1863rd Yjh

(some of) Lee and Chrome route pics from BOE(Ballad of Eden)!!

MORE ANGST, MORE SUFFERING

WTF IS WRONG WITH KURO?! I LEGIT FUCKING CRY WHEN WATCHING THIS SHIT. WTF LIV SACRIFICED SO MUCH JUST FOR THE SAKE OF EVERYONE'S HAPPINESSHFJSJSHDHOSJWNF

ALSO THAT PART WHEN LUCIA RUSHED TO SAVE HER? AND THEN SKK CAME TO HELP HER? AND THEN WIPED A TEAR OFF OF LIV'S FACE?! FUCKING GOT ME IN THE HEART

## GETTING HANMA’S TATTOOS AFTER HE DIED

tw: angst, death, mentions of needles, smoking

you remember talking about getting matching tattoos with hanma at least once, your lover joking that if you wanted ones on the back of your hands like his he’d have to knock you out while they did it in your sleep but there you were, in the tattoo parlor alone and gritting your teeth while the needle dug into the skin of your hand.

what hurt more than the pain of getting the tattoo was daydreaming about how he would react to seeing you like this, a wide cocky grin while your free hand held his to brace the pain. he’d make fun of you to distract himself from how hard you were holding him while you curse at him, yell even, not caring that you were in a public place. hanma was a piece of shit, but he was your piece of shit and god did you miss him.

sometimes you think getting the tattoos were a bad idea ‘cause with every passing day, your hands would look more and more like his. you’d hold a cigarette in between your fingers even though you didn’t smoke, trying to remember what he looked like smoking right next to you and waving the cigarette around as he talked.

there was always a whiff of tobacco whenever he’d touch your face, so you’d crush it in between your fingertips to get the smell to stick. his hands were rough like sandpaper too, so you’d scratch them, rub them up against a rough surface to dry them out.

now you realize getting the tattoos were a bad idea. you came to that conclusion when you’d look in the mirror and touch your face, crossing one hand over the other so your left palm touched the right side of your face and vice versa. with the smell of tobacco, the roughness, and the tattoos to complete it all, it almost felt like he was holding you.

you’d do it often, your left hand cupping your right cheek and stroking it with your thumb.

but no matter how many times you closed your eyes, how hard you imagined it, how many cigarettes you’ve smoked, hanma wasn’t coming back.

Damn same

me too Smoliv

6 full combo in a day, not bad.

A LIFETIME IN REPEAT / kamisato ayato ( genshin impact ) ( WHAT WILL SURVIVE OF US IS LOVE ) a/n: reincarnation au. quote by philip larkin. title from eden - circles. for @yelans spring serenades event w/ the theme being rebirth. thank you for arranging this !!

i. under the cherry blossoms lies love eternal, wistful and tranquil in existence. under the cherry blossoms there is the blooming of flowers in spring reborn, the sun brilliant in her ways as she blesses the earth with warmth once more.

under the cherry blossoms is a promise of tomorrow in the way ayato holds you, bodies pressed closely together, his hands resting on your hips. you sway together, side to side, in temporary respite ; the quickening and slowing of time blurs -- and it doesn't make sense, but it does : the way you could find sanctuary in his arms forever, the way it’s over in the blink of an eye and you find yourselves missing each other all the more.

“relax, love.”

ayato whispers the words softly into your ear and laughs when you tense in response. your cheeks heat up, but you tell yourself it’s from the weather and leave it at that. you’ve never gotten used to his endearing terms and you’re sure he plays it to his advantage.

“i don’t slow dance-- and when were you so romantic, anyway?”

“i’ve always been a romantic at heart,” comes the matter-of-fact answer, though you sense underlying amusement in it, “now, relax. you can always lean on me.”

your lips part with the intention of a ( hopefully ) composed reply, but his smile is all too gentle, so the words fade into oblivion. instead, there is a feeling of happiness that dwells deep within the heart. you let out a sigh of defeat, pretend you didn’t hear him chuckle, wrap your arms around his neck, and lean your head against his chest.

“the flowers are beautiful this season.” you half-heartedly murmur, face still ablaze as you seek distraction elsewhere. ayato knows this, kisses you on the head in quiet comfort. you feel him smile against your skin and you do not think you will ever get tired of the sensation.

“yes, they are.” he says, and somewhere in the tidal waves of the soul, there is a bittersweetness that invokes itself in the thought of a future known. “they are beautiful.”

( under the cherry blossoms is serenity and devotion and everything birthed from love. under the cherry blossoms there are lovers who will grow old and gray together, hand in hand.

under the cherry blossoms, in yet another spring, will lie love eternal after days long passed. in the roots of tomorrow, it will be found again. always again. )

ii. the colors blur, window to window, view by view. the subway hums, floods itself with life as passengers travel to and from, and here you are, gaze distant, vacant. waiting. you live this life now and it’s all you know. it feels weird, empty-- but you think that’s kinda how it goes nowadays : learn what it means to be an adult, or rather, function as one, have a crisis, think you’re taking all the wrong twists & turns, and learn to fake it like everyone else.

it is exhausting. you are exhausted.

you sigh, discontentment transparent on your visage. the subway buzzes again, but all the sounds twist into background noise, automatically blocked out from your senses. you fail to notice the stranger that appears before you until he gets a little too close for comfort-- and that’s when you’re suddenly all too aware of how crowded it is. you try to step back, take maybe half a step, really, and that hardly does much, but he senses your discomfort and offers a wry, apologetic smile.

you know that smile, is your immediate thought, but you don’t get to reflect on it too much before someone shoves him into you. he wraps an arm around you, staggers for a moment before finding stability, and here you are, one hand on his shoulder and the other desperately hanging onto the overhead handle.

“i deeply apologize.” are the first words you hear, and there is something about his voice that soothes the anxiety that brews in your chest. “are you hurt?”

your breath hitches in your throat. your eyes sting suddenly and your vision goes unclear, and that stupid, stupid, lump in your throat is too noticeable and bothersome. this is ridiculous and dramatic, you joke to yourself, and you want to find rationale, reason-- something -- to explain this whirlwind of emotions that sweeps you off your feet.

you nod because that’s all you really can do; you want to say sorry when you see concern adorn his features, but he smiles, he smiles and you’ve seen it before, somehow, and you think you are crying now.

