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yourlocalstranger123 · 11 months

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Part 1

characters: Nahida, zhongli, Raiden/Ei, Scaramouche/wanderer, Xiao/alatus, Venti, dottore, Albedo, aether/lumine/traveler and abyss prince/princess, dainsleif, azhdaha, miko, celestial

Note: I put the celestials and zhongli even though I already did them because I forgot to put in what they would do if you finally are in Teyvat. Also, some characters don't have their own section, just in someone's else. [Like Miko in Ei's]

Warning: Some have slight NSFW, but technically, it's mostly SFW, slight yandere or maybe just full on yandere and obsessed. Idk-

[They all wonder why you're calling them your baby girl(s)—]

Celestials might be a little greedy for trying to convince or guilt trap you to stay with them a bit longer.....

Zhongli. [ I know I already did zhongli, but I didn't put in what happened when you finally got into teyvat] he was so thrilled. If he was in his dragon body, his tail would've been wagging like a dog. His knees became weak by your presence. He just wanted you to touch him. He finally felt the warmth...although azhdaha just had to steal you from him! He also had a dragon form, so why don't you ask him to transform into it? You could see him in a corner with a slight frown [pout]. At least he gets head pats. [He'll get spoiled sooner or later 🤭]

Xiao. He was loyal to zhongli for sure, but you? He is obsessed with you. When he was alatus, you were the light who he always kept precious. You gave him warmth all those torturous years. You were the reason he could endure it before zhongli had finally saved him from it. He didn't know you were the creator. But when he finally knew, he was so happy. You were always with him, giving everyone hope and the same warmth that you gave him to the others and his friends. Why are you keeping giving him tofu to summon him? He's so very grateful for your cooking and thoughts, but you don't need to. Just call his name with your beautiful voice. You still do it though, which makes him slightly flustered as you can see the tips of his ears go red as he greets you. He was so, SO flustered and shy when you let him on your lap and hug you or lay on it. His eyes went heavy as he closed them. The first time in his whole life, he had a wonderful dream....(of you)

Nahida. Honestly, she felt really happy with you. Even when she was locked away, she felt you reaching for her. She still could feel the warmth, and that's why she's still having hope for someone to save her. Since she is literally the god of knowledge, she already knew you were the creator. Honestly, when you finally went to Teyvat, she didn't expect to be your child suddenly. Although she's not complaining! She loves it when you smother her with your parently love. [You totally did not try to beat the soul out of the grand sages for locking her up, and people, even some of the archons, had to hold you down-]

Ei would be concerned. Who was interfering with her eternity? She didn't know how to react. She always some what felt guilty whenever she did the vision hunt degree. She ignored it all, though. Until when the traveler showed her the beauty of inazuma. It was so different from what it was before...'Maybe it wasn't so bad after all.' She thought. She had noticed that one thing that stayed the same forever was the warmth she felt. She soon found out the warmth was from the creator! Oh, she was so happy. She would make a room that would eternity be dedicated to you! When you appeared in Teyvat, she would be so dang nervous. She wants to be perfect for you. Everything must be! She was going to send Raiden in her place but didn't expect you to personally come over to her! She tried giving you a tour, but she didn't really go outside much, so....yeah, you're technically giving her one instead.. but at least you enjoy braiding her hair for her as Miko is sitting on your lap in her fox form. She's very fluffy when you pet her. [She would be so embarrassed and will malfunction if you ask how she can pull out her sword from her—]

Scaramouche would try to hunt you down honestly. Like who tf are you?? And where the heck are you?? (Imagine you haunt him and keep whispering, "You're shorttt") he was so ready to beat the crap out of you. But he just had to get used to it since he was busy becoming a God. And when he did, he felt your presence once again but clearer. He again ignores it and continues with the fight, which comes with a loss. He had become wanderer now, and he told Nahida that he thinks someone is stalking him. Nahida finally tells him that you're the all mighty creator. So you have been with him this whole time...? Why? He wonders If you forgive him for his sins.... why were you....calling him scarameow?? Is that perhaps another language for something? What does it mean? But it's fine. He still loves you. He got jealous one time and became a 'doll' for your entertainment. He's been doing that a few times. He liked it when one time you manhandled danced with him or even dressed him up [with lingerie]

Oh Venti, that drunkard bard. Oh, how he always speaks about you. He loved you so much. You always played as the wind when he was just a spirit. He always talked to you, although you can't talk, the wind tells him everything. He loved you so dearly. You always protected him in the war. You protected all the people. He understands that you can't stop people from dying of age. It's fate. But you had always accompanied him and his friend. That's all he needs, and he's grateful for it. He already knew you were the creator. The wind tells him everything. He didn't think that he would accidentally make the creator drunk! He promised he was drunk when he offered a drink to you! Or when he falls happily on your lap and arms by falling from the tree that was surrounded by a cat. [He also didn't expect the wonderful view of you on the side of the bed.....naked.....wait, WHAT— [ I mean...he's not complaining besides not having the ability to walk...or think anything besides you and how good you fu—]

Oh dottore. At first, he did not at all care about you. Even when worshipping the creator was public and a thing, he wasn't exactly dedicated. Until he found some ancient script of mechanics and bunch of successful experiments of creatures you did. He did some research and it turns out that those creatures was friendly to you and you did those experiments not so gruesome. So that's why they didn't hold a grudge at you. He became more interested and now it's apart of the research he's doing. And even experiments perhaps. He didn't know thr warm fuzzy feeling in his chest when he saw you smile in those ancient script. Although he may have kept it all a secret until all of the harbingers [except scaramouche because this is the time where he erases himself from all memories] finally found out about it. Oh how he felt when he finally gazes at your body. You looked so much better in the script. He always seek you out for experiments and research. You have the knowledge that even Irminsul doesn't have. Although his constant touch, glances and the way he looks at you with a slight red face doesn't go unnoticed by you when he conduct an experiment on you. [He couldn't forget the 'experiment' conduct on you last night ♥︎]

○ —○ — ○ — experimenters— ○ —○ — ○ — ○

Albedo. He's exactly opposite from dottore at the start, he was obsessed with you. He worshiped you with so many new creations from his experiments and thanked you for uniting him with Klee. At first, he didn't know about you and was curious why he always felt a comforting presence until aunt Alice told him that it was you, their creator, his creator.

He found statues of you that were cracked and was leaking a certain gold liquid. There was scroll. It seems that you made it with your own blood. He researched your statue and conducted careful experiments. He was a little...too fascinated about your body. Drawing you in robes, poses, and even....drew doing stuff to him. He took such care and worshiped it as if it was really you.... you looked way more divine than the statue that you carved yourself. He always wanted you to ask you....."What's the purpose of me existing?"

[You can insert your thoughts if you want, but here's my response to it]

"(1.) There's none. You just exist. I just create you. But...(2.) You can make yourself a purpose. A reason to live out your lives I gave you all. Like you, perhaps you make your own purpose to live is to make Klee happy."

His eyes glinted as you chuckled. He had been in deep thought for a few weeks. Then suddenly, he smiled. 'Perhaps.....'

Dottore and Albedo would 10/10 would be literal vampires. Including zhongli, I swear. The moment they taste your blood as an experiment or accident, they will crave for more. (I know they will literally moan in delight when they tasted it.)

