Eek omg hi.. first of all your blog is SO cute everything’s laid out so nicely and the colours r adorbs, I’m in love w it!! ୧꒰*´꒳`*꒱૭✧
I was wondering if I could request something short n sweet w a couple of the Zenless ladies.. Ye Shunguang, Yanagi, Yixuan and Ellen (separately) comforting a reader who’s super busy w work all the time and just wants a moment to destress w/ their partner and take their mind off of things!
If those r too many characters please feel free to just pick and choose who you’d wanna write 4 <33
I’ll also totally be coming back to this blog, so could I perhaps be known as 🎀 anon?? I can’t wait so see more of ur writing, have a wonderful day ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა
⋆.˚ ✎ᝰ 𝒩𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 ℰ𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝒮𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄
+ ye shunguang, yanagi, yixuan, and ellen comforting a workaholic reader
ye shunguang, yanagi, yixuan, and ellen (separate) x overwork reader. comfort, pure fluff, maybe ooc (I dont know these characters all that well yet), not really proofread.
⋆.˚ ✎ᝰ tysm! i'm glad you enjoy the aesthetic of my blog, and ofc you can be 🎀 anon. i apologize i can't put the keep reading- it wont work
you come home from a long day.
the world never waits for anyone—not for you, not for ye shuguang, not for anyone at all. today, it felt like it took everything from you, leaving you drained, like an empty shell.
you drag yourself toward your home, step by step, holding onto the one thought that keeps you going—
and there she is—ye shuguang.
the history between you and her feels steady, familiar… safe.
“welcome back, xiao’guang~”
her voice is bright, teasing in that gentle way she always does, like she’s greeting something precious.
you try to respond, but the words don’t come out. everything feels hazy, like your mind is moving slower than it should.
“…hey, what’s this?” her tone softens immediately. “you look like you fought the whole world and lost.”
you huff weakly, but even that takes effort.
she doesn’t wait for an answer.
instead, she moves closer, guiding you inside with an ease that feels practiced—natural.
“c’mon, sit,” she says, light but firm, like a mentor who already knows you won’t argue.
before you can even process it, you’re settled somewhere comfortable.
“stay right there,” she adds, already turning away.
in her hands: a small stash she’s definitely been saving.
“i was going to keep these for later,” she hums, placing them beside you, “but i think you need them more right now.”
you stare at them for a moment.
“…rough day?” she asks, softer now, crouching slightly to meet your level.
slowly, the words start coming out—how everything felt too much, how nothing seemed fair, how it all piled up until you couldn’t handle it anymore.
nodding along, patient, warm.
“mm… yeah, that sounds exhausting,” she murmurs. “no wonder you look like this.”
there’s no judgment. just understanding.
she reaches over, nudging the sweets a little closer to you.
“hey,” she smiles gently, “it’s okay to feel like this, you know? even the strongest people have days where everything just… piles up.”
you exhale, some of the weight easing.
“you don’t have to carry all of that by yourself,” she adds. “you’ve got me.”
there’s a quiet confidence in her voice—steady, reassuring.
“so take a break,” she continues, a small playful lilt returning. “that’s an order from your senior~”
you let out a small laugh.
and for the first time all day, things don’t feel quite as heavy.
a small light that never really fades.
the room felt quiet... too quiet.
not silent— it could never be silent with how much your head was killing you. but controlled, filtered, like everything had already been accounted for before it even happens.
it makes your shoulders tense up without noticing.
her voice cuts through it cleanly.
you didn't jump, but it felt like your soul jumped out of your body.
you didnt even hear her walk in! of course, you hadn't
yanagi stands a few feet away, posture straight, hands resting behind her back. she always looks composed, like she’s already five steps ahead of whatever situation she’s in.
she tilts her head slightly. not judgmental. just… precise.
“your response time has slowed by 0.7 seconds compared to your baseline,” she says it like she’s reading off a report. “and you’ve checked the same terminal three times without processing new information.”
"i observe patterns." a small pause "yours are unusually easy to read than normal."
that stings a little more than it should've.
did that mean that it was noticeable to everyone?
you looked away, pretending to focus on anything that your eyes could lay on. it didn't help; it all felt blurry. your chest feels heavy, like something pressing it inward.
you shake your head. "nothing, just tired."
you almost laugh, but it came out weaker than expected.
"it's just been a lot, okay" you mutter. "feels like im messing up even when im not."
you expect a correction. a lecture. something sharp.