“‘m okay.” you whisper. “i’m okay. thank you.”

“you’re welcome.”

the subway hums again. longing fills your heart. you want to know why.

the stranger clears his throat, lets go of you, and you stand before each other in silence.

“my name is ayato.” he tells you. he offers you a handkerchief. “i believe we’ve met before.”

tears trail down your face. it is three in the afternoon. you are on the subway with a stranger. you do not remember something you should.

“i don’t remember you.”

ayato’s smile almost falters, but he is used to masking such emotions, so he maintains it ever so perfectly, hoping that you will not feel guilt for something that is not in your control.

( you don’t remember him. that’s okay, he thinks. he will wait for you until the end of time. it’s okay, even if it hurts. )

iii. with an aching heart made of uncertainty, you fall asleep to peaceful dreams that night. it takes place in a regal estate, splendid and grand in its decor. you wonder how you find yourself in such a setting. it’s busy-- chaotic and calm at the same time, moving constantly at a steady pace as voices and faces flood the halls. you recognize these voices, hear yourself among them.

the faces are blurred. all of them.

this is where you belong. these are days you’ve experienced before ; nostalgia lines itself in the hollows of your ribs, wraps its knowing around your lungs. you have lived and breathed this life.

you can’t remember.

you wake up. the ache grows deeper, burrows itself in fragile heartstrings. you fall back asleep, vision engulfed in pink hues of cherry blossoms and ayato’s name lingering on your tongue.

iv. you don’t remember anything, not really. you know you dreamt of something strange and significant and it bothers you, horribly so-- but these things will come in time, you suppose. so you move on with your day, hope you can find solace in falling back to your daily routine.

you enter the cafe, inhaling deeply when the aroma of coffee overloads your senses. there’s comfort to be found in the little things, you remind yourself, ordering your regular drink. it’s not long before you’ve settled into the corner of the cafe, set up your laptop and stationary. your focus goes into your work for an hour or two-- maybe longer-- until you see a familiar face before you again.

“what a coincidence.” ayato muses, curiosity in purple eyes. “i did not expect to see you here.”

you stare at each other in silence for a moment-- you, more so out of shock, ayato, truthfully, in amusement at such a reaction to his presence.

“you must have missed me, finding me already.” comes your response, a forced lightheartedness in your voice meant to disperse the tension in your body.

“i did, in fact. may i sit with you?”

you almost want to think he’s joking with you, but the way he looks at you is too tender, too knowing, and somehow, it breaks your heart.

( ayato spends hours with you at that cafe. it feels like home, feels right. feels like something is missing and it shouldn’t be. )

v. you don’t ask ayato what he meant back then, where he recognized you or how he recognized you. you didn’t ask when you first met on the subway, didn’t ask at the coffee shop, didn’t ask during any single encounter you’ve had in these past few months.

you are frightened of the unknown, and perhaps you are a coward for that.

( because you want to know, but there’s something in the nagging feeling you carry that makes you want to run away from all of this. but you don’t because you know you shouldn’t. because in all the time you have spent with him since that fated meeting, maybe there is a place in your heart for him that grows larger and larger and maybe that scares you. )

you walk along the quiet streets, side by side with ayato. the storm has long passed, puddles of water reflecting gloomy skies. it is nearing the end of fall but the weather does not let up, always unpredictable in its path.

“i enjoy the rain when i am aware of its incoming presence.” ayato mumbles, gaze cast upwards at the clouds.

“you don’t like getting caught up in it and getting your beautiful hair ruined?”

“i don’t.” he laughs at your teasing tone. “you find my hair beautiful?”

“i do.”

“how generous of you.” he hums, and there’s an extra little skip in his step now. “i find you beautiful, as well.”

your face gets hot. how embarrassing.

“so romantic.” you mumble, clearing your throat. you can’t help but feel familiarity in such exchanges. “what’s your favorite season, anyway?”

ayato’s gait comes to a standstill. you pause, watch as a sorrowful and hopeful smile rests on the curve of his lips. he glances up at the sky once more before he looks at you, his hand brushing against the back of yours.

“i have always been fond of spring.”

“why’s that?”

you don’t move your hand away. he notices this, remains cautious, gentle, and laces his fingers with yours. it’s warm, comforting.

“it reminds me of someone i love.”

you freeze, see the way ayato looks at you-- like there’s something more, like he has known you in a life past-- and you want to speak, but nothing can register or come to mind.

the rain pours again, but neither of you move.

“you told me that we’ve met before.” your voice quivers. “so why don’t i remember you? i know you. i dreamt about you once, i think. i don’t know. why don’t i know? where have we met? what do you know?”

panic arises with each word spoken. you’re crying again, just like you did the first time you met. you feel like an idiot, your chest tightening with anxiety. ayato squeezes your hand. it would be so easy to tell you everything, to bring the memories back all at once. but such things take time, he kindly reminds himself, so he will wait until it all comes back.

“you’re not going to tell me.” you whisper. he shakes his head, places an umbrella over your heads. “then tell me this: the person you love-- is it me? and did i love you once, before?”

ayato smiles, just as he always does, and the tears run rampant.

( you both know the answer already. you know this, don’t you? )

vi. you dream again that night. it’s a different dream, but almost the same-- the hustle and bustle surrounds you, overwhelms you. you’re not entirely familiar with this environment yet. you only know some of the voices-- a bright, cheerful one that always seems to bring a smile to your face. a soothing one that always brings reassurance. you hear a bark and playful laughter, and in your heart there is relief.

you’ve done this before.

“daydreaming again?”

you recognize that voice. you are quick to turn on your heel, though reluctance fills the corners of your mind. you are afraid the faces will be hidden again, obscure just like last time, but they are not.

ayato stands before you, almost entirely the same with exception of attire. maybe you are daydreaming-- this is a dream, after all, and the boundaries between what is real and what is not are too chaotic to distinguish. but that doesn’t stop you from hoping, from thinking this could be what you were trying to remember after all. in the realization of such, you cry again. you cry again and again because you hope that this is it, that it’s not just a dream, that you’ve finally come to understand ayato’s words and what that emptiness meant.

