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#yandere childe x reader
allfearstofallto · 24 days
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Also wanting to write a yandere historical au!! Like so bad!! Like imagine...
[Part 2] [Part 3]
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Spoiled Prince! Scaramouche who gets whatever he desires as the next in line for the throne. He needlessly torments you, his favorite maid to pick with. He knows that you can't run away, not while you're so poor and desperate. You're at his mercy, his every beck and call until you decide that you'd rather live on the rat infested streets than in his palace any longer. But you quickly begin to notice that the streets are littered with more than rodents, when you are made aware that Scaramouche has sicked the palace guards on you. Dragged back to the mansion, where he waits for you with a scowl. How dare you think you can run away from him?
Hero of the Nation, Knight! Childe who was already popular with the ladies for his good looks long before he slayed the dragon tormenting the kingdom, but now he was bombarded with admiration. Yet he still chases you, the baroness with what you and others assume is nothing special to your family's name. You ignore his constant bombardments of gifts and love letters thinking them to be jokes at your expense. Why would he want you, when the princess, the jewel of the city, has asked for his hand three times over? He practically goes mad with rage when he finds out you're arranged to be married to someone else. You accept being betrothed to another, yet you won't take him?
Arranged Husband! Diluc who you're weary of. Your father assured you that he was the most suitable marriage candidate for your family that was running low on funds, and he always seemed disinterested, almost scared of you. You're wed to him a mere three months after meeting him and with only two letters exchanged between the two of you. Moved into an unfamiliar palace, you try to wander the halls as normal, while avoiding your also unwilling husband. Until you stumble upon a room with a door slightly ajar. Your husband stands in it, surrounded by portraits of you on the wall that you never posed for, underwear and garments that had gone missing, and your bed linens from the night before. It begs the question, who did you marry?
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I'm so sorry...I've been reading A LOT of reincarnated as a villainess manwhas...
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yandere-daydreams · 9 months
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Fox Hybrid!Childe, who arrives at the sanctuary where you volunteer in the dead of winter. He's brought in by a group of hunters who found him in a decade-old bear trap on the verge of freezing to death. He's aggressive at first, still rattled from such a close call, but comes around quickly after a warm bath, a visit with your on-call vet, and of course, something to fill his stomach.
Fox Hybrid!Childe, who can't be released back into the wild while he's still in recovery or left alone overnight, not when he's so eager to play fight with the other hybrids. He gets along well enough with all the volunteers, but he's constantly trying to get your attention, either sulking as you tend to another hybrid or drinking in your generously-given affection. You're clearly his favorite, so you're the one to take him home. He's ecstatic about the change in scenery, to say the least.
Fox Hybrid!Childe, who takes to being a housepet like a fish takes to water. You try to make up for the lack of stimulation with a never-ending supply of thrifted toys and as many walks as his injured leg will allow, but he prefers to spend most of his time curled up at your feet or trailing after you, ginger ears perked-up and blur eyes wide and bright. He's surprisingly good at household chores for a wild animal. By the end of the first week, he's cooking and cleaning on his own, and when you insist that he's your guest, that you don't want him to get too domesticated, he just laughs and tells you that he likes it, that he's used to hunting for his siblings. Since you won't let him bring the birds and rabbits he catches past the front door, this is how he's decided to provide for you.
Fox Hybrid!Childe, who destroys your apartment the first time you leave him alone for more than an hour. It makes sense, even if you can't say you've ever seen another hybrid react so violently to being separated from their handler. Foxes are social animals, and he hasn't been on his own since he was brought to your sanctuary, since the day he stumbled into a trap he couldn't understand or struggle his way out of. Still, when you come home to find all his toys gutted and all of your furniture overturned, you can't say you're thrilled. Childe spends the rest of the day buried in your sheets, pouting until you finally give in and forgive him. Childe goes wherever you go, after that.
Fox Hybrid!Childe, who suddenly seems a lot less friendly than he did, when you first took him in. You try to write it off as him being overly protective of his temporary skulk, but it's a little hard to tell that to your male friends when he bares his teeth and snaps at their hands. In public, he refuses to leave your side, his tail constantly thrashing and his ears pressed flush to his scalp. He'll still smile, laugh, promise he doesn't get jealous that easily, but it's difficult to take his word for it when he holds your hand so tightly.
Fox Hybrid!Childe, who's been scenting you in your sleep for weeks, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and gripping at any flesh he can reach and humping your thighs until he inevitably climaxes and has to clean his cum off of your skin with his tongue. He makes a point of 'accidentally' staining anything he doesn't want you wearing in front of anyone but him, letting you think he's too vulnerable to his animalistic urges to not mark your favorite top with his cum, that his separation anxiety is just too severe for you to shower without him, let alone close the door when you change.
Fox Hybrid!Childe, whose leg has been fine for months. You're too much of a bleeding heart not to buy it when he puts on a half-hearted limp, and while he hates having to lie to his future mate, he hates being away from you more. It's not a permanent arrangement, either - he'll be able to tell you the truth when you're fully bonded, when you're heavy with his pups and coming undone on his knot every night, every minute he can get with you.
Fox Hybrid!Childe, who's not going to let anyone take him away from his precious mate now <3
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danijaci · 10 months
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"who did this to you?" w/ childe
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mondaymelon · 5 months
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₊˚ෆ 𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇 !! | sagau xiao, childe, zhongli x gn!reader
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ˋ°•*⁀➷ cw: uhm. obsessiveness? yandere if you blink a couple times? cult themes... the usual deal with this au
⤷ [ you, the benevolent and kind overseer and creator of teyvat, has descended upon this world in mortal flesh, with a presence that is overpowering, omniscient, and so impossibly pure. ෆ yet, one day, you come into the cathedral with a gash on your arm, dripping with shimmering golden ichor that spilled from your veins. there will always be those who are too foolish to see the light you bring. ]
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— sagau!xiao noticed you immediately. it would be hard not to. since the beginning, he had always heard it.
your sound. a beautiful one, a heavenly one. a chord struck him, somewhere in his chest, and he found himself panting on the ground, clutching at the fabric of his shirt.
like a electric charge - one that leaves you startled, tentative, with the tips of your fingers still tingling from what happened moments prior. a buzz in your veins that thrums along with your heartbeat.
he didn't deserve to see you. not with what sins he had committed. but xiao was selfish. he wanted to, with his tainted body, he wanted to praise you, scrape his throat raw with his voice.
and so he did.
his face brightens as you step into the cathedral, dressed in ceremonial robes as per usual. you look ethereal, why would you not? your eyes are warm as they fixate on him, and he can feel his heart skip a beat and words die in his throat. he kneels before you orderly, readying to lift his head when something catches his attention - that is, the coppery scent of blood.
blood?
a droplet splatters onto the dustless floor. melted gold.
xiao's already stood up before he realizes it. his eyes are blown wide, his shrunken pupils sharp, like a cat's. "who. who did this to you?" those words take all the willpower in him to speak. his mind is swirling, racing, thinking up of every single possibility, vision scattered and blurry as unbridled fury teems within him.
"it's nothing. some civilians have begun rioting in the city, saying that i'm an imposter. all i did was show them a little bit of my blood and they all started singing praises, so the issue has been resolved." you shake your head with a soft smile, like this matter isn't anything to concern himself over.
it is.
he hates it. how he feels so fucking powerless, how he couldn't even stop this simple event from occurring in the first place. it's his fault. it's his and everyone else who dared not believe your words. your word is the truth. it is the undeniable laws of the world, what maps the stars and what lays the land.
he'll have time to ingrain that within everyone's minds. even if it means time away from you. but that's not the issue at the moment. he turns to search for bandages, but sees the already-healing wound slowly closing up as your skin mends together.
there's a knife at your side, coated in something that shimmers in the rays of light coming from the high, color-tainted windows.
something in his heart decides, seeing your reserved smile.
there will always be those who are too foolish to see the light you bring.
very well.
then he'll just have to eradicate every last one of them. ₊˚ෆ
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— sagau!childe had, to be honest, never cared all that much. why would he, to the person who had abandoned him into the cold, dark, abyss? yet, the smile on your face. it's bright. so bright it burns him. was there a day where he could smile like that?
no, no. he couldn't. that's an expression only reserved for someone as beautiful as you. as pure as you, like a blank, unblemished canvas, with the world as its paint. it's a level of resplendency that no one on this cursed universe could ever hope to accomplish.
a god in flesh, living in a tainted world. a walking contradiction that he had grown to call the thing that allowed him to keep living. something that spurred irony, you who broke all forms of the logic he had made to keep himself sane. perhaps that was why the heart he'd locked away has suddenly begun aching again? is that why he feels so warm from your divine prescence?
"childe?" you call out his name into the vast, empty hallways, glancing around for the familiar sight of a tuft of ginger hair. he hears you at once, rushing to your side with a grin on his face.
"your grace??" he bows at the sight of you, unable -to contain his excitement as he quivers in place, the smile on his lips tugging upwards even more than its current extent. "yes, what's-"
he stops abruptly, his voice faltering as he catches the scent of something iron. one familiar on the battlefield, a liquid that'd paint the surroundings a beautiful red.
his heart pounds. the thrill of a battle? no, that can't be it. if that was the case, how come it felt like he was slowly suffocating on his unspoken words?
that's when he catches the sight of the poorly wrapped bandages encasing your forearms. and the shimmering ichor that's soaked through the hastily wrapped cloth.
he moves to grab your arm, but curses himself out as he quickly changes direction and tightly holds your wrist, his expression more pained than yours, despite you being the one suffering with the injury. "what... your grace, what is this?"
he hates your knowing smile. he hates it. (oh, but does he? could he hate anything that is of you?) it just reminds him how you're all too far for him to reach, a purity that he does nothing to maintain. "there was a riot in the city against the church. luckily, they all quieted down after i gave them a glimpse of..." you trail off, ending your incomplete sentence with a sheepish smile. the rest is self-explanatory, anyway.
his vision trembles as his pupils shake. "haha, you...?" fuck. fuck fuck fuck, just whose idea was it to allow you near a knife? how did you get your hands on that?? which stupid fucking bumbling idiot allowed for this to happen?
it's his fault. he should've been by your side. curse the fatui, curse them all, how could they possibly dare keep him away from your holy being? the guilt that churns within him, is that why he remains mute as you step away, gracefully walking to meet with the other retainers?
there will always be those who are too foolish to see the light you bring.
no, it's fine.
it will all be fine.
cutting off their tongues won't be enough. cutting them up until they're a dismembered, bloody mess isn't even close to what you've suffered for the sake of humanity.
yes, he'll make them realize that. they'll pay with their blood a thousand times over. ₊˚ෆ
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— sagau!zhongli had his breath taken away by you before he even saw you, before the two of you had even exchanged words. your presence - it was so simply alluring, a saccharide charm that just drew him closer and closer.
sweet. yes, it was a familiar flavor upon the tongue that had long since tasted the many marvels the world had to offer. like a warm cup of tea, made from the sugary extract of flowers, how the sensation of it seemed to bloom upon your mouth.
ah, how should he put this. perhaps you had procured the blossom in his heart instead? stems, leaves, buds, a floret that'd only appear when you were in his gaze. a steady thrum that ran throughout his body with every stolen glimpse he took from your attention expertly.
perhaps, was this what he felt all those years ago?
did it matter? his soul was resolute, now, and it glowed gold, just like the blessed blood that flowed through every vein and lay in every vessel within that beautiful, beautiful you.
yes, ichor... just like the splatter of it on the ground...? a pang of fear strikes him - has something happened to you while he was away? he should've none better than to trust those good-for-nothing other cultists, who spend all their time babbling about your gloriousness yet turn a blind eye to whenever you require assistance!
no, he had to calm himself down. this wasn't the moment where he should grow frustrated. first, he must confirm the situation... he's planned this out to the every plan b, c, d, e, and so on, so how come he's still feeling so anxious?
there you are, upon your throne, busy conversing with a fellow archon, the one as free as the wind. funnily enough, you were the one that tied him down like a shackle.
"ah, zhongli. are you alright? you're breathing quite hard." you tilt your head, averting your gaze from venti's sparkling eyes and instead fixing them on the usually stoic man's jumbled expression. his shoulder's heave as he resists the urge to collapse at your feet.
"what... what are you... you're hurt?" stained bandages peek out from just below your silk sleeve, a sight that cannot possibly be missed from his attentive gilded eyes. "why didn't you tell me? i-i'll call one of the healers so they can-"
"zhongli, there's no need for that." with a hand, you gently signal venti to leave the scene, which he does, with obvious reluctance. a silence gesture that resonates with appreciation deeply within him. "this was of my own accord."
"your own accord?"
"unbelievers decided to throw a riot, and there wasn't much i could do except...well, don't they say that seeing is believing?" how come you don't look the slightest bit pain? where is your self-pity? your frustration? "anyhow, i'm not in a good state. please leave me for the time being, i don't plan on receiving any more audiences tonight."
he bows hastily, yet each movement is still finely crafted with minuscule adjustments that have taken him thousands of tries to master. he does as you say, and his strides are quick and long. it won't take a genius to see that his facade has crumpled, with the clear agitation that's spreading across his features like a wildfire that devours all in its path.
there will always be those who are too foolish to see the light you bring.
he'll change that. every thrum of the golden markings running up and down his body seem to pulse in unison with his heartbeat, which is raring like he's recently returned from the battlefield.
who would've thought he'd so quickly return.
this time, of his own will. he'd be sure that these fools of this world would learn the truth of your paragon. ₊˚ෆ
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(a/n) please save me the delulu has returned and iTS NOT LETTING GO
໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123
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yanderehsr · 8 months
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How would yandere Childe, blade, zhongli and Jingyuan punish their darling who repeatedly tried to escape and succeeded once?
Poor little Y/N😔
Trigger Warning: Yandere, Obsessive behaviour, Possessive behaviour, Kidnapped reader, Violence
Childe: While yes, he does live for the thrill of a good fight and a good chase, he doesn't want that with you. He's wants a domestic life with you where both of you can live happy, the only problem is that he gets jealous easely and chose to kidnap you.
So believe me when I say that Childe does not enjoy having to catch you, when he noticed that you actually managed to escape, he couldn't have ran faster, he never stops running until he sees you again, no matter how many he needs to kill and no matter how many villages is set on fire, he will find you. And when he does he will hug you and apologize.
Why is Childe apologizing? He is just sad that he had to break both of your legs, he didn't want to but he can't have you leaving him again.
"I'm sorry, but this was the best solution, now let me carry you home"
Blade: Oh he is pissed, you are his and you attempt to escape, he can't have that now can he. Just attempted escape is already punished quite harshly with starvation and if you succeeded in escaping then he might have to do something drastic.
It won't take Blade long to hunt you down and when he does catch you he will drag you back home, he will make sure that you can't ever run away again. He is sure you will look just as lovely without your legs.
"Just as I thought, even without them you look just as lovely, now have you learned your lesson"
Zhongli: He gets why you would try to run and he is calm every time, you are not in a relationship and because of his greed he took you, so he doesn't punish you really, that was until he came home to find that you were gone, not trying to escape but gone.
Zhongli may have never panicked as much as he is now, he is out of the door and searching every corner of Liyue until he gets you back and when he does he is as forgiving as always, well he may have chained you down this time, you can never be too cautious.
"I know that you don't like me, but I am sure you will find life much better if you did"
Jing Yuan: Oh how cute you are when you try and run away, as long as you don't succeed he won't punish you, he just finds it adorable, but if you actually escaped, well that is a different story.
