed, so far away.

Too far.

Before he can change his mind, Childe slumps onto Zhongli, wrapping his arms around him and burying his head in Zhongli’s neck. They’re pressed chest to chest and he holds tighter, tighter, tighter. He’s drowning, drowning, drowning in Zhongli, but surfacing for air would be far worse.

He needs this.

He needs this so much and he can’t let go.

Zhongli slips his arms around him, pulling them closer, and Childe does not flinch.

For a few minutes, the blade is sheathed, and the human who he’d thought lost a decade ago is allowed to rise, to feast on this banquet of affection and care Zhongli lays before him.

Zhongli slides a hand up Childe’s back, pausing with his palm pressed between his shoulder blades. “May I?”

“Please,” Childe sighs into Zhongli’s ear, “please, Zhongli.”

“You are remarkable,” murmurs Zhongli, his hand coming to rest on the back of Childe’s head, teasing his fingers through Childe’s hair to massage his scalp. “Adaptable, brave, tenacious… it would be a tragedy indeed if the poets do not one day set their pen to recording your deeds.”

“I think there’s already a song someone wrote back in Snezhnaya, but that was after the winter feast and might have had something to do with fire water.” Childe chuckles. “I’ll have to get you to try some one day.”

“Then I shall look forward to it.”

They lie quiet for a few minutes, Zhongli working a kind of magic through Childe’s hair, and Childe relaxes with each stroke, a dead weight atop Zhongli as he allows his eyes to close. Such things are not meant for Tartaglia, but here he is, an arm around his waist and the breaths of his lover curling in his ear. Body against body, embrace met with embrace, a leg slipping between Zhongli’s, limbs entangled, chests rising and falling in synchronisation.

While he’s not ready for other things couples like to do—the thought of wandering hands, grabbing and pulling and tugging sending a cold sweat to his palms—this is a start, and if this pleases Zhongli enough that he wishes to stay with him for now, the rest can be worked upon in time.

In time… he and Zhongli really are in this for the long haul, aren’t they?

“Hey, Zhongli?”

“Hmm?”

“Is this good for you?”

“This is perfect.”

“Even if we can’t… you know? Not yet, anyway.”

“As I said before, I shall treasure any action we can share together. I do not require that to be satisfied with your presence, nor is it a condition for my continued affection.”

“I’ll make it worth you waiting, mark my words. I’ll be the best you ever had.”

“Childe, hush.”

There’s a gentle pressure running from the top of Childe’s head to the base of his neck, and it takes Childe a moment to realise it’s Zhongli. He should feel insulted, a Harbinger of the Fatui having his head stroked like he’s some common dog, but the rhythmic movements sap his ability to give a single care.

Zhongli presses his mouth to Childe’s ear. “No matter what nature of activities you may choose to engage in come the future, there is no need to push yourself for my sake. For me, you are more than enough as you already are.”

Enough.

It’s a strange word, one Childe often likes to scoff at. Enough suggests complacency, a willingness to settle, a dead end to progress and improvement. Nothing is ever ‘enough’—his skills, his rank, his mastery of electro, hydro, the heretical powers of the deep. His life is a push toward more, more, more, for those who fail to improve are inevitably left behind, crushed in the dirt to rot with the remains of the sinners below.

But for Zhongli, he is apparently ‘enough’ and it sits differently, a little egg of contentment incubating behind his heart. He is enough, not too weak and naive, as Skirk had told him he was before striking his sword from his hands with a flick of her wrist, nor too wild, as his parents said before asking—no, begging—him to go along with the ‘generous’ Fatui recruiter.

He is Childe, Tartaglia, (maybe Ajax), and he can be here with Zhongli, and anything he gives is enough, and Zhongli will never expect more.

Zhongli tightens their embrace and Childe returns it, nuzzling into the warm corner between Zhongli’s neck and shoulder.

“Is this enough for you?” asks Zhongli.

Childe pushes himself up onto his forearms, looking down at the adoration written across Zhongli’s face, taking in the warmth of having another body slot so tightly against him, and smiles.

“Oh it’s more than enough for me. But there is one thing that I’ve not quite had enough of today.”

“Ah. And what might that be?”

Childe pecks a kiss to Zhongli’s forehead, then flops onto his chest, tugging Zhongli closer to him. “I’d like it if you touched me more. So please, can you do that?”

With a chuckle, Zhongli noses into Childe’s hair, and he starts working his fingers in circles over a tension point in Childe’s back, sending the long neglected muscles into ecstasy under the sudden attention and care. “My dearest Childe, there is nothing I would rather do more right now.”

#zhongchili #zhongchi #tartali #tartaglia #childe #zhongli #genshin impact fanfics

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idontknowanametouse · 8 months ago

Text

Genshin cringe headcanons part 7: other Liyue people

This post reclaims the term "cringe". If you use it as an insult or feels triggered by it, please DNI

Name: Ajax/Tartaglia/Childe

Gender: trans man, he/him

Pictures of Character:

Appearance: ethnically russian, white, pale, strong, ginger hair, blue eyes, many freckles through his body, strabism, many scars through his body

Age: 25

Sexuality: gay

Personality: proud, trusting most of the times, excentric, easily dedicated, kind to children

Area of greatest ability: Fighting, acting

Kins: foxes, sea, squishy things

Family: Anton, Tonia, Teucer (biological lil siblings) Xinyan, Hu Tao, Qiqi (found family)

Relationship status: dating Zhongli

Friends: Wanderer, Beidou, Chongyun, Gaming, Xiangling, Xingqiu, Yanfei, Yaoyao, Yun Jin

Disabilities: strabism, autistic, ADHD, lack of iron deficiency

Belief: believes the Tsaritsa with ortodox-catholic practices

Name: Qiqi

Gender: demigirl, she/they/it/zombie/cold

Pictures of Character:

Appearance: ethnically chinese, thin, looks very ill, grey skin, skeletic face, dark circles, small, long lilac braided hair, blank eyes

Age: chronologically 507, physically, psychologically and mentally 6

Personality: calm, polite, naive, very serious for their age, is seen as “quirky”

Area of greatest ability: biology, herbology

Kins: pastel colors, zombie, Dreams

Family: Zhongli (adoptive dad) Ganyu, Xiao, Xinyan, Hu Tao, Albedo, Klee, Kaeya, Diluc (adoptive older siblins) Ajax (found family)

Friends: Yaoyao, Diona, Nahida, Sigewinne, Sayu, Paimon, Ningguang, Baizhu, Shenhe, Xianyun, Yanfei, Keqing

Disabilities: autistic semi-verbal, arthritis, short-term memory, breathing issues, uses an oxygen tank

Belief: does not believe in anything specifically, but has buddhist practices on zombies day-to-day life

Name: Shenhe

Gender: transfem parawoman, she/they/ice/snow/winter

Pictures of Character:

Appearance: ethnically chinese, has albinism, tall, very muscled, has long white braided hair, clear eyes

Age: 33

Sexuality: asexual lesbian

Personality: soft with certain people, very reclusive, easily irritable, violent, does not know how to act in social situations

Area of greatest ability: Fighting

Kins: winter, crystals, pastel blue, clay, forest, magic

Family: Xianyun (adoptive mother) Chongyun (biological nephew) Ganyu (found family cousin)

Relationship status: dating Yelan

Friends: Beidou, Hu Tao, Qiqi, Xiangling, Xiao, Xinyan, Yanfei, Yaoyao, Yun Jin, Zhongli

Disabilities: autistic semi-verbal, depression, PTSD, chronic pain, uses sign languages sometimes to comunicate, wears orthosis on joints

Belief: believes Rex Lapis and has taoist-like practices

Name: Zhongli/Morax/Rex Lapis

Gender: cis man, he/him

Pictures of Character:

Appearance: ethnically chinese, tall, brown skin, long brown hair he keeps tied up, brown eyes, a few wrinkles around his eyes

Age: chronologically 6130, physically 42

Sexuality: asexual gay

Personality: calm, reclusive, polite, protective, has an inclination for nostalgia, regrets things he did in past

Area of greatest ability: way too many.

