Idk But Im Bored, Do You Bros/pals Want Me To Open Reqs? Or Just Send Me Any I'll See What I Can Dl W

Hi!

Can I request: Childe

Prompt: "It's not time for us to say Goodbye" Type: Hurt/Comfort.

Scenerio: Reader gets injured, maybe taking a hit meant for Childe? They're hurt pretty badly and he has to get them to a healer/doctor. As he's carrying them, the reader tries to tell him how they Love him so much, and getting ready to say goodbye but he won't let them. Happy Ending please? Thanks So Much!

Goodbye - Childe

Word count: 1.0k

Genre: Hurt/comfort

c/w: blood, mentions of his real name

No one will disagree that Childe is a bloodthirsty warrior who was meant to be dressed in blood. He belongs to the battlefield with a blood-streaked face. But your blood was one that he would not want even a pint of, yet it begins to taint his grey jacket from its tips.

Childe carefully moves your head from his forearm to the grass. He yanks his jacket off and drapes it over the wound on your torso to cover it from the rain.

With a weak voice, you quip, “Wow, you’re so hot, especially with that drenched hair of yours.”

The drizzle starts to become heavier. There’s a tinge of annoyance in his voice.

“Cut it out.”

He helps you up onto his back, afraid to move whenever you wince.

You force out a laugh, making jabs at him, “Seeing fear all over the eleventh harbinger’s face is a once in a lifetime sight to behold.”

“Archons, [name], enough!”

It’s a downpour at this point but the rain doesn’t hide the distress that his voice contains. You finally desert the forced smirk on your face.

You reach up to his face but his hand squeezes it before your fingertips touch his cheek. He lifts you onto his back. He doesn’t let go until you’re fully on his back.

He stands up and commits the mistake of looking back behind him. A patch of grass stained red where you lay churns his stomach and turns it upside down. He runs.

Mount Aocang is a distance from Liyue Harbour and while he’s usually cocky about his abilities, his confidence wavers. He doesn’t think he can make it there in time.

“Childe.”

With the blood that trickles down his bare back, he knows where this is going.

“Ajax.”

He bites the inside of his cheek.

“Don’t talk. It’ll worsen the injury.”

The water droplet pelts his eyes and he curses under his breath. You take a deep inhale. “Ajax, please don’t blame yourself. No one saw that coming.”

After a moment of silence, you say, “I love you and g-”

Your words reach him even before it falls off your lips. He snaps, voice a little loud, “Please. I don’t want to hear any of it.”

It startles you, but it doesn’t do much to drive away the temptation of closing your eyes. He apologises to you, choking on the last syllable of his ‘I’m sorry’.

The rhythmic movement of your breathing against his back becomes faint elicits anxiety from him.

“[name]?”

Taking his eyes off the path ahead, he turns to see your eyes flutter open. You give an almost inaudible hum. He almost slips on a puddle and he clenches his jaw.

He contemplates whether or not he should tell you all that he ever wanted to say to you. That he should have been warier of the hilichurls while he was clearing the camp. That he thought that he never deserved love, yet the blood on his hands never stopped you from giving him all that you could. That you are the brightest star he’s ever seen since he fell into the abyss.

But he bites back his words. Saying them would be equal to admitting defeat. If you couldn’t hear it in this life, then he’d carry the words to his next.

Instead, he repeats your name over and over with increasing loudness, even when you stop responding to him. He says it as an assurance. As a plea for help. As a prayer.

The torrential rain stops as his feet step on the wooden bridge into Liyue Harbour. You hear ragged breaths and desperate cries for help just before you black out.

You wake up to warm hands that envelope yours. Childe sleeps on the seat by the bedside. He wears a grey Liyue tangzhuang that fits him just right. Your eyes trail up his arm that was usually concealed, to his faintly red, tear-stained face.

Herbalist Gui walks into the room with some medicine and makes his way to your bedside. He keeps his voice hushed not to wake Childe as he gives you a rundown of your condition. You shoot glances at your boyfriend, expecting the light sleeper to awaken.

But Childe doesn’t and Herbalist Gui catches on your worry.

“He’s having a slight fever due to the rain and exhaustion. He sat outside the operating room and refused to budge when we told him to take a shower and get changed. When he comes to, please try to persuade him to take his meds and rest in the bed right beside yours.”

You nod and he leaves you to rest. As you are about to drift off to sleep, Childe stirs in the chair. You force your eyes to open and you squeeze his hand.

His grip on your hand loosens and one of them cups your cheek.

“Don’t you dare pull that shit ever again.”