There is nowhere you can run from Jing Yuan, it would be a miracle if you even get away from the Luofu, so you can be sure that he will get you back, his punishment is simple. He will place you in a closet, somewhere small where you will feel claustrophobic, you will not be allowed any outside contact not even from Jing Yuan.
And when he can hear you crying, begging to be let out, that you will never try again and that you will accept all his affections, only then will he let you out.
"I am so glad that you won't try again, now how about a hug, I have missed having you in my arms"
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cheesecakethots · 6 months
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university playboy childe, who you swear you see more times fighting outside or flirting with anything that has legs than actually in class.
that is, until he’s seated next to you in one of your classes, much to your disappointment. suddenly he wants to learn. his parents pay for his tuition, and are rich enough that whatever he does can be wiped away by the heads of the university. it drives you insane.
he enjoys messing with you, finding the expression on your face utterly delectable whenever he manages to get a rise out of you.
at first, it was only for a dare. you were cute, but extremely nerdy and reserved. him and his friends thought it’d be good for a laugh if he managed to have you opening your legs for him.
he realises he’s in too deep when he starts fantasising about you at night, despite the fact that he hasn’t even seen an inch of your body beneath the clothes you wear. he starts wondering what you’d wear if he took you out on dates, how you’d act, what you’d blush to.
you soon start to become begrudgingly accepting of his presence in your life, and then you actually start to like him, despite the fact that your other friends warn you to steer clear and avoid him.
after enough time, he eventually manages to get you into his bed. you spend a lot of time oooing and aahing at his house before he can get there, but the wait is worth it.
god. he starts to wonder whether he’s in love with you when the deed is done, and you’re lying next to him in bed, fast asleep. he’s not sure if he’ll ever be able to sleep with anyone else again, after that. he’s not sure if he wants to let you go so easily.
you’re not next to him when he wakes up in the morning, instead quietly getting changed with the clothes that have been thrown on his floor. he thinks that maybe he should put you in one of his shirts.
his arms wrap around you from behind, and he presses kisses to your neck. you laugh, lazily pushing him off and continuing to put on your clothes.
“why don’t you stay?” he asks, seating himself back on the bed, his head tilting and a lock of messy ginger hair falling over one of his eyes. he grins wolfishly, “i can make it worth your whileeee…”
“you don’t need to do all this.”
his smile falters a little. “hm? do all what, baby?”
you giggle, “and you don’t have to call me that. i know this was only for a dare.”
he stands again, feeling his heart start to pound, “no, no, it’s not, i-“
you raise an eyebrow, “i’m not stupid, ajax.”
he’s lost for words, but you’re not.
“don’t worry, i’m not mad. i mean, i used you so i could stop being a virgin, in all honesty. i didn’t expect anything of it. oh! but if you want to tell your friends that i’m hung up over you, i won’t be mad either. see you around!”
your hand falls on the doorknob, but when you pull it doesn’t open. huh? you glance back at him quizzically. when did he lock it?
“i’m sorry. it was for a dare, but it’s not anymore. i’m in love with you,” he admits, his expression more serious than anything you’ve ever seen of him.
something in his eyes freaks you out, and you laugh awkwardly, “alright, the jokes over, unlock the door, i really have somewhere i need to-“
“no,” he says, moving closer to you, until he’s backed you up against the door, “you’re not leaving.”
your friends were right. you should’ve avoided him, after all.
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hanilessa · 6 months
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cw: yandere themes, baby trapping
"Mother, why don't you love me?"
Your daughter is five years old and she asks this question every single day. You look indifferently at the child standing in front of you, who resembles you like two peas in a pod. She's your exact copy, and it would seem that there wasn't a single difference between the two of you. But the ginger strand of hair in her braid would never allow you to forget who her father was.
The girl is patiently waiting for your answer, but you continue to remain silent because you have nothing to say to her. You were surprised by her tenacity and insistence in wanting to know what you felt for her, like a mother for her daughter. Unfortunately, you lost your tenacity and insistence a long time ago.
"It's okay, solntse moyo. Your mother isn't feeling well right now." A sickeningly cheerful voice reaches your ears, because of which all your insides curl into a big lump, and you feel like you're going to throw up. Ajax picks your daughter up and smiles when your eyes meet his. "When she gets better, she'll definitely tell you how much she loves you."
Your daughter happily cuddles up to the ginger man, happy that soon she will finally be able to hug you and tell you how much she loves you. Your husband hugs your daughter tighter, his blue dead empty eyes look straight into your soul. Only two out of three know that you will never get better.
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` Author’s notes: solntse moyo (rus.) means my sun. so how was it? i hope it didn't turn out too bad. i've never written about yandere theme before, but this sketch has been in my mind for a while 🤭
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CW: yandere content, baby trapping, talks of pregnancy, no actual boinking
Yandere Genshin men who get baby fever
At least once a month they get the sudden and overwhelming urge to make babies for real. It could come from seeing you interact with kids, just a random thought that came to mind, or they just want to have a family with you. It also helps that having children will make it harder for you to leave.
Oh, he can't wait to get you pregnant.
Aether, Albedo, Ayato, Childe, Cyno, Diluc, Kazuha, Scaramouche, Tighnari, Venti, Zhongli
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teabutmakeitazure · 8 months
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Dissimulation
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>Yan! Mafia! Childe x Fem! Student! Reader (Modern au)
>Word Count: 11.6k words (slow burn)
>a/n: my offering for best boy's birthday
Warnings: coercion, Childe doesn’t know how to flirt, blood is finger licking good, panic attack
An unwelcome customer turned into an unwelcome acquaintance has been terrorising your life starting from your minimum wage job. Perhaps your flight back home is your only way out.
Continuation
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Patience is a sign of virtue. Or at least that’s what your mother taught you when you were growing up. No, it’s all just some elaborate scheme for the notorious members of society to make others more docile and submissive to them.
Regardless, you don’t say anything, tired already as it is and just wait for the month to be over so that you can get your pay and go back home.
Even if he seems to like you, you would rather not push your luck. Despite only being in this city as a student, you’ve picked up that it’s best not to engage with the local mafia members, even if they seem friendly. Just keep your head down and return the greeting if given one. If one of them comes to your shop, treat them as a regular patron, and if a fight breaks out somewhere with one of them, do not take sides. Simply leave as quietly as you can.
Unfortunately, you have no such choice or opportunity to keep contact to a minimum. That is why you opted to bide your time and sneak out as quickly as you can and never opt for minimum wage jobs again. Maybe you could get a paid internship next time. You’ll probably meet the course requirements.
The dreaded convenience store you are currently walking to is situated a ten minute walk away from your campus dorms. Having to stay there and beep items all day was its own form of punishment as it was, but with the crowd that had recently started to come in these last few months, it started to seem more like a form of purgatory.
You still remember the lecture your friend had given you on how to act normal around the mafia community. The fact that they recently got active in this neighbourhood is simply an added bonus. Honestly, you’ve been counting the days when your incarceration will end with your flight. You just want to go home and hug your cats first, family members second. 
The bell chimes as you walk inside, and you sigh when you see the mess of ginger hair and a dangling red earring already waiting for you. At least this time his back is turned while he scrolls his phone even if he is sitting near the register.
About that, where’s the manager? He should be at the register right now since your shift just started.
“You’re late,” the dreaded man scrolling his phone points out, eyes not leaving the phone screen.
Keeping your friend’s advice in mind, you decide to reply before twisting the knob to the employee room. “Sorry. I was doing laundry.” A lie but you aren’t going to tell him that you got distracted watching cat videos.
No greetings were exchanged and he didn’t even look up at you. Strange, but it’s best to only reply when talked to. Getting too friendly might backfire.
Still, you decide to say something just for good measure.
“Is the manager in today?” you ask, eyes on him while your hand remains on the knob.
All you receive in response is a shrug.
Thus, you enter the employee room, and there you have it! Mister manager sits on the desk in all his white polo shirt glory.
The door hinges squeak loudly behind you when you close the door. Stepping to the desk, his head slowly rises to look at you when you greet him, but he doesn’t respond. After you’ve slipped on the employee uniform jacket and pinned your nametag, he speaks.
“I may have made a mistake.”
That causes you to frown. “What happened?”
“The guy outside… I… I didn’t realise he’s a high ranking member. I may have asked him to leave because he’s been here for half an hour already and… well…”
“Well, what?”
He shakes his head. “Well, he sort of jokingly said that the building belongs to his division and that the store could close if he wanted it to.”
“...”
“Look. I know you’re a student, so I promise I’ll pay you somehow, but please! He listens to you, right? Try to appease him!”
                        
You groan. “I’m sure he meant it as a joke.”
“Please!”
“Alright alright. I’ll… try.”
Honestly, you don’t know what you’re going to do. He’s a higher ranking member, you know that much, but why he even bothers to be so friendly and chatty with you is out of your scope of understanding. At least now those tough looking ones that drop by in the evening don’t test your patience anymore.
Cautiously, you open the employees room door and head back outside. There’s still no one in the store, but you know that afternoon rush hour is about to start. With you on the register seat, the dreaded man who will stay with you on another shift turns his body to face you, phone immediately slipping into his pocket.
“So,” he drawls, “was the manager inside?”
You put your phone on the little shelf underneath the cash drawer. “Yes. He was inside.”
“Was he mad?”
“Um no.” You look at him questioningly, brow raising when he just smiles. “Should he be?”
“Who knows?”
“Right…”
Silence ensues and you briefly ask yourself why he’s less chatty today. You can’t believe that it’s concerning you. Sure, he’s a very dangerous person if he’s so young and in the mafia of all things, but dangerous people are downright terrifying if pissed. At least you’re not the one at fault. Besides, three more weeks and it will be time for your flight.
You just hope you make it.
“Something on your mind?”
He’s looking at you now, cheek resting in his palm. He’s even gotten closer, next to you to be precise. You don’t think you heard him get closer.
Nervously, you give a little laugh. “It’s nothing.”
“Are you sure?” Dull blue eyes bore into yours, gently forcing you to answer truthfully. The lack of vitality in them unnerves you but that is precisely what compels you to answer.
“Well… the manager said that you might get the store to close…”
“That? I didn’t think he’d tell you. Anyway, I was messing around,” he smiles. “You’re a student, so it would be unfair to you to suffer in consequence to him.”
The statement doesn’t make you feel any better. “Ah, you’re too kind sir Tartaglia.”
Like before, the way you addressed him makes him frown. “Just call me Childe. Tartaglia is only for my men. Though… if you would prefer…” he leans in, hand that was previously holding his face now gripping the edge of the table as he whispers dangerously close to your ear, “I’d gladly tell you my birth name.”
He backed away again, a smile on his face. “And I know you wouldn’t tell anyone haha.”
How do you even reply to that?
Scratch that, should you even reply to that?
He’s looking at you again, that smile that doesn’t reach his eyes gracing his lips and impatience oozing from his face. You sense that he’s waiting for an answer so you try your best to comply.
“Understood... Childe.”
The name feels foreign on your tongue, and you blame the unfamiliarity on the nervousness that comes with being near him. Thankfully your answer seemed to appease him and he happily nodded.
Okay, one problem solved. You’ll get your minimum wage salary. Another problem. You’ll have to endure the awkwardness because you don’t have it in you to call him out.
As if on cue, your employer exits the employee room and heads for the exit without even looking at you. The fast walking didn’t make his exit any graceful, but it did make it seem important with how Childe eyed his movements.
Silence settles again as you blankly stare at the empty store in front of you. Regrettably, you’re a little worried about what might happen when you’ll be back after summer vacation. You never told him that you’re leaving for home and the white polo dunce of a manager has been sworn to secrecy about it after he flat out told Childe which institution you study at right in front of you.
Protecting your personal details is your job, so you’ve taken it into your own hands. It isn’t wise to tell a mafia member who obviously pines to be more than just acquaintances about your personal life and details. Thus, you will slip away to home on a weekend flight.
What happens after you’re back is something you didn’t consider.
Well, almost two months would have passed by then. Surely he wouldn’t care anymore… right?
You hope he doesn’t. Perhaps it would be best to avoid this neighbourhood. Maybe even look into school transfers to be safe.
“Something’s on your mind again.”
His voice cuts through the air like a dart and lodges into your head. Is it so wrong to simply want some peace? No wait. Peace is bad. If he's quiet then that’s bad. You’ll have to humour him.
Thus, you take a deep breath. Act normal, you tell yourself. You aren’t the criminal here. You’re a humble student trying to earn some money. Relax. 
“Well,” you drawl, “I’m just spacing out.”
You don’t even look at him, eyes still fixed on the empty store.
“You must be thinking about something.”
Grumbling, you internally curse your luck. Patience is running out and you don’t know how long you can remain civil with him breathing down your neck like this. Maybe he had a bad day and that’s why he’s more inquisitive than chatty.
“Nothing,” you sigh. “I’m not thinking about anything. Just waiting for rush hour to start so that my shift can go by quickly and I can go home and sleep.”
“Hm.” He’s closer now, and you can see him in the corner of your eye. “So you’re tired of this job?”
“Tired of the people that come here actually. Most of them are so shady it’s unreal.” Now that that’s said, you hope he doesn’t realise that the jab is actually at him.
“I realise that. I saw what kind of crooks used to come here. They mostly thought they could intimidate the people working here, but all that’s in the past now.”
Well, you do owe him the credit of straightening them out. If it wasn’t for Childe, you’d still have to endure taunts from those weirdos about how they can take anything from the store and you can’t do anything about it. Regardless, you can’t be certain whether his presence is actually good or bad.
“Anyway,” he’s behind you now, hands suddenly on your shoulders, “you’re not from here, right? Any plans to visit home for the summer?”
Well… shit.
How do you go about this… 
You never told him that you’re not from this city, so that can only mean that white shirt dunce did. Great. 
“I’m not sure,” you reply. Would it be wise to ask him how much he knows? Childe does seem to be friendly in all the weeks you’ve known him. Ah. You’ll take that chance. Slowly turning around in your chair, his hands remove themselves from your shoulders when you face him. “Did my manager tell you anything?”
Now you’re looking into his eyes, but he doesn’t seem affected at all.
“I asked him about it. He told me that you might go home for the summer if you can afford the ticket.”
Okay so maybe the manager saved you a little there, but you still need to answer him. So, you settle with going with what he said. 
Nodding, you look at Childe standing in front of you again. “I'm planning to decide by the end of this month. If I do go home, I'll put in a one week notice. Hopefully it isn't a problem."
He smiles. "Don't worry. It won't be."
You can't tell if he's comforting you or making notes to assist you. Either way, he doesn't know about your flight. Figuring out how to get him off your back when you come back for the next semester will be for when you're home.
"Anyway," Childe says, breaking the silence, "are you doing anything after your shift?"
Where did that come from?
Tilting your head a little, you act innocent in hopes he gets the hint. "Depends on what I'm asked. I do have some pending work. Why? Do you need me for something?"
"No. Just asking. What about tomorrow?"
"I'm not sure about tomorrow yet…"
Childe chuckles. "Then how about you make a reservation for the evening, with me?"
"W-why?"
"I just wanted to take you out for dinner. Is that alright?"
Did… did you just get asked out on a date?
Seeing your confusion, Childe chuckles again. “I promise I’m not going to kidnap you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ll just take you out, treat you to dinner, and drop you home. No shady stuff.” He raises his hands in mock surrender, tongue teasingly peeking out.
You suppose there’s no way out of this, but still try nonetheless. “What if something important comes up? Would it be okay to… cancel…?”
His hands go back to his hips. “Important? What could be more important?”