Kins: does not has kin as he is the concept itself of what he would kin, but supports his friends and family who do.

Family: Ganyu, Xiao, Xinyan, Hu Tao, Qiqi (adoptive children) Albedo, Klee, Diluc, Kaeya (found family children) Venti (found family nibling) Shenhe (found family niece) Xianyun, Makoto, Ei, Kuni, Nahida, Furina (found family)

Relationship status: was in a QPR with Guizhong while she was alive, is now dating Childe

Friends: Baizhu, Beidou, Chongyun, Gaming, Keqing, Ningguang, Xiangling, Xingqiu, Yanfei, Yaoyao, Yelan, Yun Jin

Disabilities: autistic, arthritis, diabetes, chronic back pain, uses a cane to walk.

Name: Xiao/Alatus

Gender: agender, it/its

Pictures of Character:

Appearance: ethnically chinese, pale, small, black and green hair, black eyes, dark circles, many scars through its body

Age: chronologically 2079, physically 19

Sexuality: aroace

Personality: reclusive, resistent, socially awkward, gets everything it puts its mind on done, tries not to care but cares deeply

Area of greatest ability: Fighting, music

Kins: neon green, black, floral objects, crystals, gems, paint, clouds, wind, music

Family: Venti (found family cousin) Ganyu, Xinyan, Hu Tao, Qiqi (adoptive siblings) Zhongli (adoptive father) Itto, Yanfei, Shinobu, Yelan, the yakshas (found family siblings)

Relationship status: single

Friends: Chongyun, Shenhe, Xianyun, Yaoyao, Diluc, Kaeya, Albedo, Klee

Disabilities: autistic, depression, insomnia, fibromyalgia, intrusive thoughts

Belief: believes Rex Lapis but does not has any specific practices

Name: Yaoyao Maö

Gender: trans girl, she/bun/green

Pictures of Character:

Appearance: ethnically chinese, black, brown eyes, brown braided curly hair

Age: 8

Personality: polite, very smart for her age’s standards, curious, very attached to buns daily life, kind, caring.

Area of greatest ability: botany, biology

Kins: does not has kin but supports others who do!

Family: Xiangling (biological big sister) Wanmin (biological dad) Yanfei (adoptive cousin) madam Ping (adoptive grandma) Xianyun, Shenhe, Xiao, Ganyu (found family)

Friends: Baizhu, Beidou, Ningguang, Qiqi, Childe, Zhongli, Diona, Klee, Paimon, Sayu, Nahida, Sigewinne

Disabilities: autistic, dyslexia

Belief: believes Rex Lapis and has taoist-like and buddhist-like practices on greens daily life

Name: Baizhu

Gender: transmasc nonbinary, he/they

Pictures of Character:

Appearance: ethnically chinese, brown skin, black hair dyed green, brown eyes

Age: 38

Sexuality: gay

Personality: learns easily, kind, sassy, gets things done as soon as they can, might be very agressive when he wants to protect

Area of greatest ability: pharmachology, medicine

Kins: writing, squishy things, snakes, nature, plants, green, clay

Family: none

Relationship status: single

Friends: Zhongli, Qiqi, Yaoyao, Ganyu, Shenhe, Xiangling, Xiao, Xianyun, Yelan, Yun Jin

Disabilities: OCD, chronic pain, uses a wheelchair, Changsheng is a support animal

Belief: believes the adepti and has buddhist-like practices

Name: Xianyun

Gender: cis woman, she/they

Pictures of Character:

Appearance: ethnically chinese, white skin, grey hair, blue eyes, tall

Age: chronologically 4564, physically 60

Sexuality: aroace

Personality: dedicated to her work and duty, polite, competitive, caring even though they doesn’t show it, likes kids

Area of greatest ability: Fighting, caring for

Kins: has not kins but supports her family on theirs

Family: Shenhe (adoptive daughter) Chongyun (adoptive nephew-grandson) Ganyu, Gaming (found family niblings)

Relationship status: single

Friends: Zhongli, adepti, Xiao, Baizhu, Hu Tao, Qiqi, Miko, Xiangling, Yanfei, Yaoyao, Yun Jin

Disabilities: autistic, Tourette’s

Belief: believes Rex Lapis, does not has any specific religious practices

Name: Xinyan

Gender: genderfluid, she/he

Pictures of Character:

Appearance: ethnically chinese, black, chubby, brown eyes, dark brown afro hair in two buns

Age: 18

Sexuality: polysexual

Personality: easily exciting, persistent, bold, loud, kind, likes kids

Area of greatest ability: music

Kins: summer, sand, fire, red, glitter, guitars

Family: Zhongli (adoptive dad) Ganyu, Xiao, Hu Tao, Qiqi (adoptive siblings) Ajax (found family)

Relationship status: in a colorful friendship with Yun Jin

Friends: Fischl, Kazuha, Mona, Xiangling, Beidou, Yanfei, Keqing, Barbara

Disabilities: ADHD, anxiety, chronic migraines

Belief: believes Rex Lapis, but doesn’t really care about him

Name: Yun Jin

Gender: transfem demigirl, she/they/fluff

Pictures of Character:

Appearance: ethnically chinese, chubby, dark skin, brown eyes, black long braided hair

Age: 18

Sexuality: asexual lesbian

Personality: learns easily, friendly, polite, graceful, gets easily embarassed when in front of few people

Area of greatest ability: music

Kins: squishy stuff, painting

Family: Yun-Han clan

Relationship status: in a colorful friendship with Xinyan

Friends: Baizhu, Ganyu, Keqing, Ningguang, Barbara, Shenhe, Childe, Xiangling, Xianyun, Xiao, Xingqiu, Yanfei, Yaoyao, Yelan, Zhongli

Disabilities: autistic

Belief: is agnostic, but has a phew buddhist-like practices on her daily life

#genshin impact #genshin headcanons #tartaglia #childe #childe tartaglia ajax #qiqi #shenhe #zhongli #xiao #yaoyao #baizhu #xianyun #xinyan #yun jin

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glaciescustodia · 1 year ago

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Tonia's Armor/Adornments/Accessories, etc.

