*kicks door open* I NEED Jock!Phainon x Nerd!Reader, college au, hcs, reader is studying literature.....ok thats all i got byeeee
“Brains and brawn, perfectly balanced”
Tags: Phainon x Reader, Modern AU, College AU, Jock!Phainon, Nerd!Reader, Literature Major Reader, Slow Burn/Strangers/Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Cute Romantic Moments, Opposites Attract, Protective Partner, Supportive Relationship, Light Humor.
Warnings: Mild mentions of stress/anxiety during exams and pressure from athletics (non-triggering) (?), Consensual and healthy relationship dynamics.
A/N: I gotchu, pookie <33
Phainon is the star athlete of the college—captain of the fencing team, admired for his leadership, charm, and effortless cool. Meanwhile, you’re a dedicated literature major, often found in the library or tucked in cozy corners of campus, nose buried in books, headphones in, scribbling notes in your journal.
How You Met
Phainon first notices you during a late-night study session in the library. He’s there to return a book on medieval swordplay, but your intense focus on a poetry anthology catches his eye.
You’re surprised when he sits down beside you and asks for help understanding a metaphor. Despite his confident exterior, he genuinely wants to get better at appreciating literature, and you love nerding out with him.
Phainon is outgoing, physically active, and thrives in social settings, while you prefer quiet, intimate spaces and deep conversations.
He helps you loosen up—inviting you to casual campus events and showing you fencing moves (which you find both hilarious and impressive).
You ground him, encouraging moments of reflection, introducing him to the beauty of poetry, and helping him focus his restless energy.
Relationship Dynamics
Phainon’s Protective Side: He’s fiercely protective but also incredibly gentle with you. After a long day, he might text to check if you ate or offer to bring you coffee during finals week.
You’re His Calm: When the pressure of sports or social expectations weighs on him, you’re his quiet refuge, the one who listens without judgment and encourages him to be true to himself.
Cheering Each Other On: He shows up at your literature readings or presentations, the loudest and proudest fan in the room. You attend his fencing matches, quietly cheering and taking notes on his techniques.
Playful Competitions: Sometimes, Phainon challenges you to friendly debates on who’s more strategic—the mind or the muscle. Spoiler: they’re both champions.
He writes your initials on his wristband for luck before a big match, and you catch him blushing when you notice.
You teach him how to write haikus, and he surprises you with a poem about strength and perseverance, inspired by your late-night study grind.
When campus throws a themed dance, Phainon insists you go with him, promising to slow dance even though it’s “not his style.”
He casually wraps his arm around your shoulders in the quad, claiming you as his “favorite bookworm.”
Phainon struggles with the pressure to always be “the best,” but you remind him it’s okay to have off days.
You sometimes feel overshadowed in social scenes but find confidence in Phainon’s unwavering support and genuine admiration for your intellect.
Together, you learn to balance both your worlds—athletics and academia—with respect, patience, and a lot of humor.
I'm a 29 year old woman (she/her), looking for the right man. I'm around 5'9'' in height with a sturdy build (broad hips, strong legs). My hair is a deep brunette and while I sometimes grow it out I always tend to cut it back to a bob eventually. My eyes are a vivid green, and I wear glasses (can't see a thing without them, haha). I have a large-ish tattoo of a white dragon against a blue-and-pink sky backdrop on my upper right arm, though one day I'd like to get a few more tattoos of things that mean a lot to me.
I've gone on big adventures, even trips overseas, completely by myself more than once. While I consider myself content in my own company most of the time, I still wholeheartedly love my friends and adore spending time with them too if we're all able to come together. There's not a thing I wouldn't do for a loved one in need. I'm deeply caring, gentle and fairly quiet if I'm not with my friends, but I'm also hard-working, deceptively bold and more adventurous than you'd ever think at a glance.
The ocean deeply fascinates me for the abundance of intriguing creatures that call it home. I'm also a big fan of the kinds of animals that aren't generally very popular. Snakes, tarantulas, mantis, sharks, I love all of them deeply. I also rather like being around someone with whom I can feel safe and protected, someone a bit more assertive than me. My independence aside, sometimes it's nice to know someone has my back and would be there for me like I'm there for others. I enjoy baking, writing, swimming, and singing. What I don't particularly care for, however, are excessively spicy foods, strong alcohol (mild drinks or certain wines are fine), or anyone who either threatens or manipulates those I care about.
I don't often think very highly of myself; my self esteem is usually quite low. It would be nice to feel wanted or needed, or to be around someone to whom I would be special.
I am going to pair you with …
𝐊𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐫𝐢
【Ｔ𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞】
You are stronger than you give yourself credit for.
Independent, capable, someone who can travel the world alone and face the unknown without backing down. And yet, beneath that, there is a quieter wish. To be held, to be protected sometimes, to feel like you don’t always have to be the strong one.
Katakuri sees both sides immediately.
You would meet in a setting where others might underestimate you. Your calm presence, your quieter nature, the way you don’t demand attention… people overlook it.
He doesn’t.
“You’re not as fragile as they think.”
It’s said plainly.
With certainty.
Your dynamic is built on safety.
Not in a restrictive way.
But in a way where you finally feel like you can relax your guard.
