POV: you’re fucking overworked
**
Prompt: You’ve been running around the house, demanded to do one too many chores all at the dissatisfaction of the people you live with. The Genshin men catch whiff of this.
A/N: nearly cried while writing this, long overdue!
**
Scaramouche
has seen you brutally exhausted the past couple of days.
Your tone of voice has changed, you look lost in thought whenever you’re around him, and a multitude of other things - he simply can’t not notice.
he figures maybe you’re working a bit too hard, and should just let it all pass.
In fact, weren’t you a grown person? You should be able to handle these things, right?
that is, until you got worse
he saw you less, and less, and whenever he did see you — had he managed to drag you out of the confinement of your home — you were on edge, irritable, and overall not the person he knew
He’s taken it upon himself to figure the fuck out, why you’ve been so distant
Your date has just ended, it’s around 4pm, and you’re hit with the loud, recurring noise of your phone’s ringtone.
Scaramouche, standing right next to you, is already fucking frustrated. He can’t figure out why you’re so tired, and it’s not like you’ve dropped any coherent hints anyway. So he decides to discreetly listen into the conversation from right next to you.
His blood boils at the noise.
“Hey, where are you?” The person on the phone says. “Come home quick. We need you to take care of things while we’re out.”
Scaramouche notices the way you grimace. “I’m out right now, I can’t.”
“We don’t care, no one’s at home to do the work and you’ve been doing a terrible job the past week. When are you going to take charge of your responsibilities and stop being so careless?”
The voice gets louder and louder as the conversation progresses, and you slowly begin to lose your patience. “I can’t just leave right now, I’m—“
“It doesn’t matter. If we don’t see the house clean by the time we get back, cross my fucking heart, Y/N, you’ll feel the wrath of it.”
“But I—“
“—Ungrateful, careless child.”
The phone hangs up.
You want to throw it across the fucking floor.
Alas, there’s nothing you can do. Yet again, they haven’t given you much choice. A sigh escapes you, and you pocket your phone. “I’m sorry, Scaramouche, but I have to go—“
The sight of his face shakes you to your core.
“Who. The fuck. Was that?” He asks, his voice calm, and careful, but his expression far from it.
You gulp, feeling intimidated. “It’s my family, they’re asking me to head home and take care of some stuff.”
“Ask?” He laughs, like this whole thing is a fucking joke. “Didn’t sound like asking to me. Sounded like they were fucking forcing you into it.”
“It’s my responsibility, though, I can’t just leave it,” you respond. There’s a tightness in your chest as you defend them — you know, deep down, they’re in the wrong. But they’re leaving you with no choice. You can already hear the punishment in your head, in great detail. You can hear their words reverberating in your ears.
“No fucking way, it sounds like they need to take care of their own responsibilities instead of thrusting them at you.”
Scaramouche, grabs your hand, and tugs you along. “You’re not going anywhere. If they call you again, I’ll fucking talk to them myself. Stupid fuckers. I can’t believe they’d take advantage of you like this.”
You have the rest of your date.
Eventually, scaramouche gets you to move out of your home. If things spiral out of control, he’s already on their tail to make them fuck the hell off. Will make sure they never bother yo again.
Supports you financially, too, til’ you can pay him back.
Well, he says you’ll be paying him back, but there’s no way that’s ever coming into fruition.
***
Kaeya
Will notice from the very moment your demeanour changes
You may think you’re able to hide things when you want to, but there’s always a slip-up and kaeya always stares it down.
Won’t ask you about it at first, hoping you’ll come to him eventually, but you never do.
It isn’t until he happens to look over you while you’re messaging them, that he starts getting serious
You’ve received messages from them basically listing the chores you’re in charge with as soon as you get home, and all the previous feelings of happiness from hanging out with your boyfriend deflate.
Rereading the messages don’t make you feel any better, but now there’s an ache in your chest, wondering what would happen if you forgot, or didn’t do all those things by the time they get home.
“What’s that?” Kaeya asks. He’s already read it, though, while you’ve been sulking.
“It’s nothing serious, just my work for the day,” you respond, sighing as you quickly type out a response.
Kaeya nudges your shoulder. “That’s a pretty long list of things to do,” he leans over, scrolling up through the previous messages, skimming them before you can stop him. “They treat you like this? Do you even get paid?”
“Hah, I wish. Then i wouldn’t hate it as much.”
You’re about to hit send, but Kaeya suavely slips the phone put of your hands, tucking it into his pocket.
“Hey!” You jump, hands not sure where to touch to get it back. “I was about yo—“
“And I’m afraid you won’t be able to,” Kaeya smiles, his hand now trailing down to your fingers, intertwining with them. “What a shame. Now, where were we? I was going to help you relax?”
“What? Kaeya, we—“
“To the salon it is, darling.”
Convinces you to move in with him, get a small, manageably sized apartment for you two to live in. Chips in with housework, will never overwork you the way your previous roommate did.
**
Itto
a bit of an oblivious duck
has no idea how bad you’re feeling until you start cancelling plans on him
Thinks that maybe he’s done something wrong, so ends up at your front door to apologize for whatever it is he did
Discovers he isn’t the problem here
Your doorbell rings, and you’re snapped out of your cleaning frenzy. Your housemates get to the door before you, though, and you feel worse, wondering if that’s the groceries they’ve ordered, waiting for you to have to organize all those things in their spots.