General.

Is crafted from light yet durable golden ore exclusive in her homeland. Meanwhile, the green pieces are from Anemo Crystalfly Cores, topped with grounded powder sheltered by glassy surfaces that gives her armor a near permanent glowing effect.

After a certain amount of time, she has to do some replacements but she goes months before needing to make these changes.

The same goes for her hair crown and earrings. So she is pretty knowledgeable with handling a forge and an alchemy table.

There are some green pieces on the sword as well but this one, is a seperate matter than Tonia and is able to go from Anemo green to Geo gold, given its origin alone. She is, legitimately using the weapon of Kuma (bear-like illuminated beast), a General from the Archon War, that had been under Rex Lapis leadership like many other warriors that defended Liyue from threats.

Outside of the armor platings, the fabric itself is pretty durable and do not tear easily and offer comfortable resistances to some elements and weather hazards.

In regard to where her Anemo Vision rests, she would rather leave people to not know or immediately guess where it may be on her person. To an extent, she likes fooling others into seeing her as nothing more than some normal kid, much to her apparel.

Advantage.

Despite her height able to throw people in a loop & assume she is older than first assumed, this 13 years old is far from helpless. They are younger ones than herself, who can handle themselves, to say nothing of her prowess on the field of a battle.

Its also because of that height that Tonia can get away with many things, like entering grown up places, especially in foreign nations than her homeland.

Her sword act in a similar vein to Thor's hammer, which flawlessly prevent any kind of theft or hope to break the weapon. It belongs to an illuminated beast after all. Just about anyone except her, can one wield the weapon, to others, it would just be like holding claymore or something that refuse to budge.

Though it is Geo powered in origin, it can shift to the Anemo element because of all the training Tonia has done. Granted, she cannot make use of Geo, evidently because of her Vision. Geo attacks are exclusive to Kuma once he's the one to wield his weapon.

Not holding the sword, does not make Tonia any less dangerous, she is plenty resourceful, beside she got Kuma to back her up.

In short, they share it.

Downside.

She sticks out like a sore thumb and cannot deal with being stealthy at night or in dark places because of how much glowing there is on her.

The only good thing is her acting like a walking torch that doesn't intend to go out so easily. Its a bit two sided, depending on the situation but don't expect Tonia to agree about sneaking around.

Its easier in broad daylight and unless she is facing the sun, she won't be blinding you... not too much.

#ooc #she's got some other hcs somewhere in the blog #there are a lil hard to find but #it was about time i gush a bit more about this sassy anemo child #u cannot tell me she doesn't use anemo swords bc her bro got the hydro ones #u cant #headcanon #lore #meta #muse relevant #Muse: Tonia

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haunted-xander · 3 years ago

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silly chili comic redraw expect its just sketches bc i got lazy

#uh i forgot to post this when i made it oops #childe #tartaglia #ajax #zhongli #rex lapis #morax #tonia #chili #tartali #zhongchi #genshin impact #art #my art #xanders art #xanders haunting art #digital art #fan art

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demogorgon · 3 years ago

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ok ngl genshin music is so good

#rex incognito always gives me chills it's like my fav chara trailer song #i also like letter from ajax its cute esp bc he's writing a letter to tonia

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anakinhasbeenmoved · 3 years ago

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whilst undercover as a clone, anakin was gonna go by the name of Kachow, but tonia said no . . . so now he doesn’t get a nickname 😔😔😔

#･ﾟ✧ › 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵‚ 𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥. –– out of character.#me & anakin: KACHOW #tonia & rex: no #simply stomping on my vibes and #breaking my heart because kachow is the best nickname #clone trooper kachow #also secretly anakin sk.ywalker but sssssh #he too tol he aint fooling nobody #also his impression of a clone is Bad #but if he went by kachow then it could've #all been explained #kachow > rookie #( we really should call him clown )

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favonius-captain · 3 years ago

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𖤐 * ∿ ASTRA INCLINANT SED NON OBLIGANT

𖥻 CHARACTERS

childe, diluc & gn! reader

𖥻 GENRE

hurt/comfort

𖥻 SUMMARY

part two of this fic !

𖥻 WARNINGS

no graphic descriptions, but the usual ones of injury mentions, crying, things like that

𖥻 LINKS

masterlist

𖥻 NOTES

childe favoritism is real. and im sorry i have an obsession with pirates. and honest to god this work ,,, not my fav but we’re going to deal with it !!

𖥻 CHILDE

the moment you leave, he’s bursting out of his hospital room trying to find you

he has to get pulled back by doctors and fatui agents alike, as he stares out into the empty path where you’ve gone

and since then, he’s tried to block you out completely

he doesn’t search for you; even when sometimes when he returns home his siblings talk about you

word has it that you got your vision and left sneznaya completely; he finds out that you’ve been sailing at sea as a pirate, and only come by a few times a year

he ignores the ache in his chest when tonia says that you stopped by once on his birthday, asking if he was home, only for him to be in liyue on mission

the younger ones are oblivious to how his face falls, but his parents do ask him why you are no longer with him

he just gives them a pained smile and says that you just didn’t want to be a fatui harbinger

he does think about you, though. even when he trains harder, close to the brink of exhaustion, he does think of you

but you don’t think of him. even if you did ask his parents about him.

if you cared, you would’ve written a letter. and he has none

as if to spite you, he works harder at being a harbinger. he tells him that it’s enough. even if he knows it will never be

(more under cut)

ten years later

he’s an accomplished harbinger now; he doesn’t have much time to think of you these days

but sometimes when he’s cleaning through his old boxes, he finds old trinkets from you and him. they never fail to make his heart clench, but they were from his teenage years

it’s time to move on. even if he doesn’t want to

you’re an accomplished pirate; but your identity is secret. still, everyone knows the ship you sail on, called The Caeli.

you’re known for causing absolute wreckage at sea

but there are also stories of you helping small towns, instead of raiding them. there are stories of you hunting down corrupt ships

you’re well known throughout the nations - so well known, that you’ve even forged diplomatic relations with some of them

you’ve even met the infamous traveler; rumor has it that you’ve made acquaintance with rex lapis before he passed

it only takes so long for the tsaritsa to get interested - and since childe does know rex lapis, and youve apparently made his acquaintance, she thinks it’s a good idea to send him as a diplomat

and even though childe prefers to be more on the fighting side, his interest is piqued by you

so naturally, he accepts

but when you descend off your ship, looking for the man they call tartaglia, he stops

and when your eyes land on him, he freezes

it’s been ten years, but he could recognize you anywhere. you still have the same mischievous twinkle, the same sense of adventure

but as your eyes go to him, something like -

something like fear flits in your eyes

he doesn’t know about your deal with the tsaritsa; he doesn’t know that you think just by seeing him again, you’re putting him in danger

all he knows is that you, his childhood friend, is afraid of him

“childe,” you say, putting on a tight smile. it feels fake, and you have no doubt that it looks fake. “it’s good to see you again.”

it’s not a lie. not really.

but it hurts. being this close to him.

he smiles, but he doesn’t even try to make it look any less hostile or pained than he feels.