Your desire to feel protected is something he fulfills naturally.
Not by controlling you.
But by standing beside you.
A presence that makes it clear no one will cross a line with you or those you care about.
Without needing to say it.
Your love for unusual animals is something that intrigues him.
You speaking about creatures others avoid, the fascination in your voice, the way you see beauty in things people misunderstand…
He listens.
Closely.
“You see things differently.”
There’s respect in it.
Your gentle, caring nature is something he values deeply.
You would do anything for the people you love.
And he recognizes that loyalty immediately.
It mirrors his own.
Your quieter personality is something he matches well.
He’s not overwhelming.
Not loud.
You don’t feel pressured to be anything other than what you are.
And when you do open up more around him, when your boldness and adventurous side shows through?
He notices that too.
Your strength isn’t ignored.
It’s respected.
Your self-esteem struggles are something he handles with quiet care.
You don’t always see your own worth.
You don’t always believe you’re as special as others might.
He doesn’t overwhelm you with empty reassurance.
He shows it.
Consistency.
Attention.
The way he stays.
“You matter.”
Simple.
But undeniable.
Your hobbies become shared moments.
Baking together, even if he pretends not to care too much at first.
You writing, him nearby, a quiet presence that makes it easier to focus.
Swimming, the ocean around you, something you both understand in different ways.
There is peace in it.
Your relationship is calm, protective, and deeply reassuring.
You bring warmth, loyalty, and quiet strength.
He brings stability, protection, and a presence that makes you feel safe without taking away your independence.
20, she/her, preference for guys (but if u see me with a girl, u can still let me know!)
—
relationship preference: i'm honestly not too picky, but, someone who's protective, loyal, patient with me, doesn't have really close girl best friends (who are into him/could possibly be into him)
appearance: 5'2, chest-length dark brown (basically black) hair. My hair is technically straight, but it has lots of waves and very tiny curls hidden in there, so i consider it wavy lol.
I'm light-skinned, but i'm middle eastern-american though.
I have a slightly thin hourglass figure, semi-large chest.
I have a heart-shaped face.
Black thick, bushy eyebrows. Button nose. Very dark brown roundish eyes. heart-shaped lips. i have a barely noticeable mole on my chin.
i hold grudges!!!!!!! and don't forgive or forget.
i can randomly become sarcastic, but only when i'm really comfortable with someone.
i tend to laugh/chuckle/smile awkwardly when i'm feeling embarrassed or uncomfortable or awkward or anything like that.
I get really tough headaches that are a mix between tension headaches and a migraine (when i'm really anxious/overthinking something i have going on for the day) and they cause me to not be able to do anything but sleep (i take it as like, my body forcing me to rest lolli).
lowkey have anger issues (can control them, but i get angry inwards and i barely let it show).
i don't rest until i fulfill what i set my mind to, no matter how long it takes.
i can't control my facial expressions whatsoever... i can be quiet for hours and my face will tell u everything i'm thinking.
i'm pretty fidgety, especially with my hair.
when i'm really comfortable with someone i sometimes randomly playfully poke them/"hit" them (not roughly, just playfully).
Since a really young age, i've had a slouching problem, and i struggle with sitting up-right and i've had back pain.
I struggle with sleeping/i'm a really light sleeper... i guess i could say i have insomnia.
dislikes: jealous/envious people, rude/mean people, being abandoned, not having control (of myself/life... not necessarily others), people who are always so negative and are always worrying and causing me to be even more anxious/worried than i already am.
hobbies: Singing, Acting, Reading, (belly) dancing, analyzing characters, listening to music (mostly pop, dance/disco/r&b and stuff that makes me feel confident)
hogwarts house: ravenclaw with very heavy slytherin in me… i go back and forth and i've spent years trying to figure out which i am lol, it's a long story.
❝ HAZBIN HOTEL — MATCHUP ❞
⸻
❝ YOU ARE MATCHED WITH… Vox ❞
ꜱᴛᴀᴛɪᴄ THAT WATCHES OVER YOU.
You might not expect it at first, but Vox is exactly the kind of partner you described. Protective, observant, and extremely aware of everything around him… especially when it comes to you.
⸻
❝ PROTECTIVE IN A VERY REAL WAY. ❞
Vox does not play when it comes to you.
He notices everything. The way you get anxious, the way your mood shifts, the way your expressions give you away even when you are quiet. And the second something or someone threatens your peace?
Handled.
“You’re bothering her,” he says flatly, voice glitching just enough to be unsettling. “That ends now.”
You never have to ask him to step in.
⸻
❝ LOYAL TO A FAULT. ❞
Vox is not the type to entertain “close girl best friends” situations. He is territorial, yes, but more importantly, he is focused. When he chooses you, his attention locks in.
There is no wandering.
No questionable behavior.
You are his priority, and he makes that very clear.
⸻
❝ HE UNDERSTANDS YOUR ANXIETY. ❞
When your mind spirals, when you overthink everything to the point of headaches, when you feel like you are losing control…
Vox does not dismiss it.
He analyzes it.
Breaks it down.
“Okay,” he says calmly. “Let’s go through it. What exactly are you worried about?”
He helps you organize your thoughts instead of letting them overwhelm you.