“what is it? what’s wrong?” ayato asks, dabbing the tears away with a handkerchief. you know that one, recall it from the subway.

“nothing’s wrong.” you laugh in disbelief, shake your head as his thumb grazes over your cheek. “i’m okay. we’re okay.”

( you wake up the next morning. you remember it all. )

vii. it is spring now. you have not seen him in a long while-- perhaps out of avoidance or a clash in schedules, neither of you are sure. you weren’t ready to tell him once you awoke from that dream, more so because you couldn’t comprehend it all-- thoma, ayaka, ayato--

you spent a lifetime with him before. you were married to him and you loved him. you danced under the cherry blossoms on the first day of spring and you told him you didn’t slow dance, that you weren’t good at it, but he didn’t care, as long as he could hold you close.

you sit on the park bench with him now, quiet. children play in the distance, their laughter filling the silence that rests heavily in the air. your hands wring nervously in your lap, words unspoken lodged in your throat. you want to tell him, but you don’t know how. you want to tell him that you know, and you’re almost sure he knows this, too.

“have you been well? it’s been awhile.”

he starts off slowly, treads carefully on thin ice.

“i’ve been...thinking. i dreamt about you again.”

“oh?”

“i cried a lot in the dream.”

“you do that often in reality, too.”

you laugh for the first time that day, feeling your body relax against the bench. your hand rests at your side now, brushes against ayato’s. wanting. waiting. hoping.

the cherry blossoms are in bloom now, the wind casting the petals along the sky. they fall gently, gracefully, and it reminds you both of that day.

they’re beautiful, aren’t they?” ayato asks, taking note of the closed distance between you two. he swallows hard, curious as to why he hesitates now- because maybe you truly do remember now, and maybe this is the moment he’s been waiting for all this time-- the reunion of two lovers. his hand finds yours. you do not pull away.

“they always have been.” you smile faintly, intertwining your fingers. you ignore the way your voice trembles and you hope he does, too. you inhale deeply, close your eyes. “can i lean on you, ayato?”

you know. you have to, he thinks, and he cannot help the surprise that appears in purple hues. you look at him, countenance riddled with apprehension, and there’s that familiar curl of the lips you have seen many times before. he nods in confirmation, so you rest your head on his shoulder.

pink petals fall onto your laps-- delicate, loved, and seen.

“i remember you.” you whisper. the wind almost drowns out the words, but his grip on your hand tightens. “i remember our life back then-- being married, spending time in the garden when it was the beginning of spring. i-- i took so long ayato. i took so long to remember you.”

in your voice there is regret, but in his eyes there is understanding. you want to apologize, but you know he would tell you there is no need for such things.

“i knew you would, in time. i would have waited for you, nonetheless.”

ah. you’re going to start crying again. you laugh when he pulls out that handkerchief again, but when the tears come, he kisses them away ever so gently before murmuring words of comfort. his arms wrap around you, hold reassuring and filled with ardor.

“i missed you.” you whisper against his lips, and how lovely it is to feel him smile against them once more. “i love you.”

“i love you, too.” he tells you, once, twice, a million times-- as many as he needs to until it is known. “i will love and find you in every lifetime, my love.”

( under the cherry blossoms is rebirth and reinvigoration of life. under the cherry blossoms, there is love lost and love found.

under the cherry blossoms, there is you and the one you love, reunited at last. )

no bc- i just read “snowball” and cuddly childe + winter/cold + his family has found its way into my hard and now i’m in need of comfort scenarios now that it’s so cold pls 😭 if you want ofc! this is just a suggestion as a very touch starved reader and fan of ur work :,)!!

home for the holidays

✧ synopsis: [fluff] headcanons and drabbles; childe brings you to his home for the holiday season :) ✧ ft. childe x gn!reader (+some of childe’s family!) ✧ warnings: slightly suggestive towards the end but nothing serious, mentions of food, spoilers for childe’s real name ✧ a/n: not super wintery, but i'm in the mood for family bonding and cuddles; i hope this is alright!! (sorry it took me forever to get to this btw lmao)

»»————-　 ✦ 　————-««

✧ okay, so, harbingers don’t really get time off- including for the holidays, buuuut- childe was finally given a chance to oversee some recruits in snezhnaya, and it just so happens to line up with the holiday season, aaaand… well, he can handle some work and still get to see his family, right? right, of course, he is tartaglia after all, there’s nothing he can’t do!! ✧ plus… he’s managed to convince you to come along with him. so, it’s like he’s killing three birds with one stone! hell yeah!

✧ as eager as he is, childe can’t help but feel oddly anxious about bringing you to meet his family for the first time (despite the fact that he has been begging you to come to snezhnaya with him ever since you two have gotten together. and probably way before that, too. he’s just been very excited to share the part of himself that isn’t completely tainted by the abyss and fatui with you) ✧ he’s aware that they’re going to love you, of course-why wouldn’t they?- but what if you don’t like them? what if his siblings annoy you (or worse, embarrass him) or his parents say something offputting? he adores you, but he doesn’t know if he could handle you and his family not getting on. ✧ though, if he’s nervous, you’re an emotional wreck, whether you show it or not. childe’s told you about his family before, and the fond smile and sparkle in his eyes when he thinks of them has always made your heart flutter- they sound so sweet. you’re excited, but perhaps a bit too eager to please. you’ve spent a lot of your time recently trying to find clothing and supplies that will both protect you from snezhnaya’s freezing temperature while also giving the impression of “really-good-partner-for-your-son-please-accept-me.” oh archons, you really hope that they approve of you. ✧ both of your worries are quickly swept away when you reach his family home-more of a manor if we’re being honest, the lad is rich and he keeps his mf family taken CARE of and one of childe’s sister’s opens the door before squealing happily and calling out for the rest of the family. ✧ childe’s mother absolutely gives you the biggest, warmest hug in the entire world- definitely hugs you first before hugging her son. she might also cry; it’s been a while since she’s gotten to see him in person, and look! he’s so grown up now! he even has a lovely partner!! :’((!!! she has chosen pointedly to not count being a harbinger as maturing. ✧ it’s honestly quite lively for the first few hours of your visit; the younger ones are bouncing around you in their excitement, the older siblings are discussing new happenings with childe (and teasing him about you, of course), childe’s mother is rushing around trying to clean their already very nice house, and childe’s father is… absent. he did not come down to greet you or his son. ✧ if you start to feel overwhelmed, childe is quick to notice, and will usher you to a different room away from everyone else for a bit to make sure you’re okay.

