Genshin Writing - Tumblr Posts

pairing: childe x fem reader (it can be gender neutral if you ignore the use of she pronouns like once or twice! i can edit it to a gn or male version if wanted)

warnings: major character death, suicide, yandere themes, reader was kidnapped by childe, angst is the vibe #enjoy if u cry lmk <3

note: my blog contains adult/dark content. please do not interact if you are a minor.

word count: 1.7k (not fully edited because we die like real men)

when childe joins the tsarita at the front lines to rebel against celestia, you had no worries at all. though you were kidnapped long ago by the man, your days were filled with nothing but peace and adoration from the once intimidating man who now is more like an overgrown puppy in love to you. he even gave you an affectionate nickname that had made your heart flutter, being his солнышко. you had even placed a gentle goodbye kiss to his cheek of your own will as he left the front door of your estate, spending your free time alone and missing him with fondness in your mind. there were days in the past where you were afraid of your situation, calling him a kidnapper, a fiend who had taken you from your life! though now you knew, he had freed you from a life of working to relaxing in his arms, being spoilt with countless gifts and genuine love from childe. it had been a stark contrast from your life without others to share it with, always afraid that they would be gone due to the ongoing tensions in teyvat.

so when your maidservant delivered the most shocking news of your life, it had basically killed you.

"lord harbringer is dead."

it should’ve brought you joy as his captive but all you felt was dread. he’s dead? childe and dead don't belong in a sentence, you scoffed to yourself. though the serious look from your maidservant didn't disappear from her face and you felt your heart wrench against your will as your eyes begin to fill with tears. "no! that's impossible, he wouldn't have died, he- he can't." a hiccup broke through your arising heaving sobs as you mumbled incoherently, "he promised me, he wouldn't leave me here alone." you found yourself, collapsed against your bed like a war widow, sobbing into the sheets in fear and heart break, it felt as if your world was ending. you weren't even scared as your captor had left to rebel against celestia but now? the sky had decided to fall upon you and leave you to die without childe's hand to hold.

the days moved on without you knowing as you sat blankly on your bed, watching the sunrise to no news and sunset with lonesome emptiness. if not for your maidservant, you would've remained immobile, sat at your window sill as if waiting, for childe to appear and smile with boyish cheer, letting you know that it was all a silly joke. when you felt your memory of his face begin to slip, you'd walk to the room with the giant portrait of you two, seemingly in love. nobody knows the truth behind the painting beyond the artist, childe and your gone self who had struggled as childe kept you beside him. "i don't want a painting with my kidnapper!" "oh baby, what will we show our kids one day?" "you're sick! i'm never having kids with you, ever!" how you regretted those words as you missed that very man every moment since the news of his sudden passing.

though you desired so desperately to be with him, the estate was always escape and death proofed, just specially for you. back in the times when, when childe had still been around and afraid that you would strike out against him. as if you could've, falling for the man with his sly words and broken promises before you could've even tried to leave. hell, if childe had offered you a way out like his death, you didn't even want to take it.

so on your birthday, it hurts your heart to sit by the dining table alone, a grand feast in front of you but missing the greatest present of all you could've wished for this year. childe, alive, goofily feeding you a plate and joking of a future with your children or you loving him. tears fell from your face as you chose a dish from the spread, taking his favourite seafood soup that didn't taste the same without him. to your surprise however, you noticed that the cutlery included a knife for once. it had been a long time since anything like a weapon was near you and it almost seemed too opportune. what else could you possible as for this year other than to join childe by dying? nobody could stop you, after all, you were practically all alone and hysterical in the estate without him! just why, why did he have to leave you alone until you had to choose this method to finally join him? you've missed him so much that stabbing yourself in the heart doesn't even hurt as much as the knowledge that he had left long before you and now finally, as your tears fall down your face from the pain and heartache, you can reunite with him.

unbeknownst to you and the staff of the mansion childe had constructed just for you, your daily activities were recorded in case of his death and sent to none other than the tsarita. yes, he was reportedly dead. but only to a select few, he was alive and recovering. childe had kept away from you, observing you instead with love in his heart. he had missed you the entire battle though he knew, since teyvat was no longer the same, you may had wanted to leave. so he let them know that he was gone, so you could choose while he recovered. it surprised him when you had instead stayed, apparently writing long letters addressed to him daily and wait for him by the expansive windows he had installed just for you. childe found it so sweet, his солнышко, waiting for him though he was currently needing archon treatment for the aftermath of his delusion usage. he had planned a joyous return as a gift, a present for your birthday. when he strided into the estate, announcing cheerily, "i'm home солнышко!" only to be met with silence, had an eerie atmosphere and the sight that greeted the man made his heart stop.

like a sick version of romeo and juliet, you lay dead, heart pierced for his eyes to feast upon. though he had seen carnage of battle fields and sights that demons would shrink in fear towards, only this struck him with pure terror, his mind filled with alarms and heart racing as he ran towards your limp form to find no heartbeat.