⸻
❝ HE READS YOU WITHOUT YOU SPEAKING. ❞
You cannot hide your expressions?
Good.
Because Vox is already watching.
He picks up on every subtle shift, every look, every small fidget with your hair. You do not always have to explain yourself. Half the time, he already knows.
“You’re overthinking again,” he mutters, softer now. “Come here.”
⸻
❝ YOUR JEALOUSY x HIS POSSESSIVENESS. ❞
This dynamic actually balances out.
You have your jealous tendencies, your trust issues, your need for reassurance. Vox does not dismiss that… but he also does not let it spiral into something unhealthy.
“You don’t need to compete,” he tells you, voice low but certain. “You already have my attention.”
And he proves it through actions, not just words.
⸻
❝ SOFTNESS ONLY FOR YOU. ❞
To everyone else, Vox is sharp, controlled, intimidating.
With you?
There is a different side.
Quieter. Closer. More patient than anyone would expect.
When your headaches hit and you cannot function, he dims everything around you. Low light. Minimal noise. His presence steady beside you.
“Just rest,” he murmurs. “I’ve got everything else.”
⸻
❝ PLAYFUL MOMENTS. ❞
Once you are comfortable, your playful poking, your sarcastic remarks, your little habits…
He likes them.
More than he lets on.
“You’re annoying,” he says flatly when you poke him.
He does not move away.
⸻
❝ OVERALL ❞
A relationship built on control and comfort.
He stabilizes your chaos.
You bring out a quieter side of him.
Protective. Loyal.
And surprisingly soft where it matters most.
⸻⸻⸻
❝ HONORABLE MATCH — Husk ❞
ꜱᴛᴇᴀᴅʏ, GROUNDED, AND REAL.
If Vox is intensity, Husk is calm.
And that calm is something you need more than you realize.
⸻
❝ HE DOES NOT OVERWHELM YOU. ❞
You are already anxious, already overthinking, already carrying a lot internally.
Husk does not add to that.
He keeps things simple.
“You’re fine,” he says, voice rough but not unkind. “You’re thinking too much again.”
And somehow… that helps.
⸻
❝ QUIET PROTECTION. ❞
Husk is not loud about it, but he is protective.
If someone crosses a line, he steps in without making a scene. No drama. No chaos. Just handled.
⸻
❝ HE GROUNDS YOUR EMOTIONS. ❞
Your sensitivity, your mood shifts, your tendency to spiral or hold grudges… Husk does not judge it.
He just… stays.
Not pushing. Not prying.
Just there.
And that stability keeps you from feeling like everything is slipping.
⸻
❝ HE RESPECTS YOUR SPACE. ❞
You are introverted. You need time alone. You get overwhelmed easily.
Husk understands that instinctively.
He will sit beside you in silence, doing his own thing, letting you exist without pressure.
⸻
❝ LOWKEY SOFT. ❞
He will never say it in a dramatic way, but when your headaches hit or you cannot sleep, he is there.
A blanket thrown over you.
A drink placed nearby.
A quiet, “Get some rest.”
It is simple.
But it means everything.
⸻
❝ OVERALL ❞
A relationship built on stability.
He calms your storms.
You bring warmth into his quiet world.
So I’m now obsessed with the idea that Oz likes to swim (I read the A03 fic depths)
I would love a fluffy fic with PDA
Oz and Reader at the water park
Go wild - I love your writing 🩵
The sun hung high in the azure sky, its rays casting a warm, golden light that danced over the vibrant, bustling water park below. The air was filled with the infectious laughter of children, their squeals of delight mingling harmoniously with the rhythmic sound of rushing water cascading down slides and into pools. The unmistakable scent of sunscreen mingled with the sharp, chlorinated aroma of the pools, creating a distinct summer atmosphere that promised endless fun and adventure. It wasn’t Oz’s usual kind of outing—he was more accustomed to quiet evenings with his mother or the soft glow of a dimly lit office—but when you had playfully asked him to join you, his steadfast resistance had crumbled, as it often did in your presence.
You couldn’t help but smile at him now, standing beside the wave pool, looking a bit out of place yet undeniably charming in his fitted swim shirt and colorful board shorts. His typical impeccable attire, tailored suits and polished shoes, had been traded for something far more casual, allowing his personality to shine through in this vibrant setting. He waddled slightly, his penguin-like gait exaggerated as he adjusted to the unfamiliar and carefree atmosphere, but there was something endearing about it that made your heart swell with affection.
“Stop staring,” he grumbled, feigning annoyance, though a playful smirk danced on his lips, betraying his true feelings.
“I can’t help it. You’re adorable,” you teased, playfully reaching up to straighten the sunglasses that perched on his nose, which had slipped slightly from the force of the sun’s rays.
He huffed in mock irritation, but his eyes softened with warmth as he looked down at you. “You’re lucky I like you, doll,” he replied, his voice low and teasing, making you feel all the more cherished.
“I know,” you replied confidently, leaning up to plant a gentle kiss on his cheek. The light blush that crept up his neck, betraying his usual composure, made your heart flutter with delight.