Childe tells his family he’s going to give you a “tour of the house”, taking you by the hand and leading you down the hall before anyone can say anything. He takes you to what must be a study, walls lined with bookshelves (save for the space where a stuffed bear head is mounted on the wall) and a desk in front of the window. Outside, the snow is blowing across the frosted ground in swirling clouds, a frozen howl echoing against the glass.

“You alright?” He asks, pushing to close the door behind him. You nod, working on maintaining control of your breathing. Childe’s hand reaches to brush just in between your shoulders, tentative at first, but as you lean into his touch, he snakes his entire arm across your back and pulls you into his side. He lets you recline against him, allowing you to take however much time you need to calm down. Ever so faintly, you can hear the relaxing rhythm of his pulse mixing with the winds outside.

Once you’ve been grounded and are feeling a bit better, you move from his arms to sit atop of the desk. There’s not much you need to brush aside, though you do spot an interesting paper reading, “Gifts for the kids”. You try to spot Childe’s name, curious about what his family would get him, but a clear of his throat summons your attention before you can.

“So…” He starts, taking a step toward you. His eyes wander away from you, and there’s an air of feigned nonchalance that you’ve come to know all too well.

“Sooo?” You mimic.

“Are they… My family, I mean, do you…?”

He’s cute when he’s stumbling over his words, you think. It’s rather rare for your boyfriend’s smarmy, talkative ass to be at a loss of what to say. You know Childe really values your opinion, but is worried about it at the same time.

“Your family is wonderful, ‘jax.” You smile reassuringly, and his eyes light up. “They’re a bit excitable and energetic, but… I like it. They remind me of you.”

Now you’ve done it; Childe immediately descends upon you to steal a kiss, causing you to laugh a bit at how abrupt he is. His kisses are excitable and energetic, just like his family, just like him.

You two are, however, interrupted by a chorus of “Ooo”s, “Eww”s and “Aww”s. You both part early, glancing over at the door to see his little siblings' pairs of eyes peeking through the doorway, watching your antics in amusement. Childe narrows his eyes at them while your composure flusters, before he puts his lips back on yours. The children shriek with giggles as they scurry off, chanting some Snezhnayan version of “kissing in a tree.”

✧ when the two of you return from your, ahem, departure, you notice a tall, tired looking man in the living room. childe’s mom is discussing something with him in hushed, adamant tones, falling silent when she spots you. the once vibrant atmosphere in the room seems to have vanished. childe’s hand stiffens against yours, but his gaze remains steady. the other man does not speak, merely allowing his eyes to wander from Childe, to you, and then back to Childe. He gives a small nod, before turning to kiss childe’s mother on the forehead and leaving through the front door. ah. that must have been childe’s father. ✧ you want to say something, ask about what the hell that was, but his mother prevents you from speaking with a cheerful announcement that dinner will be served soon. she’s already making her way to the kitchen as she calls childe to come and help set up, leaving you in the now all-too-cold living room by yourself. ✧ big families mean big meals, but your added presence apparently means childe’s mom is going to pull out all the stops. i need you to imagine a 7-course meal with all 7 courses served at once. an entire damn restaurant spread out on the dining table. roasted ham, pirozhki, salmon pie, olivier salad- you couldn’t even name some of the dishes. it kind of amazes you that she not only managed to cook all this, but was able to fit it all in one space. ✧ also. yes you can make your own plate but don’t even try to be coy or modest. you’re a part of this family now and they’re gonna make sure you eat like one.

“Here, sweetie, have some more ham.” Childe’s mother is already slicing pieces off and dropping it on your plate before you can respond.

Your plate is already piled as high as it can go. But, you are nothing if not polite and desperate to get on your boyfriend’s family’s good side. “Oh, uh, thank you, Mrs.-”

“Just call me ‘mom’, dear.” She speaks with a giggle. You nod.

“Oo! You should try the cabbage rolls, me and Anthon worked on those!” Teucer chimes toward you.

“Anthon and I,” Tonia corrects her little brother gently.

“Huh? No, you didn’t- you weren’t even there!”

The warmth had returned with the chattering and merriment of Childe’s family. You steal a quick glance at your boyfriend, who is being abnormally quiet, and see him smiling down at his plate. His blue eyes have an almost melancholic wistfulness about them, one you’ve often noticed when the two of you were in Liyue- always apparent when he’s talking about how much he misses his family. But, he’s here with them now, isn’t he?

You won’t pretend to know what he’s thinking about, but you do want him to enjoy these moments while they’re here. They mean a lot to him. You reach beneath the table to lace your fingers with his. He snaps out of his reverie at your touch, turning his head to look at you. His smile widens as he squeezes your hand.

“Oh, by the way, Ajax, where are you gonna be sleeping?” Childe’s older brother asks, covering his mouthful of food to avoid spitting.

Childe tilts his head. “Uh, the guest room?” Beneath his breath, you can hear him add, almost solemnly, “As usual.”

“But that’s where Y/N is going to sleep.” His older sister comments.

“Yeah?” Childe picks up a spoonful of borscht and guides it to his mouth. “The beds big enough to fit both of us.”

His mother looks absolutely aghast. “Ajax, you know how I feel about funny business under my roof!”

He sputters on his soup, quickly grabbing a napkin to dab the beetroot that spilled out and waving his hand. “Mom-”

“Oh, but, what the hell. It is the holidays!” She chuckles, before switching to a stern mutter, “but you two better keep it down, okay? Teucer’s room is right across-”

“MOM.” Your boyfriend’s face is a deep red, his freckles standing out against his tinted skin, and you can’t help but giggle. He buries his face in his free hand with a groan.