“no no no no, this can’t be happening. солнышко, wake up, this isn’t some joke. i’m home, love, please, look at me! look at me god damn it!” he’d sit the stiff body up only to look into your lifeless eyes, face drained of colour and clearly unwell. his heart ached as he sank to the floor, head buried in his hands from denial. “why? it’s your birthday dear… i came home. why are you dead?” the guttural yell of agony could be heard across the estate, causing your maid servant to hurry into the parlor only to see an impossible sight of the lord harbringer on his knees as you sat like a skeleton above him, unmoving like you were less than an hour ago. "tell me! why is she dead? what happened here!" the rage in his voice told the agent that their next words would cost them their lives if the answer was unsatisfactory though the emotions coursing through childe's body only had one outlet at the moment now that you were gone. to kill. "my lord.. i had left her to eat not even an hour ago to let her meet you privately when you returned. this situation- had never occurred to me would happen."

childe, rightfully out of his mind, felt the impulse to throw a dagger at the maidservant's throat though was stopped by his thought of you, who would've plead for their safety and to not stain the dinner table with blood. his heart twisted at the very imagination of you, pained that you were now unreachable, body decomposing by his very face. "i came home too late didn't i солнышко? i'm sorry." with his pride abandoned by the loss of you, childe stood up shakily to scoop up your cold body in a gentle carry while walking towards your bedroom. "i'll.. help you sleep. for as long as you need, my love." the world had been robbed of light for childe as you departed, his colourful spring that had finally come because of you, returned to the black and white desolate winds of winter that reminded him of the abyss. the underlings of tartaglia could observe over the next weeks his deteriorating health, haunted by visions of you everywhere he went. the estate was sealed up, visitors forbidden and business terminated as the harbringer spent his time alternating your favourite spots, his study filled with secretly commissioned paintings of you full of life unlike his stark reality devoid of your existence, and lastly your grave in a glass greenhouse filled with eternally blooming gardens.

one agent recounts to others in a mournful tone of his experience on guarding the estate at night shift, spooked by the sounds of sorrowful cries echoing the halls and seeking out the source, only to find the lord harbringer in tears in front of a dimly lit portrait of his deceased lover in his arms. another underling speaks of the long hours their master spends sitting by your grave, as if entranced by something that eyes cannot see.

they don't know that childe is plagued with visions that he had imagined to himself with cheer in the past as he read the reports on your activity, only to see you miserable in the places you were in the distant past. you always seemed to plead to yourself for death, so you could be with childe. the words haunted him constantly, through every waking moment until finally childe reached a stage of grief he couldn't stand anymore. "if you wished so dearly to be dead so you could be with me, so do i солнышко." in the hours without the sun, the lord harbringer childe's life was ended by his own hands to join his deceased lover, reunited by death under the crestfallen moon.

"but your wings are the devil's

there is a bitter next to your sweet."

He is the tempter, the conqueror with ebony wings spread as wide as the horizon and his cerulean depths undress your soul, lips tainting yours with the allure of sin. You believe the poisoned chalice he offers you of absolution? Do you not witness his intimacy with the sword, blade drinking in your reflection as he holds you dear? Question not when I name him a sinner, join him at the altar and be wedded with the spectating of the omnipresent. Lift his veil and let yourself be consumed, impaled by vehement passion in the devil's embrace. Fall from grace and into the abyss of his heavenly façade, masked with the glory of bloodlust.

"do you trust me?"

"not even the slightest bit, no."

There's nothing I love more than writing Childe in different styles, less colloquially and more like the deranged sensual manipulator he truly is - a more hmmm,,, reverent way. I think that Childe is capable of love though the Tsarita and the corruption the abyss has had on him makes his orders and desire for power a higher priority for him. My poor traumatised herculean warrior <3

If you happen to be able to guess the inspo for this random brainrot, I'll give you a kiss <3 art creds

note: my blog contains adult/dark content. please do not interact if you are a minor.

So- I decided to actually attempt to write for the Kaebedo Anastasia AU. As I don’t have an account on AO3, I’m going to have to post it here. This is my first time doing something like this, so any advice would be appreciated :)

Also @thegorb-irl Thankyou for reading through this for me lmao

Warnings : Slight Violence, mentions of blood, Albedos OOC at the moment but in future parts it shouldn’t be too bad, Kaeya doesn’t appear in the prologue.

This does follow the storyline of Anastasia, so certain tweaks to both source materials have been made

Prologue - once upon a December’s dream

Khaenri’ah - 1907

The six year-old boy shifted his weight, now facing the woman sat on the end of his bed, a small frown painted onto his face. Ushering him towards her, the boy complied as he shuffled forwards - still refusing to meet her gaze. 