As the wave machine roared to life, producing a sound reminiscent of distant thunder, Oz’s eyes lit up with a mix of curiosity and excitement that you had rarely seen before. Without a moment’s hesitation, you seized his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze as you pulled him toward the inviting, shimmering water.
“Oz, you’re going to love this!” you exclaimed, your enthusiasm infectious.
He grumbled something about being too old for such frivolities, but the moment the first wave crashed against him, soaking his board shorts and splashing water everywhere, his expression shifted dramatically. A genuine, boyish grin spread across his face, lighting up his features, and he instinctively pulled you closer to him, keeping you steady as the waves grew stronger and more formidable.
“You’re right,” he admitted, laughter spilling from his lips as another wave hit, the cool water drenching you both. “This ain’t half bad.”
You wrapped your arms around him, the water swirling around your legs, creating a sensation of freedom and joy. “Told you so,” you replied triumphantly, feeling a sense of victory in convincing him to let loose.
Oz’s hands found their place on your waist, steadying you against the undulating push and pull of the water that surrounded you. The public nature of the setting did nothing to deter him from leaning down, his lips pressing softly against your forehead in a sweet, lingering kiss that seemed to savor the moment.
“Thanks for dragging me out here,” he murmured, his voice low, filled with sincerity and a hint of gratitude.
“Anytime,” you replied, resting your head against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat calming you amidst the splashes and cheers of the park.
The day unfolded like a beautiful tapestry woven with laughter, shared glances, and lighthearted fun. Oz even surprised you by summoning the courage to go down one of the smaller water slides, though he insisted, with a mock-seriousness that was hard to resist, that he was merely “testing it out.” He bought you a delicious ice cream cone from a nearby cart, and when a group of teens recognized him, his protective arm instinctively tightened around your waist. He brushed them off with his usual gruffness, a mix of annoyance and protectiveness surfacing, leaving you both amused and touched by his demeanor.
As the sun began its descent in the sky, casting a warm glow over the water park, you found yourselves back in the wave pool, floating together in the gentle, rhythmic swells. Oz pulled you closer, his forehead resting against yours, and for a moment, the world around you faded into a soft blur of colors and sounds.
“You make life feel a little less... heavy,” he admitted, his voice low but sincere, carrying a weight of emotion that resonated deep within you.
You smiled, your fingers brushing along his jaw, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. “And you make me feel safe,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, but it held a truth that was undeniable.
In that fleeting moment, he kissed you then, slow and deliberate, unbothered by the playful chaos that surrounded you. The world faded further away, leaving just the two of you, wrapped in each other’s arms, as if nothing else mattered but this shared moment of connection and joy. It was a kiss that spoke of new experiences, deepening feelings, and the promise of many more adventures together, each one more delightful than the last.
As the day wore on, you convinced Oz to try the lazy river. It wasn’t a hard sell—he liked the idea of floating along without much effort. The two of you grabbed a double tube, and Oz insisted on sitting in the back so he could keep an eye on you.
“This is more my speed,” he said, leaning back as the current carried you both forward. His legs stretched out on either side of the tube, and his hand rested lazily on your knee.
“You’re relaxed for once,” you teased, tilting your head back to smile at him.
“Don’t get used to it,” he shot back, but the corner of his mouth twitched up in a grin.
You reached out to trail your fingers along the water’s surface, the coolness a perfect contrast to the warm sun overhead. When the lazy river passed under a cascading waterfall, you squealed as the droplets splashed over you, and Oz chuckled, shaking his head like he hadn’t been hit too.
“Come on, Oz,” you teased, turning to face him in the tube. “Admit you’re having fun.”
He smirked, his hand slipping up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “I’d have fun anywhere, long as you’re there.”
Your heart skipped a beat at the unexpected sweetness of his gesture, an unanticipated thrill that sent a rush of warmth through you. Before you could fully comprehend what was happening, he leaned in closer, bridging the gap between you, and pressed his lips against yours in a soft, tender kiss. Time seemed to suspend itself in that instant; the lazy current of the day faded into the background, and the outside world dissolved, leaving just the two of you enveloped in a cocoon of intimacy, like a delicate bubble that shielded you from everything else.
As the sun began its slow descent, casting the surroundings in a rich, golden hue that seemed to enhance the beauty of the moment, you playfully persuaded him to take one last plunge down the water slide. It wasn’t the tallest or the fastest slide you had ever encountered, but it held its own kind of excitement, enough to make your stomach flutter with anticipation. You could hear the rush of water beneath you as you both soared down, and laughter erupted between you like a shared secret, echoing joyously against the backdrop of splashes and delighted screams from other park-goers.
Once you reached the bottom, breathless and exhilarated, you began toweling off, the warm sun drying your skin. As you glanced over, you noticed Oz stealing a quick glance at the family locker area nearby. Your attention was drawn to a little boy who was visibly upset, tears streaming down his cheeks, with his goggles hopelessly tangled around his neck. Without waiting for a second thought, Oz crouched down to the child’s level, exuding a surprising gentleness that warmed your heart even more. His typically rugged demeanor softened as he carefully worked to untangle the strap, his movements tender and reassuring.