Traveler and abyss prince/princess. How they both felt it. Your warmth. Traveler accepts it with open arms. Traveler thanked you for supporting them to find their sibling. But the abyss prince/princess isn't so fond about accepting it. They don't need your pity.... but they guess they can take it once in a while, you did offer to them, didn't you? Oh, Dainsleif. He doesn't think he should accept it. He wants to, but he is not worthy. But once in a while, when he falls asleep, his lips curve into a smile as he bask in your warmth. They can be selfish, right? You did offer you warmth after all..... The abyss prince/princess tries to kidnap— I mean *cough* *cough* take you away but the Traveler holds onto your arm, not letting go. The abyss prince/princess argues that when the time comes after they finally finish their journey, they can find a home with you! But the traveler pouts and still won't budge. Dainsleif just watches in the background, conflicted. Although....that doesn't mean he didn't have the desire to keep you with him either...

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apple-death · 4 months

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The Worship of Pride and the Prayers of Arrogance

It was finally over. After the days of running and the torture it was time for the execution of the imposter.

The crowd watched in excitement to see the stain on their creator’s legacy get washed away. The thief that dared to steal and deceive the people of Teyvat by wearing their creator’s face. The crowds murmurs of anticipation grew to cheers as the beaten body of the thief was brought to the makeshift stage. Applause rang out as they placed the thief’s behind the chopping block that was stationed there. After all what better way to punish the thief that stole the creator’s face than to remove the head of which the face sits on?

Zhongli forces them in their knees before the block while the Raiden Shogun stands by, looking forward to finally kill the divine sinner with Mussou Ishin. Venti acts as the announcer for the crowd as he lists the off the crimes that the thief has committed to warrant this punishment. Everybody knows what they did, but there’s no such thing as a crowd who doesn’t like to hear a bit of sin. He bolsters the crowd as he turns to the thief and asks them for their last words before their execution, sarcastically saying that everyone will understand if it’s for forgiveness from the creator.

They look at him and for the first time a chill shoots down his spine as their eyes stair into his, before moving onto the crowd. The thief’s eyes held no remorse, no forgiveness, and no mercy. Everyone waited to hear the thief’s lasts words. To hear them plead for forgiveness and mercy by the all creator as their head is chopped off. Some don’t even think the thief should deserve to. Some just want to hear and see their head hit the stone ground.

A grated sound leaves the thief’s lips. It’s so quiet that Venti has to ask them to repeat it. They suck in a breath as they look at the crowd with the same look they gave Venti.

“Your god. Does not. Exist.”

They’re wrenched down into a bowing position by Zhongli. The crowd screams for the exocution of the thief. The Shoguns sword held up high to the heaven as a symbol of bringing down their creators wrath upon the wretched fool who would dare say such blasphemy upon their name.

The thief smiles as the look at ground. How the crowd screams for their death brings them a sense of joy as it will soon be silent. That they’ll be free just moments from now.

The traveler, Nahida, and Furina watch from the ground as they see the thief’s smile. They know what’s going to happen. And they know they’re powerless to stop it.

Raiden swings her blade down onto the thief’s neck and the stage is covered in gold. It pours off stage and drips down into the crowd as the Shogun’s sword disappears. Gold fills the crowds eyes as the thief stands up unharmed. Any previous presence of their broken body gone as they seem to have return to peak health, their body outlined in a pale gold that bleeds into the eyes of the audience.

“Your god doesn’t exist.” They say again. A light smile on their face as their eyes are filled with warmth.

Zhongli and Raiden move to kill them, but are stopped by the Traveller and Furina. Around their eyes are a small specks of gold, the sign of when the divine creator is possessing them.

Raiden manifests her pole arm and Lumine dodges, leaving the thief wide open as they’re unarmed and powerless. She strikes again and her pole arm lands into the street. Clattering to the ground as the thief holds Mussou Ishin out. The Shogun can only stare as they look at the blade in their hand. She falls to her knees as what stand before her finally gets to her.

They had taken what her god had given to her. They bathe in a light stronger than what the acolytes shine. And they had healed completely from the injuries they had previously gained in an instant.

They weren’t trying to kill a thief. They were trying to kill their creator.

The audience falls to their knees and start to plead for forgiveness. For their punishment for their ignorance against their god.

Their god just looks at Mussou Ishin. A lost look in their eyes as they stare at the blade. As they stare at Ei.

Venti’s wails grabs their attention. He cries for his gods forgiveness and their response leaves him confused. “You need to stop praying to me. I’m not your god.”

“Y-your grace! Please! I know we’ve committed a terrible sin! Please punish us for our crime! Let us earn your forgiveness!“ The crowd joins in with agreement with his plead.

“But your god doesn’t exist Venti?”

He looks up and sees a grin stretched upon their face. A mocking look in their eyes as they look at him.

“What? Y-your grace I’m confused.” Venti stammers out and the audience goes quiet as their god opens their mouth.

“Your god doesn’t exist, because you were worshiping what your own pride made up.”

The crowd starts to despair as they continue.

“-Your archives of what I did, they tell of events that are true. But you’ve made up everything of who I am. You’ve replaced it with what you think I am. Who you want me to be. What your pride think you deserve from me. What your own arrogance think you deserve. “Nice”? “humble”? “forgiving”? “Good”? “Just”?, “Fair”? You’ve made up the most tasteless and bland god you guys could think of.”

They walk to the edge of the stage and look upon the sorry state of what was once a “proud” audience doing their “god’s” work.

“You’re worship your own prideful imagination. You worship an idea that made you feel special because it just wasn’t enough for you. When you hunted me down, you said that this is in the name of your god, when it was just in the name of your arrogance. After all I never once saw anyone go to the countless statues of your god to ask if you were doing the right thing. In fact I don’t think you talk with them at all. You just talk to them. Always talking, talking, talking just non-stop of how you’re doing it for them. Never asking for an answer in return. Always demanding praise for something that you wanted to do.”

They look down to see their main team with their heads pressed into the harsh stone ground. Their tears soaking the pavement.

”Your our grace, please! Give us another chan-!” Ei pleads. The situation so dire that she’s emerged from her plane of Euthymia.

“Another chance?” Their eyes narrow at her.

“-I gave you a chance when you hunted me. I gave you a chance when I ran. I gave you a chance when you caught me. I gave you a chance when you called for my execution. And I gave you a chance before you swung. Your. Sword. You’ve had enough chances. Chances that you ignored for your pride and arrogance in thinking you were special enough to kill in the name of a “god” that you made up.”

“So I say again. Your god doesn’t exist.”

A brilliant light that covers them makes the archons cover their eyes and turn away. They start to slowly disintegrate in front of their eyes as they say their final words to teyvat.

“Just your scapegoat.”

—————

@samarill

#yandere genshin sagau #yandere genshin impact

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mists-reading-nook · 1 year

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Creator!Reader who has religious trauma!

780 words (maybe I'll make another part that's longer)

Tw: Religious Trauma,Worship,It's basically a cult,they do not respect you,mention of being constantly watched.

You were shaking again. Sitting in a balcony pew in a church built in your honor,Your acolytes sitting with you. You could feel it all coming back. You hated it,but you couldn't leave this time. You couldn't just get up and leave. You couldn't ignore the pastors words about you. Your breathing was getting shallower. When had the air gotten so thick? You couldn't breathe,you needed to breathe. Your ears rung,a high pitched sound you couldn't make go away.

Aether and Lumine are the first to notice your distress. Aether looks worried. "Your grace,is the sermon not to your liking?" He asks,ready to stop the sermon at a moment's notice. You shake your head. You can't speak. Not now. Your tongue feels heavy,like cotton in your mouth.

Zhongli is next. "Your grace,if it's not to your liking,we can change it." You finally find your voice. You know leaving will disappoint everyone,that it will cause a lot of drama,but you can't stay another second.

"I wish to go home Zhongli." He nods,and you stand up. Everyone in the church turns to look at you,looking to see your next movements,but you simply look at the floor and turn around,walking out of the balcony and out of the church,taking a deep,shaky breath when you are finally outside. You're out. You're safe.

