#overworked reader

[aventurineswife]

Aww, no more Yor!Reader? Well, I guess it would have been overdone eventually. 😅

How about I share an idea instead about Reader acting as a lawyer/legal consult for Aventurine? (Bouncing off of my friend’s recent obsession with lawyer characters lol.)

So, Reader is a lawyer studying the laws of various worlds. Their work laptop is full of legal texts and documents, which they use to keep track of information gained and help make sure Aventurine doesn’t step too hard on someone’s toes. coughsunliketopazonbelobogcoughs

Reader is also partially the reason why Aventurine was able to get away with attacking the Astral Express ��� by taking his and Ratio’s witness accounts of their “meeting” with Sunday and the power of the Order being forced on Aventurine to brainwash him on threat of death within 17 hours. (I know I saw a post pointing out how Sunday basically broke diplomatic immunity by doing this, tho I can’t remember who. 🫠) Who can say for sure that Aventurine threatening to detonate a Stellaron wasn’t the result of (him struggling against) the Order influencing him? Reader can even point out that if the Family tried to go after Aventurine, Sunday’s actions coupled with the Family’s lying about death being impossible in the Dreamscape would be grounds for a counter lawsuit.

Emphasis on Reader partially being why Aventurine got away with his gamble. Even without Reader being Aventurine’s lawyer, the IPC’s got a fuck ton of money. 😅 Reader being there just makes things a lot faster and more convenient.

Reader’s pissed about Aventurine gambling his life like that, tho. 💀

“I TOLD YOU TO BE CAREFUL WHEN DEALING WITH [ACHERON] AND WHATAYA DO?! YOU GET FUCKING HAM-SLICED AND YEETED INTO A BLACK HOLE!!!!! 💢💢💢”

“Objection! Gambling with Your Life is Not a Legal Strategy!”

Summary: You find yourself grappling with the aftermath of Aventurine’s latest reckless escapade—one involving ham-slicing, black holes, and intergalactic legal battles. As his ever-resourceful and exasperated legal advisor, you’re left to clean up the mess while Aventurine, the ever-smug gambler and IPC executive, teases you with his charm. Beneath the banter, a glimpse of sincerity from Aventurine leaves you questioning whether there’s more to him than his reckless bravado.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Crackfic, Lawyer!Reader, Dubious Morality, Fluff and Angst, Overworked (and probably underpaid or not) Reader, Banter and Wit, Slow-Burn Romance (implied), Reader Yelling at Aventurine (deserved tbh).

Warnings: Mild language (Reader vents a lot), Legal jargon overload, Brief mentions of violence and manipulation, Reader and Aventurine arguing, Crack-level absurdity in legal scenarios, Aventurine's traumatic backstory hinted at but not deeply explored.

A/N: Thank you for your understanding 🙏💖 and I hope you like this! This may be a bit ooc and I mostly have forgotten a lot of things so yeah🧍‍♀️

You glared at Aventurine from behind your laptop, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as you typed out yet another damage control memo. The smug blond executive lounged across from you in his plush office chair, one leg draped lazily over the armrest. His perpetual grin was as infuriating as ever, even with fresh bandages peeking out from the collar of his shirt.

"Really, darling," he drawled, twirling his peacock-feather earring, "I think you're overreacting. Things turned out splendidly, didn’t they? I'm still here, the Stellaron didn’t detonate, and Sunday's little 'dream empire' has a massive PR disaster on their hands. All thanks to your impeccable legal wizardry, might I add."

You slammed your laptop shut with enough force to make him flinch. "Splendidly?! You were HAM-SLICED, Aventurine. HAM. SLICED. And then YEETED INTO A BLACK HOLE! Do you even comprehend how many laws of physics, ethics, and basic sanity you violated in a single day?"

He chuckled, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "But you saved me, didn’t you? My charming legal champion, swooping in with airtight arguments and enough loopholes to make the Family’s lawyers cry."

"Don’t you dare flatter me right now." You jabbed a finger at him, your other hand pointing to the stack of legal briefs on your desk. "Do you know how hard it is to defend you when you keep pulling stunts like that? I had to argue in front of three intergalactic tribunals that Sunday's Dreamscape Order literally brainwashed you into threatening a Stellaron detonation!"

Aventurine leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "And you did it flawlessly. Honestly, I should hire you full-time. Leave that dusty legal research behind and become my personal strategist. Think of the fun we’d have!"

"Fun?" you repeated, incredulous. "FUN?! Watching you gamble your life away every other Tuesday isn’t my idea of fun, Kakavasha."

His grin faltered for the briefest moment at the mention of his real name, but he recovered quickly, standing and striding over to your desk. "You know I can’t resist a good gamble," he said softly, his voice unusually earnest. "It’s who I am. But having you there… knowing you’ve got my back? That’s the only reason I can keep playing the game."

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden sincerity. "That’s… disturbingly sweet," you muttered. "But it doesn’t excuse the fact that you’re reckless, irresponsible, and—"

"Charming?" he offered with a wink.

"Infuriating," you finished, swatting his hand away as he tried to steal one of your pens. "Now sit down and let me finish drafting this counter-lawsuit. If Sunday or the Family tries to come after you again, I want them buried so deep in legal hell they’ll be begging for the black hole treatment."

Aventurine laughed, a genuine, unguarded sound that made your chest tighten in a way you refused to examine. "You’re one of a kind, [Name]. I don’t deserve you, but I’m keeping you anyway."

"You don’t have me," you shot back, ignoring the warmth creeping up your neck. "I’m just here to make sure you don’t get sued—or sliced—again."

"Of course," he said smoothly, settling back into his chair with a self-satisfied smirk. "But I’ll win you over eventually. It’s only a matter of time."

You rolled your eyes and reopened your laptop, trying to focus on your work. But as you typed out another legal argument to shield Aventurine from his latest bout of insanity, you couldn’t quite suppress the smile tugging at your lips.

Maybe he wasn’t entirely unbearable.

[serial-killers-hope]

Waiter one café owner reader X Ronin please

Ah, but of course. I’ll deliver. ~ DP

You and The Devil.

On your seventh shot of espresso, that’s when he worries.

He’s been watching for awhile now… after all, you’re Angel’s favorite cafe owner.

SPOILERS TO LOOK OUT FOR :

- Character names

Enjoy.

Post Mortem Deprivation.

You open up shop for the day, yawning as you let your employees in and consult them for the day. Hands holding a clipboard with a strict sense of urgency. Nothing important today, just how you usually acted. Always helping your coworkers / employees at the sake of your own health. It wasn’t much, but you tried your best after all.

“Alright. Let’s get to work.”

You threw a thumbs up and tied on your apron, nodding as you made your way to the front and inhaled the soft aroma of coffee and baked goods fresh from the bakery in the back that now sat in their respective places. You nod, counting everything and making sure everything was in place.

Ding!

The front door bell rang as it was prompted to, regulars coming in at their usual times and you served with the utmost duty and respect. Of course, there was an odd complaint here and there but they were all fixable and had no problems being fixed for the person who asked.

Your hands worked diligently as you poured cream into a cappuccino, the design making its form on top with your smile obvious with the beautifully done quickness of it all. Then the bell rang again.

“Welcome to Yaoguai!” You called out.

“Demon huh…? Not opposed.” The man who came in whistled slightly, hands in his pockets as he approached the counter.

You placed the drink down, dusting off your hands to smooth out your apron and turned to fully face him. Your steps soft and methodical as you approached the cashier and flashed your usual smile.

“What can I get for you today?”

The man chuckled, his hair plum in color with a beanie that held two faux devil horns. How ironic with your cafe’s name…

“Get me…” he eyed the menu for a bit. “… A London fog.”

You blink for a second, the edginess of the man didn’t seem to exude someone who would like something as smooth and gentle as that drink.

“Alright…” you typed in the order. “Anything else?”

“And a slice of your apple tart. They look absolutely ravishing.”

His voice was like molasses to you, making you shiver somewhat as you nodded and typed in the order. “Name for the order?”

“Ronin.”

You mentally chuckle, thinking about typing his name as Roman for a bit.

The more you looked at him though, you mentally placed him as someone who would like JD from Heathers. It made you want to laugh a bit as you typed in the name.

“Great, that’ll be $20.57.”

Ronin smiles a bit, nodding as he takes out cash and pays with a hum.

“So, what made the owner name the place Demon out of all things?”

“Dunno. I guess it just seemed fitting considering we’re more specialized in dark roasted coffee and such. Plus, the owner loves learning demon theology.”

You didn’t admit you were the owner at first, especially since you didn’t know the man. But he seemed trustworthy… at least for now.

“Ah, no wonder. You know, Maria told me I should come here. Should’ve come here sooner hah.” Ronin laughed slightly. “But hey, worth it.”

You chuckle at his response, moving to pull out a slice of the tart for him and slide it into a box that was dark brown in color with golden motifs and the name of the cafe written in a smooth font.

“You know her? She’s a loyal customer.” You hum. “She’s raves about us on her socials, never have been more proud.”

“She compliments your work a lot.” He grinned, leaning against the counter. You normally would have complained, though it was a rather slow day and hardly anyone was here. “I can see why. You obviously love your job. And you’re cute.” Ronin winks.

“Oh?… Thanks, I guess.” You chuckled awkwardly, taking the drink that had been ordered from one of the employees. Sliding the two items over to him. “Here you go!”

Ronin nodded, turning to take the drink and box.

“Well, thanks for the food.” He sips his drink, shuddering at the warmth as he smiled at you. “And the great drink. Nice meeting ya…” he examined you for a bit. “… Hydrangea.”

You blush at the nickname, watching as the devilish stranger leave with his items and into a beat up car that he seemed to have pride in. It amuses you how nice the man was and how flirty he seemed to be. Maybe it was just how he acted… but it was endearing…

The passing days were a blur for the most part, working as always. Busy and bustling, seeing some regulars and whatnot. Ronin though had been coming often during the low points of the day to order and flirt a bit. It was always nice to see him…

It was a slow day today, your exhaustion heavy as you worked effortlessly to manage the day. No mistakes, perfection.

You were on your eighth cup of coffee today, gulping down the dark liquid and moving as fast as you can to clean up. Hearing the titular ding as per usual.

“Welcome to-“

“Save it Hydrangea. C’mon. Maria told me to force you home.”

Your head immediately snaps over to look at Ronin, your brows furrowed in confusion as you shake your head.

“No, the day isn’t over. I have t-“

“You can have a manager work. You look exhausted hah…”

He wasn’t wrong. You were exhausted, more than ever. Stress had been hitting and it was only a matter of time before you keeled over in deep sleep. You wanted to resist but rest sounded so good at the moment…

“Fine fine.” You roll your eyes, telling Ronin to wait for you there and go to tell the manager who seemed pleased that their boss was going to finally get rest.

