Workaholic- Chris Motionless x Reader
Warnings: Mentions of Anxiety, burning out
A/N: WOAH two fics in a row from me?? I decided to go for smth more fluffy this time as we know Chris is a sweetie and deserves all the fluff. Enjoy!
Taglist: @skulliecadaver-blog @witchyweeb34 @cookiesupplier @raydenrrobertson @sakuracyberhex @beaker1636 @lyschko666 @black-damask-1999 @synthetic-wasp-570 @jilliemiw86 @tearfallpixie @thatchickwiththecamera @zuberweirrd @bxrnthyfears @ciginatree @th0ughts-pr4yers @arkiliastuff
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It was no secret that Chris was passionate about his job.
He loved everything about it. He adored his fans, was close with all of his band members, lived for the thrill of performing on stage and putting on a show and was deeply passionate about creating and writing music that not only he could enjoy and relate to, but for other people to do so as well.
So it was no surprise whenever he got the opportunity, he was always working on something.
Whether it be song lyrics, guitar riffs or just basic concepts, it seemed like he was always working on something.
And sometimes, he had the tendency to go a bit…overboard.
You knew from the get go that Chris was a workaholic and took great pride in his work.
He was a perfectionist, everyone knew it. He admitted it numerous times.
But he also had the habit of pushing too far.
He was the type that had to make sure every single detail was perfect. He’d have to work on something until he was completely satisfied.
You admired that about him….when he didn’t lock himself in his office for hours on end.
And today was one of those days.
You woke up to find an empty spot beside you in bed. Neither of you were exactly morning people and you both enjoyed a good morning snuggle. That’s how you knew Chris would be in his office all day.
It was understandable since he was in the middle of working on a new album, but of course he’d need to come out to eat food or to maybe get fresh air.
He had a habit of…well, not doing that all the time.
At first, you decide to let him tend to his work, perhaps he’d come out at some point.
Well…you thought he would…seven hours ago.
It was after four now, and he still had not come out. You were starting to get worried.
You could hear him in his office so it wasn’t like he had fallen asleep or gotten injured somehow.
He was just being stubborn with his work.
You had decided enough was enough. You couldn’t just sit around. Who knew if he’d actually eaten anything.
Besides, you both knew it was unhealthy for him to be crammed up working all day.
He knew it well, but just wouldn’t admit it.
He was too passionate for his own good.
So, you go up to his office door and knock twice on the wood.
“Chris, baby? Are you alright in there?” You call softly.
He answers after a second, at least he wasn’t passed out. “Hey yeah I’m fine, hun. Just working. Be out soon.”
He’d said that the last time you checked in on him two hours ago.
You feel concern growing. “You said that hours ago, love.” You say, the worry in your tone apparent. “Can I come in? I miss you.”
He pauses. He knew he was pushing himself. But he couldn’t help it. But….he missed you as well.
“Yeah, the door’s unlocked.” He answers finally, the slightest hint of guilt in his voice.
You open the door carefully, stepping inside. Your heart sinks at the sight of him.
His eyes were sunken in and he had bags underneath them. You could tell that he was tired, and his long, dark hair was a mess.
“Oh love, you look exhausted.” You whisper sympathetically, going up to him and resting a gentle hand on his face.
You knew he was trying to deny his exhaustion. He did that all of the time. He was burnt out and hungry, you could see it.
“Chris, please call it a day.” You interrupt gently, grabbing his hand with your free one. “I can see that you’re tired. When was the last time you ate something today?”
He pauses again, and averts his gaze. You knew what that meant.
“Oh god, have you eaten *anything* at all today?” You ask, disillusionment in your tone.
“…No, I…I haven’t. I’m sorry.” He mutters, now starting to realize what he was doing was unhealthy.
You sigh, shaking your head. It’s not that you were disappointed. More so concerned….and a little disappointed.
“That won’t do. We’re ordering from our favorite vegan spot and then we’re going to stay in bed for the rest of the day.”