"Your Grace,are you ok? Was the sermon not to your liking?" Zhongli's voice snaps you out of your trance,and you see that there are no prying eyes. It's only you and your attending acolytes. You feel the tears start to fall,and you let yourself sob,ignoring the worried looks your acolytes send each other. No matter how long ago it was,no matter if you lived in Tevyat or Earth,you couldn't shake the way anxiety seized your heart,the way your body began to shake. The way you became so scared. You hated all this creator nonsense,it just reminded you of the one who caused so you much pain. Reminded you that you were just like them. That you were no better than them.

The way your acolytes worshiped your every move,the way the ground ached for your touch. It scared you so much. You feared the pain,the hurt,the suffering of those who followed "your" doctrine. Most people would love to be a God. Not you. For you it only reminded you of the pain you had to deal with. How many had died because they looked like you? How many young children had to hide themselves because they had the same hair or the same eyes? How many had been killed? How many lives had been lost simply because of something as simple as hair color?

You were "home" now. It'd been months since you were found to be the true creator,but you'd never truly feel like this was "home". Not when those you once saw as equals kneeled and grovelled at your feet. Not when the title of "god" was forced upon you. You had tried to explain,but your "darling" followers had taken it as a sign to worship more. To atone for the sin of making you feel inadequate. That's what Zhongli had said. When you told him he weeded. He thought that you were uncomfortable because of what they had done to you. You remember that conversation. It had only been a couple hours ago,yet it felt like it had been years.

"...And that's why I don't want to be treated like a God. I hope you understand." You said,looking at your knees as you sat across from Zhongli,who looked very calm.

"Of course your grace,I understand. We shall double our worship." Your eyes widened. That wasn't what you wanted!

"Zhongli no,that's not what I meant-" Zhongli cut you off,voice sounding sad as he began to kneel at your feet.

"We will never make you feel inadequate to be our God ever again your excellency. You have my word." You just nodded,holding back the tears that threatened to flow. Your mind screeched. 'NO NO NO,THAT'S NOT WHAT I WANT…' but you didn't speak. You couldn't find the words.

It hurt remembering that. Knowing that you would never be truly understood. That you would always be *

watched,trapped. Even now,you were stuck inside your room,with an acolyte watching outside your door. You were a 'God',yet you couldn't control your own followers. How silly. You hated this. Hated that you were surrounded by people yet had no friends,hated the way your body would shake like a leaf in the wind whenever you were reminded of your 'Godly' status. Hated that you couldn't ignore this treatment. Hated how you had Nightmares of being hunted,hated how you flinched whenever someone tried to touch you. Hated how you could barely remember your own name. Hated how you couldn't remember what your friends looked like,what your family looked like. Hated how your memories of your old life slipped through your fingers like sand. You hated it all.

Oh how you wished you weren't a God.

#genshin cult au #sagau brainrot #sagau cult au #genshin sagau #yandere genshin sagau #genshin impact sagau #sagau #genshin impact #genshin impact cult au

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bera-post-things · 2 years

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*slides into ur asks*

Im DYING over the SAGAU! With the reader saying "love you, bye!" Purely out of habit. Can we get that for some of the harbringers? Maybe dottore, captino, signora, and pierro? 👀 youre choice ofc!

A/N: I haven’t watched the harbringers trailer yet but I will just to this request I also don’t know how to write for the others who here’s just dottore sorry

A/N: holy moly how did this hit 600 notes!

Published:September,29,2022

Edited: December,4th,2023

Sagau Dottorev

“ Love you, bye “

When you would say those three words the normally cold, ruthless doctor would suddenly freeze in his spot time slowed down and before he knew it, everything would go still, it seemed like time would have stopped completely his heart would stop for a split second and slowly start to beat in a slow rhythm, beat , beat , his face still thanks to his mask you couldn't his eyes and the sharp glare that was directed directly toward you you but you could see his mouth move finally starting to talk “wh-at did you just say?” he would say to you not believing what you just said to him barely holding himself together as if his legs would fail him right there and turn to jello in a instant. Just one thought went through his mind at that moment and that was doubt “how could you love someone like him? Does the great creator pity and maybe even love the villains of the story, maybe even more than the heros? of the story? “uhm? yes doctor? what is wrong?” you asked him as you saw his mouth was stuck in a gasp motion his mouth agape you couldn't help but laugh the ever so ruthless doctor forced into such a vulnerable form? this is something that's worth a holiday you thought “I said I love you is something wrong? cant the great creator dote on their creations?” you softly smiled to yourself letting a small giggle out of your mouth as he immediately closed his mouth and straightened his form “Yes of course i'm going to go I have some experiments to complete” he said out loud before resuming to robotically walk down the hall before stopping abruptly as you said “of course Dottore have fun” you waved a hand over your shoulder as you walked away it took him a while to gather his thoughts as he started walking down the cold hallway his footsteps echoing each step down the cold long hallway as did yours, you didn’t know what kind of thoughts that he had in his head at that moment… but you knew that on his face was a blazing blushing mess that could melt the whole of snezehzya .

#yandere genshin impact #yandere #genshin impact #yandere genshin imagines #genshin #genshin sagau #sagau #yandere genshin sagau #yandere genshin x reader #dottore #yandere dottore

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yoshiitheyoshii · 1 year

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UHH CAN YALL TELL ME WAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS GOING ON???

Bro so I was playing genshin on my second account bc I had already done everything on my main account right? right

So I’m over here doing the liyue quests and I went o my character screen and started planning on how things will go out if I got wanderer. Then my weird self made a promise out loud that I will start using heizou once I get to inazuma.

Then later on I go to him to see what weapon he had and this man was frowning??? He had a face like he was unamused/disapproved. Idk if that was his normal face but with a personality like him I feel like he should have atleast those small smiles some of the other characters have.

Like bro literally had this face:

But it’s not over nononoooo. After that I went to do the quest where childe takes us to see zhongli.

After we get in zhongli and childe say their lines like usual.

Bro.

I look over to my boy aether and THIS MAN IS STARING AT MY SOUL. And at first I wuz like; ‘nahh he jus staring at zhongli we good we good’.

BUT NAH ZHONGLI NOT EVEN OVER THERE HES ON THE RIGHT SIDE. LIKE DAMN SON PAY ATTENTION TO ZHONGLI THAS MAADD DISRESPECTFUL.😤

And then it’s STILL not over. STILL.

Once I got to the part where we talk about the jade thingys, aether over here staring at me AGAIN.

And this is when I realized I’m how dumb I really am for not taking a pic of the first one but I got this one

I even went on YouTube to see if aether was supposed to be lookin that way.

🤦‍♀️

from YouTube:👇

😐:👇

VFFHHDWGVJBIK WHAT THE HELLLLL

IS THIS SELF AWARE??? WHAT DO I DOOO

And the fact that this isn’t the first time my characters have whipped out a self aware card before💀

Like literally a few days ago I tried playing genshin at night and venti kept on walking to the left. I tried moving him to walk the other way but he kept on trying to go the other way😐. I kept trying to stop him from doing that and when I stoped moving my controller and put it on the table then he started marking small steps in the OTHER DIRECTION.

And to top it all off mondstadt was where I was trying to go. It was as if somthing was going on in mondstadt and he didn’t want me being there (aawweee)

But likeee Why was he avoiding his own nation🤨🤨🤨

Oh and then the next day I woke up and my PlayStation had shut down and I couldn’t play in it for a while.

When I came back though everything wuz normal :/

At this point I’m just gonna walk out tbh 🤷

Peace y’all 😘

#genshin sagau #genshin self aware #yandere genshin cult au #yandere genshin sagau #sagau brainrot

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random-yandere-fandom · 2 years

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Caged 2.5

This is from the pov of the one currently worshipped.

