Synopsis: You’re just an ordinary someone who lives alone and likes to play Genshin Impact, nothing more, nothing less. One day you’re drawn towards a mysterious light, and find out the game is more real than you thought.
Foul Legacy Childe x Reader
Pronouns: Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Comfort
Warnings: Allusions to depression and anxiety, rain, mentions of crying, fear, panic
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It’s raining again today.
Not that you really mind- it’s peaceful, in a way, getting to stay inside where it’s quiet and warm, all while listening to the soft pitter-patter of droplets upon the roof. Something about it just soothes your heart; a welcome relief from the anxious torrents your nerves normally have to endure. When the rain comes, the world shrinks to just you, your house, and the almost annoyingly comfortable blanket you adore.
Oh, and your favorite game, of course.
Genshin Impact isn’t exactly unknown these days, and you’d been one of many to delve into the game and become an avid player. There’s nothing better than immersing yourself in the story and characters of the game and ignoring all the troubles and tribulations of life, the tension from one long day after another easing away as you slide into your seat and press the power button on your device. The screen flickers to life, dotted with notifications from nowhere and everywhere- family, work, other games.
The greetings from friends are your favorite, making you smile even on the darkest of days. Quickly you reply before clicking on Genshin’s icon, drumming your nails on the desk as the shining door on the home screen opens and you watch the seven elemental sigils turn from light to dark. Finally the Geo symbol loads and you’re launched into the game, appearing exactly where you left off- outside the Golden House.
A small grin spreads across your face as you enter the domain, the one weekly boss you never, ever forget to fight, not for materials, but to see him.
When Childe appears you hide a laugh behind your hand and greet him kindly- it’s a habit you’ve formed out of sheer joy of seeing your favorite character.
“Hello, how are you?”
You prop your head in your hands, listening to his usual spiel about opportunities and surrender and promising to be gentle. You sigh at that last part, knowing you won’t be able to promise the same for him if you wanted to reach your favorite phase.
The battle isn’t difficult- just the opposite, in fact, with how far you’ve progressed in the story- but you still love it all the same, the anticipation of seeing your favorite part- the best part- quickly growing as you whittle away his health through phases one and two, taking your time to admire his movements and voicelines before you strike the final blow and the cutscene plays.
You lean back in your chair, intently watching the clip with shining eyes as Childe turns his back to the Traveler and transforms, landing on the ground as Foul Legacy, and you have to hold yourself back from letting out a dreamy sigh upon seeing your favorite character in his absolute best form. You watch as he calls to the Devouring Deep and slams his spear down, sending the Traveler and Paimon tumbling down into the lower arena, your thousandth time seeing it.
But no matter how many times you get to witness his Foul Legacy form, it still takes your breath away, and you eagerly poise your fingers over your keyboard as the fight draws near. Your Traveler falls heavily onto the floor, rising to turn and watch Childe slowly descend to the arena. He reaches the floor, a gust of wind flinging pieces of the broken ceiling away and into the corners of the Golden House, you lean forwards expectantly and-
The game crashes, pixels freezing and jolting unnaturally before shutting down with a small blip, your computer background staring back at you. The lights flicker and hastily you shut off your machine, suddenly acutely aware of how the wind howls outside and the rain beats against your window. A frown pulls at your lips, and you let out a melancholic sigh, staring vaguely outside in a halfhearted attempt to combat the return of your rather dreary mood. Foul Legacy was supposed to lift your spirits- at least for a little bit, enough to get you on your feet and complete a few tasks you’ve been putting off- but even that you’re unable to do properly, and you slump, hiding your face in your arms.
Something flickers beyond the windowpane, bright enough to flash past your closed eyes and you start in surprise, squinting blearily outside. It’s pitch black, darkness falling quickly during winter, but you can still see the outlines of the windblown trees and woods beyond your house as something shining like a star dances between them. You stare, entranced, and the light flares once before dying to a low, faint glow. It’s steady but dim, and with your eyes still trained on the peculiar light you pick up your coat from a nearby table, slipping it on like a robot learning how to be human before darting downstairs. With a fling of the door and a hood over your head you run out into the night, snagged by an urgent, burning curiosity, or perhaps a desire for some distraction in your life, as you venture towards the odd glow like a moth drawn to a flame.
Despite the cover of trees overhead, you’re still drenched after about five minutes of walking, face and hands smeared with dirt from pushing aside branches and leaves. Just then a particularly vengeful twig smacks you in the face, and you groan as you fling it aside, rubbing the bridge of your nose. You’re really beginning to regret coming out here, shooting a glare towards the faint light that lured you out of the comfort of your home and into the pouring rain, and despite the temptation of turning back, you press onwards out of spite.
You seem to be over halfway there anyways, might as well keep going.
It’s only a few more minutes before you’re nearly at the source of the mysterious light, and the irritation hanging around your head like a dark cloud dissipates, replaced by intrigue and nervous excitement as you jog closer, stumbling over stray roots that you can’t see. At last the light is at your feet, bringing a hand up to shield your eyes although it only glows dimly, and through the rain you can just barely make out the shape of a figure collapsed on the ground.
The figure has horns, and one step closer sends you reeling back, eyes wide in shock and disbelief because the faint light you’ve been following surrounds a creature over twice your height, with a crimson mask and dark armor and cape-like wings dotted with tiny stars.
It’s Childe, Foul Legacy, and your breath catches in your throat from panic as you hastily step back. You blink several times, sure you’re simply hallucinating, but Foul Legacy remains, looking real as ever, and instinctively you back away towards your distant house. You’re dreaming. You must be dreaming, because this can’t be real- Childe isn’t real. He’s from a game, and you’re vividly dreaming, that’s the only answer, because this is impossible.