You hung up your apron, leaving the room to finally go with Ronin who seemed all too pleased to finally get you to rest.

“Let’s go.” He winked and walked out with you, sliding into the cars drivers seat with you scrambling to get into the passengers seat.

“Now, c’mon. Where do you live?”

[lxnarphase]

I’m dying from the gym so imagine not being able to have sex with toji (who is going feral bc u look really good after coming from the gym) bc u went too hard on the hip adduction machine and even THINKING about spreading your legs has you groaning in pain

so the ‘poor thing’ just sulks because he wanted to spread you open and eat you out before you showered and lick the sweat off you but also bc seeing you wince just from walking up and down the stairs is making him upset

[tubattutu]

ׂ╰┈➤steam and skin

warnings: shower sex, blowjob + handjob, nicknames (baby, bunny), softdom!soobin, public sex..?, i think that’s all

a/n: made this bc i’m currently in my soobin hours and i miss him ☹️ also i wanna write for taehyun but my mind is literally blank so don’t be scared to send in taehyun asks !!!!

“ah- s-shit b-bunny..” soobin let out a cute whimper, his back pressed against the cold tile wall of the shower as his head leaned back, exposing his adams apple.

your hand stroked what you couldn’t take, moaning against his stiff cock that was in your warm, wet mouth, looking up at him sweetly and innocently as you bobbed your head up and down. the water cascaded over you both as you sat on your knees, watching his already fucked out expression.

you were almost 100% sure his other members could hear soobin letting out whines and whimpers and moans from your actions, there was no way they couldn’t. soobin had been attempting to stay quiet but he simply just let go and gave up.

“just like that baby..” he managed out, his breath a bit laboured. he felt closer and closer to his sweet orgasm the more you continued, his pretty, perfect lips parted with the cutest moans and whimpers slipping from them. he didn’t even try to be quiet at this point. his hand reached down to rest on your head, his fingers holding onto your now wet hair as you felt his cock slightly twitch inside your mouth, signalling that he was close.

you pull away, pulling out a whine in confusion from soobin before you started stroking his stiff cock, pointing his tip into your mouth and on your tongue, your hand going quickly up and down his hard cock. “f-fuck—b-baby-!” soobin cried out, his breath coming out in soft, small gasps as the knot in his tummy tightened.

you stroke him faster if even possible, his cock finally erupting in big spurts of cum shooting onto your tongue and into your mouth, some even landing on your upper lip.

you hum in satisfaction, stroking out the last few drops of cum leaking from his cock and licking it off his slit before swallowing it all, soobins legs slightly weak as he panted. he helped you to stand back up, both of you smiling as he leaned in and kissed your lips.

“i’m not done with you yet by the way”

[fuji-sen]

Monachopsis; SAGAU Creator!Reader Headcanon

Monachopsis: the subtle feeling of being out of place.

c/w: angst, homesickness, slight cult genshin impact characters.

synopsis: The adrenaline and excitement had worn off, what replaced it was a sense of detachment and the feeling of homesick-ness slowly building up. No longer feeling joy at being treated like a God in your favorite game, you could only feel that subtle but persistent feeling that you did not belong there coupled with the sadness and grief at your past life.

divider credits: @enchanthings

✨ you wonder how things became like this, perhaps it was because you were constantly detained and kept inside a lavish palace, unable to see the outside world.

✨ or perhaps it was how your acolytes treat you.

✨ they did not harm you, but they might as well have all together.

✨ they treat you so full of devotion and reverence. Their touches stiff and light never holding you for longer than it is necessary, their manner of speech was always formal, never jovial even the bard of Mondstadt had a more serious and deep persona when it came to you.

✨ although their goal was simply to respect you for you were their supposed Creator, that very devotion towards you became the very wall that separated you from them.

✨ you could not get close to them, you could not pass that damned relationship between a Creator and a faithful believer.

✨ Furina had been closed to you at least, perhaps because she understood your plights. However your relationship seemed sinful in the eyes of the other acolyte.

✨ you no longer were able to see the cheerful girl.

✨ Buer or Nahida who's ability to read minds and the hearts of people worked on you, but it seemed she had learned from Fontaine's leader, she did not get close to you, however she left more sincere gifts for you.

✨ handwritten letters, books with annotations, even Aranara's were given to you on the guise of being servants.

✨ speaking of gifts, wealth, gems, lavish furniture, clothes made from the rarest fur and the softest silk had been presented to you. At first it made you overjoyed, to received the things you had long for, to become rich and wealthy.

✨ now seeing the pile of untouched presents all you could feel was cold, it was impersonal really. The clothes did not suit you, the gems and gold were useless for you could not even go out to spend it, the furniture as well for it was too big for you to used by yourself and you lacked the friends to even sit together with and have a chat.

✨ however upon seeing your favor towards the dendro archon's gifts, they tried to follow in suit. Yet their letters were simply filled with compliments of your visage, poems and tales about how great you were, talking about you as if you were a historical person they had studied and were doing a greatly embellished report on but never truly getting to know you.

✨ to fight off the feeling of sadness that began to wallow in you, you asked for them, desperately, "treat me as your friend, if you truly love me as your God then treat me how I want to be treated." you'd say.

✨ they looked at each other, before carefully and hesitantly agreeing.

✨ now you felt guilty, they spend their times on you. Chatting with you, telling you stories.

✨ you feast together, with food made by Xiangling and other characters.

✨ but even as they surround you, their conversations became white noise to you and the food seemed tasteless under your tongue.

✨ you did not feel like you belong among them. especially with that nagging voice in your head, snickering and whispering that 'they aren't your friends, they're just acting like it all because their precious Creator begged them to.'

✨ In the past, or your past life, doing something for yourself, by yourself seemed like a chore. The mundane chores, your job, studying even, but now that seemed like a luxury with the title of God.

✨ they did not ask you to do anything, you did not participate in state of the nation addresses, you could not change laws or fight for the people. . at least they didn't let you.

✨ you could not even clean your own room or dress yourself, Noelle took care of the cleaning, Chiori took care with choosing a set of clothes each day for you to wear like you were a kid and Xiangling did the cooking.

✨ It left you with nothing to do, like you had no purpose other than sitting still and looking pretty like a piece of decoration.

✨ Nobody disagreed with you even, nobody argued with you, they were like yes-men. God you began to miss your parents and siblings, you missed your classmates/coworkers, you missed working, you missed being your own person!

✨ it was beginning to eat you up at this point,

✨ to the point you had became overwhelmed with sadness.

might make a mini-headcanon series for this or an actual series revolving around this idea/angst.

do you want a series like this tho? it'd be heavily angst and might just have a bad ending or good ending.

[emmyrosee]

happy birthday samu 🫶🏻

complete credit goes to @nyxprobability for the PRECIOUS idea, much love to you 🥺🩷

———

Tired legs struggle to keep his foot on the gas, and tired eyes struggle to stay open.

Osamu is convinced this is the longest drive he’s ever taken from his restaurant to home, the songs on the radio feel painfully slow and repetitive, and there’s a twisted part of him that wonders if he should just turn around and nap at the restaurant for a bit before coming home.

But you texted him, playfully demanding his presence at 6 sharp, to be at the dinner table, hungry.

It’s 5:55 when he pulls into the driveway.

Very, very hungry.

Heavy feet trudge up the walkway and the small steps in front of the door, and he sighs sleepily as he turns the handle.

The threshold reveals his warm kitchen, decorated with candles and all his favorite dishes, and he could cry.

It smells devine. He feels the weight lifted off of his shoulders at the idea that he’s able to just relax for the night and only have to worry about doing dishes for you- you’re a heaven sent, and he smiles softly as he hangs his keys on the hook and blinks his sleepy eyes at you.

“What do you think, baby?”

“I think you spoil me,” he chuckles, opening his arms for you to slip into, which you do. Your warm body feels like the perfect remedy to his crazy day, like you’re able to smooth all the frazzled bits of him back together with one soft coo of his name and pet of his hair.

“Well,” you giggle, rubbing your warm hands up and down his big arms, leaning up to catch his lips in a playful kiss, “it’s a special night. I wanted to spoil you.”

Wait.

Is it?

Osamu tenses in your arms, and you start to giggle softly at him, only striking more confusion through his soul. Was it your anniversary? No, surely that was months ago. Was it because of his new hire? No, you probably wouldn’t shower him in affection because of that.

You got a promotion. That had to be it, especially since he wasn’t home last night to celebrate with you. This is why you wanted him home. And he couldn’t be more happy.

He softens and presses a kiss to your head, “I’m so proud of you baby. I knew you could do it,” he says sincerely.

Now, you tense up. You look up at him with a quirked brow and when he matches your confusion, you click your tongue. “Baby… do you really not know what today is?”

Uhh…

“Sssssaaaaturrrrday…?”

“No,” you snicker. “Baby boy, it’s your birthday.”

It is?

“It is?” He asks aloud. He genuinely starts to count the days in his head, his lips moving slightly in thought.

Yeah… October 5.

Sure enough, it’s his birthday. He’s made it another year.

He’s just… surprised. No one wished him a happy birthday, not even his brother, his mother, and-

“Is your phone on do not disturb?” You ask; he assumes he looks saddened at his realization. “Because I did call you three times before you answered me about tonight.”

He smirks. Then, he lets out a flurry of laughter, shoulders shaking as the noise flows out of him, and he almost forgot how good the feeling of laughter is. You join his laughter and wrap your arms tight around him, squeezing him gently as his own arms drape around you.

“Happy Birthday, handsome man.”

“Thank you, babydoll.”

He takes out his phone from his back pocket, shaking his head at indeed, the little moon icon indicating his phone was set to Do Not Disturb. When he turns it off, he’s met with countless messages, from old friends and new, a missed call from his mom, and a flurry of texts from his brother.

A lot from his brother.

atsumu WEVE BEEN HERE FOR AN HOUR

WHERE ARE YOU

THIS WAS YOUR IDEA!

At least now I get a date but STILL!

Huh?

Another wave of realization crashes onto him, and he winces slightly at his mistake.

“Crap…”

“Whats wrong?”

“Atsumu and I were supposed to get brunch today.”

[arminsumi]

Mmm waiter!Gojo speeding around on rollerblades with his long spidey legs coming to you with a biiig smile and taking your order with a wink?? 😳 Like he totally charms you and flirts with you even though he really should be more professional... forgive him, your giggles jus' make him all 😩💗 HE IS IN NEED! HE IS LOVESTRUCK! He is on his feet all day and at last he sees a pretty face and now he's going full peacock mode, making sure his hair is perfect and he's trying to rub the tiredness away from under his eyes.

[deoidesign]

I'm so mad that post was misinformation because there is actually an EXTREMELY important conversation to have about the production schedules artists are forced into. There's no need for exaggeration, the conditions are bad.