You’re about to protest that he would protect you from danger any day, so he shouldn’t tell you not to. But he doesn’t let you continue.

“It’s not time for us to say goodbye,” he mumbles, “Not now. Not in the near future. Not in our next lifetimes.”

“Alright, there’ll never be goodbyes between us. Only ‘see you’s.”

Both of you don’t realise that he’s been holding his breath until he lets out a long exhale. You get him to eat his medication and persuade him to get some proper rest. But he ends up wrapping his arms around one of yours, whining about how he doesn't want to be separated.

You think about teasing him for the big baby he is, but you spare him due to your fatigue. Without trying to aggravate your wound, you shift your body to make space for him. You pat the small space you’ve made on the bed and he climbs onto it.

Both of you shift around a little more to make some space for each other on the tiny bed meant for one. You finally settle in his arms around your body. Not long later, his breathing steadies and you figure he’s finally gone into a deep sleep.

Resting your other arm on his side, you drift off to sleep. Bodies flushed against each other, the thought parting ways distances itself from your mind. Neither of you will admit it, but a ‘see you’ would hurt all the same too.

a/n: to the anon who sent this, I'm sorry I took a while and I hope you'll see this :">

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Yes.

Okay seriously. Reblog if you're OLDER than 11.

hii! can i request some headcanons about reader / mc comes out to the brothers as nonbinary? i'm really confused with my whole gender identity and it's really frustrating but your works keeps me grounded.

ʕ ̳• · • ̳ʔ

/ づ♡ =͟͟͞͞♡

coming out to the brothers as nonbinary

includes: the brothers x/& nonbinary!mc (no pronouns specified)

wc: .7k | rated g | m.list

warnings: implications of transphobia (NOT from the brothers), threats of violence (NOT towards you)

a/n: thank you for requesting and i’m glad my blog is a safe space! i myself am a cis female so please correct me if anything i wrote blatantly harms or misrepresents the trans/nonbinary community. homophobes and transphobes dni. my inbox is open to chat or request!

pls reblog :))

➳ lucifer nods, tapping his chin. “thank you for telling me. i’m glad you feel comfortable enough to confide in me. i’ll do my best to use your preferred pronouns from now on.” you’re still a little nervous, and he notices. taking your hand, he squeezes it softly. “hey. i’m sure everyone else will have the same thoughts on the subject as i do. if you don’t want to tell them and keep this between us that’s fine too. and if you don’t know yet, that's perfectly fine too. i’ll be here for whatever you decide whenever you decide.”

➳ mammon accepts it pretty easily. “nonbinary, huh? that’s cool. if i mess up and misgender you punch me or something. i’ll try my best though, so i hope it doesn’t happen.” nudging you in the side, mammon grins. “am i the first one you told? oh that’s awesome! i knew i was your first man!” even with all of his celebration he doesn’t miss the way your shoulders untense, the way you let out the breath you were holding in. for once, mammon chooses to be tactful and doesn’t mention it, simply carrying on with his bragging.

➳ levi literally could care less. not like that though, ok? he’s just online quite a bit so he has more experience in LGBTQ+ spaces than his brothers do, meaning he’s pretty used to people coming out or questioning their gender or sexual identity. “that’s really cool! that’s for telling me! this is just like a show i watched called ‘my favorite person came out to me and i still love and support them wholeheartedly’!” he tells someone in his headset to hold on a moment, he’s busy, shooting you a grin while he does so. “what pronouns do you want me to use, again?”

➳ satan has heard of this nonbinary thing, of course, but hasn’t really had any actual experience with someone who identified as it. he wants to be as respectful and accepting as he can be and resolves to do some in-depth research the moment he gets a chance. “thank you for telling me, mc. i’ll do my best to use the right pronouns and refer to you as you wish to be referred to, so please, do not hesitate to correct me if i get it wrong.” looking over at you, he has an idea. “do you have any websites or anything i can look at? i want to be the best ally i can.”

➳ asmo just rolls over to face you, tracing a finger down your cheek. “that’s cool! thanks for telling me.” at your confused expression (you had expected more of a reaction), he laughs, flapping a hand in the air. “what, you think you’re the first person to come out to me? i’ve had countless people i’m close to over the years experiment with their identities. gender is such a fluid thing, and it changes so much with each new decade. i’m glad to see people becoming more accepting than they have been in the last few centuries, though.”