Then Childe’s eye opens and you freeze in your tracks.
It’s the same color as his human form- deep, ocean blue- but it shines like a crystal, pearlescent surface seemingly filled with tears. Or perhaps it’s just the rain- you’re not sure if Foul Legacy can even cry in the first place.
Childe looks dazedly around before his gaze lands on you, and you stiffen, every nerve in your body screaming to turn and run, game character or not. But Childe simply reaches towards you, claws twitching from cold and fear, and whimpers, your heart breaking at the sound. He whines pleadingly when you refuse to approach, desperately trying to grasp you before falling back in a dead faint, the faint glow fading further.
You stand still as stone, the annoyance of having rain soaked into your hair and clothes gone, hands squeezing the edge of your coat in a vice grip as you stare at the unconscious Foul Legacy. Quietly you walk over and kneel beside him, mind going a mile a minute. Thickly you swallow, blinking away the tears that sprang at the corners of your eyes when you heard the pain and terror in his voice, and you roughly scrub at your cheeks. This is so dangerous- How stupid can you be, anyone smart would go home and pretend they never saw anything. But you can’t just leave him here, and as you glance back down at Childe your teeth begin gnawing at your tongue.
Curse you and your soft, silly heart.
Childe’s lighter than you expect, even in Foul Legacy, and with hands unsure of themselves you’re able to lift him onto your back and begin the trek home, raindrops slipping between the trees and filling your muddy footprints to guide you home.
Hurriedly you run to your room to retrieve blankets, almost slipping on the wet floor in your haste to return and toss them over Childe’s form. You can hear him breathing, see the slow rise and fall of his chest, and in relief you slide to sit on the ground, idly squeezing water out of your sopping shirt. Your phone dings from its place on the table and you squint at the message from your friend, something about Childe’s boss fight glitching and people not being able to fight more than a few seconds before it crashes.
Foul Legacy shivers in his sleep, and you look from the message to him, hesitantly extending your hand and brushing your fingers against his face. It feels so real- hard and tough like bone, and suddenly Childe lets out a sweet, coo-like noise and leans into your touch. You snatch your hand away, and he whimpers pitifully at the loss of your warmth and presence as you start pacing around the room, glancing nervously at your “guest” every now and then. With a shaky exhale you stride to the kitchen to fetch water and calm your nerves, the growing pit in your stomach slowly eating away at your wellbeing.
Childe lets out a yawn when you return, eye cracking open and looking blearily around the room, and almost immediately you press yourself against the wall, glass of water almost shattering from how tightly you hold it. His eye widens when he sees you, a chirp slipping from his maw as he stumbles from the couch and falls to the floor with a yelp, too weak to support himself, and your apprehension vanishes as you rush to support him. With gentle reassurance you help him back onto the couch and perch yourself next to him, sitting stiffly on the edge of the cushions as Childe watches you piercingly.
Suddenly he leans forward and bumps his forehead against your shoulder, trilling and crooning softly and moving to wrap you in his arms. Your hands spring up to shield yourself and find themselves buried in damp but fluffy hair, Childe tilting his head as if trying to nudge your hands into certain positions.
When you tentatively scratch behind his horn you swear Childe melts, and his purrs fill the room.
You’re confused- so, so confused at how Childe acts like he’s known you all his life, acts like you’ve been friends forever, acts like he adores you, when he should be nothing more than a handful of pixels on your computer, and you frown. Foul Legacy whines at your conflicted expression, pressing his cheek against yours insistently to bring back your smile, even just barely. For a few moments you indulge and allow yourself to stroke his soft fur, listening to his delighted clicks and trills and watching him snuggle himself happily into your lap before you sigh for the umpteenth time that night.
“I should find somewhere for you…”
Childe lets out a screech, shooting up from his place on your legs and whimpering, almost crying at your words, and you hastily wave your hands.
“It’s not that I don’t want you here! It’s just…” You trail off, gaze lingering at your hands, downcast. You can’t bring yourself to say the words that go through your head- Why would he want to stay here? You can’t even take care of yourself. He deserves somewhere better, somewhere more comfortable, someone more put together and actually able to help him find a way back to wherever he needs to go.
Someone other than you.
Talons gently cup your cheek, thumbs gently swiping over your skin as Childe croons. His rumbles calm your racing heart, so it’s not twisting painfully in your chest, and he gives your face a small lick, chittering happily when it draws a faint smile from you. He bunches up the blankets on the couch, Abyssal instinct telling him to make somewhere soft and safe, and with you in his arms Childe burrows into the newly crafted nest with a purr.
Don’t you understand? It’s always been you, ever since you first set foot in his domain and gave him a chance to wake up, to live. You’re what fills his heart with warmth, fighting day after day in his gilded, golden cage, until he could finally break free and see you. Sometimes, on the days he could see you were sad, he wanted nothing more than to sweep you into a hug and simply hold you, tell you everything would be alright, but he was merely a puppet to the program. But now he’s free, and there’s so much lost time to be made up for. He can help around the house- help keep you safe, keep you company! Anything you want him to do, just please, please let him stay here, where you are.
But truly, you never wanted him to leave, and you feel your eyes grow damp with relief.
Childe feels you exhale, more relaxed than you’ve ever been, and your hands trail up to find purchase in his hair once again, massaging gently. His fur grows even fluffier, if that’s even possible, wings shivering from the force and volume of his purrs as he chases your hands to nuzzle his face into, like a very affectionate cat. He slumps over onto your stomach, crooning drowsily at the warmth before craning his head to look you in the eye, your face heating up at how much love he stares at you with as he mumbles in low, growling tones that haven’t been used since he clawed his way out from a gash in the earth.
“Hello… how are you?”