“Are you good, kid?” he asked, his usually gruff voice adopting a softer tone that made you smile. The little boy nodded, sniffling as he looked up at Oz with wide, awe-filled eyes, as if he were gazing at a superhero come to save the day. It was a sight that struck you—seeing Oz's nurturing side revealed in such an unexpected way.
When Oz finally returned to you, the familiar air of confidence surrounded him once more, but you couldn’t help but notice the lingering warmth in his expression, a hint of pride perhaps, or maybe just the afterglow of kindness.
“You’re such a softie,” you teased playfully, bumping your shoulder against his, relishing the closeness.
“Don’t spread that around,” he muttered, a mock-seriousness in his tone, but you could see the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile. His hand found yours effortlessly as you began walking toward the park exit, fingers intertwining comfortably, solidifying the connection that had blossomed between you. The day had been filled with laughter and unexpected moments, but this—this simple act of holding hands—felt like the sweetest cherry on top of a perfect day.
By the time you got home, the two of you were exhausted but happy. As you collapsed onto the couch together, Oz wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close.
“Today wasn’t so bad,” he admitted, his voice low.
You laughed, snuggling against him. “Told you you’d have fun.”
He didn’t respond, just pressed a kiss to your temple, letting the silence speak for itself.
"You didn't think I was really stupid enough to let you do this alone, did you? I'm gonna stay right here until you get all of your stuff outta the house. And if that asshole tries something then I'll shoot his ass." Antonio stood outside of his car protectively, but from a distance in case something popped off while his partner grabbed their belongings from their existing house.
Ratio, Dan heng, Jiaoqiu, Aventurine and Anaxa with a reader who got sick and now can't do anything strenuous cuz they can't take deep breaths and whenever they hug them, they can feel their chest wheezing when they inhale and they can also hear their strained breathing trying to breathe normally (yes I'm suffering inside...)
I wanna see them soothing their s/o with chest + back rubs (cuddles galoreee), feeding them any homemade recipes to soothe them and medicine too. Maybe scolding s/o whenever they forget to take medicine at the right time and reassuring them whenever it gets bad (coughing), promising them that it's gonna be ok and get better eventually🩵
🍮
A Promise of Healing
Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, Jiaoqiu x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff & Angst, Cuddles Galore, Protective Partner, Soft Domestic Moments, Sick Reader, Back Rubs & Chest Rubs, Homemade Remedies, Reassurance, Scolding for Self-Care Neglect, Gentle Caregiving, Emotional Support.
Warnings: Depictions of illness and strained breathing (reader-specific), Slight angst (due to the reader’s condition and their frustrations), Possible emotional distress from the reader feeling vulnerable or helpless, Mild scolding (out of love), Comfort-heavy scenes with physical touch, Contains soft romantic moments.
A/N: I hope you get well by the time this fic comes out 🫂🫶💖
Ratio’s intense eyes studied you as you struggled to take even, steady breaths. He crouched beside you, his wavy hair falling into his face. "How many times," he began with an edge of exasperation, "must I remind you to follow your regimen? You’re brilliant, but even brilliance can’t excuse negligence."
You opened your mouth to respond, but a fit of wheezing overtook you, your body trembling as you tried to steady yourself. Immediately, his tone softened, and he guided you gently to sit on the couch, his hands supporting you as he positioned you against his chest. "Lean on me," he said quietly.
He rubbed circles on your back, his touch calculated and firm, his other hand trailing over your chest in soothing, rhythmic motions. “Your lungs are working too hard. You need to focus on shorter breaths—don't force it.” His voice was soothing now, like an anchor keeping you grounded.
As your breathing steadied, Ratio reached for the bowl of soup he had prepared earlier, infused with an assortment of herbs known for their restorative properties. “I’ve designed this specifically to soothe your respiratory tract. It may not be as groundbreaking as my usual work, but its efficacy is indisputable,” he said, holding the spoon up to your lips.
When you hesitated, embarrassed by your dependence, he raised a brow. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’d lecture me if I neglected my health. Now open your mouth.” You complied, savoring the warmth of the soup.
Later that evening, when you forgot to take your prescribed medicine, Ratio’s sharp voice rang through the quiet of your shared home. "Do I have to personally supervise you every hour?" he scolded, pulling you gently into his arms. Yet, his lips brushed your temple. "You’re going to recover, love. I won’t allow anything else. I’ll see to it myself."
You drifted to sleep against him, soothed by the rhythm of his hand on your back and the quiet strength of his presence.
Jiaoqiu’s hands, soft yet steady, traced soothing lines down your back as you struggled to catch your breath. His sharp ears twitched at the sound of your wheezing, and though his eyes remained closed, his expression was full of concern. “I told you not to push yourself,” he said softly, his voice laced with gentle reproach.
You tried to apologize, but the effort to speak only triggered a coughing fit. Jiaoqiu immediately shifted closer, his tail curling around the both of you protectively. “Shh, don’t speak. Just focus on breathing slowly. I’m here,” he murmured, his tone like a balm.
He adjusted your position so you were reclining against his chest, one hand continuing its comforting motion across your back while the other cradled your side. "I know it’s frustrating," he said quietly, "but healing takes time. You can’t rush it. Trust me—I’ve been through worse, and I’m still here, aren’t I?"