“Um, my summer courses? I still get assignments for those…” You hope that doesn’t offend him, but judging from his face he looks more confused than angry.
Childe clicks his tongue, a scolding look on his face. “You can’t get an assignment with a same day submission date, so that’s out of the question. But hearing your response, it’s alright if you’d rather not go.” He sits back down, arms crossed. “I would prefer it if you'd be honest with me. Prevaricating with lies is more than just annoying, you know.”
In the silence of the store, you can feel your heart beating loudly in your ears, the thump a scolding sound for your stupidity. If he’s angry with you, who knows what could happen. “No! Not at all. That’s not what I meant.” Your patience is still being tested but at this very moment you’re more fearful. “I’m just worried because those courses are counted in my cumulative GPA, and I can’t afford to let it drop!”
“So you’re only worried about your grades?”
“Yes!”
“And you’re not opposed to getting dinner with me?”
“Yes! Wait…”
He smiles. “Go on~”
You narrow your eyes at him, fear all gone and annoyance taking its place. “I sense I’ve made a mistake here.”
The teasing smile turns into an encouraging one and with a sigh, you surrender. “Fine. I’ll go with you.”
He gives a little celebratory ‘yes’ but you cut him short. “But I need to be back home by ten max.”
“Wait… your shift ends at seven…”
You cross your arms, finally getting back at him. “And what about it?” Seriously. Was he planning to hog your entire evening?
“That’s way too short!”
“I have a curfew placed on me by my mother back home. If I phone her any later than ten pm local time, she loses it. I would rather not be screamed at.”
“Alright. That’s fair.”
Now that that’s done, you still can’t believe you just agreed to a date with him.
However, Childe looks more than just ecstatic. He’s practically jumping in his seat, leg bouncing up and down and a wide smile on his face. When you raise a brow at that, he just smiles at you, practically oozing happiness.
He stays the same way, quiet and happy and fidgety as customers start to come in. As usual, he doesn’t say anything while you’re ringing them up and just stares. It’s when the rush dies down a little and only one guy is in the store that he speaks.
“Don’t you ever get tired of working so hard?”
You look at him from the corner of your eye. With his face in his palm, he’s staring directly at you. “I’m beeping items with a barcode scanner. I don’t see why it’s hard.”
“It is actually,” Childe says, firm in his statement. “I think you’re just used to the extra work so you don’t find it bothersome.”
“Maybe,” you shrug.
“Hm. You deserve better. Perhaps… someone who would take care of you, no questions asked. Someone… who would treat you as you deserve, cherish you, and make you happy.”
The way he speaks makes you uncomfortable, but you don’t let it show. Patience, you remind yourself. A few more weeks and you’ll be gone.
“There’s no need for others to look at you like this.” He sighs, “I hope that changes soon.”
You have no idea what he’s talking about, so you’re grateful the guy who was browsing the drinks for the last five minutes finally came to the counter. You busy yourself with billing him, but Childe just… stares. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you for a second.
Now, the regret of agreeing to dinner seeps in.
The customer leaves, and as soon as the door closes, you hear a phone buzzing. Before you even look at your phone, Childe has already pulled his out of his pocket and answers. He doesn’t give a response to whatever was said on the other side, brows furrowing as he cuts the call.
The chairlegs drag against the floor when he stands. “Sorry but I have to go.”
You don’t dare question the oddity despite your surprise to him leaving before your shift ends. “Alright.”
“I’ll pick you up outside your dorm. Is that okay?”
“Okay but what time-”
“I have your number. I’ll text you, don’t worry.”
With that, he’s out, leaving you confused inside the store. Considering the lack of smile and the fact that this is the first time he left before seven pm, it must have been something work related.
You just hope nothing advances after the dinner tomorrow.
-
He really does have your number. You don’t remember ever giving it to him, so you don’t dare question how he got his hands on it. At exactly 8: 06 pm he texted you that he would pick you up at 7: 30 pm outside your dorm tomorrow. That means that you would have around ten minutes to get ready. 
Ten minutes are too much. You’re only going to change, maybe put on some lip gloss if you look too dead. No makeup and no accessories that could possibly make you look more attractive. Simple and plain is the goal.
Speaking of dinner, you’re going to have dinner with a mafioso. Perhaps you really should look into school transfers during the summer.
This sort of vicissitude was not welcome in the slightest, but you’ll have to work around it. If nothing else, you’re thankful that Childe is respectful of most basic boundaries and hasn’t attempted anything yet. Maybe if he wasn’t working where he was, you would’ve given him the time of day.
At 8: 19 pm, he texts you again. ‘Make sure to dress well :) I’d like to see you in a dress if you have any.’
Dress? Does he mean a fancy one? You send back a message asking for clarification, but he only replies with, ‘Anything casual and cute would work.’
Casual and cute… is he really bluntly asking you that?
7: 17 pm. You kick off your shoes and head inside, dashing straight to the bathroom to wash your face. You’re less tired than usual because of Childe’s absence at the store today, something that made the manager anxious, but you didn’t dare tell him about the date.
7: 23 pm. You change into the baby blue Gingham maxi dress you bought a week before finals. It flows just fine, and you grace the look only with pearl studs. Wallet and phone are shoved into the pockets of the dress, and to not look soulless, you apply some lip gloss. The gloss is also stuffed into your pocket in case you want to reapply it later, which you would rather not but you never know. 
7: 28 pm. You set your hair again and slip on your sandals. One last look in the mirror and you give yourself a thumbs up. The look is something you would wear to a casual hangout with friends. Doesn’t look very try-hard or date-like. Perfect.
7: 30 pm. You open the door and head out. Pushing the elevator button, you check your phone for any messages while the elevator reaches your floor. Sudden nervousness makes you a little nauseous, but you breathe in slowly, telling yourself it’s no big deal.
The elevator door opens and as you step in, you collide with a very firm body. One look to the face of this body, and you’re frozen.
“Going somewhere?”
You nervously chuckle. “Childe. What’re you doing here?”
He ushers you both inside the elevator, pushing the ground floor button. “I’m here to pick you up? Did you forget about dinner?”
“Ah, no… it’s just… they don’t allow outsiders without a resident escorting them. I was going to wait in the lobby.”
“Really? The watchman let me in pretty easily.”
You don’t even want to know what that means.
“Anyway,” Childe says, voice louder than the gentle elevator music, “you look lovely.”
You glance at his maroon button down and roman silver dress pants, eyes resting on his earring. “Thanks. You look… fine as well.”
“Fine? I only look fine?” He’s leaning towards you now, and the elevator suddenly feels too small. Before you can be pressured into a reply, the doors open and you hastily step out into the lobby.
A chuckle comes from behind you, and soon you’re following him outside to a black car parked a little farther from the dorm entrance. With every step you take, you pray that no one left in your building for the summer catches you.
The car is unlocked with a beep, and though you’re a borderline broke student with no knowledge of expensive things because you can’t afford them so why bother, you can tell that the car is expensive. Or maybe it’s just polished to perfection, but it looks expensive.
Regardless, this is the hard part. Do you sit in the front seat or the back seat? The back seat would be rude but the front seat would be too straightforward. The front seat is too intimate and close but the back seat is too alienating. Shit. What do you do?
You leave your choice to luck and close your eyes, reaching for a door handle. Whichever you grab will be where you sit. Upon grabbing one, you open the door just to hear another one open as well. You open your eyes and a car speeds by at the same time.
Childe stands next to the open front seat door, a brow raised as he looks at you incredulously. You look at him, then to the door you just opened, then to him again. The door you opened is graced with your gaze once again before it’s Childe’s turn.
It’s silent, awkward, and you can’t shake the feeling that you messed up before the date even started.
“Would you… prefer the back seat?”
You blink at him, courage all gone when you reply. “Ah, no! It’s not that. I-I just wasn’t thinking. Sorry…”
Childe’s brow is still raised. “Okay. I’m not your driver. I’m your date. So, I’d like it if you sat in the front.”
Shit. Everything has gone to shit. You agreed to the dinner just to appease him and leave things on a good note instead of a sour one, yet you’ve already made things bad. Great job, [Name]. Aren’t you just wonderful?
Awkwardly, you close the door you opened and get in, allowing Childe to shut the door next to you before slipping into the driver’s seat. He starts the car, puts on his seatbelt, cracks his fingers, and folds his sleeves to the elbow before exiting the parking and going onto the road.
Your seatbelt feels uncomfortable in the heavy silence. Thoughts of what Childe might do if displeased swirl inside your mind but you frankly don’t know what. He seems to like you. He has never mistreated you besides being creepy a few times. Perhaps he’d forgive you. He always says your airheadedness is cute.
The pounding heart inside your chest gets more aggressive when Childe clears his throat, lips parting to give you another mini heart attack. “Aren’t you going to ask where we’re going?”
“Where are we going?”
“It’s a secret.”
The pounding heart quiets down a little, confusion kicking away some of the anxiety. “Then it’s good I didn’t ask out of my own accord.”
A secret? What does he mean by that? Scratch that, is the location being a secret a good thing or a bad thing? Should you text your live location to someone? But all your friends are gone for the summer. That one girl you’re acquainted with on one of the upper floors might help if you disappear. At the very least, your jokes in the conversations you’ve had might at least let her sympathise enough to report your status to the police.
“Are you scared?”
Childe’s question makes you look at him, your heart going back to pounding crazily upon seeing his smile. “S-should I be?”
“No. You should never be scared when you’re with me.” His eyes are still on the road. “I realise you have a negative impression of me, but there’s no reason for you to be scared. Well, not you but others should be, but that’s besides the point.”
“Ah. I see.” No. You don’t see, but just go along.
“Mhm. That dress looks amazing on you.”
He takes a right turn at the green traffic light, and you briefly glance at his flexing arms as the steering wheel turns. “Thanks,” you reply. “The dress has pockets.”
As a demonstration, you pull out your phone and show it to him. Childe chuckles at that, calling it cute and you find your heartbeat growing tamer. The phone is shoved back inside and pleasant conversation fills the car on the way.
Childe asks about how university is, how your finals went, and how you’ve come to find the city. You answer the last question truthfully, hands fidgeting as you tell him about your reservations with the ‘law and order’ situation and how you’ve been begged to steer clear of the mafia. The statement is followed by a joke of you doing a horrible job at that, and Childe laughs, saying that you don’t have to be afraid of anyone in the city anymore.
The comforting sentence doesn’t comfort you at all.
The car stops in front of a restaurant and Childe opens the door to allow you to step out. Keys are given for valet parking, and Childe takes your hand as he leads you inside. Thankfully, it’s not as fancy as you thought. It’s not even as expensive, the kind of restaurant where you could arrange a fancy friend get-together. 
The not so high end restaurant doesn’t make you uncomfortable, but sitting across Childe does. He apparently made a reservation for the rooftop, so here you are, wind gently blowing in your hair as he unbuttons another button of his shirt.
“Do you like it?” He’s looking at you now, eyes briefly going to your phone when you place it on the table.
“It’s… nice.”
“I didn’t choose somewhere any fancier because I figured you might get uncomfortable. Next time though.”
Next time? Good God what is he planning?
Your face may have given it away because he's tilting his head at you, earring dangling in tandem as he acts coy. "Is something wrong? Do you not like the idea?"
"N-no. That's not it…"
"Hm?"
You gulp. "Ah it was just a little sudden. That's all."
"I'm glad." He's back to smiling now, face resting on his palm. "I'll make sure to treat you like how you should be next time."
Again, next time? Not happening.
Childe grabs the menu, requesting that you let him order for you both. He says something about the taste of home and this restaurant being the only one able to recreate that, but you don't bother. You simply brush him off, telling him he can go ahead.
It's when a few minutes have passed since ordering that he speaks again. Luckily, the clanking of plates and chatter helps tone down your nervousness.
"I come here whenever I miss home. This restaurant actually originated from my homeland, so I thought I'd bring you here. It's not high end as well, so that's an added bonus."
You nod. "Interesting."
Elbow on the table, he rests his chin on the back of his hand, blue eyes studying you carefully. The observant gaze makes you feel small, and you end up clearing your throat when his gaze drops to your collarbone.
You look him in the eye as you speak. "It's a little awkward, isn't it?" 
He tilts his head like earlier again. "What is?"
"The silence."
"Ah. Sorry. I just couldn't help myself. You look stunning."
Unlike the previous times, the compliment makes your cheeks heat up. It's probably because this time he's looking right at you with the faint hint of red on his cheekbones. Seriously. He's so human. You wonder how he ended up being in the mafia.
Childe doesn't allow silence to settle again, chatting away about his homeland and how he misses the snow. He says it's easier to go outside in this city's climate, but the memories and people back home make living there worth it. During his rambling, you simply nod along, only adding in a comment wherever you deem necessary.
Patience, you tell yourself. This'll pass. At least you're fortunate in the sense that Childe is accommodating and nice. 
He continues rambling, telling you about his younger siblings. Fulgent expression and energetic voice, you lean forward to give him your attention, content that he's making good conversation. As you listen to him, your fingers start fidgeting with the cutlery set in front of you.
Your eyes remain on him as he recounts a story where his youngest brother Teucer refused to acknowledge his sister Tonia after she got a haircut. Hearing about the young child's inability to recognise his sister makes you chuckle which in turn makes Childe pause to look at you with widened eyes.
A smile stretches on his lips, and you trace the edges of the knife when he resumes. 
"Mama was pretty concerned about that. It took Teucer a few days to accept that his sister looks different now. Ah. I miss them. They're a lively bunch and I miss being with them."
Your thumb runs up and down the edge of the knife while it's clutched in your hand, face resting in the palm of your free hand. "You can visit them if you miss them that much."
Childe gently shakes his head, hair swaying with the movement. "It's not possible at the moment." At your confused expression, he clarifies, "I can't tell you why. It's confidential information."
"That's fair."
"But I am glad I still get to be here. I got to meet you, after all."
"Oh. That's… nice."
"Mhm." He's leaning towards you as well now, both arms resting on the table. "Any development in your plan to visit home? You should go. If you're having any problems with the plane ticket or something then-"
"Ouch!"
The knife drops from your hand, clattering dully on the table. Blood oozes from the pad of your thumb as your hands shake from the startle. It doesn't take Childe even a second to be on his guard.
"You cut your thumb?" He gets up, drags his chair beside you and sits, knees brushing against yours. "You were fidgeting with the knife… well, no matter."
Instead of grabbing a tissue, he takes a hold of your hand and stares at the bleeding cut. More blood oozes out of it the longer he stares and one drop even reaches your palm. However, that isn't what's bothering you. It's the fact that he just licked that blood trail. 
He licked it. And now he's sucking on where the cut should be.
The feeling of his tongue is what brings you back to your senses, confusion and panic overtaking your senses and overwhelming you. Pulling your hand away does nothing because his grip is too strong. Goodness, at least the few tables around you are empty and no one else seems to be looking.
"Childe."
He doesn't let go, pressing your thumb down against his tongue instead.
"Childe. Let go-"
A trail of saliva joins your thumb and his mouth. The two of you make eye contact and you notice a slight blush on his face. Childe then manoeuvres your hand, his lips on your palm as he tenderly kisses the skin messily. 
The action gives you goosebumps but you remain quiet, still confused about what's going on. It's when he finally lets go and presses a tissue to the cut that he speaks.
"Be careful."
You remain frozen, hand in his while the tissue remains pressed over your thumb. You can no longer hear the faint background chatter or feel the gentle breeze in your hair. In your senses are dull blue eyes, freckles dusted across cheekbones and nose, and warm breath fanning over your ear when he leans in.