I work for webtoon. My publication schedule is weekly. While publishing I'm required 10-15 pages a week. Fully colored.

This means I'm finishing a 150 page fully colored graphic novel every 10-15 weeks.

When my comic is not updating, I am not getting paid. Any time writing, editing, or off is out of my own pocket. I don't get healthcare. They do not provide any assistants. They expect me to promote myself; they chose to deprioritize me before I even launched and gave me an end date half a year in. I never had a chance.

And this is the industry standard! Every company has artists forced into crunch hours, overtime, and burnout. Artists are literally dying early due to it. So many of my friends can't afford to go to the doctor.

It's unsustainable and untenable, and it's also the expectation our audiences have.

If we want to have this conversation, there's plenty of conversation to be had with the realities of the situation. It's bad as is.

[backtothedrawingboard]

Take a Break

Ler!Doey + Lee!Reader

Summary: Poppy has been pushing you way too hard. Doey notices your unusually erratic behavior and encourages you to rest.

CW: Tickle fic, mentions of starvation, momentary spiraling of negative thoughts, cussing

TW: None

AN: Poppy is portrayed as a bit of a villain. I don't like or trust her, so I'm showing my true feelings of her XD

Part 2

~~~~~~~~~~

Help. Help. Help. That's all you ever had to do. You used to be an employee at this hellscape of a factory but faced experimentation. Now here you were. Stuck as one of the only adult figures in the Safe Haven. The children naturally gravitated towards you. You were an adult, and thus all-knowing and all-caring. The truth was, you had no idea what you were doing. You just unwillingly took the burden.

Poppy always put everything on you, Doey, and to a lesser degree Ollie. You supposed Kissy Missy was also given a lot to do, but she basically served as Poppy's own personal slave. You never liked that. The poor toy was used primarily as a body guard and escort and treated with minimal care by Poppy. You understood why Missy put up with it, but it was still...not right.

You rested on a sleeping bag in your little corner of the Haven. Since you served as an authority figure, you were lucky enough to get a tent and string lights around the area. You shared the space with Doey, but he usually slept infrequently. You snatched a pillow from his pile and put it behind your head.

The last couple days were hell. Food was so scarce that whenever you went in search of anything to bring back for the kids, you had to eat it for your own sake. The couple scraps you did manage to bring back were gratefully devoured by whoever could get to it first. Unfortunately, this led to you breaking up fights. The little smiling critter kids could go feral for any crumb and you, Doey, and Missy had to pull them off each other almost every time food was distributed. You were just glad that they were so small that they were easily stopped.

You rubbed your face tiredly. Poppy wanted you to get spare parts for lighting. You managed to hold your ground and insist on going tomorrow. You could still feel the hard glare that the doll gave you. You rolled onto your side and curled up. You could feel a headache starting to pound in your artificial skull.

You should just go ahead and get the scavenge over with. It's just one less thing you'll have to deal with tomorrow. That way all you'll have is scavenging, reading to the kids, repairing any instability in the Haven's fortifications, and-...

You covered your head with Doey's pillow. It didn't stop the thoughts from flowing in. Keep the kids happy and safe, stay alive, keep the kids happy and safe, stay alive, keep the kids happy and safe, stay alive, keep the kids ha-

You rolled onto your back and screamed into the pillow. Dammit, stop thinking. Stop. Thinking. Everything was fine. No one was lost to the Doctor or the Prototype in a while. Everything was running smoothly. The kids were happy- well, as happy as one could be here- and Poppy had a plan in the works.

You twisted and turned fretfully on the sleeping bag. Any effort to shut out your thoughts was met with even more aggressive reminders and memories. You kicked the blanket off of yourself without any intention of getting up.

"Hey, pal...Something wrong?" You stopped moving upon hearing the gentle voice. You kept the pillow over your head. The soft thumping of Doey's footsteps were heard approaching your cot and a soft hand pressed on your shoulder.

"Hey..." he started. "What's wrong?"

You shook your head. "Nothing..." you mumbled back.

You could feel Doey try to pull the pillow off your head. "Come on, Y/N. I'm not that gullible." As you pulled the pillow back down over your head, the doughman huffed and yanked it off. You curled in a ball to block out the light from the string lights.

"Stooop," you mumbled. You were met with a light smack of the pillow.

"Alright. Enough pouting. Get up," Doey teased. You grumbled and hid your face in your arms and knees. He was used to an occasional bout of grumpiness from you and figured this was what it was. He smacked you again a few more times.

You snatched the pillow and yanked it violently out of his hand, smashing it against him several times angrily. "Stop! Just fucking stop!" you yelled. You attacked him with the pillow more before bursting into tears.

Doey flinched and stood still as you hit him. It didn't hurt. It was just a pillow and he was just dough, after all. But the shock of it left him motionless. Once you're done attacking him, he shifted a little and gave you a sad look. He sat down next to the bag and put a hand on your back.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered. "I didn't realize. What do you need?"

You shook your head and covered your face with your arms. "I don't-" You were cut off by your sobs. "I don't know." You sniffled and sobbed louder as you felt the doughy hand rub your back soothingly.

"Shh...Take your time." The doughman stayed with you and rubbed your back and played with your hair soothingly through your entire meltdown. You didn't know what was happening. It never happened before. You wiped your eyes and sniffled pathetically.

After a few minutes, you took Doey's arm in your hands and hugged it to yourself. He cooed softly and ruffled your hair with his free hand.

"Feeling better?" he asked gently. You nodded and nuzzled his hand. He scratched under your chin.

"Y-yeah..." you mumbled. "Thank you..."

"Of course." He continued scritching your chin as he spoke. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Ordinarily you would decline immediately...But your head still hurt, and your chest hurt, and you just...couldn't do it anymore.

"Y-yeah," you answered shakily. "But, um...Can I get some water first?"

Doey nodded and stood up, drawing his hand away from you. "I'll be right back."

You curled in a ball and stared at nothing while he was gone. You didn't think, which was a relief. But you didn't feel either. You didn't know what to do, but you didn't bother trying to figure it out. Doey returned with water and a light snack.

"Hey, pally. Here you go." He tried to sound cheery, but his voice had a hint of sadness in it. You rolled onto your back and sat up enough to drink the water and eat. Your headache immediately lessened.

"Thank you..." you mumbled. Your friend nodded and smiled sympathetically.

"Of course, Y/N. Now, do you want to tell me what's wrong?"

You closed your eyes and nodded a little, rubbing your eyes. "Yeah..." You took a breath to steady your shaky voice. "I'm just...tired. So tired. I don't...I don't know what to do." You stared down at your lap glumly. Doey sat next to the cot again and took one of your hands in his own, giving it a little squeeze.

"I know exactly what you mean..." he muttered gently. You looked up at him. "I'm guessing it's Poppy?"

You nodded and wiped your eyes. "Y-yeah...She just-" You growled. "She won't stop. I'm so...so tired. And she's always nagging me to keep going stuff again and again and...I can't." You sniffled as your eyes prickled with tears again.

Doey reached up and wiped your tears. "Hey...I know. Don't let her walk all over you. You gotta be strong and flexible." He smiled and stretched out a hand inhumanely far. "Like me!"

You couldn't help but giggle a little, your laughs cutting with a short sob before turning back to giggling. Doey smiled more and ruffled your hair.

"There we go. I'm here to help. Take all the time you need," he ordered happily.

You couldn't help but frown a little and looked down at your lap again.

"Um...I was actually thinking of going out for lighting like Poppy said...I was just resting a bit first..." you said carefully. You could feel the disapproving scowl from your friend without even looking up. "I know...But it's just one less thing I'll have to deal with."

"Absolutely not. You are taking a break," Doey demanded. You could already tell he wasn't going to give up easily. He was stubborn. But you were too.

"But it's better to just get stuff done. I've kept up with everything and want to get ahead on it," you said with a determined pout.

The doughman shook his head firmly. "No. You are taking a break. Digging yourself into the ground is not going to help anyone in the Haven. And more importantly, it's not going to help you. You need to take care of yourself."

"I am. By taking care of the others," you retorted. You crossed your arms and glared at him. He glared back. The truth was, deep down, you did want a break. Just some time to relax and let someone else deal with your worries. But you weren't going to admit that without a fight.

Doey just glared right back. "Come on, pal. You need to rest. Please. Burning yourself out isn't healthy." He poked your belly for emphasis. You but your lip and couldn't stop the squeak that escaped you. Unfortunately, it didn't escape your friend's notice.

Doey raised an eyebrow and smiled a little. He didn't bring it up and continued on his lecture. "Taking breaks is important both for your physical-" Poke to the belly. "-and mental-" Another poke. "-wellbeing." You squeaked and squirmed a bit at every poke.

The doughman frowned in fake offense. "Why're you laughing at me? I'm trying to help you," he sighed.

You shook your head and narrowed your eyes. "Oh, stop. I know full well what you're trying to do," you growled. He tilted his head in "confusion."

"What?" he asked innocently. "What am I trying to do?"

You pouted. "Tickle me."

You immediately regretted your words. Doey grinned widely. "Whatever you say."

You squealed as he pounced on you, his doughy fingers digging into you sides. You wriggled all over the sleeping bag, grabbing the hands on your waist frantically. "Doey! Nohoooo!" you shouted. You didn't really mean it...No. Yes you did. Shut up.

"Awwww," Doey cooed. "What's wrong? You told me to." His hands morphed to precisely dig between your ribs. You shrieked and kicked, laughing madly. Your hands scrabbled against his helplessly. Dammit, he already knew where to get you!

"NOHOO!" you yelled. "Not thehehEHEHEhere!"

Your friend laughed and continued to vibrate his fingers in your ribcage. "Not here? Why's that? Is is baaad?" he teased. You nodded frantically, squirming and squealing. You hugged yourself in hopes of getting him off, but he just flattened his fingers to fit under your arms.

"Thanks for the new spot, pal!" he said cheerfully. You squeaked and squashed your arms down.

"Doey!" you cried through laughter. "Not there!"

Your friend grinned evilly. You closed your eyes and pressed your face against the bag as you felt one of your arms get raised above your head. You giggled nervously.

"D-Doey...? What're you doing?" You stiffened as you felt his fingers thin to tendrils and wiggle against the inside of your elbow.

"Why, I'm not doing anything!" You giggled and scrunched up as much as possible. The feeling moved up just above your armpits.

"Eee! No! Doey! Pleaaaseee!" you whined. You couldn't even fully laugh. It was just the anticipation!

"No? But you look like you're having so much fun!" the doughman giggled. He poked your belly, causing you to flinch and squeak. "Come on! You've been stressed lately. This is a nice way to take a break." His doughy fingers inched to your armpit. You squealed and giggled, trying to pull your arm down.

"Stop teasing and get on with it!" you managed to shout.

