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rainsnz · 1 year

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weapon

g/enshin snzfic (sick!childe & x/iao) (4k ish words)

Childe falls asleep only slowly, laying down in a bed that’s become achingly familiar. It’s been almost a month since the incident with Osial, and he can feel the eyes of everyone in Liyue on him. Well, everyone that matters, anyway - amongst them the adepti, the Qixing, and everyone who’s important enough to know what actually happened that day when the oceans rose against an entire nation.

Zhongli, at least, seems not to take the attack personally, but Childe feels shortsighted by the former archon’s deception. He should have seen it coming, considering how obvious the signs were in retrospect. And he has to admit that he hasn’t been taking the best of care of himself lately, what with trying to endure the superficial niceties and indeed, the people trying to stop him from leaving the harbor. Of course Childe hasn’t missed the way that the Milleleth keep him busy with inane tasks, things that don’t let him even touch his blade. He would have escaped the harbor far before now, if not for his desire to keep things friendly between him and Zhongli - he truly does care about the man (even as his pride stings), and he’s a powerful ally when things come down to it. He also doesn’t want to have Zhongli - apparently master manipulator and former archon?? - as an enemy any longer. (To hell with Signora, there’s no way she holds the best in store for Childe - if he was expected to fail this mission anyway.)

When he finally drifts off, bound to be haunted by nightmares of monstrous shadows again, he feels the beginnings of illness claiming him.

He ignores it.

What does it matter, if he’s just a tool that’s been used?

His purpose has been served. There is no point to being polished.

His heart races. He awakens, groggily, head pounding (as expected), throat sore, not to the caring and impartial expression of Zhongli, but to the not-caring and impartial expression of … someone he’s not acquainted with. They have the same flashy makeup as Zhongli, though, and the same ethereal nature in their golden eyes, even as their short dark-teal hair differs. It’s quite certain that this individual is not of this world.

“Do I know you?” he asks, feeling disoriented as a croaky voice greets him. He disregards the fact that it stings his throat to get the words out. The stranger just stares at him, as if Childe is some sort of fascinating insect.

“You don’t need to.” His voice is quiet, distant. How cryptic.

“Um, you’re the one who showed up in my house,” Childe feels inclined to point out, as consciousness slowly returns to him. Much, much slower than usual. “People don’t tend to take kindly to that.”

“People do not tend to take kindly to those who awaken dead gods and threaten their homeland, either.” The stranger’s voice is light, somehow cordial despite the subject matter. He’s leaning against the doorway, eyes shut, arms folded. Waves of disdain and distrust radiate off the individual who seems to be severely lacking in height.

Childe clears his throat, uncomfortable with how heavy his head feels. The grit in his throat refuses to leave him. “Well, where’s Zhongli?”

That catches the other’s attention. His gaze flits to meet Childe’s evenly. “It does not concern you. Rex Lapis has asked me to watch over you.” Childe is beginning to feel blindsided yet again by that crafty god - he has a babysitter now? And this babysitter clearly dislikes him immensely - it’s clear by his stand-offish nature.

Childe tries a different approach. “Man, what kind of blackmail does Zhongli have on you that made you look after me of all people?”

Suddenly there’s a weapon pointed at his throat - Childe tries not to choke in surprise, because he’s never seen anything move quite so quickly and efficiently - “Do not attempt to understand our relationship. I shall not allow you to sully his good name.” The stranger’s eyes are hardened.

Childe wants to respond in kind, but he suspects he’s quite clearly outmatched at the moment - and suddenly he’s pitching to the side with a sneeze that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding back - “huh’gKShTchu-! huhh… huhh’PchShUu!” His desperation sprays the air. Now he’s made aware of a throbbing tickle throughout his nose, one that makes him raise his arm to his nose sheepishly. How he managed to miss this incessant sensation that now plagues him, he doesn’t know - he’s rubbing his nose harshly against his arm, leaving trails of mess on his sleeve. Vaguely, he wonders if he’s making a scene out of himself, but he has to rid himself of this itch before he can care.