Childe's voice is a whisper, the edges of his hair tickling your cheek as the chair quietly croaks. "You shouldn't be playing with dangerous things."
He leans back again. With a smile, Childe gets up, drags his chair back to where it was, and seats himself. The air surrounding you both is casual, light, like something completely out of the blue didn't occur. This gives you the hint that it's best to not talk about it.
Elbows on the table, both his palms hold his face as he looks at you with a smile. The skin under his eyes crinkles slightly, freckled cheeks squished, and long auburn eyelashes framing the deep blues. You sit there puzzled and feeling slightly violated while Childe continues staring.
It's honestly a little funny.
Right when you concluded that Childe was nice, he does something completely uncalled for. You remove the tissue that was pressed to your thumb, pleased to see that your blood cells have done their job and the platelets coagulated. It'll probably turn into a scab by the time you get home.
Dammit, now you're nervous all over again. Curse you mass of neurons floating in cerebral fluid! Be useful! Sure, he just sucked on your thumb, but keep it together.
When you look at him again, he's still staring. With a sigh, you ask him about his job, what kind of work he does, but Childe only shakes his head, refusing to answer.
His excuse smoothly exits via soft, pink lips. You didn't know you were looking at them until you heard him speak.
"I don't think you'd enjoy hearing about my job. Plus, it's all confidential."
You will yourself to look back into his eyes no matter how difficult eye contact may seem. "Shady? Is that what you're implying?"
"Hm." He hums. "Let's just leave it at that."
So he admits it? Great. You can't wait for the evening to be over. The bag of chips sitting at home sounds very comforting and appetising right now.
When he continues talking again, you start fidgeting with the edges of your sleeves under the table. You need a distraction. Using your phone would be rude, so you figure abusing the fabric of your sleeves is a better option. It takes a little while for your food to be here, but when it is, you compliment his order and ask him about his choice.
The question serves to keep the conversation easy and light while allowing you to only answer, not speak. This in turn allows nothing uncomfortable to occur during dinner. It’s thankfully uneventful until it's time to pay.
You had no qualms about paying for yourself, but being Childe, he told you he’d take care of it. You had no problem with that either. What you did have a problem with was what he said.
“Let me treat my girl.”
My girl. That’s what he called you. If that’s not a red flag, you don’t know what is. Despite that, you suck it in and let him take you home. Patience. You’ll leave soon and never show your face in his active districts again. Maybe you’ll even transfer schools if you’re lucky.
You’re really hoping you can transfer. He might come find you himself after you come back from summer break. Even with all those troublesome thoughts in mind, you act as casual as you could while sitting in his car as he drives you home. Conversation was nice, the thumb incident was borderline violating, but the meal was tasty.
The car stops near your dorm’s entrance, but before you could make any move to exit the car - hand hovering over the handle - Childe locks the doors. You turn to look at him but he’s already looking at you.
“I need to ask you something,” he says, voice unsure and eyes not meeting yours.
Tentatively nodding, you signal him to continue.
“Did you… enjoy yourself?”
“Huh?” You scold yourself mentally for the confused expression. Clearing your throat, you compose yourself. “Yeah. As far as enjoying dinner goes.”
His eyes finally meet yours, and the eye contact is intense. “I take it that you’d like to do this again?”
“...”
“I don’t mean immediately but maybe sometime in the future?”
Sighing, you slump in your seat. “I can’t be sure.” It’s better to make things clear and not lead him on, even if it’s harsh. “I’m not… looking for something right now. It would be unfair to say yes to you when I don’t mean it.”
Childe’s grip on the edge of his seat tightens, the leather squeaking as it gets abused. “I understand. But that doesn’t mean that you don’t like me, right?”
“Um, yeah.” You can’t pull your eyes away from his. “You’re… nice.”
He blinks. “I’m nice?”
“Yes.”
Childe’s mouth opens in disbelief before he goes back to his senses with a shake of his head. He leans towards you, hand grabbing the back of your seat and eyes widened. “So that means I have a chance?”
“Well,” you laugh awkwardly, “I never said you didn’t. I just said that-”
“I know I know. You’re not looking for something right now, but that doesn’t mean you won’t change your mind later. I’m not going to do something weird, don’t worry. I just… won’t give up.” He’s smiling as he speaks, happy at the prospect of not being rejected. “I’ll keep trying!”
Honestly, the determination he has is cute but it’s almost 10 pm. “That’s great and all, but could you unlock the door? I really need to go.”
“Oh, of course.” The doors unlock with a soft click and Childe bids you goodbye with another concerning statement. “I’ll make sure you change your mind. It’s a promise.”
The chips in your room lived to see another day.
-
The events of last night’s dinner keep replaying in your mind. It’s like a curse, the moment when Childe grabbed your wrist and gently shoved your thumb inside his mouth. Even with the bandage over it, you can still feel the ghost of his tongue, wet and warm, licking it.
You stop in your tracks to shiver.
It’s infuriating how even on your way to your shift you can only think of him and how he promised to change your mind. So much for leaving without any trouble. Can’t he take a hint? Maybe he’s too dense. It does seem characteristic of him.
The bell chimes when you open the door and head inside. A few customers are browsing the store, one middle aged woman and two office workers to be precise, while the manager sits by the cash register. His white polo shirt greets you before he does and by the time you come back from the employee room changed into your uniform jacket and nametag, the customers are gone.
Beloved and totally not airheaded manager moves away from the register, handing you a little list of work to do and announces that he’s leaving to meet up with someone.
Not even ten minutes of him being gone and the dreaded blue eyed mafioso walks in.
The bell chimes to signal his arrival, and unfortunately you meet his eyes as he stands at the entrance. He’s dressed too casually today, a white T-shirt with some band name on it, blue jeans and white sneakers. If you weren’t aware of his lifestyle, you would’ve thought that he was just another young adult on the street.
“Hi!”
You return his greeting with a simple nod, and he comes in. The only sound is his footsteps till he stops on the other side of the register. You meet his dead eyes again, regret instantly seeping into your bones. Childe’s gaze is affectionate, soft. Being on the receiving end of such a look is overwhelmingly foreign and uncomfortable. 
The freckles dusted across his cheekbones and nose catch your attention, but they fail to be graced with your eyes for long. You immediately look away when you realise you started to stare.
Regardless, Childe acts as though he didn’t notice and rounds the register to sit on the chair next to you like always. He doesn’t speak of the date. Typical conversation plays out, much to your surprise, and you mentally curse yourself for expecting him to bring up yesterday evening.
However, it’s not his casual physiognomy that bothers you. It’s his friendliness and the fact that he has started messaging you like one would a friend. Just yesterday he had texted you for the first time in his life and now he’s spamming you funny videos and memes?
Should… should you be worried?
It might prove to be more difficult to shrug him off. You didn’t want to be harsh and outright reject him for him after how he had seemingly tried to be kind and took you out for dinner, but now it seems like that would have been the correct course of action. It’s not that you’re rejecting him solely on the basis of being a part of the mafia. It’s simply your desire to not be in a relationship right now.
Perhaps he’ll respect your wishes like he did last night, even if he did claim that he will keep trying.
-
You should not push your luck. Really. You shouldn’t. You shan’t do so.
First, you leave his meme spams on read. Then, you have the gall to address him as ‘sir Tartaglia’ again by mistake. The instant fall of his smile had sent a shiver down your spine and reminded you of why you told yourself to be careful. Just because he likes you doesn’t mean you’re safe.
Maybe you are, but that change of expression has creeped you out to no end. It’s better to be safe than sorry.
It has been two weeks since the dinner and Childe has settled with chatting with you over text during the late night hours. Tonight, however, you’ve put your phone away in favour of watching something on your laptop. The screen illuminates your face in the darkness of your room, and your phone’s buzzing briefly catches your attention.
You ignore it, obviously. You’re leaving in one week. This little ‘friendship’ or whatever one could call it is pointless. You’ve already planned on blocking Childe on all the socials he’s invaded as soon as you reach home, a step towards never seeing him again. The less you let him get attached, the easier it’ll be for him to forget you and move on.
-
Childe is… a little annoyed. You didn’t reply to any of his texts for a few days, leaving it on read since he sends some random videos after the texts. He let it slide at first, but now he’s bothered. It’s evident in the way he isn’t smiling or even talking to you for that matter. 
Not wanting to end up on his bad side permanently, you capitulate your ego. “Childe? Is something wrong?” You’re restocking the potato chips as you speak, head peeking over the short aisle to look at him while he sits at the register. “You seem off.”
He makes eye contact with a face devoid of any emotion as if that were the most natural thing to do in the situation. “Why do you ask?”
“I just said so. You seem off.”
“It’s nothing.” Childe looks away, opting to stare at his shoes. He’s wearing casual clothes today as well, something you noted he started doing more often after the date.
Seeing that he won’t budge, you go back to restocking but perk up again when you hear him speak, albeit very softly.
“You’re ignoring me,” he mumbles to himself.
So, you do what comes to mind. Leaving the chip packets on the floor of the empty store, you walk up to him, hands on your hips. “I’m ignoring you?”
He doesn’t look at you, his shoes the most interesting sight in the world. “Yeah.”
“What makes you think that?”
“You don’t talk to me. It’s always me who initiates the conversation.” He looks up, making eye contact. “Is it because I’m in the mafia and you don’t want anything to do with me?”
The subtle accusation makes you defensive immediately, and you stammer. “N-not at all-”
“It is, isn’t it?” The earring hanging from his ear briefly catches your attention when he tilts his head. “That’s why you lied and said that you weren’t looking for a relationship right now.”
“But I’m really not.”
“Relationships aren’t ‘looked for’. They just happen.” Childe leans back in his seat, making you grow more nervous. “And you don’t want one to happen with me just because of where I work.”
Your hands start fidgeting with each other on their own, tongue pushing against your mouth’s hard palate. It takes strength to reply to his imputation. “That’s not true…” Heart beating wildly in your chest, you push the words out. “It’s just… I don’t want a relationship right now.” Think brain, think! “It’s not you, it’s me.” Curse you mass of neurons and amygdala for thinking of this ginger as a serious threat. “So please, don’t think of reasons that aren’t true.”
“But they are true,” he states, like he’s telling you that the moon also exerts gravity on the earth, voice boring and flat. “You just refuse to admit it because you’re scared of me.” Childe’s eyes bore into yours again, seeing through your casual lies and crafted confidence.
“I’m not scared of you.”
“You can’t fool me, [Name]. I’d prefer you to be truthful. Lies just get on my nerves.”
You gulp. There’s no way out of this now. “Sorry…”
“It’s alright. Just keep that in mind for next time.”
“...”
“How can I change your mind?”
“What?” You blink at him, not understanding what he’s asking you. “What do you mean?”
“How can I change your fear of me into attraction? I don’t like knowing that you’re afraid of me.” Childe’s expression turns into a pleading one. Genuine helplessness is written all over his physiognomy which in turn makes you uncomfortable. You feel small under his watchful gaze. It’s as though he’s watching every single movement and breath you take.
“I… don’t know…” Your hands hang by your sides as you stand in front of him, lips pressed into a thin line.
Voice gentle, he tries to persuade you once again. “Please. Tell me how to win your heart.”
“I… I don’t know.” There’s a pitiful helplessness in your voice now, and you don’t know what makes you want to tell him what you are about to. But you do. And you have to watch the realisation appear on his face. “I never wanted your attention.” Admitting that somehow leaves a sour taste in your mouth. “I never wanted anyone’s attention. All I am is a student trying to make ends meet while cussing out the degree I chose for myself.”
Eyes wide, Childe tries negotiating. “I could make your life better.” Hands slam the desk in front of him as he stands, barcode scanner jumping and falling back with a thunk. “I just need one chance. That’s all I need.”
“I’m sorry, Childe, but-”
“No no. I’m not asking. You don’t have to give me one.”
You look into the lifeless blues of his eyes as he continues. “I’ll take that chance whenever I get the opportunity. You don’t have to worry your pretty head over it.”
Somehow his decision to take matters into his own hands unnerves you more than his blatant signs of attraction. It didn’t help that he wordlessly left the store after that.
-
Today is your last shift before you leave for home. Oddly enough, Childe didn’t swing by the store ever since he left the other day, and he isn’t here right now as well. It makes you uneasy. Something’s wrong. You can feel it in your gut.
He hadn’t even contacted you or sent any cat videos or memes, and being the coward that you are, you left things as they were. Hope that you won’t see him again keeps you going and stops you from poking at the obvious issue lest it bites you back.
But… you feel a little guilty. Even now as you stare at the floor on the other side of the cash register, you can’t help but recall how Childe tried his best to keep conversation flowing during dinner despite getting a very rude lack of input from your side. He’s been trying, and you’re the one not giving him the time of day.
Nonetheless, relationships aren’t built on pity. You hope he finds someone else, someone more suited for him. That’s the only wish you have for him even if the moral ramifications are eating you up on the inside.
Still, you can’t stop your mind from wandering to the question of what he meant by taking the chance when the opportunity presents itself. Does he somehow know about your flight? Well, if he did, he wouldn’t have disappeared. Best to end things on a good note rather than a bad one and stay in contact. But what if he doesn’t care anymore?
Though that outcome is the welcomed one, it still stings to think that. Someone losing interest in you isn’t exactly something that makes you feel good. Regardless, it’s welcome in this situation. You were never in favour of his attention being on you and you never will be.
At 7: 08 pm, the bell at the door chimes in goodbye as you step out. The evening rush hour greets you, and you go with the flow of the people rushing home after a long day or work. Well, it’s the weekend tomorrow. At least they have something to look forward to.
The building of your current residence comes into view and relief washes all over you. Just a bit more and you can get into bed. There’s still a few more hours till you leave, and all your luggage is packed. All you need to do is take a nap.
You practically skip to the entrance, the cool air of the lobby’s air conditioning hitting your face. No one is inside and you hurriedly make way to the elevator. 
The nap you took felt like an entire night of rest. With a stretch, you jump out of bed to gather the rest of your things. It’s when you’re locking the door to your room when you realise just how quiet it is. Your apprehension is understandable, if not relatable. You’ve never exited your room after coming back home for the day, so you have no idea what the building is like after a certain hour.
Dragging your suitcase with one hand, hand carry with the other, you haul them both and yourself - the backpack on your shoulders being an honourable mention - inside the elevator. The air is uncharacteristically cool and dry, something elevator music fails to get your mind off of. 
Your phone buzzes in your pocket, but you ignore it in favour of dragging your luggage outside the elevator and into the lobby. Who would be calling this late? Probably your mother. The video call would cut when you step out and the Wifi disconnects, so it doesn’t matter. Key left at the receptionist’s desk, you mentally thank yourself for checking out online in the evening but pray that the key is still here by morning.
Hesitation wins and you end up leaving it next to the pen holder. You were told to drop it off at the desk. It’s not your fault it’s unattended.
The bus stop is a five minute walk away, so with a deep breath, you step out of the lobby and to the outside, allowing the night’s cool breeze to caress your face as your luggage stays grasped in either hand. Your eyes land on the empty road, praying that you don’t get creeped out by the lack of people.
Biting the inside of your cheek, you take a step forward, then another, and another, till you’re a few metres away from the building’s entrance. The breeze is still blowing and the air is cool so you won’t be hot during your wait at the sto-
“[Name]?”
The breeze stops blowing.
“Where are you going at this hour? And… why… is your luggage with you?”
Your breathing is the next to stop, though only momentarily.
Almost on instinct, you let go of everything in your hands and reach for the phone in your pocket. You don’t even bother looking at the source of the voice, eyes glued to ‘Childe’ glowing on your screen as the contact of the missed call. Heart hammering in your chest, you slowly turn to look at him.
