#apple writes

Leon woke up to an empty bed, the covers had been half thrown over him and the spot you were supposed to be was cold. Panic flashed in his mind for a second, but only for a second before he heard noise from outside the bedroom. He followed the noise to the living room, and there you were, curled up on the couch with a blanket over your body 

“Sweetheart?”

He said and you looked up, a bit startled 

“Damn, we should really put a bell on you”

You said and relaxed back down, he chuckled 

“Well, with my work, it’s good to be silent”

He said as he sat at your feet 

“Maybe a bit too quiet”

You said and pulled the blanket up 

“Why are you here? Is the bedroom too cold?”

He asked and you shook your head 

“No, I felt sick, and the couch always makes me feel better”

You say and he hums 

“Was it from dinner?”

You shook your head again 

“No, not that kind of sick, my period started”

You admitted

“And the couch is making you feel better?”

He said with a side smile, you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh 

“Yea, I don’t know..the couch feels safe and nice to curl up on when I don’t feel well”

You said and sat up, leaning your head on his shoulder 

“But you feel safe to”

You said

“Oh yea?”

Leon said and wrapped his arm around you to pull you closer 

“How about I lay down and you can lay on top of me, I’m warm, might help those nasty cramps”

You nodded and removed yourself so he could lay down, you laid on top of him with a sigh, pulling the blanket around your back. Leon could feel your heartbeat against his chest and for the first time since he woke up he relaxed enough that his muscles weren’t so strained 

“This is nice..”

You said with a yawn 

“It is”

He said, kissing your forehead gently

“Now, tell me what’s bouncing around up there”

Leon said, and you sighed, you knew you couldn't get away with hiding anything 

“Just y’know, the usually stuff that comes with a period, cramps, bloating..not feeling like a man”

Leon frowned at you, rubbing your shoulder 

“You know you are though, a man”

He said

“My man, actually”

Your face heated up at those words 

“And I know my words can’t stop dysphoria, but I can sure as hell remind you that it doesn’t matter what parts you got, if you bleed or not, or type of clothing you wear, you're a man, my man, my boy, my boyfriend, and i wouldn’t trade you for anything”

Leon said, his eyes having that glassy look they always had, the look of love and honesty 

“I love you”

You said, not trusting your voice as you shove your face into his shoulder 

“I love you”

He said, placing a hand on the back of your head, holding you close

You knew it was going to be a bad day the moment you woke up. Not because anything had even happened yet, but because you didn’t feel like you’d slept at all.

Your eyes had burned the second they opened. Your head felt heavy, like your thoughts were moving through syrup, slow and thick and just slightly out of sync with everything else.

You’d checked the time and groaned, you had no time to get any extra sleep either.

And then, of course, you tried to go back to sleep anyway. Which made it worse. Because you couldn’t. So instead, you laid there, staring at the ceiling, growing more frustrated by the minute until you finally dragged yourself out of bed already tired, already irritable, already behind.

You could already feel how slow the day was going to move from the morning in general. You moved slower, reacted slower, and hardly had a filter. Every little inconvenience felt bigger than it should’ve.

You dropped your brush while getting ready, you couldn’t find one of your socks, you stubbed your toe on the way out, hell you forgot something—turned back— and forgot something else.

By the time you finally left, your patience was already worn thin, and alas, the world didn’t get any nicer.

People were louder than usual, and they were too close, and too much. Every voice grated just a little more than it should’ve. Every sound felt sharper. Every movement felt like it demanded more energy than you had to give.

By the time you reached your mission, you already felt like you’d worked a full shift.

It wasn’t a difficult job, not really, but exhaustion has a way of turning easy into impossible.

You missed small details. It wasn't enough to be critical, but it was enough to slow you down and to be much too annoying. It felt like you were constantly a step behind.

You crouched down to clean something, and your knees protested. You stood back up, and your head swam for a second too.

You blinked hard, steadying yourself. “Get it together,” you muttered.

You kept going, that's what you do.

But the longer it went on, the more it built.

You fumbled your grip— twice.

You had to redo part of your work because you didn’t do it right the first time.

Someone pointed it out—not harshly, not cruelly—but it still stung.

Not because of what they said.

But because you already knew. “I know,” you’d muttered.

You always knew, that was the worst part.

Your head throbbed, your eyes felt dry, and your shoulders ached like you’d been carrying something heavy all day even though you hadn’t. At some point, you leaned back against the wall for “just a second.” you closed your eyes and took a deep breath– and hell, you almost drifted off standing there.

You jerked awake a second later, heart stuttering.

“Right.”

You forced yourself upright and kept going.

You finished your mission too, eventually. It wasn't perfectly done, but it was done.

And that should’ve been the end of it, except exhaustion doesn’t just turn off. It followed you home.

It felt heavy and persistent, like it was settling deeper into your bones with every step. By the time you reached your door, your hands felt clumsy on the handle.

You fumbled it once– twice– then finally got it open.

You stepped inside, and closed the door. For a moment, you just stood there.

The silence hit you first. After a full day of noise and movement and too much everything, It felt almost too quiet. Your brain didn’t know what to do with it.

You took a step forward, then another.

Then— Your bag slipped off your shoulder and hit the floor with a dull thud.

You didn’t pick it up.

“…I’m so tired,” you mumbled to no one.

You made it halfway to the bed before you gave up entirely.

You didn’t even fall so much as fold—dropping onto the mattress face-first, limbs heavy, body sinking like it had finally given permission to stop.

For a moment—Nothing. No thoughts, no movement, just the steady rise and fall of your breathing against the fabric beneath you. Then your brain kicked back on.

You forgot to clean that one spot properly. You should’ve double-checked your bag. You took too long on something simple.

You groaned, pressing your face harder into the bed.