“Nana,” the boy started, finally looking up, “Do you really have to leave us?”

The Dowager Empress sighed before a small smile made its way onto her face, her fingers threading through a section of the boy’s ashy-blonde hair.

“Yes, Albedo. I will be leaving for Fontaine, but I won’t be gone forever,” the woman spoke as she took her grandson’s hands into her own. A pout was still visible on Albedo’s face, clearly unhappy about her leaving in the first place. However, as the boy began to ponder his own thoughts and consider the last part of her statement, his lips slightly tugged upwards. Majority of his worries had seemed to ease, yet had definitely not left his mind completely.

“I have something to give you, so that a part of me will always be with you.” the woman began to speak in a hushed voice whilst she reached over to the spot next to where she was sat. Albedo held his hands out, unsure of what to expect, yet he was excited nevertheless. Something slightly heavy had been placed in his hands, he opened his eyes to be greeted by a music box, decorated in intricate trimmings. His grin continued to spread across his face when she continued speaking.

“We will see each other again in Fontaine, this is something that I promise.” she claimed, a fond smile had took place as her expression, content with how she was saying goodbye to her grandson. Helping him open the music box, it began to play a calming tune, one that the two of them knew very well; even if it was made up of metallic notes. Almost instantly, she began singing the lullaby, with albedo eventually joining in. Describing a Decembers Dream, one that sounded beautiful and was a joy to think of. A sort of light glimmered in the six year-olds eyes: perhaps it was determination towards their future promise, or purely child wonder. When the lullaby came to an end, they both laughed slightly with any sense of melancholy seemingly disappearing for all but a moment. 

Khaenri’ah - 1917

That had been the last time he had seen his grandmother, The Dowager Empress - Rhinedottir. In what felt like a blink of the eye, ten years had whizzed by. Albedo was no longer just a child, but instead sixteen years-old. Despite how much time had passed by, he still hadn’t seen his grandmother since that fateful night. Frequently he would listen to the music box, the metallic notes, clicks and gears were a comforting melody, one that could momentarily fill the gap she had left behind.

Life continued on, after all it doesn’t wait for anyone, no matter their age or status. 

It was meant to be a wonderful evening, one filled with joy, festivities and splendour. It was meant to be filled with laughter, conversations and music echoing throughout the hall. And it was.

At least at the start of the night.

Albedo and his family - the Kreideprinz’s - were all in very similar clothing, all draped in silks and jewels that were fit for a royal family. He had spent the night dancing with his sisters, his mother and his father. He had gotten to enjoy his younger sister’s laughter, her bubbly demeanour that came with young age.

But none of it lasted.

BANG!

Gunshots rang out, shattering the hall’s windows. The people - their subjects - were rioting, No. Revolting. 

This was the people’s revolution.

It was a horrific sight, numerous bodies had dropped to the floor - puddles of blood spilling out from where they collapsed.

His family were frantically trying to escape. After all, the people were enraged because of them, there would be no way of negotiating.

Albedo followed them in their panic, before realising something, more rather the lack of something.

He rushed back in to the hall, grabbing the metal music box. The music box that once provided comfort couldn’t even help him now, but he refused to let it go.

Without a second to waste, Albedo picked up his pace as he headed towards the large corridors. Only a few minutes ago he had looked finely dressed, graceful even. But now his braids had fallen out, and he most likely looked very dishevelled; for once he didn’t care about that.

BANG!

Albedo froze.

Pain seared through his body, his eyes had widened.

He didn’t dare look down at his body, he didn’t want to look at the cause.

Everything went completely silent.

Albedo’s world had gone completely dark at age sixteen.

Fontaine - 1917

Rhinedottir’s knees nearly buckled at the news, and it was not due to her old age. She had let out a shriek, one filled with grief and horror, a shriek unfit for someone like her. She had began to sob.

“All of them?! My whole family, executed?!” She had managed to speak through her sobs, confused and horrified by what she had been told. A hand against her back ushered her to move forward - to continue onwards into the shelter of her home.

And for a while, the whole world believed that The Dowager Empress Rhinedottir Kreideprinz was the only Kreideprinz left.

Next

Technically two chapters in and I still don’t know exactly what I’m doing lmao- I finally decided to make Childe be Gleb but I’m going down a platonic route instead of the original

I haven’t even figured out who I’m going to choose to be Lilly as none of the people I ship venti with have the same personality as her- But enough about that! Also Kaeya and Albedo will actually interact next chapter-

Warnings: Could be ooc, might not make sense at times, follows the plot of Anastasia the musical (hence the use of dialogue and lyrics from it), a few mentions of death I think this is all I need to note?