Regret and fear seep into your bones at the same time. He’s wearing something similar to what he usually did in the beginning, garnet dress shirt and dark grey dress pants. The gloves on his hands cover his palms but leave the majority of the back of his hands exposed, phone held in the leather grip.
What your eyes focus on first, however, is the earring. It catches the light from the lobby behind him like a beacon, but you’re quick to look away and into the blue irises of his empty gaze.
There’s no time for you to question why you didn’t hear him before he spoke up.
“Are you leaving?” He takes a step forward, phone slipping inside his pocket, and you take a step back. The reaction is all he needs from you to raise his hands in surrender, only coming closer when the wary look on your face softens into something more observant.
“Are you going back home?” Childe stands only one step away when he asks that and tilts his head waiting for an answer. He receives one in the form of a nod, and questions further. “When’s your flight?”
“Half past 3 am,” is your reply.
“So you have a little less than four hours,” he points out. “I actually came here to talk to you. I uh… I missed you and couldn’t help it. If I knew you were leaving, I would have come sooner.”
You’re still watching him attentively, the clothing he’s wearing sufficient to ring alarm bells in your head. “So you wanted to talk?”
“Yes.”
“Well,” you bite your lip, “I guess I’m not running late. The bus will be here in fifteen minutes anyway, so I have time to spare.”
“Perfect!” He grabs both of your luggages and drags them in the opposite direction of your intended destination: the bus stop. It takes a stern question from you for him to stop and look at you with that empty gaze again. “I’m just taking you to my car. I’ll drop you off. There’s no need to bother yourself with the bus.”
Any demurrance from your side is promptly shut down and smoothed over with reassurances that he’d get you to the airport safe and sound. As your packed belongings sit next to the car, Childe eases the backpack off your shoulder and leaves it on top of them.
It’s when he looks at you that the anxiety skyrockets, eating away your consciousness. Alone with Childe, a highly ranked member of the mafia, at near midnight with all your belongings and an assurance to be dropped off the airport safe and sound is an obvious problem.
You should have listened to the uneasy feeling in your gut back in the store.
“So,” he drawls, standing a foot away from you with his hands in his pockets, “I know I was brash and that I shouldn’t have made you uncomfortable and also should have apologised to you later, but I won’t.”
That causes you to perk up, anxiety dying down a little. “You… won’t?”
“Yeah,” he shrugs, “I won’t. It’s because I’m not going back on my words. I know you don’t view me as a potential partner, let alone friend, but that isn’t going to stop me.”
You don’t like where this is going.
Childe continues, eyes still boring into yours. “I don’t understand why you’re afraid of me. I’ve told and showed you countless times that I’m not going to do anything. It’s pointless to waste your energy. All I want is to exclusively be yours and call you mine. Why would I ever do anything to you if that’s what I wish for?”
The sir suddenly feels too suffocating, like not enough oxygen is filling your lungs. There’s a subtle darkness in your vision, one you deal with by walking to and leaning on the parked car, not that it helps. Not with the deeper breaths you’ve started taking. It doesn’t take any more indications for Childe to rush to your side, an unwelcome hand gently stroking your back.
The breeze flows again, caressing your face and blowing through your hair, but you’re still sweating.
You don’t know what happens next, just that you’re inside the car, the AC turned on, a light shining over your head, and a hand still running up and down your back while you take mouthfuls of breaths. They’re quicker now, you note, and a hand - your own hand - rises to cover your mouth as your sight and self-awareness is restored.
The confusion and vulnerability hits you like a truck and the tears simply fall harder.
Each and every time the hand moves over your back, you feel like more of your skin was peeled off, goosebumps still littering over your arms. It takes several minutes for you to somewhat calm down and become cognizant of your emotions and actions. It doesn’t come as a surprise when the first thing you decide to do in that state is cry harder.
What are you crying for? You don’t know. It’s hard enough as it is to just continue breathing. Processing your emotions is for later.
A hand, a foreign one, gently lifts your face, allowing the dashboard to come into view, and turns it to the source. Childe’s blurry image greets you as your chest heaves, warm thumbs swiping away the tears rapidly running down your cheeks. You don’t have time to dwell on where his gloves disappeared to, focusing on the feeling of his warm thumbs feeling cool over your tear stricken face.
Several minutes pass again, and you sit with your face in your hands while Childe puts your luggage inside the car trunk. Reddened, swollen eyes meet his blue ones in the silence of the car, your sniffling being the only sound. Whatever you just experienced was horrible. Had Childe not been… no. He is part of the cause. Him helping you through it is the least he could have done.
The driver’s seat is quickly occupied once again, and Childe breaks the silence, concern present all over his face. “Are you feeling better?”
You nod, too uncertain in your ability to speak. His question of whether or not you want some water is met with a shake of your head, and Childe settles with pressing his lips into a thin line.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t think it would upset you that much.”
Voice slightly raspy, you reply after clearing your throat. “It’s alright. I… I didn’t see it coming as well.”
He slumps into his seat, head turned to look at you. Childe’s eyes glaze over your body, looking for potential signs of fear. It seems to him that you’re dazed, confused. It’s advantageous for him, if not relieving. Seeing you afraid or in pain doesn’t elicit any positive feelings.
After receiving your permission, Childe puts on his seatbelt - all the while making sure you fasten yours as well - and reverses the car, intending to drive you to the airport. You’re a bit late compared to what you originally planned, but you suppose he can get you there on time.
The car is eerily quiet with the lack of music. There’s no gentle humming from Childe, only the sound of either of you breathing. Unfortunately for you, the silence fails to last.
“So when are you coming back?” Childe’s voice is calm, flat. He’s completely casual in his question despite your concern that he wouldn’t take kindly to being lied to about such a thing.
“It’s one way,” you lie. Not being held accountable for your verbal deceit helps you gain some confidence. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back, but I’ll be back for class obviously.”
The car is silent again for a while and it fills you with hope for a quiet ride, one where you would get off, thank Childe profusely, and head home never to see him again. Alas hope is crushed, and you freeze in your seat, muscles tensing when Childe speaks again.
“How much more are you going to lie?”
Childe continues driving, acting unaffected with his demeanour and tone, but it wouldn’t take a genius to know that him gripping the steering wheel in a bone crushing grip is anything but him being casual. 
No. He’s certainly upset, and you’re afraid you’re too much at his mercy.
“I gave you another chance and you ruined it.” Childe’s fingers tap rhythmically on the steering wheel, voice even as he speaks. “Why don’t we try again? When’re you coming back?”
You bite your tongue when you feel the initial signs of panic bubbling up your throat. It takes a bit of force to make yourself speak, even if it’s in a more fearful way. “Seven weeks. I’ll be home for seven weeks.”
“You’re not going to block me on your socials when you get there, are you?”
With a shake of your head, you continue looking out the window. “No.” 
He hums, satisfied at your cooperation. “Good.” The car takes a turn, the empty roads seemingly omnipresent. “I’m not going to do anything. I just wanted to know the truth… er, more like hear it directly from you.”
A few minutes of silence pass, but it doesn’t last because you can’t stay quiet for longer. “You’re going the wrong way.”
“I am?” The smile in his voice is evident.
“Yes, you are.” You turn to look at him, nervously gulping at his grin. “Stop messing around.”
He doesn’t reply.
“Childe!”
Your panic fails to affect him in any way. With the fuzziness growing in your mind, there’s not much you can do except grab onto his sleeve. That causes him to look at you, even if just for a moment, but that’s all you get for a reaction. As a last resort, you reach for your phone in your pocket but freeze when you don’t feel the device.
You don’t need to say anything for Childe to provide the answer to your question. “Your phone isn’t there. It’s with me, I’m afraid.”
“Childe,” you say, voice low and pleading, “please stop screwing around.”
He sounds slightly offended when he replies. “You think I’m screwing around?”
“Yes!” Your exclamation doesn’t seem to affect him, so you opt for a more direct approach. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this. I came with you because I trusted you.” The words are spat out, but Childe only seems amused.
“Trusted me?” He chuckles. “Sweetheart, if you trusted me, you would’ve told me about your flight from the start instead of lying about putting in a one week notice. You’re scared of me, and despite the fact that it stings like salt on an open wound, I suppose there’s some merit to that as well.”
“W-what do you mean?”
“What do you think I mean?”
You bite the inside of your cheek now. There’s no way you can tell what Childe means by what he said. Judging from your previous conversations as well, your fear of him is a sour spot, but maybe you could exploit that to your favour.
“I’m afraid of you, because of your unpredictability and that is exactly what you are demonstrating right now.” You grab onto his sleeve again, albeit more desperately this time. “You gave me more reasons to fear you than you did to like you.”
The car slows, as if synchronised with Childe’s thought process. “Is that… really what you think of me?”
“Yes,” you reply in an even voice. “I was already a little scared from what I heard from people and then you started doing all this stuff-”
“Stuff like what?”
“Stuff like this!”
He sighs, moving the steering wheel to stop the car at the side of the road. “I just told you that I can’t ever hurt you, and you’re still calling me scary?”
Your eyes focus on his expression, specially searching for any signs of him lying - hypocritical on your part - but fail to find anything other than sincerity. The grip on his sleeve loosens, your hand ultimately returning to your lap, when he turns to face you. It’s intimidating to look into his dead eyes but it still makes you wonder how such a beautiful colour can be so lifeless.
Childe’s lips move and despite your feelings you find yourself absolutely memorised by the plush pink as his voice leaves his mouth.
“I’m not changing my mind.”
His declaration forces you to focus on his words, any attraction be damned.
“Lying to me and saying that you haven’t decided on leaving for home did get on my nerves a little,” he says, “but I forgive you. You’re cute, so I can’t stay mad at you for long.”
You let his words sink in. He says that he forgives you for the lie, but what now?
“Alright,” you drawl, voice nervous, “now can we please go to the airport?”
Childe leans in, a smile on his face. “How about instead of the airport, we go home?”
The word ‘home’ catches your attention and dread settles in. If he’s implying what you think he is, then you don’t think you’ll be able to catch your flight, let alone get to the airport.
“Childe,” you croon, “I think we have some misunderstandings. Before either of us does something impulsive and hurtful, let’s just talk it over.”
He just looks amused. “Oh? Talk over what? You’re the one pushing me away.”
You try again to de-escalate. “I only told you that I don’t want a relationship.”
“Liar.” Childe’s hand reaches for the edge of your seat, the skin below his collarbones and a little bit of his chest visible as he leans in closer. “We’ve already had this discussion before. Since you’re cute and obviously not in very good mental shape at the moment, I’ll give you a little bit of advice. Let me do my thing. I’m not going to hurt you, just… change your scenery a little.”
You narrow your eyes at him upon saying the word ‘scenery’. Though consternation eats you up on the inside, you trust that Childe wouldn’t do anything to you, at least not physically. What he is currently planning to do is a different matter.
Patience, you remind yourself. That might just be the only thing you have left.
“Now that that’s settled,” he says, going back to the steering wheel, “why don’t I take you home? I’m sure you’ll like it. It’s more comfortable and spacious than where you were living.”
In the most calm and even voice you could muster, you try pleading with him again. “Childe, please. Don’t do something that would make me hate you.”
He doesn’t even look at you when he answers. The lack of smile and his eyes fixed on the road as he continues driving does not help ease your increasing dread. “It might be a small bump, but the end destination is what matters in this case, not the journey.”
You glance to the door handle in an act of desperation but bite your lip when all hope is lost at the sight of the lock. Month old words hit you like a truck, patience being some elaborate scheme for the notorious members of society to make others more docile and submissive to them. After all this time, would it be wise to believe you’ll be alright?
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ddarker-dreams · 9 months
Note
do you have any hcs of what the yan genshin boys would b like when darlings on her period?
i'm gonna rank them from best to worst when it comes to dealing with this . let's see how they do.
best
zhongli is on top of his game. it's like he was born for the sole purpose of pampering you when you're under the weather. he'll insist on you taking it easy, drinking soothing teas, eating nutritious meals, and taking medication for whichever symptoms are the most prominent. if he seems oddly content, it's because he is. he won't state it outright, but he wants to leave the impression that him being in the position to care for you like this is worth the sacrifice of some... freedom. he knows of herbs and remedies to help make the experience as painless as possible.
kazuha already dotes on you as if you were royalty. while he leads a rather transient lifestyle, he puts your travels on pause to ensure you're properly cared for. he's sweet to a degree that'd be condescending from anyone else, but because it's kazuha and it's completely genuine, you can't call him out on it. he'll lay your head down on his lap and softly recite poetry until you doze off. he might not know much about periods specifically, but he treats it as if you were injured and need to be nursed back to health. he makes you your favorite meals from ingredients foraged locally. considers it a privilege on his part to be able to care for you. warmth blossoms in his chest whenever you have no choice but to ask him for something, your pride temporarily discarded.
albedo knows when your period is about to start before it even crosses your mind. he calculates every phase of your cycle and writes the important dates down in a calendar. he's all about preemptive care, he'll give you some concoctions of his own making the night before your period is due to start so you don't even have to worry about cramp pain. if you've been particularly troublesome lately, he might withhold this miracle elixir until you butter him up. he doesn't come outright and tell you this either, you have to do some trial and error to discern the specifics. as an alchemist, anything to do with the functions necessary to create life greatly fascinate him.
childe has sisters, so he's roughly familiar with how unpleasant periods are. he'll grin and reassure you that a little blood has never frightened him. thinks you're the cutest thing ever when you have to rely on him more. he's happy to oblige and is surprisingly intuitive about requests you never state verbally. he makes the tastiest soups, the kind that warm you from head to toe with every bite. there's no use trying to pretend you don't like it because he knows. he calms down on his tendency to tease you, since in his view, it's never his intent to actively make you feel distraught (unless you've acted out in a way that puts you in danger).
cyno means well (probably) but can come off as a little overbearing. he's literally breathing down your neck and constantly reminding you that if you need anything, just say the word. he's carrying you around, bringing you meals in bed, running all over town to get that one snack he knows you love; he's nothing if not dedicated. the thought of you being uncomfortable, much less in pain, is unbearable. when you do fall asleep, he's peeking into the room every five or ten minutes. every time you get your period, should any blood get on the sheets, he'll look you dead in the eye and ask if you've gotten in a fight lately. when you don't laugh, he starts explaining the joke, so it's better to force a chuckle.
diluc is just awkward about it. he refers to it as 'your time of the month' but even choking those words out is a struggle. he considers it to be a very private occurrence and thinks it'd be polite to tiptoe around the subject, as if it were taboo. the staff at dawn winery make further accommodations for you — everything you could ever want is a ring away. he's normally skeptical about you going outside, but since you're under the weather, he'll grant your request. if you're observant, you'll notice he's more inclined to give into your whims during this time. just don't get too carried away or he'll say he knows what you're doing at pointblank.
scaramouche is mostly annoyed that you're going to be more cranky for a while. your attention is essentially his lifeblood, but when you don't feel well, you're focusing on that instead of him. kind of inconsiderate tbh. once asked dottore if there's a way to prevent this, but dropped the idea when the harbinger said 'it only requires a few organs to be removed.' scaramouche would prefer your organs remain as is. he'll sigh and huff about how lucky you are to have him while spoon-feeding you, despite the fact he secretly enjoys it. his words are a whopping 10% nicer until you start to feel better, something he is frequently reminding you of. when your period is finished, he keeps staring in your general direction, fully expecting you to trip over yourself to thank him for his benevolence. if being delusional is a game, then he's winning.
when it comes to xiao, he's not awful per se, but this is likely his first encounter with menstruation, so you have to explain everything about it. he gets a bit freaked out the first time you wake up to bloody sheets, although you wouldn't be able to tell unless you closely observe his body language. he's somewhat at a loss when you explain what you need during your period and probably doesn't grab all the right things. he makes you eat these awfully bitter herbs that are supposed to help with pain. also makes some watery tea but gives you such a hopeful look, you don't have the heart to complain about the taste.
worst
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lijojo · 8 months
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genshin sugar daddies: leaving hickeys on you
premise: you have seven sugar daddies: one for each day of the week. it’s a bit overwhelming, but you try you’re best to keep each relationship relatively independent from the other. that means no hickeys. except, well, each one of them wants to make you theirs exclusively and they’re not above marking you secretly to send a message to tomorrow’s person. (yandere! possessive! genshin reverse harem x reader) (modern au!) 