A cool hand alights on his forehead, and faintly he wonders if it’s Tonia’s gentle touch, before realizing that the stranger’s piercing golden eyes are fixed on his, expression unreadable. Wordlessly, a handkerchief is pressed into Childe’s hand, which he quickly accepts. It’s a sweet relief to bury his nose in the folds of the cloth, which are quickly dampened by his noisy nose-blowing. “Bless.”

Childe’s guard is up, but he warily responds, “Thanks…?”

The stranger huffs. “Adeptus Xiao.” He picks up a soup bowl that the Harbinger hadn’t even noticed, and, with a carefully neutral expression, guides the spoon into Childe’s mouth that is hanging open from shock. It’s not particularly warm but filling - the taste is bland, although Childe has to admit that the lack of appeal might be because of his congestion. Xiao manages to shovel two spoons of soup into Childe’s system before he manages to stop him.

“Why are you feeding me???” Why indeed, is the adeptus that famously clears the lands of corruption each night, and the same adeptus that is famously known for wanting him dead (as admitted by Zhongli) feeding him like a mother might her child? Surely he’s not so petty to stoop down to poisoning a sick man?

The scowl on Xiao’s face is a nice change. It reflects his reputation - and shows that he’s capable of emotion after all. “Zhongli asked me to watch you. I made soup since you are ill.”

Childe opens his mouth to protest and is met with another spoonful of soup. “Hey -” another mouthful of soup. “Xiao -” More soup. He gives up and decides to just allow the other to feed him, considering that this adeptus is here for his benefit, and he’s clearly too loyal to try anything devious. It’s only pure luck that he doesn’t accidentally spew soup everywhere when the mild irritation in his nose suddenly triples in intensity.

“I - gk!” He swallows hastily before turning to the side, “huH’PscHIEW! huhH’KSHIU-u!” Sniffling, groaning at how it had knocked all the air out of his lungs, leaving his abdomen sore from the sheer force of the desperate sneezes - “ugh..”

He’s not done yet, though, as he soon realizes when the flaming itch in his nose intensifies with his next uncautious breath - he gasps, a hand flying up to his nostrils, which flare synchronously, and unceremoniously those hitching breathes explode into something far more potent, spraying his poor hand with the vestiges of the war currently being fought inside his body -

“-hh-UUH’pPSCHHiiEuUU-!! h’UHHHkSHhiiiyyUUUU-!!! h’UUUHSSHHHIEWWWW!!”

A wet sniffle follows the wet spray of sneezes, as does a weary sigh, wiping his soiled hand against the covers. He really, really doesn’t care if Xiao finds this display offending, because his head feels so stuffed up and disgusting and a disaster in general, and he can’t bring himself to drag his thoughts to the matter of reputation or cleanliness at the moment.

Dazedly, he sneaks a look at the adeptus, who surprisingly wears the veneer of pity on his neutral features. Maybe he’s familiar with the sensation? Can adepti sneeze at all? Childe’s time to wonder is brief, though, as he sucks in another frantic breath that turns to a bellowed sneeze. “h-hUH’EI’k-sCHU! huh’KchIE’-IU! snf - Archons, sorry… snuck up on me.” With a single finger under his nose he rubs vigorously, but his disobedient nose rebels with a twitch. He cracks open an eye and oh archons, he just sneezed all over the last remaining yaksha -

The yaksha in question looks a bit like a cat whose food bowl had just been upended. His affronted glare is almost enough to send Childe into fight-or-flight mode. Still, and Childe has to applaud him for his patience, Xiao wordlessly hands him a tissue. This time, the intended recipient stubbornly refuses to accept it. He doesn’t really need it, anyway; he didn’t need the help to begin with. He’s a useless weapon, after all, discarded by his master without a second thought, in this godforsaken country many miles from home. This misguided care and attention is wasted on him, and everyone seems to know it except this guy.