Words: 3762

Chapter 1 - A Rumor in Snezhnaya

The Neva Flows

A New Wind Blows

And soon it will be spring

Khaenri’ah? - 1927

Making his way through the crowd, the man shifted the flat-cap that was resting on his head. He had dark skin and long, blue hair that was pulled into a ponytail, draped over his shoulder. Majority of the people, that he was swerving in between, were cheering; their pride and joy present in the tone of their voices. Muttering to himself, the man came to a halt when the crowds became thicker. Amidst the sea of people, a single raised podium peered out of the mix of heads and hats. Proudly displayed on front of the podium was a banner with the revolution’s insignia stitched into it; just the sight was enough to repulse him.

Only a few minutes later did a man appear on the podium, holding his head up; prompting the audience to go completely silent, only coughs and slight shuffles could be heard. Just like the other fatui members, he was wearing a large, white and black coat lined with fur. His fiery ginger hair stood out amongst the monotone backdrops of the city, and country for that matter. If the man recalled correctly, then this would make this fatuus Childe, the eleventh of the fatui harbingers (who now governed this horrendous nation). Before speaking, Childe cleared his throat, a serious expression - that didn’t quite fit his face - present. His lips were drawn into a straight line and his eyebrows were furrowed - not a single speck of light seemed to reflect or shine in his eyes.

“We hear you Comrades! The Revolution hears you!” his voice boomed over the crowded plaza, his young age present in his voice.

“Yes our way is long, and the journey will be hard. After all, the chains of the Kreideprinz were heavy.” 

The blue-haired man muttered something under his breath, pulling his flat cap lower. Despite his displeasure at listening to this speech, he made no attempt to move away.

THUD!

Childe slammed his fist against the top of the podium, catching quite a few people off-guard.

“For three long centuries we were bound and entangled in them! Forced to watch them take but never give back! However-!”

“We have broken them!” An animalistic grin breaking out onto his face, it seemed almost unnatural - it made him look crazed. Almost as if planned,  the crowd erupted into applauses and colourful cries. 

From where he stood in the crowd, the man grimaced.

Psychopaths. the lot of them. If this is who’s in control, then, Archons save us.

Leaving no delay, the fatui harbinger continued on with his speech.

“Together, as one, We will forge a new Nation! A fair and compassionate Nation, one that will be the envy of the world!” He was clearly passionate about his cause, continuously making gestures with his hands and arms.

“That is the promise we have made, comrade to comrade.”

“The Kreideprinz’s Khaenri’ah, is now the people’s…”

“Snezhnaya!” Childe proudly exclaimed, his grin still spread from ear to ear.

Taking one last look at the overly happy “Snezhnayans”, the blue-haired man stormed past numerous people: some seemingly mortified, still scarred by what’s now “Snezhnaya’s” history. Making his way through the alleyways and back routes that had been ingrained in his head since a young age, the man began to complain out loud - for all who wanted to hear.

“They can call it Snezhnaya but it will always be Khaenri’ah! New name, same old empty stomachs!” 

His eyes were narrowed; furrowed eyebrows pushing them down slightly further than they already were. He had lowered his pace, yet that didn’t make a difference considering he was walking with long strides. A variety of people threw all sorts of looks at him - ranging from fear, anger and confusion. He decided it would be best to keep his rants for himself, in the safety of his mind. Countless times the fatui had told them that a brighter day would be dawning and that it was, apparently, at hand. Just the thought made him roll his eyes. It was ironic, most days the only weather they received was snow, rain or just miles of raging, grey clouds. If he had any actual faith in the gods, he might’ve even said that it was a punishment from Celestia itself. Much like the last few times he walked these paths, he noticed more houses and tents empty unlike the other days. Quite often it would be those who openly spoke out or resisted the revolution’s changes. After all… 

He who argues disappears.

Mumbling and muttering some more to himself, the man stumbled out onto one of the many overcrowded streets. 

“Hail our brave new land!” A group of bystanders cheered, causing a chorus of people to follow suit, whether it was out of commitment or fear was yet to be decided. In a mocking tone, he joined in their chants and exclamations; to be honest, he held no respect towards thier new leaders - or the revolution. 

People were claiming that Snezhnaya was a nation on the rise, one that was flourishing; he would have to disagree considering the countless people still living in poverty and famine.

“It’s really very friendly!” And that was only if you didn’t mind the spies.

He often overheard people claiming that they were “good and loyal” comrades. It also seemed that suddenly everyone’s favourite colour was red. In the grand scheme of things, their entire situation was gravely underestimated when the people first revolted. Somehow, majority assumed that everything would be better without proper leaders or any important figures. Even ten years later, the economy was still in shambles. It no longer surprised him whenever he heard stories about two dozen or so strangers all having to be crammed into two small rooms. The damned fatui still had the nerves to turn a complete blind eye towards it.