Once you’d calmed, he reached for a steaming bowl of congee he had prepared earlier. “Here. It’s my own recipe. The herbs I added should help you feel less strained.” Carefully, he guided the spoon to your lips, his patience infinite.
When you forgot to take your medicine later, Jiaoqiu sighed deeply, his fox ears drooping. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself, love. I may not be able to see, but I can hear your struggles. Every wheeze, every cough—it pains me more than you realize.” He found your hand and pressed it to his chest, his voice trembling just slightly. “You’re going to get through this. You have to. Not just for yourself, but for me.”
He held you close that night, whispering soft reassurances until you fell asleep, his hands never ceasing their gentle rubs across your back.
Dan Heng’s sharp eyes darted toward you as you clutched your chest, struggling to breathe. In an instant, he was by your side, his usually stoic demeanor softening with concern. "You’re pushing yourself again," he said quietly, though there was no mistaking the worry in his voice.
He helped you settle on the bed, his arms guiding you with care. “Lie back,” he instructed, placing one hand on your chest to feel your strained breathing and the other on your back, rubbing slow, steady circles. “You need to relax. I know it’s hard, but panicking will only make it worse.”
His voice was calm, grounding you as he leaned closer, his presence reassuring. When your breathing steadied, he retrieved a small bowl of tea infused with medicinal herbs he’d prepared earlier. “Drink this. It will help soothe your lungs.”
You hesitated, and Dan Heng’s brows furrowed. “You need to stop being so stubborn. I’m not going to let you suffer when there’s something I can do to help.” His tone was firm but gentle, and you couldn’t help but comply.
Later, when he caught you skipping a dose of your medicine, he fixed you with a rare frown. “You’re not invincible, no matter how much you want to believe you are,” he said, his voice tinged with frustration. But when he saw the guilt in your eyes, he sighed, his expression softening.
He pulled you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I know it’s hard. But you’re going to get better. I’ll make sure of it. You just need to trust me—and yourself.”
That night, he held you close, his hands never leaving your back, the steady rhythm of his breathing lulling you into a peaceful sleep.
Aventurine’s eyes glinted with a mix of concern and frustration as he caught you clutching your chest, your breathing labored. “Now, now,” he said, his voice smooth but tinged with worry. “What did I tell you about overexerting yourself?”
He guided you to the couch, his hands surprisingly gentle as he adjusted your position to lean against him. “There, take slow breaths. I’ve got you.” His fingers worked expertly over your back and chest, the soothing motions designed to ease your discomfort. “You’ve got to stop scaring me like this, darling. It’s bad for my heart.”
When your breathing settled, Aventurine reached for the broth he’d prepared, its aroma rich and comforting. “Now, this is a special recipe,” he said with a teasing smile. “Made with love and a dash of sheer brilliance. Eat up, or I’ll be offended.”
Later, when you forgot to take your medicine, Aventurine’s usual charm gave way to exasperation. “Do you enjoy making me worry? Because you’re doing an excellent job of it,” he said, crossing his arms. But his frustration melted as he cupped your face, his voice softening. “Listen to me. I’ve gambled with a lot of things in my life, but I’m not willing to gamble with your health. Promise me you’ll be more careful.”
He pulled you into his lap, his hands resuming their comforting motions across your back. “You’re going to get through this, love. I’ll make sure of it. After all, I’ve never lost a bet when it comes to you.”
That night, he held you close, his warmth and quiet reassurances banishing your fears as you drifted off to sleep in his arms.
How about Aventurine, Dr Ratio, Sunday and Blade who find out their partner has sleep apnea? They have a heart attack for a hot minute when you stop breathing and then your breathing again and now they can’t sleep lol
The Fear of Losing You
Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Blade x Reader, Angst, Comfort, Fluff, Health Scare, Relationship Dynamics, Sleep Apnea, Protective Partner, Emotional Turmoil, Recovery.
Warnings: Contains mentions of sleep apnea, Mild panic/anxiety, Partner health concerns, and Emotional reactions to a health scare.
A/N: I would've had a heart attack too in this case, tbh 😭🙏
It was a peaceful night, the kind Aventurine rarely allowed himself to enjoy. He lounged next to you, his eyes occasionally flicking to your relaxed figure as you slept. A subtle, comfortable silence hung between the two of you—until it wasn’t.
The absence of your breath hit him like a stone to the chest. His heart froze. For a split second, time seemed to slow as he watched, terrified that he would lose you. His sharp mind immediately began calculating the worst-case scenarios, his fingers twitching to shake you awake. But nothing—no sound, no movement.
His hands hovered over you before finally shaking you gently, his voice quivering for the first time in what seemed forever. "Hey, hey... breathe, breathe!"
When you gasped awake, he exhaled in a rush, his breath shaky. His heart thudded violently in his chest as relief washed over him. You were alive. You were fine.
But he couldn’t shake the dread that had lodged itself deep in his ribs. Despite the calm look on his face, his mind couldn’t stop racing. He stared at you for the remainder of the night, watching you sleep in that peaceful, unaware state. As dawn began to break, he found himself unable to sleep—not because he feared losing you, but because he couldn't unsee the terror that had coursed through him when you stopped breathing.