It’s a relief when Xiao moves away, expression guarded, when Childe’s nose wriggles with irritation. Perhaps it was a bit of theatrics to revel in the adeptus’ reaction, but his nose really does itch incessantly - “huhh-huUHh’pcSheW!” Humorous, he decides, is the best word for the situation, as he squints through a haze of fuzzy aches and pains at the yaksha’s poorly hidden disgust? sympathy?

The yaksha in question has only a few words of advice. Or is it a command? On his pretty face is a characteristic grimace as he mutters, “If you won’t blow your nose, at least stop sneezing.”

At that, Childe actually does bark out a laugh - which quickly turns into a series of coughs, which spirals into a harsh sneeze - “-h-hUHH-UHSSSHIIYUUU-!”

A wet sniffle, although it’s not as effective now that his nostrils feel clogged up with congestion, thanks to this wonderful illness. “Oh, Almighty Xiao, I will definitely be heeding your command, b-because s-sneezing is something you can totally c-control…”

Despite his words, he’s actually trying not to sneeze, to get the sentence out, but it’s kind of a futile effort, and both of them can see it; so when he pitches forward with another sneeze, neither are surprised.

“-hUUUhhh’UUKKSHHHIiyUUUUHHH-!!”

Actually, Childe is very surprised - his nose meets soft tissue, and as the nostrils tremble dangerously, momentarily too stunned to let out the rest of the sneezing fit, he cracks open an eye, to see Xiao’s dangerous expression as he holds the paper against the Harbinger’s nostrils.

“-X-Xiao- I-uhh-!! UHHHUHHHKKSHIIYUUUuu---!!”

“Not a word,” the Demon-slayer warns, so intimidating, yet right now holding a tissue to a sickly patient’s nose as if he were his mother…! It’s almost too good, almost enough to lift his spirits, but not quite enough to not-sneeze again -

“-uuh’KKSHHiiYYUuuhHH-!! hUHHH-USHHIYUUU--!!”

A silence, broken yet again by a wet sniffle - that’s more of a snort because of the congestion clogging Childe’s sinuses; he groans, nose still within the folds of the tissue, and this time he’s forced to concede. After all, he knows when he’s lost, and so he clears his nose, the tissue flying with the honking nose-blow. The only thing he regrets (other than being shown-up by the Vigilant Yaksha himself) is that his eyes aren’t open to watch Xiao’s expression as he is forced to hold a tissue for a sickly someone blowing their nose.

About Xiao - Childe can’t bring himself to hate him. The Adeptus hasn’t been irrationally rude to him. He’s been perfectly polite, he’s done nothing but treat him kindly (except for the weapon incident??) - all for the sake of Zhongli. He again wonders what happened between Xiao and Zhongli, but it somehow feels too private to intrude. Still, he can sympathize - there’s nothing he won’t do for his Tsaritsa, nor his dear Tonia, or his dear Teucer, or Anthon…

At least he knows his family don’t always see him as worthless. A dark, bitter emotion fills his gut as he considers his own value. Clearly he’s not chosen for his talent, he’s just another expendable pawn in the grand scheme of things…

Childe wants to break things. He wants to hone his skill, slash mindlessly and watch things fall to shreds. Banter with a sparring partner whose steps match his own. Think about something other than his failure for just a moment.

He meets the adeptus’ dispassionate gaze. Suddenly he has an idea.

“Legends say - snf! - that the Vigilant Yaksha is fond of vanquishing demons… And that his skill with the weapon was deadly and - snf, snf - a sight to behold. It is easy to see that the myths are true.”

Xiao flashes him an irritated glance from his position by his bedside. “Don’t believe all that you hear. And please blow your nose.”