“Everyone will now be seen as equals!” Yeah- as if.

Unfortunately, this appeared to be the apparent price “Snezhnayan’s” would have to pay for their glorious revolution. One thing that nearly every citizen agreed upon, and were thankful for, was the gossip that would spread around their pitiful city. Even as the blue-haired man headed towards his desired location, he couldn’t help but listen in to the many conversations people were immersed in.

“Have you heard?”

“There’s a new rumour going round the *whole* of Snezhnaya!”

“You couldn’t possibly not at least have heard parts of it.”

“You do know what people are saying on the street?”

“Well…”

“Although the King did not survive, one son may be still alive.”

He nearly stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening slightly. He *needed* to know more.

“The Prince Albedo. But please do not repeat-!”

A slight smile creeped onto his face whilst he continued to keep his head down low. Making his way through the other streets, he kept finding out more and more about the rumours concerning the supposedly late Prince Albedo.

“They say her royal grandmama will pay a royal sum to someone who can bring the prince back!”

That was when he got an idea, one that he didn’t realise would completely change his life. Rushing down the street, he quickly barged into the small building; gathering his thoughts for just a moment.

Only a seconds later someone else barged inside, a shorter man with dark, blueish-green hair that was pulled into two short braids at the front. He seemed dishevelled (the first thing that was unusual about him today) and a horror-stricken expression had been painted onto his face (and that was the second thing that seemed unusual about him today). Before he could ask what was wrong, the other man cut him off.

“Kaeya!” He half shrieked and shouted, “They’ve closed another border! We should’ve gotten out of Snezhnaya whilst we still could!”. He had placed his hands on Kaeya’s shoulders, shaking him as if that would help get his point across. Once more Kaeya’s eyes narrowed as he began to fiddle with the end of his ponytail. Inhaling and exhaling slowly, he calmed himself down - putting his usual fake smirk on. Kaeya’s know-it-all smile was often used as a defence; it would often be fake, a way of faking confidence, a way of pretending he had it all under control. The shorter man continued to pace around the small room, his hat threatening to slip off of his head.

“Khaenri’ah was lovely whilst royalty was in!” He stated, which was something that the two of them knew very well.

“I called myself a count, as though I’d always been! I hobnobbed with the royals,” he continued to recall whilst his lips tugged upwards ever so slightly, clearly reminiscing about years that had passed. Within a matter of seconds it changed into a frown.

“But then a change of luck-! The king is dead, the royals fled and comrade now we’re stuck!”

The man had turned to face Kaeya whilst he said that, once again shaking him by his shoulders. Debating it in his head once more, Kaeya realised that his idea might actually be their one way out of this hell-hole.

“Venti,” Kaeya spoke, a grin dawning on his face. Venti had loosened his grip on Kaeya’s shoulders, allowing his arms to drop by his sides. One of Venti’s eyebrows raised whilst he waited for Kaeya to continue speaking.

“I’ve been thinking about the prince Albedo.” Kaeya announced, his confidence not wavering in the slightest. Almost immediately, Venti’s face practically dropped.

“Not you too, Kaeya!” He groaned, Venti covered his face with his hands - already sick of hearing the constant whispers of a prince who was meant to be dead. Slouching slightly, Kaeya placed a hand on Venti’s back, his other hand making gestures as he began to sell his plan to the (no-longer) Count - Venti.

“Sure, it’s a rumour, purely a mystery, but-! It’s the Prince Albedo who will help us fly!” Kaeya proclaimed, a grin had spread right across his face. Venti started to catch onto what Kaeya was suggesting; his eyes widening slightly for a few seconds. Kaeya picked a red scarf up from the table in the corner of the room and begun wrapping it around his neck, even whilst doing this he didn’t stop speaking.

“You and I, friend,” Kaeya exclaimed as he quickly shot his arm out and pointed at Venti.

“Will go down, in history!” Kaeya claimed, flinging both of his arms up in the air, a genuine smile on his face. He pulled the door open and gestured for venti to go through, giving him a dramatic small bow as Venti passed by. Venti’s lips were curled into a small, yet smug, smile. Side-by-side, the two of them walked down the overly-packed streets of the city. In an attempt to keep up with the taller man, Venti had to do a sort of jog. The wind whistled in his ears, which was a surprisingly calming sound amidst the chaos of the always-awake city. Venti’s gaze flickered over to his friend, who (to nobody’s surprise) was still rambling.

“We’ll find a boy to the play the part and teach him what to say, dress him up! And take him to Fontaine.” He over-exaggerated a fake accent on the last word. His head was tilted slightly as he turned it to look at Venti, who greeted him with a grin.