“Wait, so Ajax gets to sleep with his partner, but when I bring my girlfriend over, she has to sleep alone?” His older sister scoffs with disappointment. “It’s not like WE were gonna do any ‘funny business’ and yet-”

“Wait, what’s ‘funny business’?” Teucer asks innocently. The table is filled with roaring laughter-and Teucer’s confused pout- and you lean into your boyfriend’s shoulder. You can practically feel the heat radiate off of his cheeks, but he’s grinning, too.

You’re only about halfway through your monster of a meal when Tonia stands up, clapping her hands cheerfully. “I think it’s time for dessert!” She calls, skipping off to the kitchen.

“Oh goodness, she’s so proud of her kutia.” Mom remarks fondly. “ We don’t normally eat it until a few days from now, but Tonia was really excited to make it for you, Y/N. Please, be a dear and compliment her on it when she comes back, won’t you?”

You shoot Childe a look of surprise and horror, whispering, “There’s more?” And he just chuckles. You should’ve expected this. As with anything to do with Childe, there’s always more.

✧ with his mother’s blessing, you two finally get some real alone time in the guest room. though, for a guest room, it’s huge- probably bigger than your own room at home. it does feel… emptier, though, especially in comparison to the rest of the house. there are no decorations, just a large bed, a nightstand with a lamp, and a dresser. you and childe’s suitcases are tucked neatly under the bed. ✧ already in your pyjamas, you hop on top of the mattress and shimmy beneath the blankets. the soft bedding sinks until you are comfortably encased in your cotton cocoon. if your boyfriend doesn’t hurry up, you might just fall asleep without him. ✧ thankfully, he comes into the room pretty soon after you, dressed in a large shirt and his boxers. he’s more modestly dressed for bed than usual, but you’re not too surprised- this isn’t exactly a private home, after all. ✧ he flops on top of the blankets across your legs, sighing loudly and melodramatically. you stretch down to ruffle his hair lovingly.

He twists his head toward you, catching your palm and planting a kiss on it. You smile before beckoning him to join your side. As soon as he’s spread the blanket haphazardly over himself, he’s weaving his arms across your waist and smushing his cheek against your shoulder.

“Was today okay?” Childe asks softly. He always seems to get unbelievably soft when he’s sleepy. You wonder if he’s aware of it.

You lift your hand to brush the side of his face. “Today was amazing, babe. Your family is really fun, and they’ve made me feel so, so welcome.” You kiss his forehead and he hums, almost relieved. “Thank you, for bringing me.”

Thank you for coming, he wants to say. Thank you for trusting me, thank you for staying with me, thank you for loving me. The words won’t come out, so he instead tightens his arms against your core.

“Ajax, are you okay?” You swivel so that you can wrap one of your arms around his neck, his head falling into the side of your chest.

There’s a pause as he considers it. Is he okay? He doesn’t get asked that a lot- and when he is asked, he always lies. He doesn’t want to lie to you any more than he has to. But what can he say? He’s home, but it doesn’t feel like the home he knew. His family has grown, and he has, too. They’ve changed, he’s changed… He misses everything he had, and there’s no way to go back.

You gently tap his shoulder, bringing him back to you. You, another change in the life he once recognized. He raises his head to look into your eyes, patient and yet worried- for him.

Childe smiles. “I’m okay, sweetheart.” He has you now, after all. He can’t go back to the way things once were. Maybe he doesn’t need to go back, if going back meant not having you at his side. Maybe one day, he’ll find the words to tell you this.

You lean in to kiss his forehead again, but he straightens up to meet your lips with his. It’s a bit clumsy, you’re both sleepy and warm and together, but you melt into each other.

Childe separates from you after a moment, and in your tired, loving haze you miss the sudden devious glint in his stare.

“You know what would make me feel even better than okay, though?”

“Hmm?”

His hands begin to roam under your shirt. “Well, you remember that ‘funny business’ my mom mentioned earlier-?”

You groan, pushing away from him and picking your pillow up to shove into his face, a bark of your boyfriend’s cackle following. He continues giggling as you turn away from him with a huff, making a point to lay down.

“Good night, you big dork.”

His laughter dies down as he slides further beneath the covers to join you, rewrapping an arm around you and pulling you closer. He kisses the back of your neck with a contented sigh.

As long as he’s next to you, Childe is already way better than okay, he’s certain of it.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

I finally found someone who write for pgr :D and this is so good sgsjshwhwhw

Hi. :) Your writing is divine and I would be honored if you fulfilled even one of my requests. Please bestow upon me an emotionally broken, male PGR MC being comforted by Kamui and/or Lee after a long, hard day. Also Kamui and/or Lee going to male Skk needing comfort after anti-Construct discrimination. Or male Skk worrying about his gender while being in love with Kamui, Lee or Chrome.

Courtney! Thank you for the ask! (And for your kind words ❤️)

So, this is actually part 1 of your ask, because I have so many ideas and no time to write them all haha. It's Lee being confronted with anti-Construct discrimination and having an emotionally charged exchange with the Commandant after. I know you requested a male SKK, but I couldn't find a way to bring it up organically so the SKK is written as gender-neutral (I hope that's okay 😣). I wanted the focus of this piece to be a dance between Lee and SKK, a tension that goes unresolved and the comfort that can be found in that liminal space. It ended up being quite long (2.1k), which is why it took a while for me to finish.

Part 2 will feature an emotionally fragile male SKK getting anxious about their gender and feelings towards Kamui when getting comforted physically. I'm not sure when it'll be out since I write best when inspiration strikes, but I hope you'll bear with me until it does!

Okay, enough blabbering that nobody cares about. Go Lee!

Liminal Space   //     LEE

All done. Lee stood and stretched. The workshop was empty at this hour, nobody to keep him company but white lights and crystalline silence. He liked it. There was a certain sense of clarity in this kind of solitude, like the universe was revealing her tender secrets just for him. The night breathed while the world slept, and Lee loved the quiet of his own thoughts.

He’d just finished developing an inver-device for his robots. The complexity of such technology had been beyond his understanding for a long time, but he’d studied it and he’d figured it out. There was pride to take in such human things, he thought. The simplicity of learning.

