♢ Favorite | Childe

♢ Favorite | Childe

Alternative Title: Yours

Includes: Yandere, Slightly suggestive, Cult, D//rugging, K//idnapping, S/A, N-C kissing SAGAU

Warnings: Slight perv Childe, Yandere, talks of bruises/scares, allusions to past mistreatment (verbal and physical), Childe climbs on top of you and kisses you while ur dr/ugged… so yeah idk what to tag that?

Word count: 3.2k

A/N: closeted pervs, pervs… pervs who’re obsessed with you? mhm… yes, i like that. yes. anyway, i’m working of D.V pt 2 and other stuff but yeah take this for now </3 hopefully this isn’t too messy </3

Intended for mature audiences (17+)

You wondered why you thought you had a chance in the first place – not once since you’d arrived had things gone your way, from the cruel words thrown at you in Mondstatd to the harsh blades that sliced you in Inazuma, ever since you’d arrived at Teyvat things had gone horribly wrong for you.

Now here you were, being chased by the 11th Fatui Harbinger, Tartaglia, for sins unknown to you.

You’d stumbled upon the rough edges of Dragonspine and naively ran straight into the harsh temperament of never-ending winter, hoping the ginger would simply let you be but alas, fate had different plans, and he followed you into the freezing temperatures, bow and arrow in hand.

It had been almost an hour of being lost in the hellish winter lands, but considering he’d been chasing you for days – his patience shouldn’t be surprising.

“Stop making this harder than it needs to be, pal,” Childe mocked, his voice was rough as if he was scolding a child, “you got caught, now give up… this is starting to get really annoying.”

“I normally enjoy this sort of stuff,” he sighs, his voice muffled by the softened snow and fair amount of distance you’d managed to gain, “chasing and hunting, but you… God, you… you really messed up. Showing up looking like that, acting as if you had no idea what you were doing was… disrespectful, matter of fact, that’s what you are; disrespectful and ungrateful, acting like a little kid, and that’s coming from me.”

You wanted to ask what he was talking about, scream and beg him for answers – he spoke as if he understood why you were being targeted, almost as if he wasn’t the one with a finger on a trigger waiting for your next wrong move.

Your body felt weak, you hadn’t eaten in so long — you’d been rejected food and water — your body was fatigued, you were hurting and the freezing temperatures nibbling at your exposed flesh didn’t help. For reasons unknown, as most things were around here to you, you didn’t have to sleep nor eat as often as others — being able to spend the equivalent of days without basic needs, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t growing starved and tired.

The Fatui doesn’t stop talking, he had nothing to worry about — his clothes were warm and his basic human rights had been served, not only was he ridiculously strong but he had every and all advantages over you, from a fed stomach to a good night’s rest and a weapon, you were mere child’s pray to an experienced hunter.

His words were insulting, criticizing your character – which he’d never taken the time to know, you note – to your appearance, the way you moved and acted, nothing was off the table as he tore you apart with words as he waited to rip you apart later.

Is this how you die? — you muse, you decide to tune out his sing-song voice, his words hurt and why focus on more pain when death was basically inviting you over for a cup of tea?

The thought brings tears to your eyes, tears that had been piling up since the day you’d arrive to this hell-hole, you had been home one day – playing games and enjoying life, your life, as pathetic and miserable as it may seem to some, and now you were here; being prosecuted and sentenced for a crime you didn’t even know about.

The people you’d helped, stupid, brainless string of code and characters in your stupid, time-consuming game that didn’t offer any real life consequences (that shouldn’t offer real life consequences) turned their backs on you and left you to die a slow and painful death. How pathetic.

This is how you die — you think, certain of your impending doom.

You were crying, all of your strength now concentrated in your shaking form, tears now streamed down your face – you didn’t notice too busy in your worn self pity to realize, but the harsh temperatures further dropped with the evidence of your sorrows running down your face, with every tear the mountains seemed to weep alongside you; snow now fell at a more frequent pace echoing the water dripping down your face.