➳ beel is serious about the situation, cutely so. “thank you for telling me. i’ll do me best to support you and use the right pronouns.” pulling you into a warm hug, he holds you for a moment, soothing all of your frayed nerves. you lea into his touch, grateful for it. “and,” he whispers lowly in your ear, “if anyone gives you a hard time over it let me know. i’ll take care of it. and them.” a moment passes, silently, and then he’s pulling away from you, smiling like he hadn’t just threatened to do… something to people who wouldn't respect you.

➳ belphie admits he’s a little out of touch on current human matters like this. cheeks red, he has you explain in greater detail, nodding when he finally gets it. “oh that’s fine. thanks for trusting me enough to tell me. i’ll do some looking into it and educate myself. and i’ll definitely try my best to use the right pronouns and stuff from now on.” for once he’s fully alert, normal sleepiness abnormally gone from his expression. “correct me if i get wrong though, okay? and this doesn’t really change anything between us, so don’t worry about it.”

© leviathans-watching - all rights reserved. please do not repost, copy, or claim as your own

Kamisato Ayato x Reader

Notes: just a small something since he came home. Gender-neutral terms, blood & injury mention, protective boyf Ayato✨

Cornered, you considered your options. Run and risk the two men chasing you? Fight back and risk a black eye at the least, all while your lover’s jacket turned dirty with your blood?

You really had no way out, pressing yourself impossibly closer into the alleyway as though it were possible for the wall to swallow you and transport you elsewhere. To think all this happened over a misunderstanding.

“You scum, wearing the Commissioner’s coat like that.”

You opened your mouth to protest, a hoarse and cracked sound pleading for a break. “No, I - “

The man puffed out his cheeks, an ugly red colour popping through his face in profound anger. “Unless you’re some whore who ran off indecently with the Commisioner, threatening to tear down his reputation!”

The man accompanying him scoffed, adding in another sentence before you could get a word in. “So which is it, are you a filthy thief or have you seduced our honourable Yashiro Commisioner?”

You sigh. The men were harassing you over borrowing Ayato’s coat to keep you warm from the cooling winds. You only wanted to run your errands around Hanamizaka in peace, not be cornered and threatened for something clearly trivial.

“Ah, is there a problem here?”

Thank Narukami. Your shoulders immediately relaxed upon hearing the familiar cadence of your boyfriend as he directed the men’s attention to him.

“They think I stole your coat!” You called over the men, seeing the silent confusion written on Ayato’s face.

The two men’s eyes widened comically as they looked at one another and shook their heads. “Commissioner! We were simply looking out for you! We aren’t sure what they were doing parading around in your - “

Ayato held a hand in the air to stop them from continuing. Clearly, these scoundrels held no respect or foresight whatsoever.

“It appears to me that you’ve unnecessarily cornered my partner,” Ayato motioned to your form huddled against the wall, still shaken but less scared than before, “surely the two of you can see that I am not in my coat now, yes? I fail to see why any of this is worth scaring them.”

“Lord Kamisato, we - “

“A clear oversight on my part. It seems that I haven’t done my duty as well as I would have liked.”

Ayato walks past the two men, stance and posture upright, determined, graceful. He approached you and carefully leans to capture your chin between his fingers, tilting it ever so slightly to meld his lips lovingly against your own.

Pulling back slowly and softly, a satisfied hum reverberating upon seeing your shocked and confused expression and sensing the two men still present behind him, Ayato gives them a pointed look.

“My duty is to protect those closest to me. If either of you approach them again, it will be your last.”

“You can’t possibly threaten us, that wouldn’t be a good look for you, Commissioner - “

“Ah,” Ayato grinned, “the two of you look familiar. I believe… yes. You two have committed numerous acts against the Tri-Commission in the past through petty games - namely tax evasion. I protect Inazuma and therefore, you two have disrespected the Raiden Shogun by neglecting your citizen’s duty. You understand the consequences of directly harming a Tri-Commission member,” he motions to you, as you were his and thus affiliated with the Yashiro Commision, “Perhaps that is enough cause to, eloquently put, stay quiet?”

That was enough to send the two into a flurry of apologies, profusely bowing before they ran out of the alleyway with their tails beneath their legs.

Ayato gave a soft smile, turning back to you and trapping you between the wall and him with his arm next to your head.

“Now, where were we?”

Shitted myself while reading this, that fuckinf twist

#FFFAFA | GHOST.

genre | angst, fluff, platonic relationship au, grumpy dad x eager child dynamic

word count | 2754

warning | mention of death, mention of pain, mention of human trafficking, mention of kidnapping / i know absolutely nothing about this game and this man. ​

note | i just thought his appearance and the little personality i can tell from tiktok fit the description of this scenario. also i like this trope. i apologize in advance but this thought just had to go somewhere other than my head.