You can already feel an ache setting in your muscles, but you choose to stay in blissful ignorance until then.
However, a familiar voice startles you from your stupor.
“I’m here to see Y/n, are they home?” Itto asks, boisterous and loud.
The person opening the door, to your utmost dread. “No, they aren’t. Who are you? What do you want?”
“Oh, we’re super close. Didn’t they talk about me? The great Itto?” Itto laughs, unaware of the clearly uncomfortable tone from them.
“They’re busy, so you can leave.”
Out of curiosity, you approach the door, and Itto spots you immediately from the corner of his eye.
“Y/N!” He yells, turning to wave as he towers over them. “There you are! We need to talk. Wow, you look exhausted — why did you say they weren’t home?”
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” your housemate tuts, ready to close the door shut in his face.
“Hey, wait! I need to talk to them, it’s important—“
“Didn’t you hear me?! Leave, before I—“
You jump in, frantic. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, I can talk to him—“
“You go back to your work and keep your nose out of it,” they whisper-yell, and you’re realising just how much the punishment will hurt as soon as Itto leaves.
Not wanting things to escalate further, you wave to itto and retreat back into the kitchen.
“Wait! Y/N!” Itto yells again.
He’s never seen you this tired out before. Heck, he’s realising just how long it’s been since you last had time to go out with him or his friends.
“You can’t talk to them like that!” Itto pushes against the door with his arm, his strength blocking it from closing further. “They said it’s okay. Who are you to dictate that?”
Even with the stubbornness of your housemate, itto pries open the door and invites himself in. No way is he going to let you go after this.
He calls after you again, finding you in the kitchen. You were trying to hold back tears. Of what? You didn’t have enough mental room to figure it out. Tears may have streamed down your face already.
Itto’s hands are out, unsure of whether to touch you or not. Eventually, he settles for holding your hand, gently leading you out. You follow.
“Hey, they’re in the middle of work! Who the hell do you think you ar-“
Itto shoots them a glare that shuts their mouth right up. He thinks its the least angered thing he can do.
How dare they treat you like this? You deserved so much better.
Though, he breathed in, and breathed his anger out. He wouldn’t want you to see him so uptight when you’re clearly the one trembling in his arms.
You’re led ot of the house, to a quiet place a few ways away — Itto made sure his gang kept your roommates out of it — and finally, you sit.
Itto will sit there, comfort you as long as you would like.
Will start talking to the roommate. Him and his gang scold the fuck out of them, no matter their age. If they don’t start improving, Itto will take out his savings and get you to move into a house with him, instead. Wants to make sure you’re safe, not mistreated.
“They’ll realise they’re worthless without you, hah, I hope they regret everything they did to you.”
**
Diluc
notices you feeling extra jittery lately
You’re restless, upset, and look frazzled, distracted, like you’re trying hard to hold on
Very concerned at your occasional outbursts, from small little things
It isn’t until one little thing he asks of you puts you in a full on stress-attack
“Hey, darling,” you hear diluc say from the dining hall as you walk down the stairs. “Could I ask you to pick up some of the papers from my desk? The ones with ‘dissertation’ written with red ink.”
You’re caught off guard, feeling your hands stiffen by your sides. Nonetheless, you figure it’s harmless, and reply that you will before heading for his office.
You see his table piled up with different papers, and your hands start to stiffen again. Before you realize it at all, your hands bunch up together, you stand at the doorway, struggling to take it all in. There’s so much, and there’s so much you’ve been doing, so much you still have yet to do.
Yet, you persevere. It can’t be that hard to find the papers, right? They’re in bright red ink! Yeah. You’ll get through this.
Rigid as your body moves, you make it to the table. You try not to take in the clutter — your body starts to feel cluttered on the inside, like you’re stuffed full of cotton and scrunched paper and your mind can’t take it.
You’re scared.
Why are you scared?
The list of things continues to grow in your mind.
There’s this, then that, then that other thing you’re behind on, and the thing you’ve been meaning to do for a while now, then…
You start shaking.
You don’t realise you’re shaking, because you stand there, your thoughts going ballistically fast, one after the other, so cluttered that all it does is stuff you even more with cotton.
“Darling?” You hear, and whip your head around to see diluc standing by the entrance, worry stretched across his face.
He seems to take in your shaken state, the way your hands have bunched up at your chest and your breathing getting steadily more erratic.
He calls your name, making his way to you.
The room is too messy for you to think.
You can’t think.
You close your eyes, try to breathe, find any semblance of order in your racing mind…
Diluc comes to you, his hands on your shoulders. “What happened? Is everything okay?”
The words come out sounding wrong. “I don’t… I’m… I can’t find the papers, I can’t find them—“
“Darling, no, it’s okay, they’re just papers, I can find them later,” diluc protests, but you only seem to stir further.
“Why am I feeling like this? It’s just some paper, why am I so— so restless?”
“Perhaps you’ve been pushing yourself too hard,” diluc responds, his hands slowly falling to hold your head against him and wrap you in his embrace.
“But I haven’t done what I needed to! Why am I so tired?”
Diluc was no stranger to overwork, hence your words hitting him like a brick. Is this how others felt when they saw him burnt out?
“Come, darling,” he breathes, soothing you by playing with your hair. “I’ll get Adelinde to send for some tea. Let’s go to the lounge and talk, okay?”