“y/n,” he says. “when teucer told me you were a pirate, i didn’t think he meant this.”

you flinch at the hostility of his tone.

it’s well deserved, you think. you know what you did to him; even if it was years ago.

“yeah, well,” you say. “you taught me many fighting skills. i had to put it to use somehow.” you eye him up and down. “and, uh - i see you’ve become a harbinger, like you’ve always dreamed.”

my dream was always with you, he wants to say, but he doesn’t say that. so instead, he nods and gives another awkward smile

it’s very clear both of you want to just bolt, but unfortunately, you have things that need to be discussed

so he does the bare minimum

stiff smiles, sometimes low aimed insults that make you flinch. you never respond to them, and for some reason, that makes it hurt more

you hurt me when you left, he tells himself, as if trying to make himself feel better.

but it isn’t until nighttime when it’s far past midnight and you don’t have a place to stay since you lent your ship (and your crew) to some merchants who were struggling with transporting goods in time for a deadline

“isn’t your ship the other way?” childe asks you, as you walk, head down, shoulders slightly slumped.

you’re not sure how much longer you can do it - pretending that each low insult doesn’t hurt. pretending that this - that this is all okay.

pretending that you meant to leave him. pretending like you don’t still love him,

“i leant it to some merchants,” you say, sticking your hands in your pockets. it’s cold out tonight. “they needed transport, and were struggling with some deadlines. so i told my crew to ship their goods to inazuma and come back in three days.”

his brow furrows. you can see the gears turning in his head - it’s been ten years, but the expression of a boy you once knew is still there.

“you can stay with me,” he says, finally. “i can sleep on the couch. or we can pull out the sleeping bags. just like before.”

his voice catches on before, as if remembering that before didn’t contain betrayal, and sacrifice. before is scratched out white, tainted with the memories of now.

still, you don’t have much of a choice. so you accept

it was supposed to be alright. it was supposed to go fine

of course, though, things hardly ever go as plan

you sleep on the bed as childe sleeps on the couch; you don’t pull out the sleeping bags. neither of you can bare to

but sleep doesn’t come to you. so in the middle of the night, you awaken, tip toeing out to the outdoors, careful not to wake childe up

little do you know that childe also hasn’t been sleeping. and after a full minute, he follows you out

you hear him before you see him; you’re leaning against the rail, staring out into liyue when you hear his footsteps. soft as ever - one thing about him that hasn’t changed - before you feel him leaning on the bars next to you.

he’s far - not close enough for your shoulders to brush. but it makes your hair stand on edge all the same.

“you should be sleeping,” you say stiffly, swallowing. you turn your face away from his, blinking back the tears that threaten to rise.

“you should be too. i hardly see why you’re criticizing me.”

“you’re a harbinger. you have a big day tomorrow, don’t you?”

you can’t help it when it comes out bitter; childe flinches. it’s the first time you’ve shown a hint of anger, a hint of any emotion that entire day.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, voice sharp.

“you have a big day every day. every day is another day of the same killing,” you snap.

“like you don’t do the same?”

“i don’t kill people. not like you do.”

“it’s for a purpose. it’s for the tsaritsa.”

you bark a laugh, blinking back the unshed tears. “and what has the tsaritsa ever done for you?”

“more than you’ve dome.” his voice burns. he doesn’t raise it, but it hurts all the same. “she gave me a spot. a position. an honor. and most important,” his eyes bore into your’s. “she didn’t abandon me. not like you did.”

“don’t lie. you would’ve left me in the dust either way.”

“i was going to give it up.” for the first time, hurt shines in his voice. his face fractures - only a second, only a moment, where you see the boy you once knew. “i was going to give it up. for you.”

it’s only then do you stumble back - slightly. your knuckles turn white with how tight you’re gripping the rail.

“why?” childe asks, quieter. not mad, just - broken. “why did you leave?”

you swallow. “ask your precious tsaritsa.”

and then you’re gone. and this time, he doesn’t chase you

you end up paying to stay at a hotel for the next few nights

and by the time he asks around and finds you, you’re already gone

he does end up confronting signora, asking what the hell you meant

and she tells him; tells him how as harbingers, their only duty should be to their job, and nothing else. how it was for “the better good.”

he doesn’t outright leave; he’s smarter than that. but it doesn’t stop the stab of betrayal he feels

not from you; from the fatui

but you’re long gone, already back at sea

so he writes you a letter. a new beginning

dear y/n,

i know everything. please, meet me again

⠀

𖥻 DILUC

he respects your wishes, and leaves you alone

but he does have other people check up on you and make sure you get home safely

you do end up coming back to mondstadt; kokomi herself made sure you got onboard the ship to head home, considering you had very little memory of your time as a resistance member

he keeps an eye on you while you’re in mondstadt; he doesn’t approach you again though

half out of fear of rejection

he doesn’t know if he can take it again to see your oblivious eyes; his heart aches just thinking about all the times you won’t remember

so he keeps his distance

he throws himself into work, if only to keep his mind off of you

but he does send you small things from your past, as if hoping to remind you

he brings your crew in at one point, but you don’t recognize any of them

he sends you little charms, not signed with his name, but you don’t recognize any of it

after about a year, he accepts it; you won’t remember

so he leaves you alone, like he promised you

but he put the engagement ring on a necklace, and tucks it under his shirt. it’s the most he allows himself to hold onto.

two years later

you’ve left mondstadt - returning to inazuma, your hometown, after the war was over

you never did get your vision back, though. apparently it had been shattered during the war

and although you don’t visit mondstadt, you feel something bubble in your chest every time you hear the name diluc being passed around

you can’t place it; but you know it’s there

you end up starting a bar in inazuma; some part of your body still remembers the days of when you used to work side by side with diluc in angel’s share

some part of you still remembers the burning taste of shitty alcohol from when you were out at sea with your crew

and even if your mind can’t place it, your body remembers it all the same

sometimes you find yourself looking beside you, for a face that isn’t there. or whenever you’re washing the cups, you instictinyl hold them up as if you’re passing it to someone else to dry it for you. a routine well ingrained in your habits

but even as your face falls for a person you can’t remember, you push down the feeling of rising emptiness

one day, though, diluc goes overseas to talk out some business deal with a growing bar, to propose a partnership

he doesn’t know much about the bar owner; only that they’re fairly new to the business

aka, he has no idea that it’s you

and you’ve purposely called him over, wanting to know who he was

and the moment he steps into your bar, and sees you, he freezes

it’s been two years and you’ve changed - you have the same smile, the same eyes, but there’s an expression in it that he hasn’t seen since you’ve first met

you’re lonely.

you see him, and you assume that this is the diluc that so many people have talked about; they never told you who he was to you, you just know that he was someone

“mr. ragnvindr,” you say, waving him over. “it’s been awhile.”

he seems to snap out of whatever had him stunned, but he still hovers at the doorway as if he was planning to run.

you remember the day when he was injured, and tried to talk to you; only for you to flinch, still not remembering anything.

and you have other vague memories farther than that; a redhead with a small smile that you swear could light up the entire world. a fire keeping you warm in the winter. a man sitting across the table from you, eating cereal at two in the morning.