“Where’s the kid.”

A stoic voice matched with an even more intimidating stance—the medic did not need to turn around to know it was Simon Riley (or Ghost, as he liked to be called) talking behind him. He calmly turned around to face the sudden speaker, and his brows raised. Despite barely healing from severe unattended injuries and dehydration, Ghost remained tall and demanding; nobody should expect anything less from him.

Keep reading

the more i think about it, the more i’m convinced that lee is very hormonal compared to other male constructs (wanshi is an exception to this of course, the guy is just very flirty). few examples so far that i can think of:

Keep reading

Guys nvm, im opening request. Go on request stuff though im very picky at picking one

The way your writing is so fucking good?? It’s such a joy to read and you have such a distinct style that has me straight up kicking my feet :’)

I saw in your bio that requests are open, have you ever considered… reader getting hurt somewhere far from civilisation and Leon running himself absolutely ragged trying to get them help? Just holding them so tightly, running until his heart feels like it’s about to burst because he just needs them to be okay, I feel like he would stop at nothing to keep from losing the people he loves, ya know?

Anyway, hope you have a great day! <3

thank u so much aaaa <3333!!!! im feelin sad and devious so have fun with this one!!!

warning: angst, blood mention, death

Leon can’t remember the last time he cried.

He’s lived through suffering and destruction and death, and pieces of those memories still reside within him as little fragments of glass that puncture and tear and burrow. He’s tried to move on, to grit his teeth and bear the pain, but it always comes back. Always worse than last time.

You bleed a dark pool into the patch of grass you had collapsed upon. Touching your chest leaves his hands slick and sticky. The knees of his pants stain.

He radios in to HQ, calls for evacuation, medevac, help. The line statics. The BSAA soldiers are miles away by now.

It was supposed to be a cleanup, a simple job, and now you’re dying.

He doesn’t think straight. He can’t now. He loves you, and you’re dying, and he’s failed everyone he’s ever cared about.

As he strips off your gear, he thinks of Raccoon City. As he cuts away your shirt, he thinks of his parents.

Who does he have left? Who, besides you?

He whispers things (I love you, stay with me, it’s alright, I love you, don’t leave me, I love you), and you’re choking. Trying to speak. The light drains from your eyes and still, you cup a chilled, wet hand over his jaw.

“‘m okay,” you say, hoarse and choked-out. So weak. Weak and pallid and he’s never felt so helpless in his entire fucking life.

The blood won’t stop. He recalls his training and second-natures the first-aid steps, but the smell of iron makes him nauseous and your weakening grip on his shirt rips away his reason.

He picks you up, and he runs.

If he remembers right—please let him remember right—Delta team heads west. He can reach them. He can reach them and the medic they travel with. They’ll patch you up and call for medevac and you’ll survive.

He can’t fail you. Not again. Not like the others.

The path is uneven, and stray branches catch his clothes, and his lungs heave to the point of bursting, and he might collapse soon. You might die.

But he’s stubborn and strong-willed, and he has to see things through to the end.

That’s what I love most about you. He remembers the way you had smiled, all toothy and jesting. Smeared head-to-toe with dirt after following him to the ends of the earth, after crawling into a collapsed bunker owned by some retired Umbrella scientist to save him. Maybe you could be a little more careful about it, though.

The moment he realized he loved you.

It terrified him at first. Becoming soft again, tender-hearted, lovesick.

Later, when you said you loved him, when he admitted his own secret, when he kissed you in the quiet shadows of that warehouse, he knew he was done for.

His knees buckle, and he collapses. Mud seeps through his pants, chills down to bone, but he never lets you go.

The comms still ring with static. 

Delta team is nowhere to be found.

Your body rests limp against his chest. The blood has stopped, now thick and half-dried on his skin. On yours.

He stares down at you. At the ash of your complexion. At the glassy eyes, void of light, wide-open, fixed to a point just over his shoulder. When he tilts your chin, skin cold against his fingers, your unbroken gaze follows.

Already, he misses their color. The starshine when you looked at him. The wrinkle of your brow when you grew angry. The scrunch of your face when you smiled.

Already, he speaks of you in past tense. 

Your chest never expands again. Your heart never thumps beneath his palm. There’s no pulse—he checks three places three different times.

The comms spark to life with a message from HQ. Bird on standby, Delta team half a mile due west. Respond… respond… Respond.