“Imagine the reward his old grandmama would pay!” Venti exclaimed, clearly onboard with the idea now. 

“Who else could pull it off but you and me!” The two exclaimed as they linked arms.

The two men passed the now mainly empty plaza, only the likes of Childe and a few stragglers were left there. They walked off into the distance, disappearing into the haze created by the swirling snow.

Near the podium at the centre of the small plaza, a man (most likely around Kaeya’s age) had a broom in his hand. He had a long, brown coat on and a hat that loosely fit his head. His skin was as pale as chalk, making his ashy-blonde hair stand out. It was kind of long, just going past his shoulders, with a single short braid in it. Brushing the street clear of snow and other debris - he was making an attempt at keeping his head down.

BANG!

“NO!” He shrieked as he collapsed on the floor, bringing his hands up to his head and covering his ears. His broom clattered somewhere near him. Somebody was approaching him, he could tell this from the soft crunches in the snow.

“It was a truck backfiring comrade, that’s all it was.” Childe spoke to the man curled up on the cobbled floor. He lifted his head up to look at him, moving his hands from his ears. Very slowly, he pushed himself up onto his knees, still not saying a single word. Childe had bent down and picked up the stray broom before walking over to him.

“Those days are over, neighbour against neighbour.” He claimed in an almost monotone voice, one that didn’t exactly sound reassuring. Childe hooked his arm under the man’s and pulled him up.

“You have nothing to be afraid of.”

It was quite ironic, considering the man could barely stand with his legs threatening to collapse under him any second. Childe’s hand lingered on the man’s arm for a few moments more, his eyes narrowing. Was it concern? Or was it just pity? He retracted his hand, looking over the details of the man’s appearance and expression. He looked…on edge, to say the least.

“You’re shaking….” He spoke despite it being an obvious fact to both of them. The man’s eyes flickered everywhere, skittering even, refusing to look at Childe directly. Quite ironically, the over-confident fatui harbinger began to stumble over his own words.

“….There’s a tea shop just steps from here-“ 

“Thank you-!” The man shouted as he attempted to snatch the broom from him. The sudden outburst nearly caused Childe to jump, prompting a raised eyebrow from him.

“What’s your hurry?” Childe questioned the man, refusing to let go of the broom.

“I can’t lose this job, they’re not easy to come by.” He quickly explained in hopes of being allowed to go. Throughout the entire exchange he had kept his eyes towards the floor, making him seem scared of everything. Childe loosened his grip on the handle, he was still unable to figure this man out. He seemed familiar, almost like a memory he never really knew - he shook the thought off whilst he watched the man walk away. Both of the man’s knuckles were turning white due to how tight his grip was. Just as he was about to turn the corner, down another street, the man turned his head around. It was then that Childe noticed his bright blue eyes, well, they weren’t quite blue but they weren’t exactly green either. Whatever colour they were, they were astonishingly bright; they surely didn’t fit the bleak landscape of this once-glorious nation.

“Thank you.” The man managed to say, still not offering up a smile. Before Childe could say anything, he had disappeared into the blur of grey and brown coats and hats.

“I- I’m here everyday!” Childe shouted, gesturing at the podium despite the man being long gone now. He felt his cheeks heat up slightly, feeling like a complete fool. Unsurprisingly, this wasn’t the first time he had managed to embarrass himself whilst on the job.

Somewhere on the opposite side of the city, Kaeya and Venti could be found perusing through one of the many less… favourable markets on the outskirts of the city. It was a wonder that the fatui hadn’t intervened with these practices at all during the past ten years. Occasionally they would stop to look at what merchants (although thieves would probably be a better way of describing them though) were offering. Even ten years on since that blood-filled night, people still somehow managed to find items that belonged to the likes of counts, countesses and even the Kreideprinz’s to sell off. One man was attempting to sell a count’s pyjamas whilst another was trying to sell a painting that he swore was Kreideprinz. Stood in the centre of the market, another one of these thieves was selling their wares. His hand was held up high, clasped in it was a small metal trinket of sorts.

“I found this in a palace, initialled with an A!” He announced, a smug smile already settled onto his grime covered face. 

“It could be Albedo’s! Now what will someone pay?”

Kaeya dropped down low as he skimmed shelves, every now and then swerving through the crowds or stepping over clutters of stolen trinkets.

“We need something of his to show the old lady…” Kaeya thought out loud, carefully examining items that were on offer. Venti looked at him from the corner of his eyes, one eyebrow was raised.

“There’s more to being Albedo than wearing a tiara, Kaeya.” He spat out, most likely irritated from how long this whole ordeal was taking. Kaeya had turned away from him, already moving onto the next merchant.

“Not much. Look how many people you fooled.” Kaeya countered causing Venti’s mouth to open and quickly close again. Just to add salt to the wound, he hadn’t even bothered to look at him whilst saying that. Kaeya’s eyes landed on the man in the centre.