Doey squeaked excitedly. "Oh? Get on with it, you say? Whatever you want, Y/N!" He dug his fingers into your armpits and wiggled them ruthlessly.

A shriek escaped your lips. You found yourself wriggling back and forth like a fish out of water as loud laughter spilled from you. You grabbed at your friend's hands, but it was no use. He was too strong for you.

"FAHAHAHAHAAAACK! DOEHEHEHEHEE! NOHOHOOOO!" you laughed.

Doey giggled and scritched down your ribs. "Awwww. Is my little friend a little sensitive? Tickle tickle tiiiickle!" he teased.

You thrashed from side to side, squealing and laughing. Your hands didn't pull at the attacker's wrists but instead sat limply on top of them. This didn't escape his notice. He scribbled his fingers all over your belly and ribs.

"D'awwwww! You aren't fighting back! Just squirming!" he cooed. You felt your face heat up and pressed it against the cot like you had it before.

"Shuhuhut uuhuhuuup!" you whined through laughter.

"What's that? You aren't telling me to stop? Guess I'll keep going then! Coochicoochicoooo!"

You shrieked with laughter, kicking weakly and keeping your face hidden. As much as this was absolute torture, it was also...nice. All your worries and anxieties were out the window and you could let loose and enjoy some fun. Not that you would ever admit that. That would just give your friend another way to mess with you.

"You ahahahAHAHAHAAA! NOT THERE!" You arched your back away from Doey's fingers. They were poking and drilling between your shoulder blades experimentally. The doughman giggled and kept digging into the sweet spot.

"Oh! So your back is ticklish too? That's unusual," he observed.

You kicked and flailed with renewed vigor. "DOEY!" you shrieked. "STOP STOP! PLEHEHEHEHEEEEASE!"

Doey's smile softened and his fingers drew away from you. You wheezed and rolled onto your belly, resting your face in your arms. You wiped the gleeful tears from your eyes. Your panting slowed to peaceful breaths and a soft hand settled on your back.

"You ok, Y/N?" You looked up from your arms. Doey sounded...so sincere and warm. His smile radiated care and concern, and you couldn't help but smile back a little.

"Um...Yeah..." you answered breathily. "I am now...Thank you."

Your friend grinned and crawled in a little circle on his pillow pile before settling down. "Of course. I'm always here for ya, pal. Don't forget that."

You watched him a second as he kneaded his pillow a bit to get comfortable and then spoke up. "Um...Doey?"

The doughman's head perked up. "Hm?"

"Can I...um..." You looked down at your hands. "Can I-...?" You beckoned at the spot next to him.

Doey smiled and nodded, patting the pillows. "Of course. Come here, pal."

Your eyes lit up and you scooted over to the edge of the sleeping bag, crawling on the soft pillows. Your friend grabbed you and pulled you over, nuzzling you affectionately. You giggled and nuzzled him back.

"Awwww. You're too nice. How did the Haven get yoouuEEEE!"

Doey dug his fingers back in your ribs with a snicker. Good luck.

[vera-deville]

HIHIHI IM HERE TO REQUEST A TWST ONE SHOT !!

a Leona/masc reader, with reader having been exhausted from running around all day and relaxing with Leona. All the soft fluffies, and lil romances teeheehee

Tysm !!! <3

Home is Where You're Waiting

04/27/2025

Pairing: Leona Kingscholar x Reader Word Count: 536 Warnings: N/A Gender: Gender Neutral Tags: @viviennevermillion, @achy-boo, @savanaclaw1996, @atomatoho3, @qaxdea, @katzline Notes: GOD was I craving Leona fluff; anon you came in clutch- Masterlist

You weren't sure how you made it back to your dorm room. Your body felt half-asleep already, legs dragging with every step, mind fogged over from running around all day. Errands, classes, helping Crowley with yet another "small favor" that turned into a three-hour ordeal - it had all stacked up until you were quite literally running on fumes.

The door clicked shut behind you, and you barely managed to toe-off your shoes before slumping forward with a sigh heavy enough to rattle the windows.

"You look like you lost a fight with a tumbleweed," a low voice drawled from across the room.

Leona, sprawled lazily across your bed, cracked open one sharp green eye to look at you. He didn't seem in a hurry to move - no surprise there - but there was something unusually soft about his gaze tonight.

You grunted, managing a weak, "Feels like it, too."

Leona stretched, long and slow like a cat, before patting the empty space next to him. "Come here, herbivore."

You didn't need to be told twice. Peeling off your jacket with fumbling fingers, you all but collapsed onto the bed beside him, letting out a groan that came from somewhere deep in your soul.

Immediately, Leona shifted, tugging you into his side with an ease that made it clear he'd been waiting for you all along. His arm slung comfortably over your shoulders, pulling you against the solid warmth of his body. His scent - sun-kissed grass and something wild - filled your nose, grounding you in a way nothing else could.

For a few blessed minutes, neither of you said anything. You simply lay there, breathing in sync, your tired muscles slowly unclenching one by one.

"You work too hard," Leona muttered against your hair, voice low and lazy. His hand idly traced patterns across your arm, slow enough to make you shiver.

"Somebody's gotta do it," You mumbled into his shirt.

"Not you," He shot back, not unkindly. "You're not the caretaker of this dump."

You huffed a soft laugh at that. "Feels like it sometimes."

Leona clicked his tongue in annoyance but didn't argue further. Instead, he shifted again, pulling you fully onto his chest, one hand coming up to card lazily through your hair.

"You should let me handle it," He said, the words almost a rumble beneath your ear. "I'm good at doing nothing."

You snorted. "You're an expert, you mean?"

"Exactly." He said smugly.

Another long beat of silence stretched between you, but it wasn't uncomfortable. If anything, it felt right. Safe. You melted further into him, the steady rise and fall of his breathing lulling you closer to sleep.

Leona's hand never stopped moving, combing through your hair with slow, unhurried strokes. His heartbeat, steady and strong beneath your cheek, was like a metronome pulling you down into something warm and heavy and decadent and good.

"You're staying right here tonight," He said, voice already thick with impending sleep.

You couldn't have moved even if you wanted to. "Wasn't planning on going anywhere."

A lazy, satisfied hum vibrated through his chest.

"Good."

And that was the last thing you heard before sleep finally claimed you, wrapped up in Leona's arms, safe and sound.

Author's Note: I'm going through a MASSIVE spring cleaning right now, and one of the things I wanted to get done today was this request. I myself am craving some Leona fluff, so thank you so much anon for requesting this! I'm not sure if you wanted the Reader to be male, or have masc traits, so I just tried to write as gender neutral as possible (I'm so sorry if this isn't what you wanted)!

Masterlist

[aventurineswife]

hi hello im like feeling very scared about this, making requests is scary, and this would be my first ever one, im pretty sure ur requests are open right now, apologies if not, its so scary keeping track but uh i cant stop thinking about like a reader who like goes to sleep rlly early (like 6-7pm) but then wakes up rlly early as a result (like 3-5am) and as a result grows very tired and eepy during the day and sometimes falls asleep or spaces out during the day, idk where you could take this, i just think it would be cute to make up something for it (and definitely isnt my routine) as for characters uh aventurine, kaveh and if u write for them lyney and baizhu (idk if u write for many genshin characters but i literally only know aventurine from honkai bc i hyperfixated on just him, idk the lore of honkai at all 😭)

Dreamers in the Daylight

Tags: Kaveh x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Fluff, Established Relationship, Soft Moments, Protective Partner, Sleepy/Overworked Reader, Light Humor, Emotional Vulnerability.

Warnings: Mild mentions of overworking, Emotional fatigue.

A/N: No! Don't be scared!! 😭🙏 I'm so sorry for being intimidating!! Requests are closed now. And you did a good job on making a request 🫂💖 (also I'm feeling eepy so I just did Kaveh and Aventurine sadly 😔)

Kaveh first noticed your unique sleep routine during one of his late-night sketching marathons. He had returned home to find you already fast asleep on the couch at 7 PM, curled up with a blanket and the soft glow of candles illuminating your peaceful expression. He couldn’t help but smile as he adjusted the blanket over your shoulders before retreating to his room.

Your early-to-bed habit intrigued him, but it also left him confused when he found you wide awake in the predawn hours, humming softly to yourself as you prepared tea. The quiet mornings you spent together soon became a comfort to Kaveh. While he worked on designs or poured his heart into blueprints, you would sit beside him, resting your chin on your hand, occasionally spacing out as the world outside slowly woke up.

But during the day, your schedule often caught up with you. Kaveh first discovered this when he brought you to one of his favorite spots in Sumeru—a scenic hill with a breathtaking view of the city. He was passionately explaining the significance of the architecture below when he turned to see your head nodding, your eyelids drooping.

“Are you… falling asleep?” he asked, half-offended and half-amused.

You jerked awake, blinking rapidly. “N-No, I’m just… resting my eyes! I swear I was listening!”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re hopeless,” he teased, though he gently guided you to sit under a tree’s shade. “Alright, take a quick nap. I’ll wake you up in a bit.”

Moments like these became common. Whether you were resting your head on his shoulder in the middle of a crowded plaza or dozing off during his long-winded rants about art, Kaveh always found a way to accommodate you. He’d sigh dramatically, but there was a fondness in his tone as he whispered, “Only you could make me stop mid-sentence just so you can nap.”

Yet, he never left your side. He’d drape his cape over you to shield you from the sun. Sometimes, he’d even sit with you, watching your serene expression and wondering how someone so effortlessly stole his heart.

One morning, as the two of you shared tea before dawn, Kaveh turned to you with a soft smile. “You know,” he began, “I used to think your sleep schedule was odd. But now, I’ve realized I wouldn’t trade these quiet mornings—or your sleepy daytime antics—for anything.”

You grinned, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Glad you’re on board, sunshine.”

The first time Aventurine realized your peculiar sleep habits, he didn’t know whether to laugh or raise an eyebrow. You had fallen asleep in his office chair at 6:30 PM, your head resting on the corner of his desk while he explained his latest strategy. He’d been mid-sentence about a crucial investment when he turned to find you completely out, your breathing soft and even.

“Well, well,” he muttered, tilting his hat back. “If this isn’t the biggest gamble of my life—someone who sleeps through my brilliance.”

He didn’t wake you. Instead, he draped his overcoat over your shoulders and continued working in silence. But the next morning, when he saw you sipping coffee at 4 AM, humming cheerfully as though the day had already begun, he knew he had found someone… unique.

Aventurine didn’t mind your sleep schedule, though it did make him adjust his plans. He’d noticed how you grew visibly tired during the day, your eyes glazing over during strategy meetings or your head drooping at social gatherings. At first, he found it amusing, especially when others tried to engage you in conversation, only for you to reply with an incoherent mumble.

“You’re really stealing the show, darling,” he teased one evening after you fell asleep in the middle of a poker game. He gently scooped you up, placing you on the couch in his suite. “The only person who can outplay me is someone who’s not even awake.”

But Aventurine’s teasing belied his genuine care for you. He’d schedule his meetings around your energy levels, ensuring you were comfortable before any long discussions. During your midday naps, he’d sit beside you, absently flipping through documents while stealing glances at your relaxed face. He didn’t understand how you could look so content, even in the middle of chaos, but it fascinated him.