“y/n,” he says, softly. “is it really you?”

you don’t answer his question, instead, taking a step closer to him. you stare at him.

“who are you?” you whisper, quietly. “who were you to me?”

he goes silent at that. you can hear his breathing get heavier.

“everyone talks about you. everyone asks where you’ve been. but i don’t know you.” you shake your head. “everyone else from my life contacted me, and i’ve stayed friends with most of them. hell, i even remember some of them - but you - you haven’t tried to contact me. and all i fucking know is that you were important to me.”

his voice is barely above a whisper. “you were important to me too.”

you take a step back, swallowing the emotion that threatens to rise in your throat.

“then, why?” you whisper. “why did you never contact me?”

his breath hitches.

“i need to go.”

and then he’s gone.

why did you never contact me?

the question echoes in his head

the sight of your eyes - the smallest of fractures - when he turned around and exited out as quickly as he could, is ingrained in his mind

because i’m scared. because it’s my fault. because -

he could list off a thousand excuses, but none of them seem to be enough

he wants to tell you that he’s sorry; he wants to tell you that he misses you. that he never meant to make you feel alone

but he doesn’t know how to stand in front of you, and not see all the times before you lost your memory

he doesn’t know how to stand in front of you and resist being able to say i love you

but due to, your pushy friends/family members, fate you two meet up again

in the same spot where he left you

you had come to visit it, because it had become like your quiet place; you often stopped by it, when you just needed to gather your thoughts and think

he stopped by because it was the last place (other than the bar) that he had seen you, and he needed a moment alone before he left again

he sees you there - he stops, wanting to turn around, but he figures that would be unfair to you

“hey.”

you turn at the sound of diluc’s voice. you hadn’t expected to hear him again.

“hey.” you shake your head. “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t-”

“no. i’m sorry,” it comes spilling from his lips, and you can tell it’s a ramble that he can’t stop. “i should’ve contacted you before. i should’ve - i should’ve left you a note, or something. it wasn’t fair of me to leave you alone. but i was-” he breath catches “- it was my fault you lost your vision. it’s my fault you lost your memory. i couldn’t - i couldn’t face you. not after that.”

and it’s only then - then, when you take him into your arms, as his tears start spilling; it’s only then when you see the ring that’s slipped out from under his shirt, that you remember.

you remember the first time you met; his stoic face when you first stepped into angel’s share, asking for a drink. you remember the late nights of him pulling himself up to your doorstep, blood gushing from his wound. you remember the nights spent in the basement, dancing with him with only the faint sounds of music.

you remember the ring; the ring you had once gazed longingly at, at the store, that you thought diluc had never noticed.

you remember him.

and when you take him into your arms, as he buries his face into your neck, you whisper:

“it was not your fault. i did it because i love you. i hope you always remember that.”

#diluc x reader #childe x reader #genshin x reader #diluc ragnvindr #childe #tartaglia #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin imagines #— writing

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luvyanfei · 4 years ago

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anon said. ooo a new blog! can you do confession headcanons where xiao, childe, and scaramouche react to reader confessing to them and the aftermath of it? thank you!

a/n. xiao’s is kind of terrible ;; ue ue gomenasai

“i love you, [character’s name].”

SCARAMOUCHE.

huh? is this some kind of a joke? if so, it’s definitely not a good idea to mess with his feelings like this, especially when he also shares the same sentiment. scaramouche is almost impressed by your boldness. not everyone has the nerve to confess their love for a harbinger in front of their own faces, after all. when he’s hit with the realization that you’re serious, he secretly pinches himself to make sure he’s not in a dream.

the sharp pain that comes with his nails making contact with his flesh affirms that this is real. he stifles back a genuine smile, choosing to stay calm despite the bliss he’s currently feeling. “i guess it can’t be helped. hmph, you should be lucky i’m rather fond of you as well, [name].” he says that, but he’s the fortunate one to have successfully stolen your heart before others can claim you for themselves.

unfortunately, his time with you is quite limited due to his affiliation with the fatui, so any fleeting moments are captured in photos from the kamera to look back on. he secretly carries a picture of you while he’s out of town on important missions so that he won’t miss you too badly. he fondly looks at your still, yet smiling face to cheer him up after a tough work while everyone else is asleep. well, almost everyone.

“hmm, who’s that in your hands, scaramouche?” childe asks, gesturing to the photo the harbinger is admiring fondly. scaramouche rolls his eyes to hide his slight embarrassment and hesitates a bit before he answers.

“oh them? their name is [name], my... sibling.” childe almost gapes in disbelief as he looks at the blue-haired man in shock.

“you have a sibling? why didn’t you tell me? they’re so cute!” the 11th harbinger squeals in delight, which honestly irks poor scaramouche. he scoots away to give himself some space as he tucks the picture in his pocket for safe-keeping.

“you didn’t bother to,” he explains matter-of-factly. “now if you’ll excuse me,” he stands up from his crouched position and dusts himself, “i’m going to take a walk, alone.”

he wanders through a dark forest and grassy fields, until he finds himself standing on top of a cliff, the moon glowing brightly above. he peers up at the twinkling stars in the sky and imagines you beside him, watching the breathtaking view together. humming an unfamiliar tune to himself, scaramouche muses over the past and replays your confession over and over again. if he could, he would respond differently than he did before.

‘i love you.’ those three letter words echo in his ears like a melody and he allows himself to smile.

“i love you too, [name].”

XIAO.

he automatically perks up an eyebrow in confusion. what? is it just him or did you seriously admitted you love him? xiao stammers for a brief second, no words spilling out from his partially open mouth. what is he supposed to say? “thank you?” “i love you too?”

when he pulls himself together, xiao shakes his head and frowns. his answer is clear and simple: no. you mortals don’t understand just how dangerous it is to get close with someone like him - a yaksha. drowning in the brink of debt and despair, he doesn’t need you to suffer all the same. the dejected expression on your face pains him to a considerable degree, yet he convinces himself, this is for your own good.

since then, he avoids you like the plague in hopes that your feelings for him will disperse into flames. you deserve someone better, someone who won’t place you in harm’s way, someone unlike him. out of kindness, you still visit him from time to time while you go and do your daily commissions, but your interaction is heavily tense and an air of discomfort seeps through your gaze. why does his chest hurt as if he was impaled with a knife and so much more when you look at him like that? the thought of breaking down and revealing the truth that he’s also in love with you tempts him eagerly, but his pride and anxiety tides over his desires.

you, on the other hand, is aware that xiao harbors feelings for you. you discovered this secret of his when you climbed the stairs to the spot on the balcony where he was to surprise him with a greeting, but your ears captured a faint voice in the night breeze and you couldn’t stop yourself from eavesdropping on the little conversation xiao was having with himself. he muttered about “rex lapis”, the fate of liyue, and etc. you were about to leave him to his own devices, but the next words he said stopped you in your tracks.