He put the little bot in his pocket and made his way down the brightly lit corridors. Even at this hour, Babylonia dreamt in working colours. Offices blazed with golden light. Labs leaked blues and greens as Constructs underwent maintenance or emergency surgery. There was no true rest here, not in this place cradled by starlight.

He’d almost arrived at his room when a harsh voice tore through the veiled silence. “Hey. You.”

Lee stopped, but didn’t turn around. A midnight confrontation usually went one of two ways. He highly doubted it was going to be the pleasant one. “Something to say?” he asked coolly.

“Yeah, in fact, I do.” The vitriol in the man’s voice was clear. His footsteps drew close. “We don’t need you filthy things. Humanity can fight its own war. You bloody robots can eat shit.” A hand clamped down on his shoulder. “Once we reclaim the earth, there’ll be no place for things like you.”

“If you say so,” Lee said, reaching up to brush the man’s clammy fingers from his shirt. “Now if you’ll excuse me--” An arm shoved him roughly against the wall. The man was stocky, with bloodshot eyes sunk deep in his lined face. His breath stank of alcohol. “No,” he slurred in Lee’s face. “I don’t think I will. What’re you gonna do about it, filth?”

Lee wanted very much to put his knee between the man’s legs. How easy it would be to overpower this pathetic drunk, to give him a dangerous awareness of the fragility of human flesh. But the consequences of such behaviour were simply unacceptable. He schooled his features into neutrality, blue eyes like chips of ice. “I’m not going to do anything,” he said. “You’re not worth my time.”

The man’s face twisted with rage. He slammed Lee’s head against the wall with enough force to rattle his teeth. His vision glitched. “Fuck you,” the man hissed, spittle flying like bullets. “You’re an abomination.”

“Maybe,” Lee admitted. “But I’m still better than you.”

A wad of spit landed on his cheek, wet and sour and foul. “Fuck you,” the stranger said again. Then the anger seemed to drain from him, replaced by an intense disdain Lee reciprocated. He spat once more in Lee’s face before releasing him. “If the earth is going to be populated by freaks like you,” he said. “Then we might as well let the bloody Punishing have it.” He sauntered down the hall, swaying as though he walked on invisible waves.

Prick, Lee thought. He watched the man disappear around a corner before scrubbing a sleeve across his cheek. The wetness smeared across his face, like an oil slick across water. He cringed. Disgusting.

Straightening his jacket, he made his way down the corridor. His mood had soured considerably, all the more because the man had something vaguely resembling a point. He’d never permitted himself to dwell on it, and there had never really been the time nor space, but the truth was that Earth was for humanity. It always had been, and it always would be. People like him were needed now, but one day, under blue skies and birdsong, they would no longer be necessary. Just remnants of a time rather forgotten.

He paused outside your room. Soft golden light peeked out from under the door, like an invitation he didn’t know how to accept. What am I doing here?

The door slid open soundlessly. “Lee?”

Suddenly, you stood before him, all messy hair and tired eyes. You looked exhausted, but somehow still radiant, like a fire blazed just out of sight. No matter how dim, it never went out. Lee stuttered. “H-How did you know I was here?”

“I sensed fluctuations in your M.I.N.D,” you said, flashing a small smile. “And I recognise your footsteps.” Lee flushed, but said nothing. He couldn’t seem to meet your eyes.

“I should--”

You cut him off with a sweeping gesture. “Come in. I need some distraction from all this paperwork, anyway.” You didn’t wait for him to accept. Stepping aside, you poured yourself another cup of coffee and took a sip. “Can’t live without this stuff,” you said, grimacing at the bitter taste. “Though I really wish I could.”

Lee sighed. The door clicked shut softly behind him. He looked different in the warm glow of your lamp, all his hard edges blurred into something tender and vulnerable. “You really should take better care of your health, Commandant,” he said, snatching the cup neatly from your fingers. “Starting with going to bed at a reasonable time.”

You laughed. “You’re one to talk, Lee. Constructs need sleep too, you know?”

“Not as much as you.” He sniffed the confiscated coffee. “This smells terrible.”

“It’s not that bad. Does the job.”

“A job that shouldn’t need doing,” he scoffed, tipping the brown liquid down the drain. You studied him, noting the way he seemed to move just a little too stiffly, a little too absently. Lee was meticulous about everything, living his life with the precision of a needle. His M.I.N.D. was like a lake, a glassy mirror to the sky and stars, the world’s beauty reflected back to her heavenly eyes. Quiet and calm, tranquil. Two fluctuations within half an hour certainly wasn’t the norm.

“What happened?” you asked after a time, when the silence between you had grown heavy. He bristled. “Nothing.”

“Lee.”

His words came slowly, like they were dug from some secret grave where they’d been left to die. You waited patiently. His words were rare. To know his thoughts was a treasure beyond worth. “I ran into someone unpleasant outside the workshop,” he said finally. “They attacked me.”

Anger flared to life within you. “Who?” you growled, trying to calm the animal urge to fight, to protect. Lee didn’t look at you. “It doesn’t matter,” he said firmly. “I diffused the situation.”

“Then why are you so upset,” you demanded. “Nobody can hurt you, so what did they say?” He fell silent once more. You forced yourself to still, to be a confidant instead of a bully. There was no forcing Lee; he would tell you or he wouldn’t. When he spoke again, there was a bitterness in his voice that was heartbreaking.

“The Earth isn’t meant for people like me, Commandant,” he said. “We’re fighting to return it to its rightful owners. People like you.”

“Is that what they told you?” you asked, fighting to keep the emotion from your tone. “The Earth belongs to all of us. Including you.”

He smiled ruefully. “Always an optimist. But you’re wrong. Us Constructs know nothing but war. We were built for it, after all. When Earth comes back to us, it’ll need kinder hands to guide it. To heal it.”

You’d heard enough. You strode up to him and unwound his crossed arms. His eyes widened, those beautiful eyes bluer than the ocean and just as deep. “These hands are kind,” you said, turning his palms up to the sky. “These hands build robots. These hands protect me.” You brushed a thumb over his skin. “These hands protected Murray. So tell me, how are you not fit to heal the Earth?”