One afternoon, as you rested your head on his shoulder during a lull in his meetings, Aventurine leaned closer, speaking softly. “You know, most people think I’m a reckless gambler, always chasing the next big win. But you—you’re the real risk-taker. Who else would trust me to keep an eye on them while they nap?”

You smirked, eyes half-closed. “Maybe because you’re not as scary as you think you are.”

He chuckled, adjusting his glasses. “Careful, darling. Keep saying things like that, and I might actually believe you.”

From then on, Aventurine made it his mission to protect your unique rhythm. Whether he shielded you from interruptions during naps or joined you in the quiet stillness of early mornings, he found a strange comfort in the balance you brought to his life. For a man who thrived on uncertainty, you were the one constant he was willing to bet everything on.

[lyn31]

Making another ask to make a request hehe i hope it's okay with you 🥰 can you pretty please write about mc's early pregnancy stage? (If you're not planing to write it already) Like how would they feel with mc's job as a hunter? I feel like during this time they might have a little argument since zayne probably would want her to take a break from her job the moment they found out y'know since her job is very pyhsical and the risks of harming the baby but mc might be a little bit stubborn about it? imagine her fainting during her mission because of fatigue and how would zayne's reaction to it be? (maybeee just a little tiny bit of angst? but definitely with a happy ending cause i can't handle sad ending, you can add a bit of smut too if you want hohoho) I'm sorry if this is too hard for you to write 😭 anyway thank you for all the amazing stories, i'm looking forward to read more of your writings! 🥰

It ended up being a hurt/comfort 🫶🏻🥹 I never thought I'd write one of these, but then again, that’s what I said the first time I wrote smut 😂

Speaking of smut—I didn’t end up fitting any in. I was thinking maybe it could happen when they get back home. Obviously no sex smut since MC’s still in early pregnancy, but some comfort smut would be nice.

BUT I thought this ending already tied things up with such a great little bow :D

Hopefully you like it! Let me know what you think (good or bad—lay it on me) 💕

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Stubborn

Summary

In the aftermath of a close call, you navigate the haze of recovery surrounded by unwavering love—from your partner’s steady care to your sister’s fierce loyalty—until the weight of fear gives way to healing, one quiet moment at a time.

Ao3 link

My Masterlist ✨

Notes

Pairing: Zayne x MC/Reader Hurt/comfort, family feels, early pregnancy.

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Zayne closes his tablet with a soft click, his gaze already on you. He doesn’t say anything. Just looks.

You shut the door a little harder than necessary when you step back into Zayne’s office, the familiar scent of disinfectant and tea grounding you just enough not to explode. He’s still seated at his desk, calm as ever, reading one of his medical cases.

You just finished a call with the HQ.

“They’re not letting me work in the field anymore,” you huff, dropping into the seat across from him. “But if I really want to work, I can be support from base. You know—report duty, logistics, the fun stuff.”

You narrow your eyes. “Don’t give me that look.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he replies mildly, folding his hands like he’s a neutral party in a murder trial. “But if I had, I might’ve said this was predictable.”

“I know it’s not possible,” you groan, tipping your head back. “And I don’t want to be in the field anyway. I’m not trying to hurt our baby.”

He reaches for your hand, which you take immediately.

“But they didn’t have to say it like that,” you go on, toying with his fingers. “Like I’m fragile. Like I need to be wrapped in bubble wrap and locked in a temperature-controlled room.”

“They didn’t say that,” Zayne points out, far too calmly.

“That’s what they meant.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Did they also say it in a tone you invented for them?”

You shoot him a look. “You’re very smug for someone who’s supposed to be on my side.”

“I am on your side,” he says smoothly, standing up and walking over to you. “Which is why I’m supporting your decision to, what was it? Rot behind a desk with a highlighter and a clipboard?”

You groan again, burying your face in his stomach. “Don’t remind me.”

He chuckles, then leans down slightly, his cool fingers brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. “They’re not saying you’re useless. You’re not.”

Your hands wrap around him. “I’m not.”

He tilts his head. “Then stop talking like you are.”

You purse your lips, stubborn, but you can’t hold the tension when he leans down, voice dipping just enough to soften the blow:

“You’re still you. Even if you’re not kicking down doors right now.”

That gets a small breath of laughter out of you, even as you lean your head back against the chair again.

“...I’m still going to complain,” you mutter.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Zayne murmurs, brushing a kiss to your temple. “But next time you get assigned report duty, I’ll make tea.”

You glance at him. “...With the good honey?”

He smiles faintly. “Only if you stop acting like being careful is a personal insult.”

You snort.

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The hum of the squad’s base is a quiet background drone—keyboards tapping, screens flickering, comms static fading in and out. You’re perched at the long center table, elbow-deep in reports you’d rather not be writing, a stylus clutched in your aching fingers.

Tara walks by with a cup of something steaming and suspiciously sweet-smelling. She pauses when she sees you still working.

“You’re aware no one’s asking you to finish all those today, right?” she says, eyeing your growing stack. “Unless you’re aiming for a stress-induced birth.”

“I’m behind,” you mutter, not looking up. “Someone’s gotta get them done.”

“You mean besides the two rookies we literally hired for this?”

“They’re slow.”

“They’re new.”

“They’re too new.”

Tara sips her drink and squints. “You know this is your villain origin story, right? ‘Hunter turns paperwork tyrant after desk job.’”

You give her a withering look. She grins and walks away.

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Later, Lara leans in behind you without a sound, placing a small snack packet next to your elbow.

You blink. “What’s this?”

“Protein and fiber,” she says with that calm smile of hers. “You skipped lunch just because your husband isn’t here to give it to you.”

“I did not—”

“You took two bites of toast and drank a coffee.”

You frown down at the packet. “I’m not hungry.”

Lara just squeezes your shoulder. “Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t eat.”

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The next day, you’re rearranging case logs and editing mission summaries—because, of course, no one else formats headers right���and your back is killing you. You stand to stretch when Rose walks in and catches you mid-pose, one hand bracing the small of your spine.

She crosses her arms, already judging you.

“You realize you’re not obligated to be the Association’s unpaid intern, right?”

“I’m just keeping busy.”

“You’re nesting in spreadsheets.”

You glare. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting. I’m continuing.”

She tosses a folder onto the desk, tone sharpening just enough to dig in.

“You don’t like this work. You’re not even supposed to be doing it. But you’re acting like if you stop for five minutes, the world’s gonna forget you exist.”

“I’m not—!”

“You are,” she cuts in. “And the worst part is, if I were doing this? You’d be the first to tell me to sit my ass down and breathe.”

You open your mouth, but the only thing that comes out is silence—and a wave of heat rising in your cheeks.

She sighs, more gently now.

“You’re not going to disappear just because you’re slowing down. You’re pregnant, not invisible.”

You drop back into your chair, tense and unwilling to admit she’s right.

Rose lingers a second longer. “You wanna prove something? Prove you can listen for once.”

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You're curled on the couch in the corner of Zayne’s office, tablet propped on your thighs, stylus dancing across the screen as you breeze through another stack of reports.

He’s been pretending to review scans, but he’s mostly been watching you.

“How many reports is that today?” he asks finally, eyes not leaving his tablet.

You don’t look up. “Just a couple.”

“That’s your third ‘couple’ since this morning.”

You sigh, the stylus slowing. “They pile up when no one does them.”

“There are other that can help you as well.”

“They’re busier than me.”

He hums, noncommittal. You recognize that sound—it means he’s noting everything and choosing silence for now.

He stands after a moment, crossing the room without a sound. You expect him to hover, maybe offer tea again. Instead, he crouches in front of you, cool hands gently taking your ankle before you can object.

“Zayne—”

“You’ve been sitting too long,” he says simply, thumb pressing into the soft, swollen flesh near your arch.

You let out a sharp breath—not from pain, but the sudden relief that spreads like warmth through your foot. It’s startling, how much it hurts and soothes at the same time. Like peeling off a pressure bandage you didn’t realize you were wearing.

“I’m fine,” you murmur.

“Mm,” he replies, entirely unconvinced. He keeps working, fingers precise, careful. “Do you want me to stop?”

The ache in your calves pulses in response—a dull throb reminding you of every hour spent hunched over case files and mission logs. You hadn’t meant to ignore your body. You just... forgot.

He moves to your other foot, and when he finds the sore spot along your heel, you twitch slightly.

The moment his fingers start to knead with practiced care, your shoulders sag. The tension there slips loose without permission—like your body had been waiting for someone else to give it the okay to stop.

“You didn’t even stretch today, did you?” he asks.

“I meant to.”

He glances up, expression unreadable—but the way he shifts, drawing your legs into his lap so he can rub deeper along your calf, says everything. You don't protest. You just let your head fall back against the couch cushion, exhaustion seeping out of you in slow waves.

“You’re not helping your case by spoiling me like this,” you murmur, eyes closed.

“You’re not helping mine by pretending you don’t need it.”

He doesn’t say slow down. Doesn’t tell you you’re overdoing it—you’ve heard that enough from everyone else. Instead, he presses his thumb gently behind your knee, finding the tight muscle you didn’t realize was sore, and stays silent.

It makes you feel safe enough to rest your hand on your stomach.

He notices that too.

After a while, he murmurs, “You’re not a machine.” His voice is soft, but there’s steel underneath. “Even machines get maintained.”

You sigh. “Don’t start lecturing. I already got one from Rose.”

“I’m not lecturing,” he replies, moving his hands to your leg. “I’m observing.”

You scoff. “That’s worse.”

He keeps his massage pace steady. “Your body’s telling you to rest. You’re just not listening.”

“Because if I stop, I’ll—” You cut yourself off.

Zayne’s hands still for a second, before he continues again. But he still waits. Doesn’t press.

“I just... don’t want to feel useless.”

“You’re not,” he says simply. “You’re growing a whole human. You’re working harder than all of us.”

You drop your gaze. Your hand drifts to your stomach, and for a moment, a flicker of guilt settles in your chest—before you brush it off.

He touches your knee gently. “And before you say that doesn’t count—it does.”

You exhale, stubborn to the bitter end. “I just want to do my part.”

“You are,” he murmurs. “Even when you’re tired. Even when you’re quiet. You’re allowed to take care of yourself and still be part of everything.”

He stands, smooth and graceful as ever, and disappears into the office kitchenette. A moment later, he returns with a steaming mug and a little packet of dried fruit Lara had slipped you days ago.

You blink. “You kept that?”