(He ignores the adeptus. The only way he’s going to blow his nose is if Xiao personally holds it, even if it’s just because of how funny that had been.) “Well, from one friend to another - snff! - can’t you let me sharpen my blade against yours?”

“I’m not your friend,” the adeptus mutters, eyes eerily devoid of anger. “And I swore not to hurt mortals. Many years ago.” Childe can feel the finality of the words sinking in like pebbles falling through a river.

But Childe’s not a harbinger for nothing. “There’s rumors, you know…” He slowly pulls a vial, decorated with the image of Qinxin out of his sleeve, calculating quickly, “... that the vigilant yaksha has a certain sensitivity… And I think that the people of Liyue would be all too eager to use a different method to offer thanks to the adepti, should someone suggest it -” As he draws out the bottle, Xiao’s expression darkens with recognition.

“You wouldn’t dare.” His eyes are slits, his voice is burning. But best of all, his threats mean nothing.

“So, whaddya say? A friendly spar for my silence?” Childe smirks, his palm unconsciously massaging the bridge of his nose in an effort to stave off the itch.

Xiao’s lost and he knows it, because he’s already approaching the bed and handing him a spear that he’s materialized out of nowhere. Everything spins - not just from the disease wreaking havoc in his head this time - they’re now in the middle of some cloud-like realm, and Childe’s momentarily distracted by how the cotton-soft material holds his weight so readily - and is that just his illness, or is he lightheaded from the altitude?

That’s all he can manage to think before a teal blur starts towards him, and Childe is forced to block the attack. The blows are swift, merciless. No wonder they call him the Bane of All Evil. For a few moments Childe can only defend himself, before the adrenaline of a true fight! the first in ages! kicks in. The adeptus lets out a low snarl, sounding far more animal than human. Truly a worthy opponent - the excitement drowns out those dark thoughts that crept up from his recent endeavor in the harbor.

He’s finally useful, for once, doing the only thing that he can excel at. No one’s there to stop him, tell him how they were tricking him all along. There’s no hidden threat that means that he’s failed before he’s even started.

“Ha! Not bad!” He sniffles, praying that the itch doesn’t worsen. Of course the gods never answer him (except Osial, and the Tsarita, and Zhongli (kind of)) - his nose is burning so badly that his breath hitches with every inhale - “hh-hhuhHHH… huHHHH - oh n-nuhhh-not now - snf!” ARCHONS, it tickles! The warrior finds himself using one hand to wield his polearm, the other pinching his nose as if for dear life (which he might well be doing, considering how swift Xiao’s attacks are).

“Even if you see yourself as a tool, as I do. There is no reason to fight me. You are not my match.” Xiao’s voice is but a whisper louder than the clanging of steel upon steel. “Why do you want to fight? What reason do you have?”

It makes him feel alive. It fills that hole in that chest, that was ripped away, that had fallen swirling into the abyss. Childe doesn’t voice anything, though, instead stifling a frustrated sneeze against the back of his hand. How is he so useless, even now? When he’s supposed to be in his element?

He barely registers what happens next. Childe blames that cotton feeling in his head, the too-bright spinning of the world that always accompanies feverish delirium. Golden eyes widen, lips say something that Childe doesn’t catch, and with a soft OOF! Childe’s ass meets the floor. The clouds shake with explosions, he feels heat against his face that doesn’t originate from his fever. When he looks up he sees 2 ruin guards and a ruin hunter… oh shit - And his vial slips from his grasp, shattering from the impact against deceptively soft clouds. Well fuck.