His breath caught, just slightly. Your name drifted from his lips like forbidden fruit, caught somewhere between meaning and insignificance. “It’s not the container, but what’s in it,” you continued, staring at his metallic right hand. The black steel was dull in the gloom, chipped paint and scuff marks marred the smooth surface. Proof of a life lived in danger, of a selfless devotion to the terrible war. You laced your fingers through his. “A body built for war isn’t the same as a soul made for one. A hand that kills isn’t the same as a heart that’s cruel. I don’t care what anybody says, if reclaiming the Earth means abandoning the people who fought for it, then let the Punishing have that damned rock.” You were painfully aware of the space between you, a distance that seemed to shrink but never close. “The future I fight for,” you finished quietly. “Is one with you in it.”

Lee was silent. Your fingers between his were like a brand upon his soul. He didn’t know what to say. All his words felt awkward, like the clumsy tatters of a dream. They stuck in his throat, choking him, but there was so much he wanted to say. So much he wanted to show you.

You moved to pull away. Don’t leave. Without thought, he tugged with his robotic hand, pulling you into an embrace that was at once desperate and tender. He held you against him, strong arms wrapped around your shoulders as though he couldn’t bear to let you go. “I was more upset than I realised,” he said softly, breath warm against the shell of your ear. “Thank you, Commandant.”

“Of course,” you said, pressing yourself just a little closer to him. “Anything for you, Lee.”

You stayed like that a while, and it was like the whole world paused. Just you and Lee suspended in a moment protected by the very night itself. You breathed in his scent, clean air on an ocean breeze, and rested your head in the crook of his neck. The warmth of another body, the press of skin on skin. You hadn’t realised how much you’d needed it.

When the moment broke, Lee’s cheeks were flushed. He pulled away. “S-Sorry,” he said awkwardly, as if all the embarrassment of the past few minutes was hitting him all at once.

You laughed, perhaps a little too sharply. A little too breathlessly. “Nothing to apologise for,” you said. “I think we both needed that.”

You cleared your throat. Something had happened, something that lingered in the air still. You could almost reach out and touch it, if only you dared. But you let it fade, felt it disappear from the air as if it had never been there at all.

Because you weren’t ready. And neither was Lee. Perhaps one day, you thought with some regret. But not today.

Sighing, you moved back to your desk and leaned against it. Picking up a file, you scanned it absently before tossing it back down. You quirked a smile at Lee. “Do you want to stay awhile?” you asked, gesturing to the pile of reports on your desk. “Plenty of riveting work to be done.”

Lee snorted. “As if I don’t have better things to do.”

“Do you?” You sat down. Here you both were again, back in familiar waters. A push, a pull, a constant tug-of-war. Never a winner, just the eternal game. It was both a comfort and a curse.

Lee grabbed a stack of papers and settled on the couch. “No,” he said. “Not tonight.”

---------------------

You rubbed a hand over your face. Some hours had passed since you’d invited Lee to stay. Though he didn’t look any worse for wear, you were quickly losing steam. Your mind had long lost its focus for reports. Instead, you studied Lee’s face in the gloom, admiring the perfect symmetry of his features. He was so beautiful.

You shifted on the couch. You’d migrated here a while ago with a blanket thrown over your outstretched legs. Your bare foot rested against Lee’s thigh, though neither of you acknowledged it. Sighing, you tossed the report to the ground. Your vision was so bleary you could barely make out the words anymore. Only one question drifted in your mind, still coherent after the delirium of six cups of coffee and no sleep.

“Why didn’t you fight back?” you whispered in the semi-darkness. “Why did you let some asshole attack you?”

Lee didn’t look at you. He was silent for so long you didn’t think he’d answer at all. “Because,” he said finally. “I didn’t want you to get into trouble, Commandant. Misconduct from me reflects poorly on you. I’m not going to disgrace you.”

You chuckled. “I think I would have been rather proud.”

“That’s because you’re reckless,” he said dryly.

“Guilty as charged.”

Several long moments passed. Your eyes drifted shut. “Sleep,” Lee said. “I’ll finish up.”

You were already half gone, free-falling towards an ocean as black as night.

You could have sworn something soft brushed against your temple.

But perhaps it was just a dream.

[author’s note] sanzu is a toman boy too, but I’m excluding him because there’s a limit of 10 photos per post (5 character banners and 5 breaks is 10 🤷🏾‍♀️)... should I just stop using breaks or...?

toman boys reaction to dreaming of dead s/o | mitsuya, hakkai, kazutora, smily, angry.

warnings: angst, cussing, panic, death of reader in dream, brief mention of vomit, gn!reader.

@voldyshit-1997 said: “How do you think the tokyo revenger characters reacting to dreaming of their dead s/o”

part 1 (mikey, draken, baji, chifuyu, takemitchi)

— I can actually see him getting seriously ill over this, like damn near tripping and falling to get to the bathroom before he throws up.

— or he could be really surprisingly chill about it.

— he could just wake up and feel as though the room is incredibly hot for no reason.

— probably tosses the sheets off of his bed because it feels like he’s suffocating.

— scared.

— trembling a bit, but laughs at himself because he swears he’s been through worst.

— tries to talk himself out of calling you, or going to see you, or telling you to come over in the middle of the night.

— but he can’t. he ends up dialling your number wrong several times because his fingers keep shaking and he almost gives up and goes back to sleep but then the phone begins to ring and he just wants to see if you’ll answer.

— and you do.

— he finds himself trying to force a smile so that he doesn’t cry as you sleepily say, “hello?”

— he says nothing in reply, afraid that his voice’ll break and that you’ll know that he isn’t as strong as you thought.

— he gets kind of tired of being the big bro all the time.

— sometimes he needs to be comforted too.

— “... takashi?” you whisper, unknowingly bringing tears to his eyes as he wipes them away with an annoyed sigh. he shouldn’t cry, it’s not who he is, but he just can’t help it.

— “takashi, you there?” and he knows he should let you hang up, he knows that he should just let you believe that maybe he dialled you up by accident late at night, but he can’t stop himself from speaking.

— “m’here.” he says quietly.

— “do you... do you need something?”

— he wants to say no. god, he really wants to say no.