*if you want more yandere genshin sugar daddy content the introduction is here but this can be a standalone read! 
tags: nsfw, dark content, afab reader, fingering, dirty-talk, unprotected sex, dub-con, smut smut smut smut smut
diluc is no stranger to jealousy. you can sense it in the way his eyes constantly beckon for yours. the way he grips tightly onto your waist. he never asks anything more than your gaze on monday evenings. they have to be on him. always. not for a second more are you allowed to look at anything else but him. he’s greedy, always pulling you to look at him once more. naturally, his gaze is always on you. 
you feel it drag up and down your back. crawl into the little dip in your neckline to see what’s underneath your clothes. 
so the one time, the one time, kaeya’s crafty attempts to leave hickeys on your folds and inner thighs in the midst of eating you out, diluc catches it. 
he sees it the moment he peels off your panties. what should’ve been a slow sequence of him sinking his tongue into your pussy is immediately halted at the sight of a very small but noticeable bruise in the juncture between your thighs and your labia minora. 
kaeya’s warning. 
the change in his demeanor is undeniable. his heavy gaze flits over to your face. intentful. unaware of the hickey, you’re understandably confused. 
if diluc’s seen something, he doesn’t tell you. instead, he internalizes the sight. it’s a warning and a challenge. 
mine. 
he’s quick to grab onto your wrists and pin them above your head. before you can brace yourself, he’s slipped a finger inside you. you gasp at the sudden intrusion, but welcome him as he curls his finger towards him, gently brushing against that spongy spot that leaves you breathless. 
he chuckles lightly as you roll your eyes back. his thumb presses on your clit, nudging it side to side. “you’re soaking wet,” he mutters, sliding another two fingers inside you. “all for me?” 
your hold on the sheets tightens. 
he leans closer to your ear. “i can’t wait to smear the remnants of your orgasm on my cock. make it slick enough to slip inside you. make you feel good. we want my darling to feel really good, right?”
you hiss when he starts thrusting his fingers into you at rapid speed. desperate. eager to make you spill your affection onto his hands. 
“that wasn’t a rhetorical question, sweetheart.”
you can’t help the moan that leaves you as you approach your climax. “y-yes! yes—ah—diluc!” 
his grin looks so unlike him. his thumb starts to draw circles on your clit, going quicker and quicker the more you squirm and moan. 
“cum on me. do it for me, princess. cum all over my hand. give me all your everything.”
you can barely understand the undertone in his words. instead, you reach your high. your orgasm pours out of you, onto his beckoning fingers. and instead of letting you go, he continues mercilessly until your left whining for him to stop. 
and he does. eventually. he slowly pulls his digits out of your crying cunt. he collects the droplets that trickle out of your lower lips and let’s it drip onto his twitching dick. he runs his hands along his shaft, letting out a shaky groan. 
“look how pretty you’ve made me. this is all you, darling.” 
he fucks you like it’s he’ll die if he doesn’t. blinded by the mixture of pain and pleasure, you close your eyes and submit to the feeling of overwhelming bliss. 
you’re so overwhelmed, that you don’t register how he’s kissing your neck like a man on a mission. 
the two of you are in the middle of a normal tuesday brunch when childe sees it. when you turn to accept the menu from the waiter, he can see the slightest marks that you couldn’t hide, even with the most expensive foundation. 
you curse internally when you see his eyes narrow in on you. you should’ve known better than to ever believe that diluc would ever follow one of your only rules: no hickeys. 
and now childe, notoriously competitive, will feel compelled to have his fill. 
you should’ve worn a scarf. 
you thought that the position of the hickey, and the slight fadedness your foundation was barely able to provide would’ve been enough. you were wrong. 
like a built-in reflex, you smile. “what’s the matter? is there something wrong?”
he gives you a smile, an all-knowing smile as he takes the menu from you. “nothing is wrong at all, girlie. i’m just admiring that new necklace i bought you.”
you’re good at pretending nothing’s wrong, so you fiddle the crystals with your hand. “i love the way it shimmers,” you add, “i love how sparkly you’ve made me.” 
if you’ve done anything to settle his displeasure, he doesn’t show it. instead, he averts his eyes to the menu. you know better than to believe that nothing bad will come out tonight. 
for the rest of the night, he engages in small talk with you. about the weather. a new store that’s just opened up. some story about some poor guy who borrowed more money than he could ever give back. the thought makes you tighten your grip on your fork.
when you get back to his penthouse, he’s quick to strip you of your luxurious gown and all of it’s accompanied gold accents. when you reach to take off the necklace that decorates your neck, he stops you. 
“keep it on,” he whispers, his hand crawling up your thigh to grip your ass. “wanna fuck you looking so pretty in my jewelry. wanna make you shine with sweat as pretty as those gems.” 
“oh really?” you retort, sliding your hand between the two of your bodies and cupping his sex. he groans as you run your fingertips down his groin. “wanna make me shine with your cum?” 
“yes,” he gasps. in the heat of the moment, his eyes catches the faint outline of diluc’s mark just below your jaw. overtaken by some primal instinct, he presses your waist against him. “you’re letting all those side-fucks give you hickeys?” 
his words almost make you want to freeze. but you’re quick to resume back to normal, to pretend that those words don’t phase you. that you don’t hear the implications in the undertones of his voice. 
it’s worse if you tell him it was unintentional. 
“it’s a new development.” you tug at his hair as he digs his face into the crook of your neck. “you get only one.”
you need to have the upper hand. in a sea of seven men who are constantly demanding things from you, you have to take what you’re dealt with and do something before they overtake you.
he grins.  “you’re such a tease. which motherfucker left this on you?” 
you know better than to tell him. everyone knows that there’s seven who you’re regularly seeing. but they don’t know the names—not the order. you know better than to give names. these men are as powerful as they are rich, you wouldn’t do anything that’d upset the city’s dynamics. 
so you avoid the question, like you’ve always done. 
“i can think of better ways you can use that mouth, other than asking silly questions.” 
his brow twitches, but he doesn’t do anything else to push you. instead, he smiles into your neck. “only one?”
“only one,” you confirm.
he doesn’t hesitate to take off your necklace. his hands dive to the back of your neck to unclip it and toss it to the side. you let out a yelp in surprise when it clangs onto the coffee table. 
“i’ll buy you a better one,” he says in-between open-mouthed kisses on your jawline. “fuck, i’ll buy you a thousand more.”
he sinks down to your collarbone. “’been dreaming of this. my girl, my pretty, pretty girl, wearing reminders of me.” 
the two of you are in the comfort of kazuha’s home. wednesdays are reserved for writing, and like always, you’re pinned under his watchful gaze while he writes his thoughts away in his notebook. 
with every few scrawls, he peeks over the paper to steal glances at you. you hum, pretending to be blissfully aware. you’re just here as his muse. 
as of this moment, you snuggle into your comfortable place in the back of his study, leaning against the window that expands to his backyard that oversees the sunrise and sunset. your own notebook rests on your thighs, your knees pressed close enough to your chest to allow you to write smoothly. kazuha sits across from you, his feet sometimes brushing against yours. if you laid your legs out straight, no doubt that the balls of your feet would meet his waist. 
he keeps stealing glances at you. has been for the past hour. no matter how much you try to focus on your own poems, you can’t brush away the feeling of being watched. 
his eyes are impeccable, and can spot the marks that occasionally peak underneath your scarf when you move a certain away. 
“you let them mark you?” he asks out of the blue. not accusatorily, per se, but you can detect the edge in his voice. 
the corners of your lips perk unnaturally. the moment you’d been dreading since you woke up had arrived. you let your eyes soften, as if it could soothe kazuha by any means. with a gentle hand, you reach out to softly grasp his hand that tightens around the edge of his notebook. it’s something he accepts readily, enveloping your hand with his. 
“i was meaning to talk to you about this, kazu,” you say tenderly. “it’s just something i’m trying out. everyone gets one. see if everyone’s okay with it.” 
kazuha doesn’t say anything. his gaze is fixated on your intertwined hands. “my love, they mark your skin like animals.”
you smile like it’s no trouble. because that’s what you need him to believe. you feel like kazuha’s a loose thread. tug him in the wrong direction, the wrong idea, and he’ll undo the entire sweater. 
“it’s only going to be seven,” you reply, trying to lessen the tension. 
“it’s better if there’s just one,” he retorts gingerly. “they aren’t gentle at all, are they?”
you don’t like the way his eyes sweep over your entire figure. you hold back a shudder, feeling as if a ghost had just passed through you. 
“they are,” you mumble, although you can hardly say it’s true. “don’t you worry kazu, i can handle myself.” 
your line of sight flits back to your intertwined hands; he lets go, instead running the pads of his fingers down the back of your hands before settling on your wrist. his hold is firm. it’s not tight enough to cause you pain, but not gentle enough to let you pull away. 
“i’m sure you do, love,” he mutters. but the way he says it makes it seem as if he doesn’t believe you.
his eyes connect with yours intently.
the rustle of your clothes shuffling echoes through the quiet study as he pulls your wrist towards his mouth. in doing so, you’re forced to lean forward. his eyes never leave you, not when he presses a soft kiss to the inside of your wrist.
“they just want you for your body,” he says, more to himself than you. “they don’t love you at all. everything would be so much better if you just dropped them. let me take care of it. take care of it all.” 
you don’t say anything back. he doesn’t want you to. and even if you did, it wouldn’t be something he’d want to hear. you have bills to pay. you have enemies a wealthy poet wouldn’t be able to defend you from on his own. 
his tongue slides out of his mouth to lick a long strip up your wrist, all while looking at you. he presses open-mouthed kisses in the same spot, sucking and nibbling with purpose. in-between kisses, his tongue draws letters on the expanse of your skin in a sentence you’ve begun to fear.
A L L M I N E  
when spring comes, tighnari will sometimes give you hickeys. he’ll do it in the heat of the moment in a passionate rut. he can’t think of anything else but you. how perfect you are for him. how beautiful. how you belong to him. 
while he drives his cock into you the only way he knows how, his lips will find their place in the crook of your neck. on the curve of your breasts. on the plush of your thighs. he’ll kiss you like you’re his air. 
he’ll whimper into your skin. in that moment, you’re powerless to stop him. his pace is godspeed, pummeling into you like you’re his lifeline. driven to leave his white reminders of his love and devotion into your aching pussy. you can barely hold yourself up steadily. your fingers tremble. overcome with an insurmountable high, you can’t push him away as he leaves hickeys all over your body. 
it’s not to send a message to everyone, per se, but to express the feelings he’d been keeping pent up during autumn, winter, and summer. the overwhelming infatuation and adoration he feels for you. 
his pension for leaving nonstop hickeys on you starts to settle on the fourth day. and by the end of the week-long rut, they’ve faded just enough that you can cover it up with foundation and expensive jewelry. 
but when he’s not blinded by his sexual desperation during the spring, it’s a different story. 
it’s a perfectly fine thursday mid-afternoon in the comfort of tighnari’s study when he sees it. 
he catches a glimpse of kazuha’s kiss on your wrist when you pass a cup of tea to him. your sleeves ride up just a bit under the beaming sun. you notice too, and are quick to pull back. but it’s too late. the moment he’s set down the cup he’s grabbing onto your wrist and pulling back the sleeve. “what’s this?” 
you’re tempted to let out a breath of relief that he didn’t notice the hickey that barely rested on the edge of your collar. when you donned on the turtleneck sweater, you feared that he’d notice it if it slipped down and grow even more livid. 
just play it off. pretend. if you’re lucky, by the end of this week, you’ll end up with only six hickeys. 
“oh, i must’ve bumped into something.” 
tighnari scowls. “this doesn’t seem like an ordinary bruise. how’d you get it?” 
you’re scrambling for a believable response. “i was leaning back onto the counter and didn’t realize the corner was there.”
he chuckles. “clumsy you.” his forefinger inches up the slightest bit to press on it. 
you wince. subsequently, your entire body tenses. this isn’t like those times where you can lie sweetly to him whenever he asks for you to stay for good. this isn’t like one of those times you can charm your way out of a situation. the way he looks at you is knowing. feral.
“i wasn’t born yesterday, love,” he hisses. “i know a hickey when i see one, especially when i leave them on you every spring.”
the way he kisses you after is rougher than usual. desperate. needy. aggressive. he presses into you, his tail wagging tentatively. he brings your arms to wrap around his neck. his tongue caresses your own, exploring your mouth like it’s a new discovery. a new treasure trove. 
he whimpers into the kiss, his little squeaks and moans muffled by his need to devour you. 
you close your eyes and let yourself get swept up with the pacing. to get distracted by him. you hardly register the time pass before the two of you are naked, your clothes strewn across the floor in his bedroom. 
your back is pressed against his chest, your ass hugging his dick while he slides his hand down the valley between your breasts, stopping to pinch your nipple until it hardens. his other hand is left to its own devices, settling on your waist. 
his fingers find themselves in the comfort of your pussy. he whimpers at how amazing you feel around his fingertips. how every time he pulls in and out, there’s squelching noises that almost overtake his little whines and yelps. every time he pushes his fingers back in, your ass presses a little closer to his dick. 
he moans like you’re the one pleasuring him. like he’s on the cusp of euphoria, only silencing himself to press open-mouthed kisses on your shoulder. 
“it’s m-my turn,” he says in-between whines. “m-my pretty l-little pet.” 
when alhaitham gets home after a long week of working, all he wants to do is relax in warmth of your embrace. friday is his reward. 
he eats dinner as always, asking you questions in-between bites while delivering long stares that still make you feel like you’re being researched. but this week, instead of insisting you two spend quality time together reading on the couch, he coaxes you into the bedroom. 
he groans into the kiss, pressing you to the wall as he helps you out of your clothes. but when he opens his eyes to admire your body, he doesn’t like what he sees.
he lets out an unamused chuckle. his hand brushes over your shoulder. “what’s this?” 
you try to speak, but he cuts you off with another kiss. when you gasp in surprise, his tongue dives into your mouth. 
he leaves you breathless; his pace is rough, almost angry. 
“what a bad girl you are,” he seethes, “letting all those bastards touch you like that? bruise your pretty, pretty skin?”
he doesn’t let you talk. he envelops your opportunity to reply with his relentless kisses. he presses harder into your mouth, your teeth almost gnashing together. it’s almost painful, as if he wished to bind you two together. 
“every friday is my solace, my holiday, didn’t you know?” 
you gasp for air. “i-” 
“i’m not done yet.” he brings his lips to yours for another hungry kiss. “every week i work so hard so i can see you, cherish you, and this is how you repay me? i thought you were my good girl.” 
he chuckles darkly. “but you’re just a bad apple, aren’t you? i’ll have to fix that.”
he continues to kiss you. to ravish you with his mouth. he swallows your moans, his hands eagerly exploring your body like it’s his first time. and like always, his hands find their place on your chest. 
