☆ 𝐊𝐎𝐎𝐏𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐱 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 ☆

୨ go to sleep (iggy x reader) ୧

FLUFF ! ˚₊•
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You furrowed your brows, your concern morphing into a deep frown that marred your features. "When was the last time you've slept?" you asked, your voice tinged with both genuine worry and simmering frustration at his relentless disregard for his well-being.

"You think I sleep? That's funny." The corners of Iggy's mouth twitched, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes, but his usual sharpness was noticeably absent. His words landed with an uncharacteristic flatness, abruptly interrupted by a weary yawn that underscored the extent of his exhaustion. Dark circles, like smudges of fatigue, etched themselves beneath his half-lidded eyes, evidence of his prolonged sleep deprivation. Oblivious to the world beyond his screen, he continued his fervent typing, pausing only to push up his glasses aggressively and rub his weary eyes as if hoping to squeeze out any remnants of alertness.

Your concern for him intensified, your mind spiraling with worries that threatened to consume you. It seemed as though he cared so little for sleep, nourishment, or even basic personal hygiene that dragging him away from his work to tend to his own well-being had become an arduous task.It was a constant battle between your fear for his health and his relentless dedication to his projects. Somewhere deep inside, you clung to the hope that he would one day perceive self-care as an advancement in the pursuit of scientific knowledge, an integral part of his own experiments. That way, you wouldn't have to resort to borderline torturous measures to convince him to take care of himself. But for now, it seemed you had no choice but to forcefully intervene.

"I'm being serious, Iggy."

Iggy shrugged off your concern, a dismissive wave of his hand accompanied by a swig from his nearly-empty energy drink, quickly replaced by cracking open another one. The fact that he relied on caffeine to keep himself functioning only heightened your apprehension.

"And so am I," he responded flatly. "So, if you'll excuse me," Iggy attempted to rise from the comfort of his rolling chair, but you swiftly moved to block his path, exerting a gentle yet unyielding force to keep him seated. Your hand instinctively found its place on his chest-piece, a natural source of warmth that seeped through the material and into your palm. You fixed him with a stern glare, hoping to convey the gravity of the situation.

A deep sigh escaped Iggy's lips, a faint wisp of smoke trailing from his nostrils—a telltale sign that his impatience was teetering on the edge of igniting into a fiery display. Yet, you knew all too well that his threats of fireballs were mere bluffs, never to be realized. Nevertheless, you stood your ground, refusing to be swayed by his facade.

"No, you aren't excused," you asserted firmly, your voice resonating with unwavering determination. "The only way you're getting out of this chair is if you promise to sleep. Or I swear to any god that's listening that I will hold you here until we're both decomposing."

His grumble of discontent reverberated through the room, his face contorting into a sneer as he glowered at you. But you stood firm, unyielding in your resolve to ensure his well-being, even if it meant enduring his displeasure. Your unwavering commitment spoke volumes, silently urging him to acknowledge the necessity of self-care. It seemed to work, as his resolve and attitude faded into a tired acceptance. Finally, you had gotten through to that stupidly-stubborn brain of his.

"Yeah, sure, whatever you want," Iggy muttered begrudgingly, his words laced with annoyance and defeat. His grip tightened around your wrist, attempting to pry your hand away from his chest, silently begging for release. Your raised eyebrows conveyed your lack of conviction in his words, prompting him to speak again, this time with a hint of exasperation. "Stars above, I promise, jeez! Fucking crazy bitch," he mumbled under his breath, his frustrations evident as he finally managed to free himself from your grasp. The mumbled comment stung your heart, but you knew that it was a comment made to piss you off. The chair protested with creaks and groans as he clambered out of it, a visible testament to the exhaustion he carried.