He looks down at you—you, who believed in him, who taught him what love felt like, who followed him to the ends of the earth—now a corpse, another failing, another memory of jagged edges and broken glass.

And he cries.

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

Day 1: Broken Promises - Childe

Warnings: Character death ig?

"You--" His eyes were full of hurt and betrayal, and he cried two words into your chest. "You promised."

How had it come to this?

You and Childe had been planning an anniversary for the two years you've been together, and you had to laugh at his childish excitement. But he had just kissed you lightly on the cheek and skipped off. You could almost see the flowers and sparkles he left in his wake.

The both of you had made plans to go to Xinyue Kiosk after he picked you up from work.

Today's commissions were nothing new, just a couple of balloon sabotages, a few requests, and-- oh. There was an emergency, and it required you to defeat a ruin hunter.

You bit your lip, worrying it between your teeth. Was it worth it? You could try and see if Childe had any debts near there... No. You shook your head, slapping your cheeks gently. It wasn't worth it to pull Childe away from his work.

So you set off, leaving that commission for last. The rest of the commissions were easy enough, and you found yourself standing before the ruin hunter's alleged location soon enough.

The place was suspiciously empty, and you walked in slowly, readying your weapon. You just had to paralyze it and rip its core out. A quiet, mechanical whirring reached your ears, and you spun around...

And immediately jumped to the side.

The ruin hunter didn't wait around, launching a series of attacks that you barely deflected or dodged. You were getting fatigued, and the ruin hunter... well, it could hardly get tired, could it?

"Y/N!"

You turned, the voice catching you off guard. The rusty blade cut through your side, igniting an explosion of pain and startling wetness.

"Y/N! Oh shit--"

Dimly, you were aware of Childe falling to his knees beside you. He pulled off his scarf and wadded it up, pressing it against your side.

"Stay with me, Y/N."

A thick, cottony numbness was starting to spread, and you brushed your fingers against your side. It came away red, and you turned away from them, sickened by the sight.

"Y/N, talk to me," Childe pleaded. Water nudged at your side-- Childe's own brand of healing-- and a pleasant warmth spread through you. It poked and prodded and lacked none of the finesse that healers usually possessed, but it was Childe, and that was enough.

You opened your mouth, trying to say something, anything, but Childe's face melted away, leaving you alone in the ruins.

The ruin hunter clicked methodically, and you swore it was laughing as it raised its blade for the final blow. You smiled sadly, closing your eyes.

Forgive me... Ajax.

---

"Lord Harbinger."

"What is it?" Childe wiped blood away from his face and sent a wave of water rushing down his arms and clothes, rinsing off the worst of the gore. His voice was colder than the snowstorms of Snezhnaya, and he took delight in how the recruit cringed.

"The new recruits are ready for your briefing, sir."

"Take me there."

The click of his boots was deafening against the wooden podium erected in the middle of the snowy forest, and Childe raked his eyes across the crowds of black clad agents, huddled into their winter coats.

"Today, you are inducted under my order. From this day forward, you will honor the oaths you have made to Her Majesty the Tsaritsa, and you will stop at nothing to bring Snezhnaya to victory." The memorized speech slipped easily from Childe, and he surveyed the visions glinting in the dull Snezhnayan winter light.

"You shall sweep through this land like the icy winds of the furthest north, as strong as the hoarfrost of Zapolyarny Palace. You will chill the very marrow in our enemies' bones." A glint of blue. Hydro? No, Cryo.

"Her Majesty expects of you loyalty, ruthlessness, and meticulousness, for the trials that we face are harsh, and our enemies are naught but obstacles in the Tsaritsa's path to her noble goals."

Childe paused for a moment. Yes... why not? You weren't here, after all. No one to temper his bloodlust. He summoned his blades, which hardened into ice in the winter air.

A crazed smile made its way onto his face. "Now, let's have a celebratory spar, shall we?"

---

Boring. Boring, boring, boring.

No one gave him a challenge. No one put up a fight. No one... No one came close to you. He was about to dismiss his blades, but he heard the creaking of a bow being pulled back. Slowly, he turned around.

Your determined face stared back at him. Those eyes, those frostbitten and chapped lips, and the steady pulse of your Cryo vision.

A sign.

He stumbled towards you, closing his hand around the arrow you had nocked in your bow. The cold was so extreme it snapped at his skin, and he heard your muted gasp as he drew close.

"Y/N?" He croaked.

You made a questioning noise, tilting your head to the side-- the way you always did when he asked you a question. "Lord Harbinger?"

"You--" His eyes stung with snow and tears, and he cried two words into your chest. "You promised."

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