“i’ve always loved your breasts: the way they curve, the way they sway so sweetly every time you arch your back for me, how your nipples perk up with every caress of mine.” he flicks one and you yelp. 
“those imbeciles really have no intelligence at all.” he licks a long stripe in-between the valley of your breasts. “your body is a canvas.” 
his eyes connect with yours, beckoning your gaze. a silent connection, a guarantee that you’re looking at him. at what he’s doing. at what he’s making you feel.
he stares at you attentively, and once again you feel like you’re being studied. every gasp that comes from your lips. every twitch of your brows. every time your eyelids flutter is under his watchful gaze like it’s the only thing his sight is for. like he’s a scientist researching the cure to his very own hunger. 
his lips find purchase just on the edge of your areola, sucking intently. “to mark you is a form of art.” 
he relishes in the way you shudder. but he needs more. 
with one hand on your waist, his other comes up to fondle your other breast, craving for more reaction.
“only idiots wouldn’t be able to realize it.” 
unlike all of the other saturdays, where you’re probably swept up in the grand scheme of things (attending formal events, meeting politicians, or shopping like ayato’s wallet depended on it), you’re lounging in ayato’s home office on a calm evening. 
the two of you decided to end things a bit earlier today and relax a bit. and by that, you suggested to spend some quality time alone so that you didn’t need to walk anymore. although you prided yourself on stamina and tolerance to soreness, even you couldn’t keep up after just about a week of aggressive men fucking their jealousy into you. 
“it was hot today,” ayato mutters lazily as he gently runs his fingers through your hair. your head rests on the plush of his thigh, just as he likes it. “are you sure that you’re comfortable in that turtleneck, love?”
you curl into yourself a little bit more, tugging the collar up. “yes, i’m perfectly fine.”
you’re not fine. you’ve been sweating up a storm underneath your sweater but you were adamant on ending this week with six hickeys instead of seven. your stubbornness refused you the pleasure of ice-cold showers to wash away how your clothes burned you. 
he pouts. “are you sure? you look awfully uncomfortable, dear. you can take a shower in my bathroom, if you’d like.” he smiles. “i won’t look, promise.”
you turn to look at him, contemplating. on one hand, you don’t believe anything good will come out of undressing in ayato’s house. you don’t believe his promise, either. if you knew him any better, he’d walk into the shower on the grounds of saving water, where he’d see all the hickeys imbued into your skin. while diluc, childe, and kazuha’s marks were getting a little faded, you doubt you could somehow explain alhaitham and tighnari’s hickeys. 
but on the other hand, you’d been in this sweater for a whole day already. and your skin was started to get irritated. you felt gross with all of the sweat you’d accumulated. maybe five minutes wouldn’t hurt. 
you smile like there’s nothing to worry about. like you’re an adoring lover. like you’re whoever ayato wants you to be. you reach out to cup his cheek, to which he warmly receives. 
“okay. i’ll be back soon.”
he chuckles as you get up from his lap to head to the shower. you had to be quick. 
you all but run to the bathroom once you’re out of sight. you head to ayato’s bedroom where some of your clothes are. dresses, lingerie, t-shirts, jeans, shorts, and all other items of clothing he’s ever bought you hang neatly in his closet. you pluck whatever seems practical and make a break for the shower.
you slip off the diamond ring he’d given you months ago. you all but slam it onto the counter, relieved your ring finger can breathe for once. 
the quicker you take, the more likely you can shower without incident. 
but the moment you’ve stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped secure around your torso, to your horror, the door opens. 
“hey, love, i was wondering—”
just before you can close the door shut on him, his eyes connect to the discoloring on your shoulder. 
regardless of his discovery, you move to usher him out. but mid-way, your feet are halted in the middle of the bathroom floor. the words are crawling in your mouth. you want to tell him that you’d like to shower in peace, tell it to him teasingly, but you don’t think you can. 
that’s not what he wants. that’s not what pays the bills. 
you offer a tight-lipped smile. “like what you see?”
he paces towards you, caressing your shoulder. he leans closer to you, examining the color, the shape, the size. “hm, so that’s how they want to play this game,” he whispers, ignoring your question entirely.
his hands gently tug at your towel. he smiles. “won’t you open up for me, love?”
he guides your hands as you drop the towel, revealing alhaitham’s mark. 
“hm.” he looks at you as if he’s silently critiquing an art piece. “i see what’s going on here.” 
he takes the ring that you left behind on the counter and works to slide it slowly onto your finger again. “you almost forgot to wear the symbol of our love, dear.” 
“oh, it must’ve slipped my mind.” it’s like there’s cotton in your mouth. your throat feels dry.
he chuckles at that. “poor thing. my poor lover can be so forgetful.” 
 his eyes drift down to your chest.
he presses a kiss above your breasts, where your heart is.
“she almost forgets that she’s mine.” 
even if he’s your designated sunday, if you aren’t careful enough, kaeya will create a week full of trouble for you. 
when he eats you out, he becomes pussy-drunk. he kisses your lower lips like it’s his prize. his reward for working so hard this week. his tongue runs up your pussy to your clit in a slow, deliberate stroke. 
when he reaches your clit, he lets his mouth mold over your nub. he licks at it gently, cherishing it like it’s his only rose on a lonely valentine’s day. 
he makes love to you like he’s reached his happily ever after. his lewd slurping overshadows the shuffling of the sheets, your moans. when he dips his tongue into your cunt, he whimpers. 
his fingers dig into your thighs, holding you in place. even when you’re overstimulated, begging for a break, he won’t let you go. he savors the way you tremble so cutely under his touch. how your cum leaks out of you in small streams after your fifth release. he’s immersed in your cunt, yearns to make out with your lower lips while his nose nudges at your clit.
it’s too much. the feeling of your climax is so overwhelming. 
he wants you to feel this euphoria, to remind you of how he feels every time he looks at you. 
he wants you so much. so fucking much it hurts him when he can’t see you. when he can’t hold you. when he can’t be with you like a real lover. he needs you like he needs air. he needs to feel you wrapped around him to give him life. to give him purpose. 
that’s why when you’re so swept up in the feeling of a constant climax, when your legs feel numb, he gets so carried away. 
if you don’t catch him in time, kaeya will leave secretive hickeys along your inner thigh, dangerously close to your folds. he needs the others to know he’s staking his claim.
to know he’s making you feel so good that there’s definitive proof. 
at the end of the week, when you see him again after seven days of trying to calm down the jealous storm among your seven sugar daddies, he’ll grin. 
it’s that same devious smirk he gives you at candlelight dinners, except it isn’t one to mask his vulnerabilities with charisma and one-liners. it’s one to tell you that he knows exactly what he’s done. 
he knows what he wants, and he’s finally had enough of the fucking waiting. 
3K notes · View notes
allfearstofallto · 2 months
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Childe Announcing that He's Married - Drabble
Yandere! Childe x Fem! Reader
Forced marriage
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He held up his left hand with a playful grin, even wiggling his fingers to draw more attention to the silver band around his ring finger.
Both the traveler and Paimon gawked at the jewelry with shocked expressions, like their eyes were gonna pop out of their heads at any moment.
“Paimon thought you were lying when you said you were married,” she squealed in her usual high pitched voice and the traveler merely nodded along in agreement.
Childe scoffed and dramatically feigned pain in his chest, “Who would lie about such a thing?”
The blonde and Paimon both looked at each other, then back at Childe who still had a glowing grin on his face. He lied about literally almost everything. Him lying about this was more believable than him actually marrying someone.
“Then how come we never see your wife?” Paimon asked, trying to drill him into making a mistake and having this whole fib fall apart.
“And take her into the dangers of my job? Never! She stays in Snezhnaya,”
Paimon thought for a moment, that did sound pretty believable, “Then where is she now? Still at home?”
Childe shook his head then turned and pointed to where you sat at a cafe. Wearing traditional Liyue hanfu, you sipped your tea in silence. Your expression was sad, a look of longing as you watched the dragon dancers and the people popping firecrackers, it was a celebration.
Two armed Fatui guards stood at your side, whether they were there to protect you or keep you from running was debatable, but their presence meant that no one approached you.
When you felt Childe looking over at you, you gave him a weak smile. It looked forced and fearful with the way your lips were shaking, but he still swooned regardless.
“I let her out for the lantern rite,”
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yandere-daydreams · 8 months
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Title: Ownership.
Pairing: Yandere!Wanderer x Reader x Yandere!Childe (Genshin).
Word Count: 1.0k.
TW: Hybrid AU, AFAB!Reader, Non-Con, Rough Sex, Overstimulation, Oral Sex, Unhealthy Relationships, and Unbalanced Power Dynamics.
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“You’re doing it wrong.”
Childe’s grey ears twitched, his shoulders squaring as he tightened his grip on your thighs. He spread your legs further, settled deeper between them, his broad tongue lapping over your pussy and his nose bumping clumsily into your clit, but Kuni (the most recent name you'd settled on for him, because Kunikuzushi was a mouthful and you couldn’t get away with calling him your ‘little wanderer’ forever) only scoffed, his tail beating against your mattress in irritation as he watched Childe work. That wasn’t surprising. He was always annoyed, when Childe was around. You could count the number of full days he’d spent in your apartment after you brought home that hyper-energetic husky hybrid on a single hand, and when they did spend time together, it usually ended with a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a new scar on Childe’s cheek. You couldn’t imagine when they’d decided to do this, how they’d come up with this plan when they could barely talk to each other. You couldn’t imagine why they’d do something like this, why they’d be so cruel to you after you tried so hard to be so kind to them.
You couldn’t imagine how you could’ve let this happen, when Childe and Kuni were supposed to be your pets.
From where you were laying, your head in his lap and your legs thrown over Childe’s shoulders, you watched Kuni reach out, tangling his fingers in Childe’s hair and forcing him to bury his face deeper in your cunt. There was a throaty groan, a wagging tail, and then his tongue curled around your clit, suckling the bundle of nerves and pushing your already fried nerves to their limit. You weren’t sure what Kuni wanted. You’d already cum on Childe’s tongue more times than you could count – a mix of his saliva and your slick already running down your thighs and staining your sheets, your mind already made useless by the fog of exhaustion and the pain of overstimulation. You’d stopped thrashing the first time you came, stopped crying by the tenth, but Childe never seemed to run out of energy and whatever Kuni wanted, he clearly hadn’t gotten it yet. It reminded you of how he’d acted the first few times you had to go to work after bringing him home, how he’d follow you from room to room with his ears plastered against his scalp while you got ready, occasionally knocking something over or digging his claws into your legs whenever you failed to give him the attention he was looking for. You used to think it was cute, the inconvenient but adorable insecurities of your formerly stray kitten. Now, it just felt dangerous.
Childe’s tongue slipped inside of you, stretching you open and brushing against something soft and over-sensitive, and your body tensed up, going rigid as you came undone with a long, fractured moan. This time, Childe didn’t try to draw it out, raising his head in spite of Kuni’s best efforts to hold him down and letting out a pitchy whine. “Is it time yet, kitty? Can it be my turn? Please?”
Kuni rolled his eyes. “If it’ll get you to shut up and stop assaulting my ears, you can do whatever you want.”
Immediately, Childe lit up. You could hear his tail start to wag faster, see him push himself onto his knees and take his cock in his hand, hastily lining it up with your entrance. He didn’t tease you, didn’t hesitate – just pushing himself into you with a rough groan, only stopping when he couldn’t possibly force himself any deeper. There was another sound, too ragged and too guttural to be called human, and a pair of massive, padded hands curled around your hips as started fucking into you properly. He was big, even for a canine-based hybrid. It felt like he was splitting you open, tearing your cunt apart with little more than erratic thrusts and tiny, airy whimpers. The curve of his knot knocked against your entrance, threatening to slip inside of you and stretch you even further, and Childe threw his head forward, his blunt claws digging into your waist, his—
“He’s so fucking gross.” Kuni shifted, drawing away from you and leaving you unsupported and alone. While Childe was busy between your legs, he straddled your chest, glaring down at you with a fanged scowl. “That’s what you get for bringing a mutt home. All he’s ever going to want to do is—” He let out a sharp growl. “—stick his dick in whatever he can reach and drool. You’re lucky I’m willing to teach him this much.”
Childe lurched forward, resting his chin on Kuni’s shoulder and licking a stipe up his cheek. Kuni cringed, but didn’t move, didn’t swat him away. Rather, he took you by the hair and jerked your head forward, pressing your lips to the head of his cock. You tried to keep your mouth shut, to ignore the beads of pre-cum dripping down your chin and past your jaw, but he dug his claws into your scalp and, when you opened your mouth to scream, shoved his cock past your teeth and down your throat. You gagged, fresh tears forming in the corners of your eyes, but he didn’t seem to care, a loose smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he bucked his hips.
“Maybe next time, you won’t be so eager to bring your stupid mutts home.” If Childe disagreed, he wasn’t in a state to protest, and to be fair, neither were you. A dark film spread over your vision, and before you could hope to hold yourself together, your eyes fell shut, your last tether to consciousness snapping.  Again, if Kuni cared, he didn’t find it concerning enough to stop. You felt him start to fuck your throat properly as you faded into that dark, empty void, with only the sound of Kuni’s voice for company.
“Maybe next time, you’ll remember that you don’t need anyone but me.”
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yourheart-inmyhands · 4 months
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I got one for you. Reader with long hair. Yan zhongli, Childe and Pantalone adore brushing it out or washing it for you, putting pretty (but not pointy) decorations in it. but you HATE them touching it. So one day, maybe when they slip up and leave smth sharp in your abode you grab it and lop off as much as you can before they come back (or stop you if they’re in the room when you do it). What happens afterwards?
Cannot wait to see what you cook with this, I adore your takes.
ah tysm! sorry it took so long to get to this, i took a little bit of a different twist from my normal writing style and did some headcanons and a short blurb! hope you enjoy :D
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Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including implied being held against will, mentions of reader almost being hit, zhongli being a softie, delusional behaviors, obsessive behaviors, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!
Yandere!Pantalone would be furious, as someone with hair of a decent length himself, he knows the time and dedication it takes to grow it out so long.
He also knows how much maintenance it took, which is why he never fussed about helping you with it, often insisting to do it for you.
He saw it as a bonding moment between the two of you, something to help him wake up in the morning as he did your hair and something to unwind to at night as he’d undo the intricate styles he had done it up in that morning. 
You cutting off your hair with a letter opener that he’d left in the room by mistake hurts him, upsets him to the point he almost strikes you. To him it’s as if you had cut him, making a statement that you’d rather give up on something you’d dedicated years to, than to allow him the comfort and satisfaction. 
Pantalone can’t even bear to look at you for the next few days, sleeping in another room or in his office. 
“How could you do something so despicable? Do you even care how this made me feel?” The way Pantalone speaks almost makes it seem like you’d given him an impromptu haircut. With the gorgeous hair that used to reach down the length of your back now sitting in choppy piles on the floor, it almost felt like you had in a way. Your hair was uneven, lopped off sporadically in case he tried to interrupt. You’d just taken off the last few locks when he had noticed the absence of his letter-opener, intending to merely pop into your shared bedroom to grab it. Instead he was met with the grueling sight of you, kneeling before the full length mirror, hand clutching the letter opened as your opposite hand released a fist full of hair, letting it float down to the piles that had formed below.
Yandere!Zhongli would be conflicted. Part of him is upset that you’d make such a hasty decision, not even weighing the outcomes and taking away something from not just yourself but from the both of you. 