He shrugs. “I’m observant, remember?”

He hands you the tea, careful not to say more.

But when you settle against the back of the couch again, sipping quietly, his fingers brush yours—just long enough to remind you he’s still there. Still watching. Still ready to catch you if—or when—you finally fall.

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

The mission had gone smoothly—standard sweep, zero surprises. And just when everyone was ready to head back and clock out, the patrol assignment came in.

You straighten without a second thought. “I’ll come.”

Tara, still adjusting her gloves, pauses. “Come where?”

“On patrol.”

A beat of silence.

Rose levels you with a look. “No.”

You raise a brow. “It’s just a regular route. You said yourself it’s the quietest zone.”

“That’s not the point—”

“I’ve been sitting for days, my legs are cramping, and if I stare at another report I’m going to set fire to the desk.”

Tara mutters, “That’s valid.”

Lara looks at the sky. “Please don’t actually set fire to the desk.”

“I’ll stay in the middle,” you add, like it sweetens the deal. “I’m a support unit. Ranged. I’m not going to be diving into anything.”

Rose folds her arms. “You’re still—”

“Pregnant, yes, I know,” you cut in, already tugging on your jacket. “Not made of glass. I’m not even showing yet. And HQ already approved base-side support, didn’t they?”

“They didn’t mean outside the base,” Rose mutters.

“They didn’t not mean it.”

Everyone looks at you.

You lift your chin, undeterred.

Lara speaks next, dry as ever. “Fine. But you’re in the middle.”

“I was planning to—”

Rose cuts in sharply, “You’re. Staying. In. The. Middle.”

You squint at her. “You’re not the squad leader.”

Lara, hand on her forehead. “You’re staying in the middle.”

You roll your eyes. “Noted.”

Tara snorts, clearly enjoying herself. “I’ll take rear side. Can’t have mom-to-be dodging wanderer guts and ruining her pretty boots.”

“I hate those boots,” you mumble.

“Exactly. That’s how we know you’re tired.”

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

You fall into formation—Rose at the front, Tara flanking rear-left, Lara bringing up the back, and you moving steady in the middle. It’s familiar. Easy. Your steps sync with theirs, your gun balanced at your side, Evol humming at your fingertips.

No one says it out loud, but they’re all subtly adjusting around you. Slower pace. Widened spacing. You catch it—but you let it go.

Because for the first time in weeks, your legs don’t ache from stillness. The air smells like rain instead of hospital antiseptic or your base’s office.

The zone is clean—stray wanderers here and there, nothing your squad can’t handle in their sleep.

You’re tired, sure—but this, you can handle it.

Until the air tears.

It doesn’t start as sound—it’s pressure. Your lungs forget how to breathe a moment before the world bends and tears open.

A Deepspace tunnel splits open in the middle of the street.

“Contact—two o’clock!” Rose snaps, a violet slash coming from her hands already singing through the first thing that crawls out.

You shift, instinct kicking in. Your Evol flashes, syncing instantly to Rose’s—sharpening her edges, accelerating her strikes.

Tara surges forward, intercepting another, and you link to her next, boosting her reflexes mid-movement. Lara flanks right behind with a glowing barrier.

It’s a tight formation. Efficient. You keep your distance, keep your focus. Your hands tremble a little, but you bite it back. One more boost—one more sync—

It starts getting hard to see clearly.

Your head pounds. Your knees buckle, unsteady.

You shift focus again, try to keep up with the flow, but your Evol stutters with jagged pulses, like it’s struggling to hold a signal. The edges of your vision blur.

Something disconnects. You think you hear someone yell your name—

And then nothing.

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

It’s the faint beep of a monitor you hear first. A soft rhythm, too steady to be anything from the field.

Then fingers. Wrapped around your hand, cool yet steady. Anchoring you.

Your eyes flutter open.

White ceiling. Hospital lights. The faint scent of antiseptic.

And Zayne.

His face is the first thing you see—tired, eyes ringed with shadow, but locked on you with absolute focus the moment you stir.

“You’re awake,” he says—relief and fear tangled in his voice.

His voice has that low, careful tone he uses with patients—except it’s thinner now. Strained around the edges.

Before you can say anything, he’s checking you, doctor-mode overriding everything. Fingers at your pulse, brushing against your wrist. A touch to your forehead. Gentle pressure along your wrist.

“No fever,” he murmurs to himself. “Vitals are stable... you fainted from exhaustion.”

You try to speak, but he’s already leaning in, brushing your hair from your face like he needs to see you fully to believe it.

Then, his hand lifts yours, holding it close. His lips press to your knuckles. Then your temple. Then your cheek.

No anger. No lecture. Just that quiet sorrow in his eyes.

“I was scared,” he admits, barely a whisper. “You weren’t waking up.”

Your chest tightens. You try to blink it away, but his hand squeezes yours, grounding you again.

He exhales through his nose, like he’s been holding it in for hours.

“I should be angry,” he says finally, voice low. “But I’m mostly just... terrified.”

You blink at him, throat tight.

“You could’ve gotten hurt. Worse. You and the baby.”

His eyes stay locked on yours, steady now—but not cold. Just bare.

“I know you want to help. I know sitting still drives you mad. But pushing yourself until you pass out—how is that helping anyone?”

Your lips part, but he shakes his head gently, thumb brushing your wrist.

“I’m not saying this to hurt you. I’m saying it because I love you.”

You swallow hard, your throat dry and raw. “I didn’t think it would get that bad,” you murmur, voice barely there. “I just… I thought I could still be useful.”

His expression doesn’t shift much, but his thumb stills against your skin. “You are. You always are. But not like this.”

He lowers your joined hands onto the blanket, his other hand trailing along your arm like he’s reminding himself you’re still here. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Least of all to me.”

You look away, eyes burning. “It didn’t feel that way.”

“I know,” he says quietly. “That’s what scares me.”

He leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours. His touch is cool, his presence a balm—but beneath it, you feel the way he trembles. Just faintly.

“I need you to take care of yourself,” he whispers. “Not just for the baby. For me, too.”

You nod—slow and aching, the fight bleeding out like water through a cracked glass.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I know,” he says, and his voice shakes just enough to break your heart. He lifts your hand again, presses it to his cheek like he needs the anchor just as much.

“I know you were trying your best. But I need you to stop carrying all of it like it’s only yours to hold.”

His eyes meet yours—clear, but so raw. “You’re not alone in this. You never were. So please… stop acting like you have to be.”

You swallow hard. “I just... I didn’t want to be a burden.”

He closes his eyes for a moment, jaw tight, like the words cut deeper than you meant them to.

“You’re not,” he says. No hesitation. “You never have been. Not now. Not before.”

Your throat stings. “Then why does it feel like I am? Like if I stop, if I let go even a little, I’ll just fade into the background while everyone else moves on without me?”

Zayne shifts, leans forward, and rests his forehead against your temple.

“Because you're so used to holding everything up, you don’t know how to not fight for space. Even when no one’s trying to take it from you.”

You breathe in slowly. His scent, the warmth of his skin, the steady thrum of his presence—everything about him quiets the noise in your head just a little.

“I thought I was helping,” you whisper. “I wanted to help.”

“I know,” he says again. “But pushing yourself until you collapse doesn’t help anyone—not me, not the baby, not your squad. And especially not you.”

His hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing under your eye where a tear slips free.

“I don’t need you to be perfect,” he says gently. “I need you to be here.”

Something in you breaks—not with violence, but with mercy. Like something brittle giving way to light.

You nod, a little shaky. “I still want to do better.”

Zayne presses a kiss to your temple. “Then rest. Let yourself breathe. That’s where it starts.”

And this time, when your eyes close again, it’s not from exhaustion—but relief.

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

You wake again to the sound of a quiet page turning.

Zayne sits beside you, long legs folded, a medical file in one hand—yours, probably—but his attention snaps to you the second your breathing shifts.

He sets it down. “You’re awake.”

His voice is softer this time. Less strained. The lines around his eyes are still there, but something in them eases.

You blink at him. “You’re still here?”

“I wasn’t planning to leave.” He brushes his fingers over your wrist, like he’s making sure your pulse is still real beneath his touch. “How do you feel?”

“Tired.” Your voice comes out dry and rough.

He nods once. “That’s good.” Then he picks up the glass of water from the side table and offers it to you. His fingers graze yours as you take it—but he don’t pull away immediately.

You pause, then shift your other hand to gently hold his, anchoring it there. Your thumb brushes over his knuckles, light but deliberate. He squeezes your hand in return.

“It means you’re listening to your body, not fighting it.” His lips twitch, just a little.

You exhale before taking a slow sip of the water, letting the coolness ease the rasp in your throat. His hand stays in yours.

When you lower the glass, you don’t let go.

And for the first time in hours, you feel more at ease.

Zayne’s thumb brushes lightly across your knuckles—once, twice. Then, gently, he says, “Rose and Caleb are here. With the twins. They’ve been waiting outside—Rose didn’t want to crowd you unless you were ready.”

You go still. “The twins?”

“They were very insistent about seeing their favorite aunt.”

You arch a brow. That’s your line—he usually waits for you to say it, then replies with, “their only aunt.”

But this time, he says it for you.

And something about that—gentle, unexpected—makes a strange, delicate flutter rises in your chest.

Tender. Fragile. But steady.

Hormones, yup, that’s why.

“Can I see them?”

Zayne leans in, kisses your forehead, brushes your hair back with careful fingers. Then he steps into the hallway. A few quiet murmurs follow. The door opens.

Rose is the first to step in.

She looks... fine. Hair tied up, usual jacket slung over her arm, lips pressed into a flat line. But her eyes linger too long on the monitor beside you. Her fingers twitch at her side like she wants to check the IV, double-check your vitals—anything to do something. Instead, she stops at the foot of your bed.

“You look like shit,” she says, dry as ever.

“Thanks,” you rasp, voice hoarse.

Rose exhales. Shoulders sink. “I mean. You scared the hell out of us.”

You open your mouth, but she holds up a hand. “Let me get through this without crying yet.”

Caleb enters with the twins—both wide-eyed and quiet for once, clinging to his hands. They’re three now, just tall enough to peek over the bed railing. Caleb gives you a small smile, nods once—like we’ll talk later—and steps aside.

“I shouldn’t have let you come on patrol,” Rose says, voice quieter now. “Even if it was routine. Even if nothing was supposed to happen. You’re my twin. My squadmate. I knew you weren’t at full strength. I just...” Her breath stutters. “I just thought if I said no, you’d push harder. And I didn’t want to be the bad guy.”

You swallow. “I wanted to be there.”

“I know.” She folds her arms, eyes wet. “But I should’ve been the one to stop you anyway.”

“You tried,�� you say. “You did more than anyone. I just—” Your voice cracks. “I didn’t want to be left behind.”

Rose’s expression finally breaks. She moves toward you, voice shaking. “You’re not behind. You’re with us. And you always will be. Just—don’t do that again, okay? Don’t scare me like that.”

