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#i apologise if the whole hurt/comfort aspect seems weirdly done
Note
In response to your post about Childe requests! Fluff? Maybe nightmare comfort? Thanks!
Awake from the nightmare
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Summary: Childe wakes up from a nightmare confused.
Pairing: Childe/Tartaglia x reader
Genre: Hurt/comfort, fluff.
A/n: Sorry this took so long dear anon! I was struggling to figure out how exactly I wanted to write this haha! I had quite a bit of fun with it however, and despite my (maybe) lackluster characterisation of Childe I do very enjoy writing for him. Thank you for being so patient and enjoy! Ao3
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The sudden feeling of someone sitting up disturbs your slumber, though only enough to momentarily rouse you to consciousness. It brings you no worry, for you know Ajax has never been particularly subtle when getting up in the night and so you cuddle back up under the covers, hoping for a few more hours of rest. It only takes a moment however, before you realise just how heavily he’s breathing and concerned you crack an eye open, worry seeping into your heart. You can make him out faintly in the dim light of the room, hunched over with his hands gripping the sheets. You could swear that he’s shaking and even in your half conscious state you’re certain the cold is not the why of it. 
It’s almost unnerving, seeing Ajax like this, and so tentatively you reach a hand out and place it on his trembling one in an attempt to provide some form of comfort. He recoils at the feeling, obviously startled and looks at you now wide eyed. Several beats of silence pass and you can see the gears turning in his head. You watch as his gaze turns into something more peculiar. 
“You’re okay.” He sounds small, and you wonder if he was merely thinking aloud.
You nod, unsure of what exactly to say. You opt to remain quiet, taking it upon yourself to sit up. After a moment of hesitance you reach out once more, placing your hand on his arm. His skin is warm to the touch though in no way unpleasant, and you can practically feel the tension seep out of him. You lean forward, placing a soft kiss to his shoulder and he lets out a shaky sigh, running a hand through his hair before leaning against you.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” the smile he gives you is tired, “don’t worry, I’m alright.”
He leans forward, pressing his lips against your softly. He’s still shaking, you notice, and when he pulls away you make a comment about it, teasing that it must really be due to the cold after all. Your attempt of lightening the mood works, for he laughs in response. A soft kiss is placed on your forehead before he tells you to lay back down, reaching over to grab the blanket before following you. He’s quick to wrap his arms and the covers around you, softly but urgently pulling you into his chest.
Silence fills the space once more, save for the breathing of the man before you, and it grows increasingly hard to stay awake. You think to yourself that you should try, that you should only sleep when you can ensure that Ajax is resting peacefully. But between the warmth and comfort you can barely will yourself to keep your eyes open, so with some fading reluctance you allow yourself to drift back to sleep. 
The last thing you hear is a faint “thank you solnyshko.”
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