Part 1 Part 2

Warnings: angst i guess but not really

They think they started to notice that something was off as soon as they had started to get used to being worshipped and adored by everyone around them. It were the little things that didn’t add up.

The way the teapot had been entirely remodeled from what they remember, but wrote it of to it being more practical that way. Characters they had barely used claiming to be their favorites, parading the fact that they were used as vessels the most when they believed them out of earshot. They hadn’t understood how that even worked, so they wrote it off to their inexperience. There was that feeling of unease whenever they looked into a mirror, their reflection just enough off putting to be concerning, as if they were not supposed to look like that. Blaming that on a tired mind was a little harder.

The most glaring evidence was when they searched through an old library looking for clues. They had denied Zhongli’s offer to help them, this was way too personal. Upon the leather bound books that were supposedly holy they found it standing there as one simple word. One word. One person that created Teyvat. One word. One name.

And it wasn’t theirs.

The realization sunk into them, cold claws seeming to dig deep into them as they couldn’t deny it any longer. They were not the Creator. They were not who everyone claimed them to be. They were in trouble, big time.

Their face was ghastly as they stumbled out of the building, being greeted by a deeply worried Zhongli that rushed over to them. The archon was quick to support them, asking what happened and how he could help.

Shaking, they inquire the one thing, the one thought that had been circling their mind on the entire way out.

“What would happen if there was someone impersonating, well, me?“

And without hesitance, without a single doubt, Zhongli replied.

“Your Grace, such an offense against you would certainly be dealt with in the most accurate and efficient way. No one would be ever be curious enough to try so again.“

They nodded silently, finding it hard to answer. They knew he wanted to reassure them with that response but his voice held a dangerous undertone to it, as if merely imagining an imposter enraged him. If he wasn’t supposed to catch on they would need to act the part.

They would act the part of Creator to perfection. They needed to. They needed to lie to everyone else. To themselves. That was their way to survive.

They feared the day they would be exposed as an imposter, to be subjegated to the hate of those they loved and held dear.

There was no time to think about who put them in this situation and for what reason.

#yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere genshin sagau #yandere genshin x you #yandere genshin x reader #genshin imposter au #genshin villain au #not something that was requested but the only thing i managed to finish

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yandere-3-sagau · 7 months

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Yandere!SAGAU x Secret!Creator!Reader Part 3

Short Summary: You’re on the Crux and want to test the limits of your new abilities. While you’re on your way to Inazuma, more and more people become aware of your existence. characters: Venti, Xiao, Zhongli, Beidou, Kazuha warning(s): none word count: 2221

(Sorry i’ve been inactive. I stopped playing genshin but i’ve come back for my bby Neuvillette. i’m including him soon to this series hehe)

─── ･｡ﾟ✧: *.☽ .* : ✧.───

The Anemo Archon may be inactive, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t listening. As they always say, the wind carries words… even those meant to be kept secret.

Despite being a god that hasn’t shown himself to his people in ages, Venti is a lot more informed about his nation than most would think. And it’s not just his nation, but other nations as well.

So, when the wind carries the latest rumor to his ears, Venti drops the wine bottle he’s drinking. The glass shatters to the ground, the red liquid seeping into the wooden floors of Angel’s Share. Diluc groans, putting down the wine glass he was cleaning with a tired look on his face.

“Maybe it’s time you head home, Venti. It seems you’ve had too much to drink.”

Diluc’s words don’t seem to reach him as Venti’s aqua green eyes are widened in shock, his face unmoving. The red haired swordsman snaps his fingers in front of Venti’s face.

“You alright there?”

Venti snaps out of it, shaking his head. There’s a large smile on his face that he’s unable to wipe off.

“Yeah… it’s seems you’re right. I’ll be off, now.” He rushes out of Angel’s Share leaving Diluc bewildered at his speed.

“But you haven’t paid…” Diluc sighs, the words dying in his throat. He shakes his head at the Anemo Archon’s erratic behavior, red locks swaying.

As Venti exits the tavern, he jumps into the air and allows the wind to carry him, not caring who sees it.

His small frame is shaking with excitement over the new rumor… but he had to confirm it.

There have been countless times where the words he hears are false…but on the off chance that this new rumor is proven true, it would be groundbreaking.

So, Venti rides the current of the wind, directing it towards the neighboring nation of Liyue where the subject of the rumor was last spotted.

─── ･｡ﾟ✧: *.☽ .* : ✧.───

You’re shocked, seeing the almost love stricken gaze of the vigilant yaksha.

The curse word slips from your mouth but Xiao doesn’t bat an eye, too dazed.

When you finally regain your senses, you have no time to think about Xiao or how he even knows you’re the creator. All you know is that you’ve been discovered and that you need to get back on the Crux before Grandpa Fuyi wakes up and discovers you’re missing.

With that goal in mind, you close your eyes and try to concentrate, thinking of the lower deck of the Crux and Grandpa Fuyi.

Slowly, you open your eyes but immediately jump back, startled. Instead of the lower deck of the Crux, you’re faced with Xiao who has moved disrespectfully close to you.

Xiao’s body is moving on autopilot, subconsciously bringing himself closer as his mind is only filled with thoughts of you. He wanted in engrain the image of you so deep into his brain that he’d remember every detail even when he closed his eyes.

Your presence is so warm it feels like all of the pain he’s suffered has disappeared in a cloud of smoke. Even just the scent of you is so addicting that he’s unable to remain composed. No matter how disrespectful Xiao may seem for invading the creator’s personal space, the need to be near you overcomes any sense of shame he may have. When he notices your shock, he immediately bows his head down.

He can’t stop the tremble of his hands as he stands so close to you, his heart racing. If he just lifted an arm, he’d be able to touch you. He fights the urge with every bone in his body before speaking so quietly that you almost couldn’t hear him.

“I-I’m sorry! I just… I’ve only ever dreamed of meeting you… to think that you’re really here…”

You don’t notice the internal conflict Xiao is having, only feeling your anxiety rising. If Xiao is already aware of you, who knows who else has been informed of your “descension”.

“Listen, Xiao…” he shivers, hearing you call out his name. You’re heading to the exit, determined to find a hidden spot where you can try again to teleport.

“You may have confused me for someone else. I would love to stay and chat but I have some really serious business I need to attend to-“

“Your grace…”

The deep voice that cuts you off fills you with panic as you slowly turn your head and come face to face with the Geo Archon and the sole reason from your departure from Liyue. His tall stature blocks the only exit, hands twitching as his eyes rake all over you.

Zhongli’s long legs make wide strides over to you. He seems to have lost all reason now that he’s finally found you. That face… so filled with joy that it’s almost insane… it makes you shudder.

With deep fear and desperation, you squeeze your eyes shut.

The Crux, The Crux, The Crux…

Finally, you feel that familiar energy surge through you and you know you’ve succeeded. Zhongli and Xiao watch you disappear before their eyes, the Geo Archon’s hand stretched out to touch you before you vanish completely.

Suddenly, you hear the sound of a tea cup clashing against a table. When you open them again, you’re met with two sets of eyes that stare at you in shock.

In front of you, Kazuha and Beidou sit at a round table, the steam from a freshly made teapot slowly rising in the air as the room is filled with silence.

At least you made it to the Crux.

“Well, hello stranger. That’s quite the entrance you’ve made,” Beidou drawls. Her cheek rests upon her hands as she stares at you with interest.

You’re thinking of excuses to make when Kazuha decides to speak after staring at you for a while.

“You’re bleeding,” he says. Panicked, you look at your clothes for any indication of blood but you’re unable to see anything from the dark color of your clothes.

“N-No, I’m not…” you lie, trying to play it off.