“How much is that music box?” He inquired as he approached the man, who pulled the lump of finely decorated metal closer to his chest.

“Ah! The music box! It’s genuine Kreideprinz, I could never part with it!” He declared, the tone of his voice suggesting that he was putting on a play. Reaching into the satchel that hung over his shoulder, Kaeya pulled something out with a smirk on his face.

“Two cans of beans, comrade?” Kaeya offered as he held out the cans. The man looked at the music box and then to the cans and then back to the music box.

“Done.” He accepted, the two men proceeded to exchange items.

Venti and Kaeya began heading in the opposite direction of the markets, done with their business for the day. Kaeya was meticulously inspecting the metal music box, noting all the trimmings, its curves and the places where old paint had begun to flake off. Both of them still had a grin on their faces. 

“Do you believe in fairytales, Venti?” Kaeya asked whilst he held the music box in front of his only visible eye. Venti closed his eyes - the smile still present.

“Once upon a time, I did.” He answered, shoving his hands into the small pockets of his coat. Quickly turning his body around, Kaeya was directly facing Venti once more, his eyes shining brightly with something that Venti could only assume was determination.

“We’re going to create a fairytale the whole world will believe!” Kaeya exclaimed before moving next to venti again. He firmly patted Venti on the back causing the other man to cough slightly; not that Kaeya noticed anyways.

“Now it’s risky, but not more than usual.” He spoke out loud what they were both thinking. Whilst talking, Kaeya had picked up his pace, prompting Venti to walk quickly as well.

“We’ll need tickets, we’ll need papers, we’ll need nerves of steel!” 

With every word Kaeya said, Venti nodded. The two men had reached the plaza once again, this time it was bustling with energy; it was quite funny how much difference an hour could make.

“Yes it’s risky, *a lot* more than usual!” Venti laughed, placing a hand on the back of Kaeya’s shoulder. His eyes now also shared that same light of determination as Kaeya’s - backing out of this wasn’t an option for either of them now.

“We’ll try to cross the border with our princes and our plot,” Kaeya spoke up, throwing what was - presumably - a wink towards Venti (however it was almost impossible to tell due to one of his eyes being covered by an eyepatch and a curtain of blue hair).

“Hopefully disaster won’t ensue,” Venti mumbled, slightly scratching the back of his head, a sheepish grin on his face.

“With luck it will all go smoothly,” Kaeya nodded whilst he shoved the music box into his satchel.

“And with luck we won’t be shot!” Venti laughed once more, constantly switching between confidence and a lightly more cautious mind. Kaeya shrugged before laughing himself.

“Who else could pull it off but me and you?” They both stated as if it was a matter of fact.

“We’ll be rich!” Kaeya exclaimed as he patted Venti’s shoulder.

“We’ll be rich!” Venti repeated whilst he returned the gesture. Both of their grins reached both of their ears, something they noticed as they turned to face each other.

“We’ll be out!”

“We’ll be out!!”

The idea of getting out of this god forsaken nation caused Venti to feel a sort of calming sensation. Just the thought of the taste of freedom possibly being so near them made him want to smile even more.

“And Snezhnaya will have some more to talk about!” The two men declared, shaking hands. 

As the two men laughed, the plaza around them was alive with waves of whispers and excited murmurs.

“I heard it from a person who assured me it was absolutely true!”

“Have you heard? There’s a rumour in Snezhnaya,”

“Have you heard? Comrade what do you suppose?”

“A fascinating Mystery!” Venti commented, placing his hands on his hips, a smug look appearing on his face.

“The biggest con in history!” Kaeya proclaimed as he flung his arms up in the air; what appeared to be genuine joy showing on his face.

“The Prince Albedo!

  Alive?

  Or Dead?”

“Who knows!?”

Majority of the crowd dispersed after they noticed a familiar red-head appearing on the podium once more.

Kaeya and Venti shared a knowing look, both raising a singular finger to their lips. The taller one had began to snigger with Venti soon following suit.

“I’m assuming you will be able to sort out the other needed part of  our plan?” Kaeya asked whilst the two began walking away, their day starting to become a distant memory.

“Just trust me, I have my ways *and* connections.” Venti answered, nudging him with his elbow. Kaeya simply chuckled in response whilst he took his flat-cap off.