“your performance has not declined.”
she steps closer, not touching, but enough to ground you.
she’s still composed, still controlled—but her voice is quieter now.
“you are allowed to have variance,” she says. “you are not required to be optimal at all times.”
“…i don’t know how to do that.”
you look at her properly this time.
“it falls under my responsibility,” she replies.
you huff a small laugh. she gestures toward the couch.
you don’t argue this time.
as you sink into the cushions, some of the tension finally loosens.
she lingers nearby, watching—not in a cold way, but in that same careful, calculated way she does everything.
making sure.
always making sure.
“…take ten minutes,” she says.
you nod, closing your eyes for a second. and for once, the world doesn’t feel like it’s pressing down as hard.
like she won’t let you fall apart without noticing.
you returned later than expected.
not because you meant to—just because everything demanded more from you today.
by the time you step inside, your body feels heavy, your thoughts slower, like they’re dragging behind you.
still holding her authority.
yixuan stands ahead, posture straight, presense grounding the room without effort. you don't even need to look up at her to know she was waiting for you.
concerned about what even happened to you.
you hesitate for half a second before stepping closer.
her gaze is sharp, observant—taking in everything without missing a detail.
“your breathing is uneven,” she notes. “your focus is scattered.”
you look away. “i’m fine.”
you exhale, shoulders dropping slightly. “it was just a long day.”
she studies you for another moment, then turns, gesturing for you to follow.
she moves with quiet precision, preparing something—tea, maybe. the motions are practiced, controlled, like every action has intention behind it.
“you are pushing beyond your current limits,” she says after a moment.
you frown. “isn’t that the point?”
“only when it serves growth,” she replies. “not when it leads to instability.”
she sets the cup in front of you.
you didn’t even notice when she finished.
you wrap your hands around it, warmth seeping into your fingers.
“strength is not measured by how much you endure in silence,” she continues. “it is measured by how well you maintain yourself through adversity.”
“…i don’t feel very strong right now.”
“strength is not a constant state.”
her expression hasn’t softened, but there’s something steadier in it. something grounding.
“it is something you return to,” she says. “again and again.”
the words settle quietly.
she steps a little closer—not intrusive, just present.
“you are allowed to falter,” she adds. “so long as you do not remain there.”
you let out a slow breath.
“…what if i don’t know how to get back up?”
this time, she doesn’t hesitate.
like it was never a question.
you huff a quiet laugh, shaking your head slightly. “of course you will.”
“it is my responsibility,” she replies.
you don’t respond, but something in your chest eases.
the weight isn’t gone. but it’s… steadier.
she watches you for a moment longer, ensuring you’re actually drinking the tea.
always observing.
always calculating.
always there.
“rest,” she says at last.
you flop onto the couch the second you get home.
no warning, no greeting. just dropping everything off at the door.
her voice comes from somewhere nearby, casual, like she already expected this.
ellen doesn’t even look up at first, scrolling through her phone, legs stretched out like she owns the entire space.
you groan into the cushions.
she finally glances over.
“…yeah, you look terrible.”
you lift your head slightly. “wow. thanks.”
she watches you for a second longer, eyes half-lidded, studying in that quiet way she does—like she’s piecing things together without asking.
then she sighs, locking her phone and tossing it aside.
you don’t question it—barely have the energy to—just shift enough to make space.
she drops down next to you, not graceful, just… there.
“you’re overthinking it,” she says after a moment.
you frown into the couch. “i didn’t even say anything.”
her shoulder bumps yours lightly.
“you always get like this when you think you messed up.”
you exhale slowly. “it just feels like everything piles up, you know?”
she leans back, stretching a little.
“then don’t deal with all of it at once.”
she reaches over, nudging you with her hand—lazy, but intentional.
“just deal with what’s in front of you,” she adds. “the rest can wait.”
“…you make it sound easy.”
“…you just don’t like doing it that way.”
she smirks slightly, like she knows she’s right.
then, after a second, she shifts—pulling a blanket over both of you without making a big deal out of it.
“stay here for a bit,” she mutters. “you’re not useful like this anyway.”
but she doesn’t move away. doesn’t go back to her phone.
just stays there, close enough that you can feel the steady warmth beside you.
like nothing needs to be forced.
“just don’t burn yourself out over stuff that doesn’t matter.”
you close your eyes, tension slowly easing out of your body.
you actually felt whole again.
〔 © dolliteur 〕 — dont repost, translate, plagiarize, or feed my work into ai!