“What did I do wrong…” You ask the skies, no longer caring to hide — it was inevitable that he’d find you. Your sobs grow louder the closer he gets and the quieter he becomes, soon – you couldn’t make out whatever cruel remarks he was spouting, probably busy focusing on the meek sounds escaping your weakened body trying to get this over with, he was enjoying your suffering, wasn’t he?

He stops walking (something you vaguely note, too tired to try and escape now), in mere seconds he’s standing behind the rock he’s certain you’re hiding against – all he needs to do is ambush you, strike your chest with an arrow and things would be over with, he’d be back on track to Liyue and off to his next destination. And yet, his hands trembled slightly as he gripped the wooden handle of his bow – he couldn’t bring himself to aim.

But isn’t this what he wanted? He’d asked The Tsaritsa for a longer stay in Liyue for this exact moment, he’d even followed you through Liyue and up until this damned mountain. He would have finally gotten rid of the fake God, the pest that had been making its way around Teyvat making a fool of themselves and everyone around them. He wouldn’t have been so bothered if it hadn’t been someone impersonating you, but that wasn’t the case — the idiot, the absolute bastard, had the balls to make a divine comedy of you and it made Childe sick.

And yet, as he stood above you, only a few steps away, a lift of a finger from ending your life, he couldn’t.

Something deep inside him made him stall, he didn’t understand why until you finally spoke to him for the first time in the almost three days he’d been hunting you like sport.

“At least tell me what I did to deserve this, Ajax.”

Ajax, Ajax, Ajax, Ajax, Ajax, Ajax ,Ajax, Ajax, Ajax, Ajax… you called him by his name.

Ajax.

No one knew his name – more like, no one should know his name, so why did you – some outlander, some weird, demented freak making a mockery of his God know his name?

He let the thoughts simmer in his head; an outlander that knew his name, that knew where they were without even looking at a map, one that navigated the hills and their surroundings like an expert, that had the soil and skies of Teyvat answer their cries, who managed to affect Dragonspine’s weather… you weren’t a freak, he realizes as horror sinks in, and he was the bastard.

He was the bastard that was about to kill God.

The realization comes to him and he almost drops to his knees, as if someone had punched the air out of his lungs, things suddenly made more sense – the reason he was so compelled to follow you, how you seemed to never run out of energy, how things always turned out in your favor even if they shouldn’t, you were God. His God. Of course he’d be moved the way he was, even if his mind didn’t know it, his spirit, his soul did, his body did.

He was about to kill God.

The only thing that had kept him going during his time inside the Abyss, the very thing that gave him hope for a better future, he had chased away and threatened.

You hear the odd sound he lets out – something between a scream and cry, a muddled laugh of pain and confusion – and you’re tempted to look around to see what had happened, you knew Childe was close, so why didn’t he just go and get it over with? Was he… was he mocking you? This had to be an attempt to make this more fun, have you crawl out of your hiding spot so he could pounce on you and kill you in the open so he’d have more space to be creative.

You still want to turn around, after all no matter what you did your fate was sealed — you obviously weren’t leaving the mountains alive, so would it really matter if he killed you against a stiff rock or soft snow? But he beats you to it and bright blue eyes meet yours much to your shock. You feel heart stop.

He doesn’t say anything, whatever episode that had previously consumed him gone, as his hand reaches out and you flinch, instinctively throwing your body back in fear, in hopes he’d leave you alone — his eyes widen and soon fill with sadness but he doesn’t take his hand back, rather, he reaches forward to pull you closer to him, his weapons are nowhere in his person as shaky hands explore you, almost as if looking for something.

He’s hugging you, and unbeknownst to you, while trying to get a feel for your body to see if the familiar warmth he’d feel whenever he acted as your vessel was there; it was, overflowing from your shaking body, further confirming that you were indeed who he thought, who he feared, you were.

“What are you…?” You want to question, your voice comes out barely a whisper above the sounds of wind pounding against the trees.

“Say it again,” he whispers, pulling you impossibly close to his body – effectively shutting you up, “say my name again, please.”