“Shut up,” you muttered to yourself.

“…That’s new.”

You didn’t move.

“…Go away,” you mumbled, voice muffled.

A quiet step closer.

Then the bed dipped slightly. “well don't you look worse than usual,” Riyo Reaper said.

“Feel worse than usual.”

“Impressive.”

You turned your head just enough to glare at her.

“…I’m serious.”

She hummed, studying you. “Yeah, yeah, I can tell.”

You let out a long, slow breath.

“I didn’t sleep.”

“How much?”

“…I don’t know. It doesn’t feel like any.”

“Mm.”

That was it. There wasn't a lecture, no dramatic reaction, no nothing.

“I kept messing up today,” you added quietly. “Not big things. Just… everything.”

Riyo tilted her head slightly. “That happens when you’re running on nothing.”

“I know, but it’s annoying.”

“Yeah.”

“I feel useless.”

“You’re not.”

“I felt useless,” you corrected weakly.

She shrugged.

“Still not.”

You closed your eyes again.

“My head hurts.”

“Not surprising.”

“Everything feels too loud.”

“You’re tired.”

“I know.”

A pause, “…I hate this.”

There was a shift beside you, then a hand nudged your shoulder.

“Move.”

“No.”

“Move.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

“I don’t want to.”

A brief silence.

“Fine.”

Before you could question it, she grabbed your arm and rolled you onto your side.

“Hey—”

“Shh.”

And then, all you felt was warmth. Riyo pulled you in without hesitation, your head ending up tucked against her shoulder, her arm wrapping around you in a loose but steady hold.

You blinked.

“Riyo.”

“Relax”

“I am—”

“You’re not.”

You opened your mouth to argue, then you stopped because… she wasn’t wrong. Your body was tense in a way you hadn’t even noticed until now. Your shoulders tight, your jaw clenched, your hands curled slightly into the fabric of your sleeve. And finally, you let yourself sink.

Her grip adjusted slightly, one hand resting against your upper arm, thumb brushing lightly back and forth in an absent, repetitive motion.

“You’re really tired,” she murmured.

“mhm.”

“Like… actually tired.”

“Yeah.”

Your voice was already softer, the edges dulled by exhaustion.

“You’re not thinking straight either,” she added.

“…I know.”

“So stop trying to.”

“I don’t know how.”

“Then don’t try.”

You let out a weak breath.

“How helpful.”

“I try.”

Despite everything, a faint smile tugged at your lips, though it didn’t last long. Regardless, it was still there.

Silence settled again, but this time— It felt different.

Your thoughts tried to start up again. They always did.

Little reminders. Small annoyances. That lingering sense that you should still be doing something.

Fixing something.

Thinking about something.

But every time they started, your focus drifted back to her. The steady rhythm of her breathing, the warmth of her arm around you, the slow grounding movement of her thumb against your sleeve.

“…Riyo?”

“Mm?”

“Can you just stay like this for a bit?”

“Yeah”

That was all. No teasing this time, no comment. Your chest loosened. You shifted slightly, pressing a little closer without really thinking about it.

Her hold adjusted automatically, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You’re heavier when you’re this tired,” she muttered.

But before you could say anything she cut you off

“Didn’t say I minded though”

Your eyes slipped closed again.

“…Everything feels harder when I don’t sleep,” you murmured.

“Yeah.”

“Even small stuff.”

“mhm.”

“It’s stupid.”

“No, it’s not.” Her voice was quieter now, softer. “You’re running on empty,” she said. “Of course everything feels worse.”

You didn’t respond because that made too much sense.

Another slow breath, another small shift closer. Your body felt heavy, and you felt warm and safe.

The headache was still there, the exhaustion too, but it wasn’t sharp anymore wasn’t overwhelming, it was like it was muted.

“…You should’ve come here earlier,” Riyo added.

“I didn’t think it was that bad.”

“It was.”

“yeah yeah.”

A pause.

Then—

“Next time I will.”

“Good.”

Her chin rested lightly against your head. It wasn't heavy, but enough to be there.

Your breathing slowed further, and your body finally, finally starting to give in to what it needed all along– rest.

“…Riyo?”

“Mm?”

“Thanks.”

That earned you a small huff. “Don’t make it weird.”

You smiled faintly, already half-asleep. “…Too late.”

Her thumb kept tracing those slow, absent patterns.

Steady.

Consistent.

Grounding.

And this time when your thoughts faded, they didn’t come rushing back.

And with her there, holding you steady, keeping everything quiet; You finally drifted off like your body had been waiting for this exact moment to let go.

And for once, you didn’t fight it.

I genuinely feel so fucking sick to my stomach RN someone shoot me dead please

Taglist: @neluvias , @i-heartdinos , @n4tsukis

Please do not repurpose my work or feed into AI. - APPLE DIVIDERS / LACE ARE NOT MINE!

Other blogs

@bloodthirsty-animtronic bloodmoon rp blog

@all-de-wasps gimmick wasp blog

@apples-reblog-spam reblog spam

@gummy-haj GUMMY SHORK

@mya-chloe-and-felix pjo ocs

@apples-art-blog art blog

My(Cupid) partners are @mayya-kalila-the-peaceful-gal And @clockwork-egyptian

Tags for stuff

Apple drawz/Apples art= all art stuff

Apples ocs = ocs

Apples thoughts = random stuff we post

Apple rps = role plays

Apple answers = ask answered

Apple writes = writing(might never use this who knows)

Saving this for later = exactly what it seems

And there's some tags for alters as well. Slate/blank doesn't have a tag for themselves(dont really want one). Mainfronter is exactly how it sounds like. I dont have a name yet

Dull

Whimsy🌈

Saint🪽

Aspen🐕

Cupid💕

Mainfronter

Artemis🐺