“You are… and it must be a lot since I’m able to smell it all the way from here.”

Of course, you know he’s right. The pain is still there since it hasn’t been that long since you were shot and you’re not exactly an expert at patching wounds.

“Why don’t I help you,” Beidou says. “In exchange for the secret on that little entrance you made.” The leader of the Crux steps closer to you causing you to take a step back.

“No, that’s fine! I’m just passing by. My grandpa is on the lower deck and he’s recovering from a heart attack so I really need to-“

With speed faster than you could even comprehend, Kazuha’s hand grips your wrist tightly, preventing you from leaving.

“You’re too suspicious to let go… state your purpose or we’ll have no choice but to treat you as an enemy.”

Beidou sighs, walking over and patting his shoulder as if telling him relax.

“Give them a break, Kazuha. Can’t you see they’re injured? At least patch them up before you start your interrogations.”

You have half the mind to teleport but their movements are so fast, you’re unable fight back. Within the blink of an eye, your hands are bound and you’re seated on a stool as Beidou lifts your shirt to inspect the wound on your back.

Her eyes widen, seeing the messy cloth stained with golden blood. Her hands pull back so fast it’s as if she was burned. Her ruby red eyes snap to look up at the back of your head.

“The creator…”

Kazuha studies you, his face blank but you can see the surprise in his eyes. Both of them take a step back, as they stare at you in silence.

Unexpectedly, it’s the calmest reaction you’ve witnessed so far.

“What brings the creator aboard my humble ship?” Beidou asks, forcing her voice to stay steady as if a big shot… no… the big shot of Teyvat isn’t bound to a chair on her ship.

You sigh. This is the exact reason you wanted to avoid being discovered.

“I wasn’t lying when I said my grandpa is on the lower deck.”

“The grandpa of the creator…”

“Well, adoptive grandpa… but you know, same thing.”

“You’re heading to Inazuma? What for?”

“…vacation.”

Beidou’s hands move back to you this time, asking permission before touching you. You nod your head allowing her to untie you. She then carefully lifts your shirt and removes the wraps to assess the extent of damage. As you twist your head to look at it, you realize it looks a lot less worse than before.

“Who was stupid enough to attack the creator…” Beidou asks but Kazuha nudges her.

“We tied them up… and threatened them,” he says quietly. As if realizing the severity of their actions, Beidou flinches.

“We greatly apologize, your grace. I hope you can understand us. We were just taking precautions to ensure the members of the ship are safe.”

You nod your head, not thinking anything of it. Beidou helps you patch it up and you wince, feeling the stinging pain.

“I will accept your apology… as long as neither of you speak a word of me being here. Don’t tell anyone what you saw or heard. Act as if you’ve never met me.”

You can sense their confusion. They want to ask you why but they stay silent, only nodding at your request. After Beidou patches you up, you immediately leave to the lower deck of the Crux.

The two of them bow their heads down respectfully, waiting until you are completely out of earshot before speaking.

“You’re gonna keep the creator’s secret, right Beidou?”

“…we’ll see how much mora someone offers me for it.”

─── ･｡ﾟ✧: *.☽ .* : ✧.───

The pupils of Zhongli’s eyes shake as he stares at the spot you had just disappeared from.

When Zhongli had arrived at Wangshu Inn, he immediately recognized the scent he found back at the house he discovered. Like a hound, he followed the scent to the top of the inn and when he saw you… his whole world froze.

Unlike when he first met you back at the stall, he knows exactly who you are. This time, he was able to truly take you in.

Staring at the full glory of the creator, illuminated by the warm glow of candles, Zhongli thought that you were more than he could have ever imagined. For the first time in his thousands of years of life, he was completely awestruck.

He forced himself to steady his voice, quietly clearing his throat before speaking. But just as he called out to you, just before he was able to feel you, you vanished.

Zhongli feels as if the coldest of waters was suddenly poured all over him. His breath hitches and the emptiness of his hand physically pains him.

You disappeared. No… you ran away. From him.

It wasn’t obvious before, but Zhongli is sure of it now. You are running away from him.

Your stall that had been opened for months closed just after you had met him, and now. The moment you heard his voice and the second he almost touched you, you left.

The former Geo Archon feels his heart clench up. He slowly turns to Xiao. The intensity of Zhongli’s stare sends a shiver down the Yaksha’s spine.

“You… why was the creator here? When did they arrive? How come you didn’t tell anyone?”

“I-I’m not sure… From what I can remember, I was just thinking of them and suddenly, they appeared. They were only here for less than five minutes.”

The creator appeared for Xiao when he thought of them… but disappeared when Zhongli came.

The ground rumbles beneath them and the walls of the inn begins to shake. The two can hear the guests of the inn start to panic.

“Earthquake!” someone shouts.

Zhongli takes a deep breath and suddenly the rumbling stops. Still, the words keep circling in Zhongli’s head.

The creator appeared for Xiao.

Why? he thinks. There’s not a single second since he’s been aware of your descension where Zhongli is not thinking of you. For longer than Xiao had even been alive, Zhongli prided himself on being the most loyal acolyte of yours. With how much of his being that Zhongli devotes solely to you… why would you appear for Xiao and not him?

Are you unsatisfied with him? Was there something he did?

Just tell him, he thinks. Instead of running away and leaving him in the agony of uncertainty, just tell him what he did.

Does he need to prove himself to you?

Zhongli is more than willing to prove himself. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do to repent and prove himself worthy if the reward is your presence. He’s spent thousands of years devoting himself to you and he’ll worship you til the day he dies.

So now that you’ve finally descended, he doesn’t care if he has to chase you around all of Teyvat. Whether it’s stealing his gnosis back from the Tsaritsa and becoming Morax once more or defeating all the archons of the other nations to prove himself worthy, nothing will deter Zhongli from gaining your acceptance.

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chococolte · 9 months

Text

☼ — pietas maris

♱ : my take on sagau childe

including ☆! — him as a worshiper, and his reaction to being your lover ⛧

word count. 5.6k

୨୧ — ꒰ cw. yandere, unhealthy relationships, possessive & obsessive thoughts/behaviors, religious + cult themes, cult au, g/n reader. i do not condone yanderes irl. ୨୧ — ꒰ a/n. now time for me to disappear back into the aether for another 6 months

The abyss is cold.

It is unfeeling, lacking warmth and passion. It is relentless, cruel, and unkind. It corrupts, ruins, and does so freely, without remorse or thought. It leaves you clinging to the hot blood in your veins, curled up and hidden in the dark reaches of its void.

Childe had always been versatile; quick to adapt, even at such a young age. He grew used to the emptiness, the swelling numbness, and the eventual gnawing loneliness left in his abdomen. They became a part of him as his lungs, as integral as air; to be without felt odd, foreign.

The glimmer of your existence kept Childe company. He did not know who you were, or how lucky he was— only that you brought him comfort, like an old lullaby, or a blanket worn from overuse. He reached for you when the darkness grew too much, too heavy a burden on his small shoulders.

He came to you with little offerings; small trinkets, tomes of unreadable text. Useless to him, but perhaps you would take pity on him in exchange, and let him take comfort in your presence for another day. Childe came to you with rubble shaped in hearts, the gentle breath of his voice as he spoke of his anxieties. He did not think of them as offerings then, merely gifts— pleadings for you to stay a little longer.

His hands, then unruined and soft, made you a makeshift altar crafted out of whatever he could find. He made sure to build it where he felt your whispers were strongest, where your light entirely overwhelmed the darkness overhead. Childe didn't think of it as an altar then, just a place to settle his findings, where he could pretend his sad, little effigy made of you was actually you.