He would never admit it, but the incident made him rethink everything, even the reckless games he played. The only certainty now? His inability to rest until he knew you were safe again.
It was late when Ratio sat by your side, having just returned from a long meeting with the Intelligentsia Guild. His hair brushed against his face as he settled in, gazing at you with a slight frown as you slept. For someone so intellectual and confident, he didn’t understand the complexity of your fragile sleep. Perhaps, it was a flaw in his vast intellect—he had never expected something so mundane as sleep to become a battleground.
Then, in the dead of night, a horrible silence gripped the room. Ratio froze, his sharp eyes narrowing as he observed the stillness, his pulse quickening. His breath caught in his throat when you stopped breathing. His mind immediately began to calculate the problem. Could he revive you manually? Was there something he missed in his extensive research on physiology?
In a panic, he rushed to your side, shaking you firmly. "I—I don’t understand this. You—"
A gasp escaped your lips as you jerked awake, eyes wide with confusion. Relief flooded him instantly, but he couldn’t help the flurry of thoughts that began to invade his mind. He was too intelligent for this. He had to solve this. Immediately. No amount of books or academic achievement had prepared him for this.
You, still groggy, noticed the frantic look in his eyes. "What’s wrong?"
His lips parted to explain, but nothing coherent came out. He had no words. Just the tight grip on your hand, the fierce need to ensure your breathing never stopped again. The remainder of the night was spent beside you, his mind whirring with logical explanations, though no solution seemed quite right. As dawn came, he found himself unable to sleep. How could he, when his brilliant mind was no longer sure of something as simple as human breathing?
The quiet hum of the night was soothing, and Sunday had allowed himself a rare moment of relaxation as he rested next to you. The celestial aura that surrounded him flickered softly in the moonlight, but as he watched you sleep, a feeling of unease began to coil in his chest. His wings twitched gently as the stillness of the room settled in.
Then it happened. The unnerving silence.
For a moment, it felt as if the entire universe had held its breath. His eyes shot open, golden irises wide as he searched your form for any sign of life. His own breath caught in his throat when he realized you had stopped breathing entirely. His wings fluttered in an anxious rhythm, and a rush of panic rose up his spine.
"Please," he whispered, voice shaky, as he gently reached out to shake you awake. "Breathe, please breathe."
Your eyes fluttered open, your gaze dazed and confused, but the overwhelming sense of relief that washed over Sunday was palpable. His wings, trembling slightly, folded tighter around his body as he took a deep breath of his own.
"I… I didn’t realize," he muttered softly, his voice holding an unusual weight of vulnerability. The weight of the fear he’d just felt. For the first time in a long time, he felt deeply human.
Sunday couldn’t fall back asleep. His mind was too restless, haunted by the thought that he might have lost you, even though he had no true explanation for why you’d stopped breathing. The thought of being powerless over something so fragile made his celestial demeanor falter, leaving him restless and wide-eyed as the night passed by.
Blade’s eyes were narrowed as he lay on the bed next to you, watching over you with a detached sense of vigilance. Though his existence had long been consumed by revenge and a cold desire for his own demise, there was something about you that remained a quiet sanctuary, something he didn’t fully understand but couldn’t ignore.
But as the night deepened, a sudden, terrifying silence cut through the air like a blade. His eyes flashed open in an instant, his entire body frozen in place. His heart slammed against his ribcage as he watched you, utterly still. Too still.
His mind raced. No… He could feel it. You’re not breathing.
Without thinking, he was by your side, shaking you violently, desperate for any sign of life. His hand trembled, the broken sword beside him forgotten in his panic.
Then, you gasped, eyes flying open as you caught your breath. The world shifted back into place, but for a moment, Blade’s soul felt like it had been ripped open. The terror in his chest was inexplicable, something he couldn’t fight or shove away.
"Don’t ever do that again," he growled, his voice rough, but the sheer desperation in his tone betrayed him.
You looked at him, confused but still dazed from sleep. He was already pulling back, his eyes dark with something unspoken—something almost resembling fear. Blade, the immortal, the weapon, the destroyer—was afraid. And for the rest of the night, he lay awake, staring at you with unsettling intensity, unable to unsee the brief glimpse of what losing you would truly feel like.
As the night dragged on, Blade couldn’t bring himself to close his eyes, too haunted by the prospect of loss. And so, he remained wide awake, the quiet terror of that moment embedded in his bones.
can you do maybe aventurine, lighter from zzz and ratio with a reader that has hyperthyroidism and has generally poor health? like reader can usually manage by themselves (like heartbeat, blood pressure or maybe even eye problems), but one day it gets complicated as it develops into a thyroid storm (this basically leads to organ failure or cardiac arrest) and they get hospitalized like immediately. the character basically receives news of this through some other connection because reader is far too anxious to tell them and they go for a small hospital visit.
“Don’t Let This Be Our Last Goodbye”
Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Lighter x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Chronic Illness (Hyperthyroidism), Medical Emergency (Thyroid Storm), Hospital Visit, Emotional Vulnerability, Established Relationship, Soft Intimacy, Angst, Protective Partner, Comfort After Illness, Subtle Romantic Undertones, Found Family (Lighter's part), Rational vs Emotional Conflict (Ratio's part).