He’s been tempered by the abyss, pain is no stranger to him. Yet the urge to sneeze - with its fine, barely tickling sensation that fills every orifice of his nose - it’s something he can never get used to. It’s something he has to get used to, right fucking now, because there’s the sting of fire and metal at his back. Childe gasps, and his eyes squeeze shut before he has anything to say about it - and he’s roughly shoved out of the way of the ruin guard’s giant fist. He has no time to celebrate though, because his nose burns far more badly than the missile’s explosion - “a-AHH-HH’KSscH’IEUOO!-! h’uH’PCHIEH-!” His own nose explodes, a short reprieve that serves to wring his throat out raw, and relieves the itch for all of 3 milliseconds. Childe isn’t very concerned about the spray either, even when he notices that his saviour was caught in the mist. Adepti probably can’t get sick, anyway…

But apparently, they can be severely allergic to Qingxin. Xiao curses softly underneath his breath, half-lidded eyes quickly darting towards Childe’s own. He opens his mouth as if to speak but to Childe’s great surprise, the Yaksha turns his head and sneezes into his closed fist - “heh’ksht! h’hxsht-!” And this time it’s Childe yanking the other’s arm, pulling them both out of the path of a stray missile.

Ducked behind a sizable decorative rock, they have a moment to catch their breath. Well - not actually catch their breath, as Xiao is actually losing the air in his lungs to sneezes showered across the cloud-tops. The adeptus’ nose is as red as jueyan chilis; it’s clear that the vial’s contents are too overwhelming for his sensitivities. Looks like the rumours were true. His slight chest heaves with the effort of staving off the itch that licks like flames at his nostrils, his eyelashes flutter like crystal flies as he struggles to keep them open. He looks rather pitiful - a mighty god-like creature, reduced to a barely-coherent, hitching heap by the whims of his nose. “hh-hheeahh… hhhuhhh… hahh-hH’kSHu-’ksCHUU-’xksHUU-!”

If this were another situation, Childe would probably be laughing his ass off at how the great Yaksha sneezes like a kitten, squeaky sneezes escaping after a ridiculous amount of build-up, although the sheer strength of the perfume is probably diminishing the usual amount of hitching gasps in favor of expelling the fragrance as soon as possible. Well, that’s one reason to be thankful for a stuffy nose, Childe supposes, as Xiao gasps again, shut eyes streaming with tears - “-heeh’kShuu-h’kSHuu-!”

This is not the time to laugh, however, as the mechanical sound of grinding gears and motors alerts them to the danger once more. He swears, the world tilting to the side as he staggers to a standing position - and his nose burns as if the missile had found its home in his nasal passages. He barely has a moment to spare to scrunch up the irritated appendage before his face screws up, mouth opening, nostrils flaring together -

“-hhuUUUUhh’yEESSHShhhhAHHH-!! h’UHSSHCHIIYUUUUhh--!!”

The sneezes are so much louder than Xiao’s, such that the ruin guards’ whirring stops for just a moment, as they turn to locate the source of the sound - fuckkkkk.

He sniffles, internally cursing at himself, and flashes a glance to the Yaksha - still incapacitated with an unfortunate sneezing fit - before roughly swiping at his nostrils with his sleeve, ignoring the itch that was annoying and is now utterly unignorable. Childe’s guessing that Xiao’s in no condition to spirit them away from this situation, and furthermore, he’s in no condition to take out 2 ruin guards and a ruin hunter. It hurts to realize that, not only is he a useless weapon, outgrown by his master, but now he’s a weapon that’s not even sharp enough to perform his designated duty…!

He grits his teeth. No time to mope now, not when he’s about to be on the receiving end of a ruin hunter’s heat-seeking missiles. Childe pulls out his bow, hands wavering, because his vision is blurry and he’s least adept with the bow and he’s not useful unless he makes this shot -

Xiao is depending on him.

The ruin guards turn the corner, looming with a shadow over the two, the sound of missiles warming up, the sound of mechanical genius humming as they lock onto their targets -

It’s now or never --!

The string vibrates.

An awful, crunching sound -!

The screeching of metal upon metal, upon cloud.

3 enemies fall.

Their gears make horrible creaking noises as they fold in on themselves, an arrow piercing straight through their cores.