Before he can protest, you’re leading him out of his office by the hand. You weren’t going to let him burn himself out any further.
You let him shower as you order the food. Once it’s ordered, you change into more comfy clothing and he walks into your shared bedroom where you wait for him on the bed, in his shirt.
His lips tick up into a tired smile. “You really love wearing that hood, huh?” He asks, a light chuckle leaving him.
“It smells like you, and it’s comfortable. Of course I’m gonna wear it.” You say with a chuckle of your own before your expression grows solemn. “We need to talk about you locking yourself in your studio like this though.”
He sighs, knowing that you’re right. He plops down next to you and runs a hand through his damp hair.
“I never thought it would become a problem like this. I guess I just…get lost in writing and then I have to tweak things until I’m happy with it.”
You rest a hand on his bicep, understanding where he’s coming from. “I get that, baby. And you know that I admire your passion for your work.” You start. “But you’re burning yourself out by pushing yourself too hard. It’s not healthy, hun.”
“I…I know, but I like things to be perfect. I don’t want things to be half assed, you know?”
You give him a half smile. “Nothing you ever do is half assed, lover. But you need to know your limits. You could’ve passed out if you continued to overwork yourself like that.”
You can tell that he’s getting anxious by the way his fingers flex and fidget. His brows furrow and you can see the tension forming in his forehead.
“But the fans deserve perfection, a-and I don’t want to keep anyone waiting longer than they have to-“
You stop him again. You take both of his hands in his and look him in the eyes. “And things *still can* be perfect. Any true fan of the band wouldn’t want you putting your health at risk. Neither would the guys.” You say, your voice firm and grounding. “You need to take days off in between your writing. And when you’re not, don’t do full 7-8 hour stretches without eating, you know it’s not healthy.”
He looks down in guilt, and he knows that you’re right. Maybe a day off or two wouldn’t hurt. “You’re right. I’m overworking myself.” He says in a sigh.
You squeeze his hands and give him a look of reassurance. “It’s okay to take breaks, baby. When the record gets done, it gets done. You have all the time in the world to perfect it.”
He looks up, a sad smile on his face. “I wish I’d learned that earlier.” He chuckles lightly. “Would’ve saved me a lot of stress…for both of us.” He pauses again before looking into your eyes, his own holding deep remorse. I’m sorry I made you this worried about me. I was being way too stubborn. And I’m sorry if I made you feel neglected at all. I promise I was never doing that on purpose.”
He was rambling. He did that a lot when he was anxious and remorseful. He got in his own head a lot.
You shake your head, cupping his face. “Shh, it’s okay baby. I understand. You don’t need to apologize.” You let go of his face and bring his hands to your lips, kissing his tattooed knuckles ever so gently. “Now you know better.” You whisper. “Promise me you’ll start taking better care of yourself?”
He squeezes your hands, a look of determination to be better in his eyes. “I promise, my little bat. Not just for my sake, but for yours. I love you.”
You soften further, a smile pulling at your lips. “I love you too. Always, my love.”
You lean in and connect your lips, kissing him softly. He happily kisses back, a large hand moving to the back of your head while the other rests on your arm. The kiss remains tender and loving. After a few moments, you pull away, nothing but care and admiration in your eyes.
“I think this calls for a relaxation day tomorrow. We stay in bed all day, order food, watch reruns of the office and maybe play some fort. How’s that sound?”
He smiles again, more genuinely this time. It’s a tired smile, but a smile nonetheless.
He moves forward, wrapping his arms around you and leaning his forehead on your shoulder. He’s slumped and as you hug back, you can feel him start to relax.
“I really am exhausted.” He mutters, breathing in your scent.
“I know, lover. You can rest now. You can rest for as long as you need.” You reassure softly as you hear the doorbell ring, signaling the food was here.
He could take a break now. He could relax and be with his love. He didn’t need to overwork himself. Not anymore.