Warnings: Depiction of a medical emergency (thyroid storm), Symptoms including rapid heartbeat, Fever, Confusion, Fainting, Hospitalization; anxiety and emotional panic, Mentions of organ failure and cardiac distress; mild medical descriptions (IVs, monitors, etc), References to past trauma, Survivor’s guilt, Death (non-graphic), Emotional intensity, Characters confronting fear of loss.
The message came through a coded channel. A polite, impersonal update. Clinical. Sterile.
Which, he supposed, was only natural. You always played things close to your chest—guarded, stubborn, and independent to a fault. Just his type. Just his curse.
By the time Aventurine arrived at the hospital, his trademark grin was noticeably absent, replaced by a sharp set to his jaw and eyes that flickered between worry and anger. Not at you—never at you.
At himself. At fate. At the idea of loss.
“Room 416,” the receptionist said. “Visitor limit—”
He didn't wait. He slipped past with a crisp wave of his credentials and an almost bored tone, the same voice he’d use to bluff a billion-credit deal. But this wasn't a game. Not this time.
You were unconscious. Machines buzzed and clicked. The beeping of the cardiac monitor was too fast, too erratic.
He sat down, wordless. Slipped off his gloves.
His left hand clenched unconsciously behind his back.
A tell. A crack. The gamble was too steep this time.
“You didn’t tell me,” he whispered after a long silence, brushing a stray hair from your sweat-dampened forehead. “Were you scared I’d run? Or… were you scared I’d stay?”
He sighed and leaned in, pressing his lips gently to your temple.
“You really think I’d fold that easily, sweetheart? No. You don’t get to leave the table yet.”
His voice was still honeyed, still sly. But it shook.
“I didn’t bluff my way to the top of the IPC just to lose you to a damn heartbeat.”
He stayed until morning, adjusting your blankets every hour and muttering odds about your recovery like he could outwit biology itself.
He never left the room. Not once.
And when you finally stirred, groggy and weak, your eyes flicked open just enough to see his silhouette by your side.
“You really shouldn’t gamble like this,” he murmured with a tired smile.
“But... lucky for you, I never lose where it counts.”
Lighter was in the middle of a rooftop spar when Piper found him.
“Hey, Champ.” Her voice was too tight. “It’s [Name]. They’re in the hospital. Thyroid storm. It’s… bad.”
He froze mid-motion. The wind caught his scarf. His hands—calloused, battle-worn—suddenly felt useless.
The next thing he knew, he was running.
The hospital lights were too bright. The antiseptic smell reminded him of field clinics and dead friends.
His fingers twitched as he paced outside your room, heart racing like he was about to step into an arena—but this wasn’t a fight he could punch his way through.
He didn’t go in at first. He couldn’t. Not with the machines breathing for you. Not with the sterile whispers and your skin so pale it scared him more than any battlefield ever had.
When he finally stepped in, it was quiet. Only the sound of monitors and his own trembling breath.
“You idiot,” he muttered, pulling a chair close. “You don’t have to be strong all the time. Not with me.”
His sunglasses remained on, but his voice cracked.
“You should’ve told me. I could’ve—hell, I don’t know—done something. Got Caesar to check your meds, or had Lucy make you tea every damn day. Or just—been there.”
He held your hand—carefully, reverently, like it might shatter. His own was scraped and scarred, still stained from earlier fights. But he wasn’t the one who looked broken right now.
“You promised me a rematch,” he said softly. “You can’t tap out yet.”
The next morning, when your eyes fluttered open, you caught the sight of his head resting beside your arm on the mattress.
Your lips moved, barely above a whisper. “You didn’t leave.”
He smiled—just a little. “Told you. The Champion might perish... but he doesn’t lose.”
Ratio was delivering a lecture at a symposium when the message came.
He read it once. Then again.
The calculations in his mind ceased. Numbers scattered. Equilibrium shattered.
Thyroid storm. Hospitalization. Unstable vitals.
His next words to the stunned auditorium were uncharacteristically brief. “I apologize. There is someone more important than this talk.”
He arrived at the hospital faster than anyone could’ve predicted, his presence slicing through the air like a razor. Staff tried to stop him. No one succeeded.
The door to your room opened with a soft hiss. He stepped inside, slow and deliberate.
You looked fragile in the bed, all wires and weakness. His first thought—illogical and emotional—was how could someone so bright look so dimmed?
He approached, not with panic, but with terrifying clarity.
“Your basal metabolic rate was destabilized. Tachycardia. Agitation. Systemic collapse.” His voice was clinical—then broke. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He sat beside you, his alabaster mask discarded.
“I monitor a thousand variables a day. I solve equations that baffle star-systems. But I missed this. I missed you.”
His fingers brushed yours, barely touching. “You feared becoming a burden. You are not. Do you understand?”
He leaned in, forehead resting gently against your arm.
“I would rather wrestle with the laws of entropy than live in a universe where you are absent.”
When your hand twitched in response—subtle, weak—his breath caught.
“I will not let this equation end in loss,” he whispered. “You are not a theorem to be solved. You are the constant that gives my work meaning.”
He stayed, reading every chart, recalibrating your vitals with surgical precision. But when you woke, it wasn’t the data you saw.