For a few moments, Childe can do nothing but pant, adrenaline coursing through his veins. The sound of smoke pouring out of broken engines, and the stuttering rhythm of stifled sneezes is the only thing remaining from the battlefield.

Wow. Fighting that thing… felt good. So, too, does the sensation of his palm roughly massaging his nose.

Childe sighs with relief, interrupted predictably when his breath catches. He can barely even get out a groan of complaint, when his nose feels as if someone had dropped a flaming flower stamen - burning across his nostrils and forcing his mouth open, “Archons, n-not a-gain- h-h-uHH-hRUUUSHhiuu-!! h-UUShhYYIIIUAAAh-!!”

A tissue against his nose tells him that Xiao’s recovered at least enough to force him to blow his nose. His eyes opening, with extreme effort, as they’re leaking tears of itchy torture, tells him that Xiao is holding a tissue to his own nose, as well. “...Thank you…” Mumbled words, muffled by the tissue, and he can’t help but smile victoriously.

“No problem. Wha- hUUUHHSSHhhiyUUU-!! h’RRSHhiIIYYYYuuhhh-!..snff.. W-what kind of weapon would I be if I couldn’t save a helpless little adeptus like… li-like, hHUUUHHHSSHIIIYUUhh-!!.. Like you..! -hhUUUpTChiiyyahh-!!”

Childe sniffles, preparing for a beating - he does tend to use inflammatory tactics habitually, although now he feels like the pressure building in his aching head won’t be a fair match against the Yaksha’s polearm - but instead, Xiao is facing away from him, sniffling wetly into the palm of his hand. Ha. It’s refreshing to see such a human weakness from a ‘perfect’ creature - Childe’s chest fills with satisfaction. Makes him feel a lot better about his deductive skills, for one. Makes him feel a lot better about his seeming uselessness, too. The most skilled weapon of the adepti, reduced to such a mess…

(Someone who’s as ‘useful’ as Xiao needed help from someone as useless as himself?

Either Childe’s not useless after all, or...

It’s probably the fever talking, but maybe it doesn’t matter how useful or useless he is.

It’s so cheesy, but he smiles despite himself - and then Xiao looks up at him, expression neutral except for the angry flush across his nostrils -)

Childe prepares to be impaled by the very person he had just saved, and he probably would’ve deserved it, after provoking the probably really old and experienced, but most of all extremely dangerous adeptus, but it’s probably worth it to see that expression on his -

Then Xiao makes an unrecognizable sound - was that a laugh? “You have a lot of courage, for a human.” The edges of his lips quirk up ever-so-slightly.

For a moment, Childe is aghast. Did the Conqueror of Demons just smile? At him? Maybe his fever’s gotten worse. Yeah, his fever is definitely worse.

That night, even as his fever rises, Childe fears no nightmares; for his dreams are sweeter than almond tofu.

#my fic #snzfic #sneeze fic #snz #genshin snzpact #g/enshin i/mpact #c/hilde #x/iao #zhonglis plan to get his fools to love each other #written a long time ago #severely ooc (cannot write c/hilde)#more snzfic incoming

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ajaxpilled · 7 months

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i loovvee multishipping but all of my non shipper friends are tired of my bs lol .. zhongxiao goes SOO hard they are everything to me !!!!! when you get a sec, do you have any thoughts on them in regular or kink context? o.o i love them smm

fuck ur friends i wanna hear it all ‼️‼️

i have sooo many thoughts on them pre archon war altho most of it is kind of not Usual Content for this blog sorry </3

xiao being in debt to zhongli as a young yaksha who has just been saved and being so eager to impress and please him. eating dishes he knows won't agree with his stomach when he orders a table laden with food or holds a feast, holding his gurgling stomach under the table and suppressing sickened hiccups, intent on listening to his saviour's words - usually whatever he's bragging about to his guests. he forces a nod when zhongli asks if he's enjoying his food, but can't hide the pale complexion of his face, the loud noises his stomach is making. the liyuen archon pulls him onto his lap like a pet, rubbing his full stomach gently and continuing conversation with his guests like nothing has changed. despite being too sick to truly care, xiao can't help but feel a little embarrassed - but soon learns zhongli and the company he keeps do not care, and rather, zhongli is quite proud that his yaksha will eat foods that make him ill just to please him.