“…” You can’t move, afraid you’d upset him and cause him to shove a knife down your throat or whatever he planned to do.

“Please,” he squeezed you tighter, you choke at the sudden roughness, “I need to know if I heard you well.”

It was a lie, of course, he knew you’d said his name loud and clear, – Ajax, Ajax, Ajax… he could repeat the memory in his head forever and not get tired – with the most adorable pronunciation he’d heard, it was making him feel dirty for the thoughts that flooded his mind in regards to you. You had called him by his name in such a familiar way, a way he’d only heard in his dreams.

“Ajax?” You let out, your body was cold and you just wanted to get everything over with, “I… I called you Ajax.”

“So it is you,” he lets out, a dry laugh coming from his lips, gloved hands grip at your clothed body like a starved man, “hah… you should’ve said something sooner, it would’ve saved us so much time… your highness.”

Completely confused you try to push him off, what was he saying? Your highness? One second he was trying to kill you, then he was asking you to say his name, and now here he was – addressing you as some sort of divine figure? If this was part of his plan to torture you, it must be very effective because you’re soon growing exhausted at the way he’s acting, your time here had been pure and utter misery, and dealing with a two faced man who didnt know if he wanted you dead or close only aggravated you more.

No matter how much you tried to push him off and get him to answer your questions – mote like demands for answers, the Harbinger wouldn’t budge, instead opting to lift you off the ground and carry you. He lifted you without a warning, leaving you speechless for a good while as you try and reason what’s going on, still so caught off guard you don’t even realize you’ve asked him where you’re going until he’s giggling like a high schooler.

Your face might have been hidden under the fur jacket he was wearing, your vision being rendered useless, but you could still hear the smile, the fondness in his voice as he stated what to him must have been the most obvious matter in the world; “I’m taking you home.”

He says it like it’s some sort of joke you’re supposed to get, but you’re left to wonder what it meant as he provided no further context.

He doesn’t let you down, literally, for even a second – making the treacherous journey from your hiding spot to where he’d set up camp with little to no complaints, seemingly deep in thought at what had just transpired in the last hour, you don’t try to make conversations either as your own thoughts consume you.

“I just can’t believe it,” he mumbles, carrying you to what you presume to be his tent, “they had it all so, so wrong… hurting and attacking you, poor little thing. It’s okay, my love, I’ll make it up to you,” he doesn’t seem to expect any answers as he drones on, “so I’m going to heal you and keep you to myself while I figure out what to do with you. Doesn’t that sound nice? Your Ajax will make it all better.”

Oh how lucky he was, meeting and recognizing you before any other man or woman in Teyvat. So what if his original intentions hadn’t been as savory as he wished they had been, the past is the past and you’re safe with him now.

You’re carried inside the tent and immediately handed a bottle of warm liquid you don’t hesitate to down — you hadn’t had a drink or food in days, and even if Childe intended to dispose of you afterwards, who were you to deny yourself of being taken care of, even if it was for one last time.

There was no one around other than you two, you realize – no Treasure Hunters nor Fatui, nor guild members seemed to be nearby. But you didn’t mind, too preoccupied trying to figure out what the blue eyed man could want to do next — you’d accepted your fate but it didn’t mean it didn’t scare you.

It’s not even a few minutes later that you realize you can’t bring yourself to ask anything, your body slowly succumbing to a paralyzed state where you could only feel warmth – while there had been no previous attempts from either of you to talk, Tartaglia too busy buried in his own thoughts to speak to you now and you too scared of setting him off, you realize too late there’s a lot you want to say.

Realizing your now relaxed state (due to the concoction he had you drink earlier on - he knew you didn’t trust him enough to willingly realz around him), Ajax begins to look at your otherwise frozen body, you’re not able to resist as he slowly strips you off your clothes in favor of his spares; ones that left you exposed as he looked over and tended to your wounds, by the time he’s got to use the alcohol to disinfect the cuts on your body you’re inches away from being knocked out.