The idol didn't look much like a person at all, and at the time, he didn't think of his behavior as odd. He desperately clung to you for survival, and with no other warm body besides his own, you were the only one he could talk too.

At times, he thought he was going insane. There was a pleasant buzzing in his ears whenever he neared your doll, as if it were calling him. Despite the fact that he had made it, proven by the tiny scars on his palms, he still felt as if it was yours.

In the darkness, Childe whispered to you. He said everything his mind could think, childishly exaggerated tales in hopes of impressing you. A foolish endeavor, considering you were a God— but he still hoped that maybe you'd think of him kindly, and let him bask in your protective glow for just one more moment.

He couldn't hear your words, but he could feel them. The twinkle of your laughter was like a soft whistle in his ears. When you were pleased, the air would lightly ruffle his hair. Despite how agonizing his loneliness was, at least he had you by his side.

Childe's innocence, as all things do, eventually withered away in that malevolent black.

He thought of you as his teacher; a guiding hand that trained him, molded him to fit against your palm. When he struggled against the abyssal beasts, he could feel you— a soft brush against his hand, a firm hold on his back, keeping him focused. You taught him when to still his blade and when to strike.

In the arches of his sword and polearm, in the taut and tense pull of his bow, in the whirlwind of his catalyst— you were there, shining from beyond the thin veil separating you.

When Childe was ripped out of the abyss, so was his connection to you. Like a thread snapping, he could no longer feel you; not in the darkness overhead, not in the grip of his blade, of the depths of his soul. You were gone, and he was once again nothing but a boy, lost and alone. Friends and family surround him, thankful for his return, but his mind is still reeling, still stuck in the abyss and the sudden emptiness left in your wake.

Despite himself, Childe had hoped you would have stayed, even once he was out. He thought he was done with being naïve, but that clearly wasn't the case.

He can’t feel you anymore. Where did you go? Why did you leave? What did he do wrong? Questions swirl in his head like whirlpools of thought. Childe feels like he's drowning, suffocating in the mess of his mind. His breaths come out short, quick and sharp. His throat squeezes, constricting his airways, as he realizes what's unfolded.

You left him.

He should've known better. On that first day, all you had done was take pity on him by letting him linger in your light. It was his fault for ever believing that he would never have to be alone again. That even if he had no one else, at least he had you.

This was the result of his own failure. If only he had proven himself worthy.

When his family found him, they found him gripping a small, rudimentary doll. Even when they reached their home, Childe was still clutching the thing as if possessed. When they tried tugging it out of his hands, saying it would help him eat better, he ripped it from their grasp, holding it to his chest.

Childe couldn't accept that you had left him so easily. At night, back in his warm bed, Childe tries to whisper to you again. The familiar warmth sinks into his pores, but it's nothing like yours. He nuzzles closer to the doll, ignoring how it tears into his skin.

"I'm here," he whispers.

Maybe you got confused. He knows you're a God, but even the Seven are not omniscient. When he was torn from the abyss, it was possible you hadn't meant to so cruelly cut the connection between you. Maybe you couldn't find him, and so he just has to tell you where he is.

So he whispers to you in the dark, just as he has so many times before.

Only this time, he's met with silence.

In the years that pass, you linger at the forefront of his mind, haunting him like a wraith. Childe can't bring himself to be rid of you, despite how it hurts every time he thinks about you for a little too long. He's still stuck, perpetually waiting for your return, despite how he knows you've long given him up.

Childe becomes Tartaglia, the 11th Harbinger under the Tsaritsa. He takes a new name, a new mask— he executes her orders dutifully, and he does his role perfectly. He acts as if she's you, despite how desperately he wants to believe otherwise. If he closes his eyes for long enough, he can pretend that the cold that seeps into his bones in her presence is yours.

But no matter how many names and identities he takes, he'll always just be your Ajax; the boy who still misses you, despite how short your time together was. And that fact is what burns him the most.

Maybe he should be angry. He knows he has every right to be. Angry that you left him, that you discarded him as if he was nothing. Maybe he should hate you— hate you for leaving him alone, as if you weren't the only thing keeping him sane. Hate you for leaving as if his love didn't matter to you.

He comforts himself by thinking of the time dilation he experienced in the abyss. You cared for him so much that you spun three days into three months. He likes to believe he meant something to you; he must've, because why else would you lengthen your time spent together?

Childe knows it isn't true. He didn't matter enough for you to stay, after all.

At night, Childe finds himself listlessly thinking of you. It's a silent mourning. Quiet tears fall down his cheeks, soaking the pillow beneath his head. He chokes down every heaving sob that threatens to break from his throat; clenches his jaw when they claw too close to his lips. He slaps a hand over his mouth when he's too loud, biting his fingers until they're bloody and marred by his teeth. What would you think if you saw him this weak? Saw the boy you built up crumble, all because he can't feel even the softest traces of your presence anymore?

You would find him pathetic. All he's done is prove that you were right in abandoning him.

When the memory of you is too much to bear, he clutches the effigy in his arms, squeezing it against his chest until it's sharp edges dig into his skin. Even after all these years, he's still kept it close. He tries to feel the visage of you that was once attached to its bearings, whispering for you under the night sky, hoping it'll remind you of your time in the abyss— hoping that tonight he will feel you again, ruffling his hair with tendrils of wind.

He never does.

Childe barely sleeps, but when he does, he dreams of you. You have no body, no face— he can't even begin to imagine what you look like, and he doesn't dare too, even when he knows he has nothing to lose.

He's back in the dark, but you're still there with him, providing him light and comfort. If he knew that leaving would entail being without you, he never would have left at all. Better to be with you than to die without.

Sometimes, he dreams of you staying with him even after he escapes. Your warmth is ever-present. He gifts you riches, now. You have a voice in his dreams, and he can hear you speaking to him. You're kind, and gentle, and he wants for nothing. He has you, and there is nothing more to want.

He dreams he never lost you at all. It makes reality all the more painful.

In a way he knows is pathetic, Childe hopes you at least found him fun. He hopes you found him entertaining, despite how the thought twists his heart and guts into little knots, until he feels vaguely nauseous at the notion. At least then you would have reason to remember him. At least he could say he meant something to you.

In a hidden corner of his room, there sits an altar for you. His wealth as a Harbinger means he has no lack of resources, and so he bejewels the altar until it glimmers even without light. It's obnoxious and opulent to the point of vanity, but he figures that if you like it, he'll earn another whisper of warmth from you— in the vain hope that you hear him at all anymore.

With his hands, now calloused and worn, he carves sigils into whalebone. He doesn't know what they mean, but they were numerous in the abyss; and so he etches them into bone, hoping that whatever they mean, it reaches you.

Childe pushes himself more than he should. His back aches from all the weight he carries on his shoulders, but he trudges forward despite how it hurts. He is more fervent in conflicts, and spectacular scenes of blood and viscera follow him every time he walks onto a battlefield.

His tongue forms words of devotion for the Tsaritsa as he slays another enemy, blood staining his fingers, but in his heart, he only ever speaks of you.

When he fights, Childe can lose himself. He can focus entirely on the movement of his feet, the precision of his blade. He can ignore how badly he misses you, and how in the back of his mind, he desperately hopes that the more blood he sheds with your teachings, you'll find him satisfactory.

Adrenaline rushes through his veins, and once again he lets himself be drowned by the rush, letting himself forget all of his pain.

Childe is proud of the way that no one can recognize his style of fighting. It is exact and sharp— every strike hitting its target with ease, filled with vigor and intensity. He enjoys the gazes of jealousy, but remains silent when asked. My teacher taught me, he says. He sheds no further light on the matter, and any instance someone shows interest in learning from him, he instantly refuses. Childe wishes to keep you close to his chest, a guarded secret known only to him.