The other side of him is hurt that you didn’t come to him first. That you didn’t feel comfortable expressing your discomfort with his actions and had taken it to the extreme instead. His heart aches at both thoughts.
You’d managed to pry a sharp piece of stone off the walls of the cave, using it to hastily take off chunks, only for Zhongli to catch you mid way through. His contempt at the situation settles with a sigh as me approaches you, gently prying the rock from your hands before disappearing, leaving you to sit on the floor, half of your hair lopped off just scattered around you.
He returns a short bit later though, bringing with him a large mirror and a sharp pair of scissors. Setting the mirror in front of you, he gently begins correcting your hazardous hack job, carefully trimming off all the missed areas to even it all out.
While his work wasn’t great, it certainly looked a little better than how it had started. Your hair now sitting a few inches above your shoulder, a simple all around cut that was, mostly, even.
Zhongli didn’t say a word as he approached, looking down at you with a blank expression, his calm eyes staring deeply into your wide ones as he gently pried the rock from your hands, leaving you to wallow in a pile of your own hair as he disappears. Upon his return, he places a large, ornate mirror in front of you. It was typically kept in the living room as a decorative piece but he required it’s services here. Pulling from his pocket a pair of sharp scissors, he gently angles your head to be straight before reaching for the areas you hadn’t gotten to yet. Quickly shedding the length of those pieces he gets to work on straightening the rest out, doing an ok job at making it all match up and look decent. “If you wanted me to leave your hair alone you could’ve always asked darling, you know I only want to make you happy in this life of ours.”
Yandere!Childe manages to catch you before the act. You had thought you were sneaky, tiptoeing out of bed early in the morning over to his work clothes that had been hastily shed after his return last night.
You knew he kept a couple different blades on him, having shown you them before. Yet as you checked every pocket, every hidden loop, all the little places he’d shown you that he could be keeping them, you continued to turn up with nothing.
Over and over you checked, an almost pleading in the way your hands silently searched through the crumpled clothing, desperate to find anything even remotely sharp at this point.
You could feel the frustration as well as tears welling up in your eyes, why couldn’t anything ever go your way? First you get stuck with that crazed lunatic, and now that he’s practically taken over your hair you can’t even take some control and rid yourself of it.
As you search, you failed to hear the bed creak, or the soft patter of footsteps behind you. The only two things that tell you he’s awake are his voice whispering in his ear and his hand flaunting the exact thing you’d been looking for.
“I thought you might go looking for this, so I hid it under the pillow. A little cliche but I thought you’d be too stupid to look there, guess I was right~” Childe’s voice comes out in a sing-song tone, almost as if he was bragging about outsmarting you. He could tell from the moment he took an interest in your hair that it made you uncomfortable, just another button of yours to push as he slowly molded you into the perfect spouse for himself. His nimble fingers twirled the simple knife around, flaunting it to you. You could try to grab it, lunge for it even, but it was no use. You wouldn’t be able to get even a strand shortened before Childe would have it back in his possession, especially when the distance between the two of you was so short. Short enough that you could feel his chest pressing against your back, his breath on your neck, and his soft strands of hair brushing against the back of your head.
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mayullla · 8 months
Text
Title: An invitation to a chase
Character(s): Childe / Tartaglia (Genshin Impact)
Summary: Isekai au; It wasn't by choice that you dropped into this game. It was slow, but you slowly manage to make a living for yourself in Liyue. This was not a game anymore. Yet at the same time, you could not shake the feeling that this world had its faith already decided so you decided to become someone from the background not knowing you have gained the interest of a certain harbinger.
Warnings/tags: F!reader, yandere themes, mentions of other characters (liyue)
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When you woke up you didn't know where you were...
Confused by the tall mountains and the beastly monsters that carried axes, wooden bats and shields, the small circle monsters that looked afraid when they saw you and ran away, you thought that they were familiar but at the same time in a daze unable to properly understand anything.
It was almost like a dream that you waited to wake up but... you never did.
It was with the help of travelers and adventurers passing by that you finally understood where you were. Their clothes hinted at where you were, and the names of places were another one. It was slow, but soon everything clicked together. You were sucked into a game called Genshin Impact, and you don't know how to get back.
Distraught you were after you realize that other than your clothes, you had nothing, nothing that reminded you of home or a way back. It was with the help of kind-hearted adventurers that you were able to get back up.
You knew that you were in Liyue and with the adventurers who found you here heading to Liyue Harbor. It was soon that you parted ways with them after they were sure that you knew your way around and had a place to stay.
You passed by Xinyan and Yunjin in their repetitive stages till you found Yanfei, who helped you get on your feet and make a living for yourself here.
It has been a few months since then, and oftentimes, you wondered if you should have even become friends with the characters that you once knew from behind a screen. If you were allowed to be their friend when you didn't belong here. No matter how kind Xinagling and Gouba were, they would always be a reminder to you that this was a game that you played once.
The NPCs that you helped as a traveler, even playable characters... it was somewhat nerving to see them... detailed, their struggles beside their quests that they gave to the traveler. You used to see only part of their problem before being forced away from them, unable to talk to them anymore besides a few repeating texts.
You wanted to help them, but part of you also thought that you shouldn't. That later on the traveler would come and help them which you thought would be far more appropriate than... you.
It wasn't like you didn't want to help, but in the end, you realized that they didn't ask for it and that you weren't the traveler anymore, and that you were another person altogether at this point. You didn't have the power to make everything okay again.
Instead, you just choose to be in the background, maybe a friend to Yanfei and a few others or just acquaintances for others if you ever bump into them yet faceless in the whole storyline you suspected to start soon.
So when you were out in the mountains gathering herbs, you didn't think you would see a certain person with ginger hair and blue eyes who came all the way from Snezhnaya.
He was the one who noticed you first as you froze like a deer in headlights unable to move when you meet his eyes. It wasn't like he was gonna kill you, you knew that even if he could he would not. But that never changed the fact that to you he was still dangerous.
Meeting him here all of a sudden without any notice made you unable to casually wave at the man who did so instead look away as you took off leaving him alone to wonder if he had done something wrong to a stranger. Did his wave offend you?
You thought you would never see that man again.
Again, you mentally thought it wasn't like you disliked him or anything, as much as you would fawn over or like this character in the past... it has been months since you last played the game, and the characters became all the more real to you even if you didn't want them to be... yet at the same time still just characters.
Yanfei would occasionally visit your home when you realize that she had her own problems other than what the game shows. That her words weren't on repeat, but actual genuine interest.
It made you think about the future choices that have yet to happen when Zhongli would choose to "die" in the ceremony... how much panic and worry would strike the citizens but also you. It also made you think about a certain toy seller who would cause even greater trouble and turbulence. The same man who waved at you.
It wasn't like you could stop him. You didn't have a vision, nor were you strong enough to fight him.
Choosing to stay quiet till everything passed was what you chose to do when everything would finally happen. You already knew that everything would end well one way or another with the help of the traveler.
You didn't expect to see him again in the mountains. This time, he was sitting on the grass as if he had finished training just a few moments ago. With how messy the whole place around him was? No doubt.
Hidden behind the trees, you stared at the man who you thought didn't notice you, carefully taking a step back you plan to leave.
"You know, it was quite rude of you to just go when someone greets you."
You flinched as you glanced back at him, a cheerful smile on his face.
You were caught.
"I am sorry... I was in a hurry back then." You tried to make an excuse, not making a move to go towards the man nor stepping away to make a run for it. It would be too suspicious. Tho... he probably already was suspicious of you.
"Hmmm, I am not so sure about that."
You watched as he sat up still watching you, "While I don't exactly think that you are a spy seeing how concentrated you were in collecting those herbs, you looked like you almost like a rabbit frozen in place as if I have come to bite you." The smile never once went down, but it also never reached his eyes.
"Tell me, have we met before? Your eyes recognized me when you saw me, but I don't remember ever seeing you."
You bite your lip as you look away. Were you really that obvious? You wondered, but you shook your head. "I don't recall ever meeting you in my life. It was because I experienced an… unfortunate event with the fatui that I now choose to just avoid them." You told him... somewhat honestly…
Well, half truth and half lie really… You did experience events from the game that almost made you dislike the fatui when you watch them cause so much trouble. But you also meet a few here, and while most ignore you, some could be rather...
So, really, you aren't wrong. You just hoped that Childe actually buys into the story enough to leave you from now on.
"Hmmm… Is that so. Well, maybe you can tell me who it was, and I will go check?" ...Childe was definitely trying to do something here. "That won't be needed." You said almost harshly. You were nervous.
"Now, now. If they made a mistake and hurt the passerby for no reason, then they are definitely at fault for it and would need punishment." Childe raised his hand, the other on his waist. "That isn't needed." You told him raising your hand as if to stop him, "It was long ago now, and I do not remember the person's face, nor do I care to get some sort of revenge."
Rather than a random fatui, you prefer if someone could knock some sense into the man in front of you. Not that you would say that.
You already packed your bags and were planning to head out as soon as you heard that Monstade was saved by the traveler and head there for a vacation away from the chaos here. You saved some mora just for this reason, too.
"Ahh, alright. Then how about this. How about I hang out with you whenever you go to the mountains? Think of it as an apology from the fatui." Childe said, taking a step closer still with a friendly smile. You lightly bite your tongue, wondering why he was so insistent. There was absolutely nothing special about you to warrant such interest like this. "That would not be needed."
"Well, but had I not come here a moment or two later, you would have already been hurt by the hilichurl camp here," Childe told you, his smile widening almost like a Cheshire cat. Quickly, you looked to his side, and your eyes widened in surprise. Of course, the mess was from a hilichurl camp.
"Don't worry too much about it they are all down. While you gathered herbs, I can clear out the place for you, and if there is a particularly hard place to get to something, I can also help you out." Childe made the deal sweet in his own opinion, yet when he raised his hand for a handshake you looked into his eyes and noticed that he still was suspicious of you, and you knew that if you declined here he would try other means to watch over you. 
You frowned at him again, "I already told you that I do not wish assistance from the fatui."
"Hmmm, okay there. I will just be right beside you, not as a protector or anything like that, but more on an accidental meeting." You have been left speechless at how shameless this man was. All the while, he continued to smile as if he didn't say anything wrong.
And as much as you hated it, he kept his promise or whatever you would call it. Whenever you would go to the mountains, he was always there acting as if he was just going to head up too and that the two of you should hang out. Or that time you met him on the way, and he decided to follow you up again when you clearly saw that he was actually going down it. When you change the time you usually go up the mountains thinking you could outmaneuver him... he was there waiting for you.
It was unnerving really how often he followed you, as you would now see him in the market and the streets of Liyue Harbor. "Ah! I didn't expect to meet you here, comrade." Childe would openly greet you while you want nothing more than to look away. You didn't doubt that he had eyes everywhere... he probably placed a spy or two on you if he was actually suspicious of you.
Yet somehow you thought that this was different, that the eyes on you weren't cause you were a spy but something else. Not when you realize that Childe's eyes were always on you, no matter what you do, he was always there...
What did he notice...
It was always amusing watching you search for that moment to scurry away like a mouse whenever the two of you meet. It was something that Childe always took pleasure teasing you with.
You have always been like this except to a way to various degrees even with others but more so with him. There was always a distance between you and the world that he craved to figure out. When he first came to Liyue a few months ago, Childe had seen you a few times walking around the streets. You weren't special well, not at first, while vision holders tend to have their own distinct style. You choose something that blended with the crowd and their fashion.
He didn't really care much, just a moment thought and then to the next topic he had to deal with. But he couldn't help himself but look at you again after he noticed you on the side of the street with some vision holders. You guys were talking for a bit, but Childe noticed that stare you had almost knowing, yet no words of it came out of your mouth.
A few times later, he saw you by chance. You sometimes had this distant look in your eyes as you watched the ships come and leave the docks. Sometimes, it was a cautious look or maybe sometimes impatient, but you were always watchful... waiting. You were always looking for so clues, what he wasn't sure but had as time passed gotten curious.
The first time you saw him, he thought that you would maybe wave back as he raised his hand, yet much to his surprise there was recognition in yoru eyes, and then the next thing you did was run away.
You knew him, even tho he had no remembrance of ever meeting you before he noticed you. There was a certain thrill that beat in his heart when he realized that you knew more than you let on.
And to him, it was an invitation to a chase.
He followed you almost ever you went ever since then, mildly disappointed when his duties call for him as he had to for a short put a cause to the chase. But the more he spent time with you, watching you, he knew that you were definitely hiding something. The knowing look you sometimes give to others when you thought that they were looking, as you withheld information that was just about to reach the tip of your tongue. The look that you gave him, when he talked about certain topics, his trill towards fighting, your eyes told him that you knew something that he never told anyone else other than his close associates.
And to him, it was nothing but trilling. You have become something likened to a prey that he had become found over. Someday, there is this itch of wanting nothing more than to rip you apart to know everything about you, but he cherishes you just enough not to.
It would be sad to destroy you like that, but to be fair, even if he had patience... he could only wait for so long.
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Note: It is his special day so loll
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belphiesreverie · 1 year
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Hi! I absolutely love your platonic harbingers posts and was wondering if i could request yandere platonic harbingers with a very shy/quiet reader?
Yes ofc!! If you want anything more detailed, feel free to request for specific harbingers!!
Pierro thinks it is a good thing overall. If you were bold and outgoing then you’d be much more likely to want to be out and about where him or the others can’t constantly supervise you. Yes, having you willingly shy away from strangers makes his job much easier
Capitano is very overprotective. He has a sort of sixth sense as to when you’re feeling overwhelmed or someone is making you feel uncomfortable. People don’t normally have the luxury of being able to approach you or even be able to be around you at all, but they’re definitely not going to be getting any closer with Capitano lurking behind you
Columbina finds it ever so adorable!! She’s always looking for new ways to get cute little reactions out of you, whether it be sneaking up for a surprise hug or dedicating songs to you! Only she’s allowed to tease you about it though, anyone else that tries is bound to end up regretting it
Arlecchino let’s you rely on her. She knows from looking after the many children in her orphanage that enabling your behaviour will only make it worse, but she can’t help herself but to let you whisper to her what you want and speak for you. She can’t help but enable those behaviours that will lead you to becoming dependant on her
Dottore thinks you’re ever so fun to rile up. Finding out what things bother you and to what degree is quite a fun experiment for him. Of course, he’ll never take it too far… but coming to help you juuust before it’s too late always gets the best reactions from you and gives him an excuse to be as harsh as he wants to the ‘danger’
Signora wants to help you become more confident. She knows your worth, and she wants you to know it as well so she sometimes comes off a bit harsh with her words to you. But just know that it all comes from a genuine place in an effort to help you be the best you, and her words don’t hold the same biting chill as they do when speaking to those who even dare to look your way
Pantalone loves spoiling you constantly. The way you’re too modest to want to accept the gifts but also not assertive enough to reject them makes for a very interesting reaction. He can practically see the gears turning in your head, but is always very pleased when you accept it each time. Just be sure he’s the only one who’s gifts you take so earnestly
Sandrone wants to add you to her collection. She has a variety of puppets, big and small, tough and timid; but you’re so unique and well… you. She just has to have you. You’re so docile and sweet and follow along with her every command already, now she just needs to find a way to keep you by her side
Tartaglia’s older brother instincts constantly kick in around you. He just wants to spoil you and coddle you and make sure no harm can befall you. He’s ever so gentle with you, making sure never to displace a hair on your head, but anyone who even thinks about inconveniencing you will get some extra brutal treatment
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