#writes the most unhinged shit ever. refuses to elaborate. leaves

[lovesickeros]

☆ what a kind god, what a cruel god

{☆} characters zhongli {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood, light angst {☆} word count 0.5k

You are a kind God - with hands that heal instead of hurt. Words that forgive, instead of rightfully insult. The stories do little justice to the breadth of your gentleness, extending your love to the slimes that coalesce at your feet, eager to know the touch of the Divine. The birds that sing with the wind your praises from upon your shoulder.

But to him, your kindness is so very cruel.

They do not deserve it. He does not deserve it.

Your forgiveness should be a blessing after all they have done, but it feels like swallowing acid instead. It makes him feel sick and lightheaded, throat constricting until he struggles to breath against the weight of his sins, heavy upon his chest.

He wonders if your hatred would be easier. Even apathy, he thinks, would be preferable to the way your screams intermingle with the softness in your voice as you cradle his face between his hands within his dreams. Even in the waking world, your every word is shadowed by broken pleas, drowned in golden ichor as it rises up your throat, silencing your screams - it haunts him, and he cannot handle seeing the way you look at him in concern. He does not deserve it.

Try as he might, he cannot forgive himself. He does not think he ever can - not when he wakes to the feeling of blood on his hands, his tongue, filling his lungs until all he tastes and smells is blood.

If you had been a little less kind, he thinks he would find comfort in your cruelty.

Your anger would be a mercy.

But you are not. You are..kind. Gentle. So many things he once praised on bruised knees at an altar that towered far above him, drowned in gold and silks, every word he speaks a prayer to the most Divine. And he cannot bear the weight of knowing that he could have destroyed that part of you - he cannot bear knowing that he didn't, and you look upon the man who wore your blood like a second skin with a kindness that burns him like a hot iron.

He did not deserve such a loving God.

"..Zhongli?"

He pauses in his internal struggle, hands shaking on his lap. He clenches them into fists, blunt nails digging into his palms until they stop - yet you look at him with furrowed brows, concern gleaming in your eyes, and he feels sick all over again. But for you, he would do anything. Even if it meant pretending he did not feel like a monster in a mortals skin when you smiled at him like he was worth anything.

"Yes, Divine One?"

He chokes down the phantom taste of iron upon his tongue, forcing himself to smile to soothe the worries that crease your brow.

"You said you'd take me to the Chasm today."

He feels..relieved as the worry melts away from your features. It is the very least he can offer - he shall take upon your burdens, your worries, so that you may look upon Teyvat with love, and not fear. He will carry the sins of the many, so that you may look upon the nations with pride, and not horror.

It is all he can do, to ease the way his chest aches when you smile at him, hand tugging at his sleeve and forcing himself unsteadily to his feet.

He does not deserve you - but for today, he can pretend. Just a little while longer.