Childish, perhaps. He knows it is. But if he can't have you, then he will have the knowledge of you. He will keep it to himself, and there it will stay, safe in his tight grip.

It drives him insane, the way sees you in everything. When night falls, covering the sky in a blanket of stars, he wonders if you're staring at him from above. When the tides of the sea brush against the shore, he finds himself thinking of you as the moon— you are what anchors him, despite the fact that he hasn't felt you in so long. In his eyes, there is nothing you could not be, and with every breath, he only ever misses you more.

It's during his mission in Liyue that he feels you again. Childe is unable to breathe when he meets the Traveler, sensing you watching from their eyes. His heart thunders in his chest, tempestuous as a storm over the sea.

For a moment, he's happy. You're finally back. He wants nothing more than to run to you, to ask you why you left for so long, to ask how he can make you stay, but then he feels you— a familiar pressure bearing down on him, forcing him to say anything but what he wants to.

Childe watches the Traveler's back fade as it finally clicks for him.

You abandoned him for someone else. You left him... for this. The thought sends him reeling. You left him, just to go spend time with someone else— to give them the same company you gave him, to give them the same guidance you gave him— was he merely replaceable to you?

Was he just a test for you?

He should be angry. And he is, but the heartbreak overwhelms him. He's left choking, battling for air. The agony of having been tossed to the side, of having it be affirmed in front of his eyes. He wants to scream and cry, beg for you to return; but his throat squeezes every time he meets the Traveler, and the words die on his tongue.

You don't want him to speak. He's meant to play along.

Childe had waited for you for so long. Even after all this time, he couldn't get rid of the painful hope that you'd return. He had done his best to bottle his emotions, to keep them shut and locked inside, so that you wouldn't be disappointed in him upon your arrival. Proud that he never doubted you for a moment.

But he had. He had doubted you, cried at the lack of your comfort. Afraid of what it meant to be without you. Fearful of living, never getting to gleam your existence for a second time— and now you want him to pretend as if he never knew you.

As if he can't see the slight smugness in the Traveler's eyes.

His fight with the Traveler is personal. He bares his teeth, snarling like a rabid dog. His every strike is fast, precise with the intent to kill and maim. Childe hopes his emotions reach you, that you know of his bitterness and acrimony. That you know of how long he wished for you, how long he yearned for you to come back— how his frustration has twisted into pure rage, turned into a fine point.

He just has to simply show you how he's better. He has to show you that he's superior in every way to your choice. That you should've chosen him over them.

They are undeserving; watch how he rips through them like they are nothing, slicing through them like they are mist over sea. They are unworthy; see how easily he beats them into submission, how easily they crumble at his feet. The matter of the Gnosis is nothing to him, now— only whether you see how he should be the one you prefer.

It's then that he feels it. Your rage. Your anger at having been battered and bruised. The Traveler stands back up, but something is different now. Their strikes are fluid, prowess and skill increased by an outside force.

You.

Do you hate him that badly? Detest him so much, to go so far as to bless another with your strength so they can prove themselves to be his better? Even in his Foul Legacy form, Childe is forced to retreat; forced to bow his head in defeat, weakened by the burden of his transformation.

The realization leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He's done the exact opposite of what he set out to do. All he's proven is that your right.

Childe feels your crushing weight bearing down on him. He spits the words out, calls them 'friend' through clenched teeth. He dances to your whims, just as he had previously. Unnatural, stiff movements and words that speak the opposite of what he means.

And then you're gone, left along with them. He stares at their fading back. He can almost imagine you beside them, walking by their side just as you once did his.

It hurts.

The next time he feels you, there is no sign of the Traveler. Only a tight pulling in his chest.

He doesn't know what it means, or what it entails. But he follows, sensing you at the end, waiting for him. Childe doesn't allow himself to hope; that maybe, you have come around. That maybe you do care. That maybe, you never hated him— not truly. That you missed him just as he missed you.

Maybe he meant something, after all.

When he reaches you, he feels it. You're happy. You're happy with him. He feels you reaching out, tickling him with strands of your will. You brush against his skin, burrow deep inside. Childe lets you, still unable to breathe.

He wonders if this is really happening. Have you come back to him, truly? Have you finally realized how much better he is? He feels you graze his soul, reaching deep within. Childe feels you envelop him, swathing him in warmth and comfort.

You're home, you whisper.

He only hears the ghost of your voice, a chime in the wind; but he hears the intent, the meaning behind your unintelligible words, even though he can't understand them.

Childe breaks.

SANGUINE NATUS ; first meeting/as a worshiper

If even just your breath could leave him weak, then seeing you for the first time makes his knees give out underneath him.

It's a foolishly embarrassing display, but Childe can't find it in himself to care. He falls to his knees quicker than his mind can catch up, unconsciously posturing himself to make himself seem as small and harmless as possible— anything to make you stay, even if it means sabotaging his image.

He tucks his shoulders inward, struggling between looking at you until his eyes burn and your image is seared into the back of his eyelids, or averting his gaze because just touching you with them feels like he's sullying you somehow.

His breath comes out short and sharp, his entire chest heaving with each shuddering, raspy exhale. Before he can even manage a sound, he's sobbing, crumpling to the floor— there's no care taken to your perception of him now, only the wailful cries of one lost in the weight of your eyes. Childe knows he's being pathetic, a mess of airy desperation and red eyes; everything he was when he felt the ghost of you leave him, and everything he wished you'd never see. But it's you, and for the first time, he can truly feel your eyes on him.

It's all too much to bear.

"I-It's you, it's you—!" Childe manages to choke, wet tears caking the apples of his face. His eyes strain, burning to see the visage of you through the blur of his vision. Nausea bites at him, his abdomen a sudden storm from the tears that lick at his cheeks.

Childe has always been austere in his worship; strict, solemn in how he acts out every religious rite. There is an icy silence unlike him as he moves, particularly whenever your sanctity is involved. His fingers still tremble despite his stiffness, the desperation loud in every twitch of his limbs. The desire to see you, after all is said and done.

Seeing you for the first time feels as though a wave has overtaken him, drowning him in brine and the cerulean of muddy waters. There is no hiding what he could barely contain before— jerky movements filled with need and the dolor of one disappointed before.

Childe no longer finds himself able to veil it by lies and rushing fights of adrenaline; now, it lies bare, and there's no burning ache to keep it hidden.

His fervor is relentless; a feverish desire to please you coalescing until it's unbearable for his skin. Your reaction to his cries could have been cruel or kind, and it wouldn't have bothered him; all that matters is whether he has finally proven himself worthy of standing by your side.

His worship is eager words spilling from his lips at night, the echo of your name a murmur from his mouth like the sigh of the ocean's waves-- his blades stained red, limp at his sides-- the burning in the back of his throat that comes from years of pleading.

You're here now, even if he can't be with you at all times; and that knowledge leaves him whispering to you, uttering every thought without a moment of reconsideration. It is a ceaseless endeavor, as every word is listless praise and endless adoration. There isn't a moment where he isn't thinking of you in some way, and the mere thought of the opposite leaves him feeling vaguely sick.

He wants to think of you all the time. Though it's such a small thing, in his mind, he has you all to himself— in the sense that there is no one else to take your eyes off of him— there, he can make you happy; there, he can make you proud of him. In that world, you have no reason to be rid of him.

Childe's always kept his habit of crafting you makeshift gifts. They're rugged, imperfect things, but laden with his fingerprints and the palms of his hands. Before, he could only set them still on his altar for you, and hope that it pleased you somehow. He was only ever met with silence, but he could pretend you were happy with him, and the idea alone was enough.