outside of this, xiao was adverse to having his stomach rubbed at first (it was undignified and childish) but he soon comes to find belly rubs feel warm and enjoyable when he stops his protesting and relaxes into them. whether he's exhausted after battle, feeling low, has eaten too much or eaten disagreeable food for guests, or simply craves affection, he slides into zhongli's lap and guides his firm, gentle hands to his tummy, the deep and gentle circles or soft side to side motion sending him into a dozy state of bliss. he feels safe; cared for. like he can be vulnerable. he kneels on the floor beside his throne or chair, gladly accepting the occasional head pat and words of praise for being so patient as he waits for zhongli to finish with his work.

xiao starts showing him more physical affection in return - he is a god after all, used to living in spoiled indulgence; and xiao was forever indebted to him even before they began a relationship of such kind. he rubs his head and scratches his scalp, washes his gold streaked hair as they bathe together and battles anybody who dares challenge him. he brings him back precious weapons and trophies of brutal enemies felled on the battlefield, skilled musicians and herbal teas, fine clothes and rare flowers and delicious food, providing him a life of sweet decadence. he sits on his knee and feeds him each bite at mealtimes, zhongli's hand on his back as his lips close around the food until he's all too full. instead his tongue licks the leftovers off of xiao's fingers, licks into his mouth, and his wandering hands pull him closer onto his lap and let him do all the work.

they grow distant after the archon war. hedonistic lifestyles are long forgotten, liyue changes drastically and so does xiao, withdrawing into isolation and a life of karmic debt. it's centuries later that they meet again at lantern rite - zhongli is older now. humble and soft-spoken and happy to be living an anonymous life almost bare of the luxuries he once had, and are, xiao presumes, long forgotten. but as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat, forced to eat complex spiced dishes, an arm wraps around his waist and a hand is placed on his tight stomach, gentle and firm as ever before.

their relationship is somewhat similar this time around, but full of small differences. zhongli's bragging about his country has turned to long ramblings about liyuen culture out of pure interest alone (some people find this boring - xiao never does. he is quiet after all, and somebody has to fill the silence). xiao is still proud, still hides when he is sick like he did in the very beginning, still accepts dishes he can't handle instead of refusing them in the first place - not to impress zhongli this time, but to share in his passion for liyue's heritage. smiles and nods and eats more until he can't do so any longer. he excuses himself to the bathroom to catch his breath and make himself throw it up, emptying himself of all the sickening food. he feels a little naive and embarrassed when zhongli finds out he still can't stomach the meals he eats for him, and asks after all this time? i'm no god who needs to be catered to anymore, with a pitiful smile and gentle hand on his sensitive stomach.

xiao doesn't care for his status. he saved him once, and with that freedom, is always saving him for the rest of his life without even knowing. he brings him gifts. flowers and wooden carvings and pretty feathers. he braves the city for him, bustling crowds of mortals and foreign noises and textures and smells so he can visit him during work hours or wander the stalls together. they curl up together in wangshu inn, intertwined as equals now, and feed each other small bites between soft smiles and quiet conversation.

each relationship has its differences, maintains the same small details - and xiao would take either one any day, because his karmic debt doesn't hurt with zhongli. because he has been granted freedom by the previous archon of contracts, and with his freedom, this is what he will choose to do every time.

#soft dom #if you were one of those who Did Not Like the thxma fic i linked months ago maybe dont read 😭#emeto #stuffing #x/iao gains a lil weight as healing club 🙏🙏#team give x/iao a tummy #okay i will stop #train ride rambling again !!#gen

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