“will [name] accept me if i say i love them? probably not, i suppose.” you left before he could spare a glance in your direction and a smile graced your features as you happily walked away. and being the persistent individual that you are, you inquire verr on why he’s acting so cold towards you, desperate to seek the answer you need. “xiao is, as you’re well aware, a yaksha who’s experienced hardships throughout his life, and probably lost loved ones along the way. i’m sure,” she turns to look at the setting sun in melancholy, “he doesn’t want to hurt anyone important to him again.”

you plan ahead of time for the best way to approach him without giving him any chance to escape. unfortunately, this is the only thing you can think of as you place a hand on either side of his head, trapping him between you and the wall. xiao looks at you curiously, devoid of amusement. he crosses his arms and frowns.

“what are you doing?” your hands twitch and you chew on your bottom lip nervously before you explain yourself.

“i heard from verr why you’ve been giving me the cold shoulder, that you don’t want to hurt anyone important to you, but...” you trail off to blink back the tears threatening to burst.

“it hurts, when you ignore me like this.” your voice is quiet enough that he needs to step closer to hear you. “it hurts how selfless you are. can’t you be selfish just once? i meant what i said and i’ll say it again. i love you.”

xiao stammers, at a loss for words, before he starts sniffling and buries himself in your arms, crying out apologies as you stroke the back of his hair and gives a closed-eye smile. “it’s okay, xiao. i’m sorry too, for not realizing how much you’ve been suffering by yourself. you don’t have to carry the burden alone anymore,” you say, looking into his tear-filled eyes, “i will always be here with you, no matter what path you choose to take.”

“even if that path may eventually hurt you?” he whispers in a cracked voice, fingers curling around your sleeves. you nod.

“it’s worth the pain as long as i can hold you in my arms, like this.” he chokes out a bitter chuckle and wipes away the glistening tears.

“i love you too, [name].”

CHILDE.

the harbinger blinks his cerulean eyes once, then twice, and... you find yourself pulled into his arms, as his lips uplift into a jovial smile. “really? you love me? [name], i had no idea you held such deep admiration for me.” you playfully roll your eyes and chuckle as you wrap your own arms around his body, fondly reciprocating his affection.

he’s the fastest to accept your confession than the other two men. you’d bet he would scamper to where he’s staying at to tell every grain of detail to his adoring relatives.

he writes letters to his siblings about your daily dates and the progress you two are making in your relationship. they tease him for the most part, but they’re happy that he’s found the love of his life and requests that he bring you along with him on his next visit. childe smiles in relief, content that they accept you already despite never meeting you and he asks you if you’d like to come with him to his home country where you can introduce yourself to his family. without hesitation, you agree instantly, eager to meet the siblings he gushes about.

snezhnaya is colder than you thought, as you hug yourself to preserve your warmth, even with the layers of clothing wrapped around you. “we’re almost there, [name].” childe notices your trembling and rubs his gloved hands against your back. “sorry, it’s a bit chilly here, but please bear with me.”

you nod and continue on. when a building enters your field of sight, childe stops and grins shyly at you. “this is the place.” breath materializes in front of you as he gestures for you to head on in. almost immediately are you greeted with a little embrace as a young boy wraps his fingers around your waist and grins up at you.

“so you’re the one who big brother said he’s in love with? have you kissed before? when is your wedding?” the child bombards you with questions excitedly and a girl has to pull him away from you, tonia, you guess.

“teucer,” childe scolds gently, a light blush colouring his cheeks, which does not go unnoticed in his siblings’ eyes, unfortunately for him.

a wedding, huh? seeing the sparkle in your eyes, the laughter in your voice, and the warmth of your touch as you idly chat with his siblings makes him hope, that maybe in the distant future, he’ll brave himself to take the next step to further deepen your relationship, for he wants to be with you always.

as he tucks away the last sleeping child, childe wanders in to your shared bedroom, surprised you’re still awake. “you really love them a lot, huh childe?” he nods seriously, as you pull him to lie down comfortably into bed.

“but do you know something else?” his breath tickles your ear as he intertwines his fingers with yours, offering a meek smile. you shake your head and nuzzle closer to him.

“i love you too, [name].”

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #childe x reader #scaramouche x reader #xiao x reader

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irrlicht-writes · 3 years ago

Text

of Rex Lapis and a young boy

“Do you love her?” “What do you want me to say?”

Say yes. Say yes so I can tell myself to stop. If you love her still, then there is no way that there’s place for me in you. Say yes so I can stop thinking, stop pretending. Say yes so I know that you don’t care for me. Say yes so that I know, once and for all, that mortals and gods are not supposed to be next to each other. Say yes so I can try to forget that you are my friend. Say yes so I can forget that you are my only friend. Say yes so I can slap myself and laugh and make a joke about how stupid I am. Say yes so I know that anytime you looked at me, you didn’t look at me at all. Say yes so I know that I’ll never be curious or kind enough. Say yes, so that I know I never mattered at all. | Zhongli would never love him. Zhongli could only love things that were long past, and Childe walked ever toward the future.

Ao3

Azhdaha.

Zhongli-xiansheng and the Traveller had left the Harbour for a while to go look at some stones – or something, Childe didn’t ask – and now they’ve returned.

It had stung, just a little bit, when he realised Xiansheng had just dumped him for their meal but that was okay. That was perfectly, absolutely fine. He hadn’t sat there for hours upon end, waiting for him and then heading to the Funeral Parlour just to learn that Zhongli had left the Harbour entirely. That was cool. It wasn’t like they told each other everything, right?

It’s not like Zhongli knew everything Childe was up to in Liyue.

But now they were back, sitting at the Storyteller’s. Zhongli-xiansheng looked great, even. Like he hadn’t missed Childe at all. Yeah. That was cool. Perfectly cool.

He wasn’t even interested in rocks, so no wonder they didn’t ask him to come along. Yeah. Right.

Zhongli told him about Azhdaha in a quiet tone, and Childe knew he wasn’t getting the whole story. The Traveller sat beside them, silent as ever. It was cool. Childe got the picture. He wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t as dumb as they thought him to be. Childe had heard that tone in Zhongli’s voice many times. For some reason, that tone had always struck him, but he had never been sure why.

He thought he knew, now.

It sounded like Zhongli was talking about something incredibly dear to him.

Not long after, Zhongli left, the Traveller close behind. They barely said good-bye and Childe smiled at them. He was acutely aware of the fact that they left without paying their tab. Yeah. That was fine, he’d just cover it.

“Storyteller,” he requested as he ordered himself the strongest drink this bar had, “can you tell me of Rex Lapis and the Mountain-Dragon?”

And so the Storyteller did.

The next day, Childe ventured into Nantianmen. He had seen the tree there before, but had thought little of it. Now, it was different. This is where Azhdaha had been sealed away, right beneath his feet. Zhongli’s friend.

Zhongli’s lover, even.

Back then, hearing about the Goddess of Dust had felt weird, like a mortal Zhongli pining for a Goddess dead way before his time. Now, after everything, it made more sense. When he talked about Azhdaha, Zhongli-xiansheng had the same look in his eyes. A soft, far-away look in his eyes that had always made Childe feel small and unimportant. Which was why, whenever he’d catch that look, he’d crack a joke, or point out a merchant stall.