When he catches sight of a sea conch, its pale marks swirled across its smooth surface, he can only think of handing it to you. It's a beautiful thing, and so simple and crude a gift; but maybe you will find worth in such a thing, the simplicity of its nature, and praise him for it.

He gives them to you physically now, unable to shake the urge to do so. His hands always tremble when he hands them over, his knees threatening to buckle underneath him whenever your fingers brush against his. He will never fail to drown in the sensation, allowing everything that he is to become thoughts of you.

Childe has always worshiped you in bloodshed. In the past, he hoped it would leave you satisfied enough to come back; now, it's to prove how much better he is than everyone else. His fear runs deep, like cracks in the earth far below the water's surface, and the sickening feeling of dread whenever you praise someone else suffocates him.

It's unreasonable, he knows, and he has no reason to fear, not anymore— but his heart still quickens at the thought, and his stomach still twists.

It's an all too familiar feeling. When he was first torn from you, he felt as though his heart had been ripped right out of him; and the panic he feels only reminds him of it.

When he's inevitably forced away from you on another mission, he deals with it as quickly as possible, no matter how bloodied or bruised he leaves it. He is brutally unkind in his workings, his words always terse and clipped; a slight edge that never really seems to go away until he knows you're somewhere nearby.

It's when he's forced to stay away from you for a longer period of time that he breaks completely. Upon his return, he is instantly back at your side, heaving sobs and ugly tears running down his face. He can barely think, and a flurry of slurred words leaves his lips— begging to never leave your side again.

Childe knows better than to think he is deserving of your kindness, but he’s desperate to at least stay in your shadow. There, he could stay near you, even if he was swathed in black— even if his only glimpse of you was your back, he would be in bliss. To be near you in some form is all he could ever ask of you.

For all of the power you have granted him, it's only right that he use it for you. A mere word from anyone that isn't pure praise has his grip on his weapon tightening, the tendons on his hand taut and his knuckles pale. He remains entirely oblivious to any moral ambiguity in your actions— whatever you do is right and just; as you are the only one worthy of judging yourself, he does not dare too.

Instead, Childe draws his blade in judgement of others— he will act as your hand and executioner, the arbiter of your faith; it's with only vigor that he hands out punishment, a ferocity bold and true.

AMANS IN SPINIS IACET ; as your lover

Childe's dreams have begun to take a sudden turn.

It's not anything he can control, despite how hard he tries too. They pleased him at first, even though he still couldn't help the way his heart tightened at the idea of you somehow knowing. At that time, they weren't occurring enough for him to be worried, and the content themselves were innocent enough for him to think nothing of it.

You held him close to you, pressing benign kisses across his freckled cheeks, playing with his hair with soft fingers; little things that he could believe meant nothing at all, just a desire to feel your affection in the only way his mortal heart knew how.

The dreams turn nightly, and Childe finally realizes it's much more than that.

It begins at signs of your favoritism. Glances that last more than they should, summoning him to your chambers more frequently; Childe does not deny you, and he can't help the faint giddiness that clouds his mind every time he feels your gaze linger on him. It's a euphoric sensation to know that he is the one you are looking at; no one else. Only barely does he manage to rein in his emotions every time.

You speak much softer to him, and your touch is more affectionate. He turns drunk on your approval, willingly dancing to your whims if it meant having your fingers coiled in his hair for another moment. Before he can stop himself for even daring to think it, Childe lets himself believe he's special to you— and that is where the problem arises.

The thoughts don't stop. Even if he screams to drown out the noise, they still manage to be so loud. The dreams are relentless, more loving, more vivid. He can feel the warmth of your palms as you caress his cheeks, the weight of your breath when you draw your head near; they feel so real, that for a moment, he thinks you're the one sending them to him.

He feels as though he's dirtying you in some form, as if he is the one committing an unforgivable sin against you; somehow managing to desecrate you with just his thoughts alone. The idea sends him into a panic-induced frenzy, kneeling before his altar with rushed, unintelligible apologies on his lips.

Despite his self-hatred, whenever he wakes from one, Childe is left blissfully dazed, nuzzling into his pillow with hazy clarity— pretending that it's you, instead. He wonders what it would be like if his dreams were real, if he could really be so special to you in such a way; entirely irreplaceable, entirely yours.

It doesn't take long for his will to be eroded by his desperation. His desire to resist was already hanging by a thread, and as the dreams persist, any resistance on his end is lost. He falls ever deeper into an abyss of his own making, allowing himself to be undone by his own creation.

Childe has always been needy, but as his feelings rear their ugly head, it only grows worse. He has always loved you— and he had been struggling to choke his own feelings down for as long as he could, fooling himself into believing that they didn't exist in the first place. In his eyes, it's only right that you be the one to shake the foundation he lay; making him crumble until every dark part of himself is laid bare in front of you, only for your eyes.

There's a drastic increase in his desperation to be near you, and any lack of refusal on your part only exacerbates it. He neglects his duties entirely in favor of staying by you in some way or another, be it either by your side, or following you from a distance like a lost puppy.

Your admittance of feelings only makes Childe more fervent. He can barely hear himself speak, his heart fluttering against his ribcage like a caged canary. He can barely believe anything you're saying, and for a moment, he wonders if he's lost in another dream of his.

At your assurance, Childe doesn't dare to doubt you any longer. He falls entirely into you, allowing you to consume his every thought. He doesn't think to fight back, letting you envelop him until his every breath is coated in your name. He is yours, and he has no desire for anything more.

His desire for your approval now emboldens him. Childe's always acted out of an interest in garnering your attention, and though he now knows of your feelings, it does nothing to satiate him; instead, it leaves him hungrier, greedy with an eagerness to please.

He doesn't take from you without asking, but he asks enough for it to be a nuisance. Your affection is everything to him, and he can't bear to go a moment without it. He asks to lay his head in your lap, for you to play with his hair— the loss of your touch is the loss of himself, and sends him reeling back to memories of when he was without you.

The first time you kiss him, his legs instantly give out underneath him, a small groan leaving his lips. Childe doesn't bother to dull his reactions; you deserve to know how easily weakened he is by your touch, with even a brush of your fingers enough to leave him breathless and wanting.

As your favorite, Childe is quick to be rid of any competition. Whether or not you see them as possible suitors doesn't even cross his mind— the fear that snakes around his heart is ever-present, and if they're better than him in some form, it only grows in persistence. He doesn't hurt them, because surely that would upset you, and any devotee of you is worthy of respect— but he is quick to showcase his superiority, and to do so broadly without shame.

Childe grows used to his new status, and uses it to stay by your side constantly. Any attention you give to others is met with instant jealousy, seething glares sent to whoever stole your gaze, even if they only preoccupied a second of your mind.

He could never be mad at you, as clearly the fault lies within himself.

Any signs of your likes and dislikes are instantly noted. If you compliment someone for their behavior, he begins to emulate it, or at least he tries too. If you like Zhongli for how well he executes your orders, then Childe will be the same; only he will do it better, quicker, and prove himself still deserving of your love.

If he were perfect, then you would have no need for anyone else. If he were perfect, he would never have to worry about whether you'll grow bored of him the moment he stops being entertaining enough.

The thought of you with another leaves Childe sick without fail. He knows he has no control over you, and that if you wished to be rid of him, he would willingly walk into whatever punishment awaited him— but now that he has tasted what it feels like to be so utterly yours, he can't bear to imagine another sharing the same treatment.

You kissing another, holding another, letting someone else lay against you; all of it only serves to further blur his vision. Even if it is sinful of him to feel, he can't stop the emotions from swirling in his chest.

You are everything; the earth laid beneath his feet, the foundation of which he relies on. To be without you is to fall, to be without you means death; and if he must carve his skin and bone to fit the picture you want him to be, then he shall.

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