— he wants to leave you alone so you can get that sleep you so desperately need but he can’t stop himself.

— “hey, uhm, (y/n)?” stop, stop, stop.

— “yea?”

— “do you think you could, uh...” stop. stop it. just leave them alone and go back to sleep. stop it. “do you think you could come over?”

— he waits in silence for what feels like an eternity before you let out an exasperated sigh and he hears rustling, like you’re pulling on clothes.

— and he finds himself scrambling to tell you not to come, and that it was stupid of him to ask, but you reassure him that it’s fine and that you’ll be there soon.

— but when you go to hang up, he lets out a panicked, “wait.”

— and he doesn’t bother to explain himself or say anything, he just sits in silence while you leave the call open.

— you can tell he’s worried and that he doesn’t want you to hang up so you don’t, making you way over to his house.

— once you get there, he immediately opens the door and pulls you in.

— the two of you make your way to his room and he pulls you into his bed without much thought.

— he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t hang up the phone either. he just tries his best to relax now they you’re in his presence.

— crybaby central.

— let me not clown him like that.

— anyway, mans most definitely sheds a tear or two. either that, or the second he wakes up, he’s flinging himself out of the house and going to find you.

— he likely tries to seek comfort from yuzhua first so that he doesn’t have to come and bother you, but yuzhua isn’t very good at comfort and her “comfort” isn’t giving what it should have gave.

— she probably bats him away in her sleep and he ends up coming to find you anyway.

— is very quiet and calm when he comes to knock on your door.

— just smiles at you, content to see that you’re alive and well.

— but please do not ask him if he’s okay.

— mf WILL start bawling.

— and he’s a rather loud crier too.

— low-key hopes that you invite him in because he wants to be with you right now.

— if you do let him in, expect him to be super clingy upon entry because he is here for comfort.

— most likely doesn’t bother telling you what’s up, just needs your presence to relax him enough to where he can get back to sleep because he is most definitely tired.

— probably falls asleep before you and wakes up late the next day because your presence is just so comforting to him.

— will definitely overplay the nightmare thing so that he can sleep over again. :)

— shocked and scared at the same time, but not really.

— kazutora has had a very rough life, he has seen worse in reality than anything he has ever seen in a dream.

— but even still, the sight of you pale and lifeless in a fleeting dream might work him to tears.

— you mean a lot to him. way more than he’s willing to admit.

— he likes to think that he can be there to protect you but he knows he won’t be there all the time and that’s what worries him.

— texts you to see if you’re up.

— please reply or else he’ll call.

— if you don’t answer, best believe he will show up to your house and will break in.

— don’t play with him 🖐️

— answer the phone 🔫

— he will pick the lock to your window, he doesn’t care.

— all those years in juvie surely taught him something about a lock or two.

— don’t freak out if you catch him staring blankly at you at 2 in the morning.

— most likely was watching you sleep to see if you were breathing or not.

— had to make sure.

— you know, just in case :)

— might tap you gently to wake you up because he’s selfish and would like to talk to you for a moment.

— “hey, (y/n)... (y/n)?”

— wake up 🔫

— will not leave until you wake up, even if you don’t, he’ll just slide into your bed anyway.

— make himself comfortable and all, sliding his arm under your head to make sure you’re supported and then just catching the rhythm of your breath and heartbeat until he too falls asleep.

— probably wakes up to you screaming because what tf is he doing in your house anyway?

— like mf, get out. lmao

— will not leave though. will guilt trip you into letting him say the night for another night or so.

— will milk it as long as he can.

— let him stay the night :)

— gets pissed off at his brain for making him see that?

— he is more concerned about his own mental state than he is about you for a second.

— has a “what the fuck did I just see” kind of reaction.

— has to tie his hair up into a curly top knot and rub the sleep from his eyes because he is so out of it for a good half an hour.

— once he has a chance to get grounded, he most likely either calls you and tells you he’s coming over or just comes over without saying anything

— he does NOT care whether you want to see him or not, either leave the window open or be at the door by the time he arrives because he’s coming regardless

— don’t try to turn him away, he’s spending the night whether you like it or not.

— “nahoya, what the fuck? it’s like, 1 in the morning!”

— “okay, and? 😑”

— deadass pushes you out of the way.

— better make room for him on your bed or he will shove you, he does not care.

— but once you two settle down, he might tell you about the dream and you can see he has a hard time doing so.

— he keeps swallowing like there’s a lump in his throat and you offer to get him water but he grabs you so suddenly and shakes his head.

— “but don’t you need something to drink?”

— “uh, no. I’m...good. don’t worry about it.” with an uneasy grin on his face, his grip tightening just a little around your arm.

— please don’t leave, he’s a lil’ sensitive right now.

— won’t admit it, but he is actually very worried.

— he knows that he can protect you but he worries about when he’s not around.

— might let you learn to fight from toman, or might just as them to look out for you.

— but either way, he’s gonna make sure you’re taken care of.

— he can’t lose you.

— it really fucks him up.

— he gets physically ill just remembering the dream, let alone experiencing it for the first time.

— kind of jolts out of his sleep.

— he isn’t really sure what to do.

— he tries his best not to bother you but he can’t help but call you up in the middle of the night.

— “...hello, sou?”

— he cuts you off, “can I come over?”

— you try to explain that it’s the middle of the night and that whatever it is can wait ‘til morning, but he starts hiccuping like he does when he’s about to cry so you immediately switch up and tell him he can come over.

— arrives surprisingly fast, and knocks on the front door rather than coming through the window like some people.

— will immediately crawl into your bed.

— you don’t even have to be in it, your lingering warmth and scent is enough to put him right to sleep.

— but if he has a lil’ bit of a harder time getting to bed, then he’ll quickly usher you over and then ask for you to run your fingers through his hair.

— his scalp is really sensitive, so every brush of your fingers has a nice lil’ chill running down his spine.

— it feels so good that he is probably to sleep in seconds.

— will wake up refreshed and likely won’t even remember the dream or how he got there.

— but he’ll be content, just seeing your sleeping face as you have yet to wake up.

— your fingers are likely stuck in his curls though because I swear he has serious bed head.

Hes having a bad day