He stepped closer to the tree and put his hand on the bark.

Did Zhongli come here, to be close to his old friend?

Zhongli never came to him, just to get him.

Always, it had been a matter Childe would have to settle with Mora somehow.

Had he ever been Zhongli’s friend, at all?

“What makes you so special?”

The tree, and the dragon hereby-under, don’t answer.

“Zhongli-xiansheng is rather busy, I apologise.”

To her credit, the Ferry lady did actually look sorry. It did little to stifle Childe’s mood, but he appreciated the gesture nonetheless. He wondered, idly, why it’s always him that reached out to Zhongli. Why was he the one clinging to a God that lied to him?

Well, maybe he was stupid after all.

He smiled at the Ferry lady and left her. He didn’t tell her to inform Zhongli that he’d been here. Somehow, he doubted that Zhongli would care either way. He pretended it didn’t hurt something in his chest, and returned to Northland Bank.

At least Ekaterina and the others there were forced to care about him. Oh, the luxury of being a Harbinger.

Despite him talking about her all the time, Childe knew next to nothing about Guizhong. There also wasn’t that much to find in books. Despite what people might think, Childe actually was a vivid reader. Granted, it tended to be adventure stories, not dry history, but he could expand.

But she had been Morax’ best friend.

And while the dry history books didn’t say it outright, it was clear as day: they all suspected the two to have been lovers in some capacity. The all-powerful Morax, and the sweet, gentle-hearted Guizhong. The perfect pair, even. He was strong where she was weak, and she was wise where he was not.

Childe wasn’t a romantic where it counted, but even he could see the potential in writing stories about a couple like that.

And she died, leaving Rex Lapis behind.

Childe looked out the window.

To be fair, he wasn’t sure why he read about Guizhong in the first place. What was he hoping to achieve? All the books he consumed about Rex Lapis have had a clear goal in mind: stealing the God’s Gnosis.

Not that that had worked, but semantics. Maybe Childe just wasn’t meant to steal someone’s heart.

He went to Guili Plains the next chance he got. He wasn’t sure why, but this place had been named after Guizhong and Zhongli. For all its historic worth, it look desolate. Rationally, Childe knew that a war has taken place here, but still, he had expected more, somehow. He had expected Rex Lapis to try and restore this place that he and his lost lover shared.

He was also a bit disappointed that there were no Glaze Lilies here. The books hadn’t shut up about Guizhong and Glaze Lilies. So much in fact that Childe had had his doubts on whether or not she’d really been the Goddess of Dust or Glaze Lilies.

He wondered what kind of man Zhongli would be today if Guizhong had not died. What kind of man he’d be if he hadn’t needed to seal the dragon away.

If that had been the case, then he probably wouldn’t have cared about Childe at all.

The hole in his chest hurt and he didn’t like it.

With his past dead, Zhongli’s eyes would glance across Childe.

If they had been alive, he wouldn’t have looked at Childe at all.

Wanting to stop, he killed the abyss mages.

There were Glaze Lilies blooming in the Harbour. He’s heard that they were cultured there artificially, because they were dying out. Zhongli must hate that fact. But that also meant that Childe of all people would probably not be able to actually approach the stupid flowers.

It had been days since they’ve last met, and Zhongli hadn’t come to him.

Childe felt like a broken tool. He wondered how long it would take him to get used to that feeling.

He wanted to see the flowers, so he snuck out at night. He knew there were some blooming behind the house on the Terrace, so he hoped he wouldn’t be spotted by the Millelith. It’d be hard to explain himself to Lady Ningguang for this, so he’d rather not.

Childe climbed the wall easily and quietly and sure enough, there they were – two Glaze Lilies, blooming under the moonlight. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure what he had been expecting. Did he want to pick them to present them to Zhongli? Probably not.

He reached out with one finger, gently touching one of the petals. Somehow, he was afraid they’d wilt under his touch and die. But nothing happened. Childe sighed and lied down beside the flowers. The sky was clear and bright. When he closed his eyes, he could hear a soft humming in his ears and it filled him with longing for... something. Not a fight, not a victory, not even a loss, just – something. Something he couldn’t have.

“How did you do it?” He asked the flowers.

How did you make Zhongli fall in love with you? How did you make him look at you proper? How did you make him see you? How do you put that tone in his voice and how do you put that look in his eyes?

Childe sighed.

The flowers didn’t respond.

He thought of Azhdaha, who had looked upon the world with curiosity and had learned to love it through Morax.

He thought of Guizhong, who had looked upon her people with endless kindness and had taught Rex Lapis to do the same.

He was neither curious nor kind.

No wonder that Zhongli didn’t care to look at him.

Why had the Tsaritsa sent him here? Why couldn’t he have been in on the plan? He could’ve caused a havoc even knowing where Morax was. Why couldn’t he have taken the Gnosis after a done deed? Why did it have to be Signora?

He was Her Majesty’s vanguard, was he not?

Didn’t she think him capable enough?

Why couldn’t Signora have wrecked the city?

Why him?

Was he really only good for front-line mayhem, and nothing else?

The God he had spent so much time with hadn’t even looked at him when he handed his heart away.

The God Childe had believed to be his friend.

He had no friends, now.

Childe put his report away and left the Bank.

It was late, and everything in him yearned for his home.

His home, where his parents would watch him with wary eyes.

Maybe he shouldn’t have come back, when he’d fallen.

When will he hurt Tonia? When will he take Anthon and Teucer, and turn them into monsters too? When will he reveal that our son has never come back at all? How long will this facade last?

He would smile at them, and pretend he didn’t know. He’d pretend that these months had never happened and that they still loved him unconditionally.

He reached the pier and sat down. He wanted to go fishing again.

The water gently dipped at the stone and Childe sighed. He wondered, did Morax laugh at him? Each time Childe had thought he’d been sleek, getting more information from Zhongli, had the God laughed at his ignorance?

But Zhongli had seemed so content, so willing to answer all of Childe’s questions.

It’s an important part of Liyuean’s cuisine, Childe. Please use the chopsticks.

Had Morax been making fun of him?

He’d never hear the end of it, back home in Snezhnaya. He could already hear Scaramouche’s snicker in his ear.

His mark had been right there next to him, ever-correcting the Harbinger’s grip on the chopsticks, and Childe had never known.

A one-way tool of war was probably the best thing he could ever be.

He could neither be curious or kind.

How would a guy like him ever gain the affection of the divine?

“You cannot sleep?”

Childe didn’t turn around.

What did it matter, anyway?

Zhongli sat down beside him with a small sound, reminding Childe how old this man truly was. He’d been a fool. How could Zhongli ever be his friend, with all their differences?

“Tell me a story.”

“What do you want to hear?”

Childe was silent for a moment.

Tell me how I can make you look at me. How can I be kind, or curious enough for you to gain your affection? Tell me how I can make myself significant to you. Tell me how I can be a friend that you’ll remember. Tell me, please. Tell me how to be important to you.

“I don’t know.”

Childe was staring at the water down below. Zhongli’s contract was fulfilled. There was nothing more they had to talk about. Why did Zhongli even acknowledge him? He should’ve just kept walking.