Previous - Next

♜ wriothesley and his big hands.

slightly suggestive in one paragraph, but romantically so :3

covered in callouses and scars, one wouldn’t imagine wriothesley’s hands to be a symbol of anything all too romantic. but he is nothing if not gentle—when it comes to you, at least.

the iron fists that he uses to keep the fortress of meropide under lock and key are the same ones that rest on your waist to find comfort, the same ones that tug you close at night, the same ones that cradle your face like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held.

his hands are rough and scary. his hands are the softest things you’ve ever felt.

he is incapable of consciously doing anything that would bring you harm. he has only ever laid you down—gently, carefully—kissing you, worshipping you. he wants to be able to see your face no matter what; he wants to be able to hold it no matter what. he wants access to all of you—he wants to be intimate with you.

wriothesley is a big man, but it has never scared you. he has done things less than desirable to land himself in a place like the fortress of meropide, but it has never scared you. his hands are rough; his hands are big; his hands are covered in blood—but it has never scared you.

the scars that run down his neck, stripe his chest, crowd his arms: you trace each one with your fingers—your small, soft fingers—and he shivers as if you possess a cryo vision of your own. your untainted, un-calloused hands touch each intersection and cluster of healed wounds with absolute fascination, listening so intimately to the stories tattooed on his body by his own spilt blood, as if the stretched skin were the grooves on a record, your little hands the needle on the player; as if by tracing these grooves, the memories recorded in their wake would unfold.

just as a music player reads the language of its disc, you have the unique understanding of the language on wriothesley’s skin.

he secretly prides himself that he is able to protect you. that he alone can provide you the comfort and stability you desire—no other man. it is wriothesley, even with the sutures that litter his body, who has the privilege of being yours, and of having you as his own. to you, his scars are not a measure of his worth. his scars are not some separate, unfortunate feature that you are merely excusing in order to love him, no—they’re included in the contract. they are a part of what it means to love him.

the gracious nature of his authority commands respect from anyone who knows his name—and there is no man who does not. he is greatly loved by all, and he is greatly feared by all—but not by you. they love him for what he does; they love him as the man he presents himself to be in small, carefully crafted fragments.

yours is the privilege to love him as a whole, and it is yours alone.

so how are we feeling wriothesley nation (i still dont know how to pronounce his name) (also reblogs are appreciated because i’m just getting started here)

when your shirt gets wet (afab reader)

zhongli

super respectful, like the gentleman he is

offers his jacket immediately and if you decline it, he’ll shield your body with his until your shirt dries off or you can change

assures you that he saw nothing (even though he totally did) and makes sure the cost is clear so you can escape and fix yourself up

diluc

gets flustered easily and this is no exception

the second your bra starts showing through your wet shirt, he’s a mess

he’s offering you his jacket or a nearby blanket or even his own shirt and when he realizes he’s being too extra, he’s becomes even more flustered

eventually pulls himself together and throws his coat around your shoulders, holding it tight until you make the next move

kaeya

he’s so cheeky about it

instead of covering you, he definitely teases you about it

he points out of the color of your bra and tells you that you should have reconsidered that with your white shirt

he doesn’t press your boundaries, though, and immediately stops with the teasing if you’re clearly uncomfortable

shields your body from anyone so you can make it through mondstadt to change

thoma

turns completely red but makes it his goal to cover you completely

he’s trying to be respectful by not looking but trying to be protective by looking and he’s torn between the two

he, somehow, tries to take the blame because he should have brought an umbrella or an extra change of clothes

eventually settles on covering his eyes with his hands but peeks every now and then to make sure you’re okay

childe

let’s be honest, it’s his fault

whether it was an accident or on purpose (it was probably on purpose), it’s childe’s fault

and all he does it tease you

“come on, y/n, we’re in public” with a smirk

and as long as you two are alone, he keeps teasing you to make you flustered, but if someone comes along, you’re behind childe in a minute because that view is for him only

itto

your shirt is wet? what’s the problem?

he doesn’t see the problem with your shirt being wet, despite your bra now being in full view for everyone to see

but itto’s clothes barely cover his body so he really doesn’t see a problem until you tell him

and then he finally starts to panic to get you back home

albedo

he doesn’t think it’s a big deal

if anything, albedo is curious of the science behind water making your shirt see-through

and while you would never diss his research, you’re now exposed and he keeps staring at your chest

eventually, albedo will snap out of it and hand you a nearby blanket or his jacket to wear

ayato

very amused, smirks, makes a single joke about how you’re teasing him

and then when you shoot back, ayato laughs and changes his demeanor

he hands you his jacket, trying to play off the situation to make you more comfortable

he brings it up a couple times in the future

"I love you, Kunikuzushi."

one word 'love' makes kunikuzushi or known as a wanderer surprised. "You're lying, everyone hates me." he scoffed. You and the wanderer locked eyes, and he realized that you were saying the truth. "I love you Kuni. I love you more than anything in this world." You hugged him that guy tightly like he would be gone in an instant. He felt this feeling where he never felt before in his heart. Was this called love? Since then, Kunikuzushi's understanding of love changed.

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my first time writing + english isn't my first language:p