You reach for her at the same time she leans in. Arms wrap around each other tight—shaky, unsteady, clinging like you're both trying to fix something that cracked open between you. Her forehead presses to your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she chokes out.

“Me too.”

That’s when the twins—silent up to this point—decide they’ve had enough of being observers.

They scramble up the bed, climbing over your legs like determined little puppies, wedging themselves between you and Rose, their small arms trying to hug both of you at once.

And then they’re crying. Loud and messy and confused.

“Mommy’s crying,” your niece says, and your nephew wails, “Why is Auntie sick—stop being sick!”

Rose laughs through a sob, pulling them in tighter. “She’s okay, baby. She’s okay now.”

It’s a mess of limbs and tears and sniffles on the bed, and for a moment, the whole room is soft with the sound of people trying to breathe again.

At the side of the room, Zayne stands with Caleb, arms loosely crossed, watching the scene unfold.

“Should we hug it out too?” Caleb murmurs, glancing sideways.

Zayne gives him a bland look. “No.”

Caleb grins and then sighs, dramatic. “I thought we had something, Zayne. Where’s my love?”

Zayne doesn’t even blink. “Buried somewhere beneath your need for theatrics.”

“Ouch,” Caleb mutters, clutching his chest like he’s been personally wounded. “Ruthless. No wonder your patients love you—you leave just enough emotional damage for a lasting impression.”

Zayne exhales through his nose, gaze drifting back to the bed where the tangle of you, Rose, and the twins is still unfolding—small hands clinging, Rose’s face pressed against your shoulder, the kids hiccuping their tears into your sides. The corner of his mouth pulls, barely, almost a smile.

Caleb watches him for a moment longer, then, softer. “...Glad she’s okay.”

Zayne doesn’t say anything to that. Just nods once.

And that’s when Caleb pulls out his phone. He doesn’t even hide it.

“I’m taking a picture.”

Zayne lifts an eyebrow, but doesn’t stop him.

“For the photo wall,” Caleb says, angling it just right. “Or the ‘look at your chaotic emotional legacy’ folder for when they’re teenagers. Whichever comes first.”

He takes the picture with the absolute stealth of a dad used to capturing chaotic moments.

Zayne watches, quiet. But this time, when the screen captures your face mid-laugh, he doesn’t look away.

Your hand in Rose’s hair. Little fingers tangled in yours. Tears drying slow on your cheeks. A smile caught between sobs, still glimmering. The moment is already saved.

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

Notes

This week is just serious week I guess... Are we all just in our period? Is that why? Cuz I am.... 🫠😂 Joking aside, hope y'all enjoy it! 🫶🏻🥹

[uns4lted]

i get the hype now and i've been missing out to this MAN right here 😖

[aetherdoesthings]

hello!!! i hope ur having a good day/night! can i request headcanons or fics (whatever you prefer!) of reader falling asleep because of work and the monster trio's reaction to it? thank u!!

hello!!! i hope you're having a good day/night too!

forethoughts: gonna be out of my country next week for vacation, so probably not going to upload as much, but i'll try. i hope you enjoy!! also did tumblr remove yellow from the color choices? odd.

notes: gn!reader

Luffy

“Y/N! Check it-” With a kick, the Captain of the Straw Hat Pirates stepped into your office, holding a slab of meat. His excitement plummeted as his eyes fell on you. Your head was resting on top of stacks of papers, a quill in between your fingers. Your entire body was limp against the wooden desk in the corner of the room, the lamp above your head still burning bright. 

“Y/N?” Luffy walked closer to you, his sandals thudding against the planks below. He tapped your head, shaking your shoulder, until he could see the slightest movement coming from you. 

You shrugged Luffy’s hand off of you, forcing yourself to sit up. “Luffy?”

“Why’d you fall asleep?” A small frown appeared on Luffy’s face. You knew he didn’t like you overworking yourself and filling up your time with ‘boring stuff’.

“It’s just a nap. Promise.”

“Are you overworking yourself again?”

“N-No.”

“Y/N… I already told you. If there’s too much work for you, just tell me.”

“It’s fine, Luffy.”

“No, it’s not fine. I don’t want you to overwork yourself to the point you fall asleep. Come on.” Luffy shoved the meat into his mouth, his hands wrapped around your arms as he dragged you in the direction of your shared bed. Without much protest, your head was now resting on top of pillows, a soft blanket plastered on top of your body.

“Sleep. Okay? You better be asleep by the time I come back.” Luffy pointed a finger at your face. You let out a chuckle, nodding your head. 

“Thank you.” You whispered softly.

The corner of Luffy's mouth stretched up to his eyes. "I asked you to join because I wanted to go on adventures with you, Y/N, I didn't ask you to join my crew because I wanted to see you work until you fall asleep! Please take care of yourself, otherwise we can't go on adventures anymore."

Zoro

“Oi, Y/N, it’s my turn. You can go back inside.” Zoro climbed up the crow’s nest, getting ready for his shift of watching over the ship. When he got up there, he saw you curled up into a ball on the side, fast asleep. He stared at your figure for a moment, before climbing into the circular space next to you. He flicked your forehead, gently slapping your face, to no avail. You were dead asleep, a quill balancing in between your fingers. Zoro placed a hand on your arm, retracting immediately. You were freezing cold. 

“Tch. Falling asleep on the job.” Zoro crossed his arms, staring at your unconscious body, putting his swords aside as he surveyed the scene.The inside of the crow’s nest was littered with papers and notes, an empty bottle of ink haphazardly discarded on the side. Anger and annoyance clouded Zoro’s head, the urge to wake you up and scold you for prioritizing your work over the safety of everyone. But in the cold winter night, a drop of warmth entered Zoro’s heart as he stared at your curled up figure, shivering slightly, but still dead asleep. There were heavy eyebags visible on your face, your lips cracked. The veins on your hands were visible, bulging out at Zoro.

“Damn it.” Zoro scoffed, as he reached a hand out towards you, dragging your body closer to his. He propped you up against his chest, letting you use his body heat as a source of warmth in the cold night. “Always overexerting yourself, you idiot. Should’ve brought a jacket instead of your papers. Geez. Now I gotta take care of you.” 

You were still knocked out, head resting on Zoro’s shoulder. Zoro let out a scoff, placing a hand around your shoulder, warming you up. “Tch.”

Sanji

Finally done with cleaning up the kitchen and preparing the next day’s meals, Sanji headed back to the bedroom you shared with him. He tried not to make as much noise as possible; at this time, you were most likely asleep already. He stepped into your room, closing the door as quietly as he could.

“Eh?” Sanji looked at the bed. The blankets were still neatly made from this morning, pillows organized with no wrinkles. He turned his attention towards your desk in the corner of the room, a small smile on his face. At least you didn’t go missing. You were dead asleep, head resting on your left arm, your right holding onto a quill. Sanji tiptoed over, examining your sleeping figure. 

My dear Y/N… Sanji sighed, plucking the quill out of your fingers. Without waking you up, his hands curled around your neck and the back of your knees. Without breaking a sweat, Sanji scooped you up, letting your head hit the pillow before the rest of your body was on the mattress. He draped the blanket over your body, planting a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Sweet dreams, my love.” Sanji whispered, before heading back over to your desk. He took a seat, rolling up his sleeves as he stared at the sea of papers and ink. As the moon itself was about to go to sleep, and the sun slowly woke up, Sanji stayed there, helping you organize all your work and sort out all your notes, filling out blanks you had left or letters you needed to write. He didn’t care if he lost some hours of sleep; in a few minutes, he’d have to ‘wake up’ to start prepping the next day’s meal anyways. As long as you were well rested and taken care of, Sanji didn’t care if he would have to lose hours of sleep. 

[mscherub]

Self Care is Important, Spudling (Vil Schoenheit x Reader)

Gender neutral reader, referred to as Y/N, Prefect, Potato, or Spudling (a lot with Vil, lol)

Warnings!:

Stressed Reader

Passing out

Lack of self care; Reader

Small mental breakdown; Reader

Word Count:

Approximately 2.58k

Of course- of course Crowley had to assign you maintenance work on campus...again. I mean was this guy serious? Fixing up some architecture, whether that be painting or patching up small holes, then you had to fix up the flower beds, make them look presentable and pretty! Better points for the college, Crowley says. Sadly, however, you’re not done yet, because you have to go help out with a few clubs and observe them since you haven’t, and well, kind of can’t join one yourself, this again was to earn your keep as a student, Crowley says. Then of course, there’s the never ending supply of homework from Professor Trein and Crewel, which you have still yet to do since you’ve been so choked up with everything else Crowley dumps onto you on a daily basis. All for you to earn your keep in Ramshackle, all for you to earn your keep of you and Grim being considered students. And all for you to earn your keep of just barely even living!

It’s tiring, a cumbersome array of tasks on your list that only seems to get longer and longer each day. You get to bed late, and then you have to get up at 6, get yourself ready, get Grim ready, make breakfast, take the hike up to school, and the cycle repeats. You’re tired. You’re oh so tired…

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

You sit in class, your head bobbing slightly as you try and force your eyes open. You shake your head and rub your eyes, an action that has become the norm for you the past few days. You fight back multiple yawns as Trein finds it to be a disrespectful act in his classroom for some odd reason, though it’s his fault his lessons are so boring. You sigh and you look down at your paper, the words jumbled up to your mind and incomprehensible. Grim scribbles away at his assignment and he does a double take as he looks at you, tapping your forehead with his paw and gets you to look at him.

“Ya look like you’re dying.” He whispers as he crosses his paws, his face graced with an apprehensive look. He lets out a small puff of air and he narrows his eyes at you.

“Feels like it.” You take the time to rub your temples this time and stretch something out, anything to keep you awake at this point.

Luckily for you, the bell tolls and everyone shoots up from their seats, taking their books and papers and getting the hell out of the classroom to escape from the quiet lul of that annoying monotone voice of Trein. You stand up yourself, groggy and a little disheveled as you finally yawn and walk out with Grim.

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

Coach Vargas has you all doing a whole bunch of workouts. First it was sit ups, then push ups, step ups on the bleachers, lunges, and now you have to run figure eights out on the field. Grim cheats and floats as usual (wtf man…) and you run alongside the other students, already out of breath.

Of course your mind wanders off to the assignments, reviewing over the items at hand. Trein’s history essay is due tomorrow in class and you haven’t started it yet, so there’s that. You also have to do a write up on the one lab in alchemy for Crewel— woah…

Your vision goes a bit blurry, you stumble a bit as you slow down, your body suddenly giving up on itself and practically going slack. Then you fall face first into the ground, passing out, and going limp, resembling closely to a sack of potatoes.

Students suddenly stop and look at you as you lay upon the ground. Coach Vargas yells for them to get back to work until he also takes sight of you. Well shit.

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

Your head pounds and throbs as you finally come back to your senses, you flutter your eyes open slowly but the bright cool white color of the fluorescent lights prohibits you from opening your eyes anymore than just a squint. You try to sit up but your body feels it’s being weighed down by tons and tons of lead.