He was uncharacteristically quiet while assessing your figure, only letting out huffs and grunts when he caught sight of a particularly deep scar or bruised patch of skin he wished he didn’t have to see. He took the moment of silence to think, you must have suffered greatly in the last few months you’d been stranded here – alone, hated, feared, it must have been hellish. The severity of his actions slowly dawned on him, he’d been brash – he hadn’t taken the chance to properly asses you, out of everyone, he should have been the one to quickly notice who you were; he’d been surrounded by imagery and depictions of you for so long, he’d dedicated so much of himself to you and yet, when he stood in front of you for the first time, he acted harshly and like a savage.

His heart aches and he hoped you were as benevolent as he remembered you being, he would work himself to his bones if it meant earning your forgiveness and favor once more.

“I can’t believe they would’ve done this to you, my love,” he finally breaks the silence, caressing your exposed collarbone, a fire now burned in the tent granting his face a gentle orange glow as the sun began to set, “I’ll take you to Liyue where I can heal you better, maybe find a doctor who can do a better job than me, but we’ll be leaving for Snezhnaya soon after you’re better so you can meet… my boss, I’m sure she’ll be ecstatic to finally meet you.”

His voice holds no strong emotion, he can’t bring himself to forgive his actions — he’d been so childish, you probably hated him.

The thought struck his heart cold, you hated him. How was he supposed to live if you hated him?

“I am sorry,” he whispers, finally making eye contact with you, his fingers caressed your skin as if you were made of fine glass, afraid you’d break further if he applied too much pressure, “I acted out, I was stupid, and I hurt you.”

Your eyes were glazed, your head felt like it was floating – but you could still register his words, and maybe it was because he was the first person who’d treated you well, like you were a human, or maybe it was because you were too high off whatever substances was now flowing through your body but you spoke (even though it was too much effort for you to try and say anything too long).

“I… forgive you.” You let out a broken smile, muscles too tired to try anything that looked, well, good but your words were enough for him.

“You’re too kind to me,” he mumbles, slowly intertwining his fingers with your own – ecstasy slowly pumping through his veins as your words settle in, “I’m so lucky to have such a kind God,” he whispers into the crook of your neck, “so let me make it up to you, my providence.”

“Before that though, I…” He pauses, if he took you to Snezhnaya you’d be able to be protected by the Fatui and Her Excellency, you’d help bring their plan to life faster than ever — you’d be able to enact your just revenge with the Fatui by your side, with him as your second in command, however he could always… “I need to make sure I’m your favorite, don’t you think? I still need to make up for what I’ve done.”

God, was he a selfish bastard — but you’d forgive him, wouldn’t you? You’d already forgiven him for being so cruel to you, you’d forgive him for being selfish too, right?

His cheeks earn a sudden pink tint, your favorite; you’d love him, you’d adore him – you’d rule over the land with him by your side, he’d be everything you’d ever need in a partner, in a man.

Once you’d regained your strength, you’d shower him in love, you’d ravage him with gifts, you’d dedicate yourself to him, you might even allow him a chance to worship your body — give him the privilege to explore and devote himself to you like no other had done before. He’d become your most loyal follower, your most treasured creations, he’d become yours. Sure, he would still have The Tsaritsa to serve but when even she worshiped you, she’d understand. He could become a bargaining chip, he’d become yours – your knight in shining armor, in exchange for your help.

There were so many ways he could become yours, he felt a perverted shiver run down his spine.

Hah… he really wanted to be your favorite, to be yours.

They’d all treated you so badly up until he came, he was the first to realize who you were and your worth so surely that allowed him some leeway to cement himself as yours, only yours and only for you.

He slowly climbed above your dizzied body, leaning down to press a soft trail of kisses down your cheeks, his hands still entangled with yours. A soft moan leaves your mouth, earning you a groan from the man, if only you knew how much he had waited for this moment.

“Mmh, ah,” a trail of saliva connects the flushed skin of your neck to his tongue as he speaks, “let me be yours, I’ll…,” a lick is planted near your ear and Childe can’t help but groan at the taste – you were so addicting, “I’ll make it up to you… I’ll become your favorite.”