“You have gone to Guili Plains.”

“...yes.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to see,” Childe replied in a hushed voice.

Truth was, he didn’t know. Maybe he had expected the ghost of Guizhong to descend upon him and tell him everything he’d need to know. A stupid, childish thought. She hadn’t come, and his questions have been left unanswered. A god would never descend for him, anyway.

“What did you find?”

“Nothing,” Childe said. “Why didn’t you restore the Plains?”

“Why would I?”

“Because of Guizhong.”

“It’s the place I lost her in. It is difficult to go there, even after all these centuries.”

What did it feel like, making such an impact on an immortal being?

Every time he returned home, he ventured out into the woods again. Some part of him wanted to find the crack in the earth again, where he lost himself and found himself at the same time. Maybe he also hoped he’d find a little Ajax lost in the woods. He didn’t know.

“Do you love her?”

“What do you want me to say?”

Say yes, so that I know I never mattered at all.

“...say yes, then.”

Childe didn’t remember when he drew his legs in and hugged his knees. He felt smaller and younger than he had in years. Skirk would kill him for this position but she’d never know.

“You’re in pain,” Zhongli said instead and Childe almost wanted to laugh.

“No,” he responded, “I haven’t been in a fight in days.”

“Not all pain is physical, Childe.”

What did he care? Childe wished he’d stop. It was these sorts of talks that put Childe in this situation. If Zhongli would just stop pretending he cared, it’d be all so much easier.

“Kun Jun gave this to me,” Zhongli said and held out his hand, a pretty rock upon it.

For the first time, Childe turned his head. It was a pretty thing, he thought.

“Kun Jun?”

“One aspect of Azhdaha.”

Ah. Yes, the other lost lover. Childe tensed his jaw. Why was Zhongli showing this to him? Was he mocking Childe?

Look, all these pretty things you bought me, and still I value the rock my old lover gave to me more.

There it was again, the pang in his chest. Zhongli never carried around the things he made Childe buy. And now here he was, carrying around some rocks this Kun Jun picked up from the ground?

“It’s pretty,” Childe said then. He didn’t know what else to say and Zhongli clearly cherished this rock.

Mora couldn’t buy someone’s affection. It could buy him any favour he’d ever wanted, but he could never buy genuine feelings. Their friendship had been a farce from the start. Zhongli had used him, just like Her Majesty and Signora had used him.

“It was good, seeing him again,” Zhongli sat, gently holding the stone in his hand. “But it hurt, as well, knowing I’d have to seal him away once more.”

“I’m sorry,” Childe said and he wanted to take the rock and throw it in the ocean.

He bought Zhongli so many things, and he valued none of them. For all he knew, Zhongli had thrown them aside the second Childe had turned his back. He’d never be important enough to Zhongli, so why did he even try? Why did he ever bother? He had wanted to invite Zhongli to his home, to meet his family. He had wanted to show his parents that he was still good, still their son, and that he made a genuine friend.

He couldn’t do that now. At best, Zhongli was a former business associate. Not his friend. Never his friend.

Zhongli didn’t say anything and Childe suspected he was deep in memories. He wanted to stand up and leave but he couldn’t.

“Liyue Harbour exists today because of Guizhong,” he said then and Childe curled up in himself. Just rub it in. How would Childe ever compete?

A curious dragon with pretty eyes and pretty rocks, and a gentle soul of a Goddess with beautiful, humming flowers next to her, an entire city dedicated to her?

What was he against them?

A reckless, arrogant toy soldier. The only thing he was good at was fighting and even then, Morax would be able to beat him blind-folded.

“Without her, I would have never been able to appreciate humans. To me, they were barely a duty, a responsibility, not something worthy of love. But she walked among them, empathised with them and through her and for her, I was able to do the same.”

Childe was a human. But he wasn’t part of the humans Zhongli spoke about. He wished he could take that part out of himself; the part that made his chest hurt. He’d rather endure the pain of his transformation.

“When she died, I was devastated and I wrecked havoc on my enemies. They had killed the gentlest soul I would ever know and they did not deserve mercy for it. But I knew, I knew that that wasn’t what she’d want. She’d want me to protect our people, to become the leader she never got the chance to be. So I taught them to build houses, I taught them to make stoves. And these days, I believe she would be proud of what I achieved.”

He was saying yes, and it hurt. Everything Zhongli had done had been for her. But maybe – maybe that was a good thing. He could let go now, right? He knew know, he had audible confirmation that Zhongli would never look at him, would never care for him. He wasn’t good enough. Nobody would ever build a city for him.

He had to go. He had to leave. He couldn’t see Zhongli again. His feet itched, but he couldn’t move. Zhongli would never love him. Zhongli could only love things that were long past, and Childe walked ever toward the future.

“Why are there no Glaze Lilies in Guili Plains?”

“They are a delicate flower, and Guili Plains turning desolate was too much for them to handle. But if you want to get poetic, then Guizhong’s demise surely had something to do with it.”

Childe wondered. If he died, would – would something wither for him? The seashells he was so fond of, would they crack?

“You miss her.”

“Yes.”

Will you miss me is a question left unasked.

Childe took a deep breath. He would fill the gaping hole inside his chest with blood and glory.

“I have something for you.”

Childe blinked. He didn’t remember buying something. He looked over to Zhongli, who held a sword out to him.

“I have been meaning to give it to you for a while but ah, things got in the way.”

Childe reached for the handle and held the sword up against the moonlight. The blade was green. He’d never seen a weapon like that before.

“I crafted it myself long ago. The blade is cut from the purest jade. I made it for a friend, but sadly, they never got to use it.”

“I...” Childe didn’t know what to say. He didn’t use a sword much these days, but he could appreciate good craftsmanship. And really, he could never have enough weapons.

“Thank you,” was what he settled on and Zhongli smiled at him.

“You wished to hear a story,” Rex Lapis said and Childe nodded, holding his new gift close.

“Once, a long time ago, Rex Lapis encountered a boy. The boy would never learn to fear the God he met and instead, would always smile brightly at him. Some might say the boy was ignorant of who he met, but Rex Lapis greatly enjoyed the company of the boy, unburdened by the past. It’s the tale of Rex Lapis, a god feared for his wrath, and a young boy with kind eyes and a gentle soul, ever ready to overtake the world and unafraid to walk in front of a god he ought to fear.

Once, a long time ago, Rex Lapis encountered a young boy who showed him the light of the sun again.”

Perhaps this was alright. Maybe Rex Lapis would always be stuck in the past and Childe would always walk ahead into the future. As Childe listened to Rex Lapis tell him an ancient tale, he fell asleep next to his friend Zhongli, a green sword tightly hugged to his chest.

He dreamed of a field full of flowers and a god and a boy, holding hands, walking towards the gentle brushing of the sea at the shore.

#genshin impact #zhongchi #tartali #genshin childe #genshin zhongli #hurt/comfort #angst #pining #unrequited love #maybe #fanfiction #irrlicht writes #genshin tartagalia #be gentle okay I can't write still

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