Grim pops up and he seems to be saying something but the words just sound like a cacophony of vowels as you slowly come back to the state of consciousness.

“Henchhuman! Henchhuman! What happened? You like…died! Don’t do that again!” He pouts at you, clearly worried as he gently paws at your arm. A nurse walks in and assesses you, giving you some sort of potion that tastes like strong rosemary and a hint of garlic, then sends you on your way.

“You were out for like an hour and a half, and everyone in class saw ya just fall right over! Ace created a big scene! And, not just that, Vargas princess carried you out! Bridal style or whatever they call it. It’s gonna be the talk of the school soon, no doubt.” Grim huffs and puffs, shaking his head and heavily gesticulating to further prove his point of concern.

“I’m just tired, Grim. Severely tired, stressed, all of the above.” You sigh, shaking your head. You rub your temples and continue to walk forwards.

“Clearly. I gotta tell Crowley off or something! He’s slowly burning you out...only I can do that since you're my henchman…” He murmurs “You need to take a break. A nice break.” He looks at you and smirks.

“Grim, what are you implying?” You narrow your eyes at him and cross your arms, halting.

“You’ll see, Hemchuman!” He chortles.

“Grimmy, I-“

He zooms past you and makes his way to the mirror chamber within the school. Your head still hurts but you can let him go off and cause trouble on his own, which he will do!

By the time you get to the mirror chamber, praying that Grim didn’t head to a dorm where even breathing wrong could be destructive, you can see the mirror to Pomefiore still rippling. You pause and your eye twitches, fucking hell, he did not.

You head through. What happened to him saying you needed a break?

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

When you get through the mirror, Grim is still nowhere in sight, which only means he’s inside of the building. Great! One thing after another it seems.

You head into the castle-like place and walk through the ornate and sparkly hallways, passing by students who pause and go quiet at your appearance, which is tired, hungry, and pissed the fuck off due to the shenanigans Grim is pulling currently at the moment.

As you finally push into the lounge, Grim is yapping to Vil, Grims eyes contorted into a look of worry and his face holding a small amount of smugness to it. Vil does a double take when looking at you, and as soon as you lock eyes with him, he looks you up and down, his eyes going a little wide as if he had just seen his makeup pallet get destroyed. A prominent frown envelopes his features, replacing his once stoic and demure demeanor.

“Spudling…” is all he sighs out. The disappointment in his voice is enough alone to make you hold back any complaints you had to tell to Grim.

You’re irked, and your shoulders tense as you look away bashfully. You look at Grim who floats next to Vil, his chin held high as he smiles like he’s won all the tuna he could ever ask for.

“Eyes on me.” His stern voice reaches your ears and you look back at him, your lips pursed and your hands now behind your back, standing at attention.

“Look at you…” he sighs again as he walks over to you, his eyes narrowed and unwavering as he inspects you carefully, most likely pinpointing everything wrong with you.

“Rook relayed the information to me as to what happened during PE. I would have found you myself if not for Grim leading you here. At least he’s useful for that.” He clicks his tongue, a regular action for him to make while disapproving of something.

“Truly, what makes you think what you’ve been doing is any good?” He crosses his arms and shifts his weight to one leg as he waits for a response.

“I. Well. You just- I don’t think you’d really understand, Vil, if I can be honest.” You shake your head. “I have to do it. To stay here, you know? So, it’s whatever. I’m fine, I promise. Didn’t get a lot of sleep last night and that’s it-“

“Don’t play coy. Anyone can see that you’ve been disregarding your own body’s needs for more than just a night, and sleep is not the only thing you seem to be lacking.”

His words cause you to bristle up, your muscles close to cramping at how tense you’ve become. He looks at you still with a frown and the unamused tone in his voice is…unnerving.

“Ok, well, it’s things I need to get done-“

“I won’t sit here and listen to your feigning utterance.” Vil sighs, yet again, uncrossing his arms and moving to place a hand on your shoulder. In contrast to his demeanor, his touch is soft yet grounding. You visibly relax and you sigh out a soft breath.

“I’ll have Rook see Grim to Heartslabyul, you’re not leaving until I deem you fit to go on your way.” He hums as his hand slides to your upper back, silently and slowly ushering you to follow behind him. His heels click on the ground as you're already halfway down the hall, just now realizing what his words imply for you.

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

It’s true Vil took a liking to you, but he’d never admit that, his ego could be damaged, and he prefers to show that he cares through actions, anyhow, being a strong believer in that they speak louder than words.

As soon as you both reach Vil’s dorm room, he has you sit down at his vanity, gently spinning the seat so you’re face-to-face with yourself in the mirror.

“Your eyebags are so dark, and your eyes are sunken in, as well. Your hair also happens to be dry in appearance and texture. Are you eating? I’d hope so, because there is no way to take care of your body by skipping meals.” He rants on as his hands gently work to slip off your blazer, slipping it off of you and draping it over the chair.

“I forgot to eat.” You lie. A white lie. You weren’t that far off from the truth, skipping meals was necessary in your case, money was low and Grim needed to eat more than you, a sacrifice you were willing to make.

Vil pauses, his hands resting on the back of the chair as he looks at you through the mirror. If he kept frowning at you like that he’d get wrinkles, then blame you.

“Pitiful excuse, potato.” He clicks his tongue. “I hope you realize that you don’t have to lie to me.” He shakes his head.

“Wait, Vil, how the hell did you even…I’m not gonna ask.” You cross your arms.

“You’re easy to read, Prefect. You’re not as imperceptible as you may make yourself out to be” He huffs out.

“Lay it on me. It’s good to vent, Potato. It’s quite beneficial, especially to those who have a lot on their mind. It provides an escape.” His voice dips a little lower, becoming softer. You look at him through the mirror again and you see his facial features severely lacking that contemptuous look he always has, and instead it’s replaced with a soft, almost empathetic look.

“I…” is what you can manage to croak out for a second before you clear your throat and look down at your hands in your lap, leaning back in the chair.

“I guess, well. Crowley, you know him. I just have been busy with the work he’s given me, and also the assignments I have to do. Money is tight as always…I have to be careful with what I or Grim buys, so…” you slowly stammer out, the frustration and tiredness in your voice evident.

“I’m just stressed out. Tired, which I guess that’s clear to anyone, though.” Your voice quivers slightly, and before you even know it tears fall down your face, a sentiment to your situation.

You don’t hear any reprimanding from Vil, no sighs or clicks of tongues as you keep your head down, no, none of that. Vil gently moves off to the side of the chair and turns you to face him, gently dabbing at the tears that cascade down your cheeks with a tissue.

“I’m sorry…” you manage to mutter out weakly.

“Nonsense. It’s normal, sweet potato.” He gently murmurs back, his voice mellifluous and calming, anchoring you back to the moment. You take the tissue from his hand and you turn your head away.

“If it makes you feel better, I too, cry. There’s a science behind it in which it releases chemicals to promote a sense of well being.” He hums. “As well as eases pain.”

“I would have never guessed.” You sigh out, albeit sarcastically, now dabbing at your nose.

“Sarcasm? I see you're slowly reviving.” A small smirk forms on his face as he shakes his head.

“I think we have a self care night set in place for us, what do you say?” He inquires.

You hesitate for a moment but you meet his questions with a small nod, earning a genuine and gentle smile from Vil.

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

You are pampered, of course. It’s only natural. Vil goes to any extent for the people he holds dear, and you were in need of a night of relaxation. You are fed well with a nutrient dense meal to hopefully make up for your lack of care for your eating habits, and now there’s more in store…

After a few strenuous minutes of following his lengthy skincare routine, you both sit clad in silk robes that are probably worth more money than you could ever make in your life, but the moment is still peaceful. And even more to your surprise, you sit with Vil in his raw form. No makeup, no demeanor that yells “I’m the Vil Schoenheit,” no, just Vil.

He hums quietly as he deliberately shapes your nails, not sparing you a glance as he’s too focused at the task at hand. The calmness of the atmosphere is doing no help in keeping you awake and alert and you soon find your eyes start to grow heavy.

Vil quietly excuses himself to head over to grab a bottle of clear coat for your nails, but before you know it, you fall back onto the comfy bed sheets of his bed, perfume and other scents sending you into a deep sleep before you could even stop yourself from doing so.

“Y/N, would you like color or just the clear coat-“ He looks at you, shutting up immediately as his arms fall to his side. His footsteps are light as he shuffles over to the side of his bed, looking down at you. He sighs and shakes his head.

he moves the comforter over your body, bringing it up to your shoulders. He leans down slowly and places a tentative and soft kiss to your temple before leaning back up.

“This is why self care is important, spudling. I’ll let this slide…just once.”

I don’t know what I was on when I wrote this, but yep, that’s it. Thanks for reading lovelies!

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Pictures belong to Disney Twisted Wonderland but are edited by me :)

[natlovingzone]

Taking care of your sick/overworked f/o (sfw) ♡

You can tell your f/o is reaching their limit. They insist that they're feeling fine and they just need a quick break before they get back to work, but you recognise all the signs of impending burnout. Before they can even protest, you've pulled them away from their station, tidied up whatever they were working on and laid them down on the nearest bed or sofa.

They pretend to be annoyed with you at first, insisting you're just trying to distract them and waste time. But once you've got them cozy, their tiredness catches up. Soon they can barely keep their eyes open, and gladly accept when you bring them a mug of tea or cocoa.

They drift in and out of sleep. You sit beside them and hold their hand. Their temperature is a little high, they might be coming down with something, but for now it isn't too bad. Rest will be the best cure.

You play a show or movie that you both like in the background, or maybe just some of their favourite music. While they smile and tuck themselves deeper into the pillows, you stay silent and simply admire them. Their flushed cheeks, their warm hands, every little part of them is so cute.

You leave a little kiss on their sweaty forehead, and they whimper softly, pressing up to your lips. You know how important their work is to them, but it hurts you to feel how starved for attention they are. You wish you could just keep them at home all day, attending to their every need. But at the same time, you love how proud and independent they are. You can barely put into words how much you look up to them, how much they inspire you. But you hope you can show them just a fraction of that love by being there when they need you.

You lie their head in your lap and massage their shoulders, kneading the tension from their body. Soon they're in a deep sleep, trying to snuggle up to you even in their slumber. The TV flickers, the windows slowly fog up, and you softly stroke their gorgeous, tuckered-out face, thinking about just how lucky you are.