Zhongli Simp

💧🔶 Gif Compilation (2021) 💧🔶

“You know,” starts Zhongli when Childe hands him a steaming mug of hot cocoa, “when I was young—”

Oh, that’s never a good start. The thought of Zhongli as once young is a strange and silly thing. Childe snorts and Zhongli pauses, eyes narrowing as his mouth curls slightly. “No, no, go on. You have my attention.”

Zhongli huffs softly, curling his long, slender fingers around his cup. “As I said—” 

Well, he sounds a little testy. Childe hides a grin behind his mug as he sips, resisting the urge to laugh.

 “—When I was younger—” Minutely better but still hilarious to imagine. “—chocolate used to be gifted to me as a rare delicacy.”

“Oh?”

Zhongli nods. “It was considered somewhat sacred and befitting of a god. So naturally, as Rex Lapis—”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. They bowed to you, blah blah.” Childe waves his hand. “Just drink the damn chocolate.”

Zhongli humors him, raising the cup to his mouth. Slowly. He savors it, like he savors wine or tea, letting the boiling liquid wash over his tongue without a jerk. Rude. Childe’s tongue still stings from his last sip. 

“Tasty,” says Zhongli. “Sweet—but not too much. The peppermint is a nice addition.” 

Childe basks in Zhongli’s praise, leg jittery as he bounces in his chair. He can’t help but feel warm at his words, smiling wide as they sit there in the kitchen, toasty in the teapot. 

“That being said—” Childe thought too soon. Zhongli laughs at his expression and leans forward. “A tease,” he says, kissing Childe’s temple. “But you should have seen your face. You’re cute when you’re annoyed.”

“Are you coming onto me?”

Zhongli chuckles again, catching Childe’s chin in his fingers. He dips close and says, “Always.”

It’s sweet, just like the kiss they share next. Zhongli tastes like chocolate and peppermint as they move against each other lazily, chasing saccharine pleasure. These are the moments he loves, the ones that linger, sinking into his gut. The soft teasing, the gentleness of Zhongli’s touch. 

Maybe the holiday season makes it headier, but it’s not as though Childe’s complaining.

“What are you thinking about?” Zhongli’s voice is quiet. 

Childe pulls back with a grin. “What do you say to lighting up the fireplace? We can go cuddle by it. I’ll even let you pick the book. Whatever you want.”

Zhongli perks at that, his back stiffening. If he were in a different form, his tail would definitely be wagging. Cute. So, so cute. “Any book?” he asks, eyes wide. 

He looks both young and old—young in the smoothness of his face, but old in the way it’s weighed down by exhaustion. But at this moment, he’s full of life, already kicking back his stool and heading for the bookshelf. 

Childe shakes his head and follows suit. He strikes a match and lights the logs in the fireplace. He piles pillows and blankets onto the floor in a comfortable heap. He’s laying down, their mugs of hot chocolate refilled to the brim and steaming when Zhongli arrives, book in hand. 

“What—Zhongli, no.”

“You said whatever I want.”

“A real novel! Not an etiquette book—”

Zhongli clucks his tongue and settles in, his back against the settee as he leans against it. Of course, he’d pick something boring. He owns literal eons worth of texts.

“Customs of Liyue,” Childe grumbles. But, he settles into Zhongli’s lap with little wasted time, laying on his back, head cradled by plush thighs. A sip of his chocolate, the sweetness burning his tongue. The sound of a book being cracked open, followed by Zhongli’s deep voice.

“‘In the earliest and humblest days of Liyue's history, Liyue's farmer-forebears would elect community representatives to greet the Geo Archon on arrival and give him an appropriate send-off on departure—’”

Childe snorts. How apt, considering their earlier conversation about chocolate. Zhongli pauses, a hand snaking down to pinch the meat of his bicep. “Ow! Okay, okay, I’m shutting up.”

“‘After making lavish offerings and reciting solemn blessings…’”

Zhongli’s hand moves to rest against Childe’s scalp, fingers digging into his unruly auburn hair. Childe sinks as Zhongli pets it, lulled by the gentle scratching of his nails. The low timbre of his voice. The warmth of the fire on a chilly night, and the way that the hot chocolate just melts away the unease in his muscles.