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lazycats-stuff · 2 months

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(Kind of self projecting sorry lol) SO! BabyBat has an upset stomach but Bruce's too anxious about giving him medicine because can his baby stomach handle those chemicals? Insert Alfred rolling up his sleeves "give him here master Bruce" a tired Bruce just hands him over without question and watches as alfred and baby head to the kitchen and suddenly...baby stopped crying? Bruce walks into the kitchen seeing flower stems on the counter and Alfred standing there with a sleeping baby "...How?" "Rosewater master Bruce, i made and fed him Rosewater" Not sure how to end this but basically BabyBat would only drink Rosewater from now on and Bruce has to upgrade his gardening game ,Alfred always has already-made Rosewater so his Grandson is always hydrated and the rest of batbros are just like "hell yeah my brother's too fancy for regular water" I hope you except my request and thank u! I love u

Oh no, I hope you are doing better now. Either way, this is an Alfred thing to do. Thank you for the love too.❤️

Summary: Alfred knows what to do.

Warnings: Alfred knows what to do, Bruce is tired, boys love their brother, but they want peace, fluff all in all.

Taking care of a baby is difficult, even for Alfred. Bruce and him had joined forces for (Y/N). The boys have also agreed to help whenever they could. It was exhausting to take care of a little baby. Bruce and Alfred were sleep deprived at this point and the boys took care of their little brother while the two recovered slightly.

It felt nice to have a presence of a baby here, despite the chaos that a baby brings. (Y/N) was an easy baby as long there was a routine for him. Feed him on time, change his diaper regularly, put him down for a nap on time...

All of the basics essentially.

Oh, not to forget, (Y/N) was often held in someone's arms. Whether it be Damian's, Dick's, Jason's or Tim's, (Y/N) was happy to be in their arms. Bruce was (Y/N)'s favorite none the less. Who wouldn't love being held by their father?

But, it seems that (Y/N) had medical problems. Bruce took him to the pediatrician to see what's going on. It seems that it was (Y/N)'s stomach and Bruce got some medication for it, but he was worried. Bruce believed in medicine, don't get me wrong, but... Will (Y/N)'s poor tummy will be able to handle it?

Bruce has tried everything he could to soothe his son, his anxiety preventing him from giving him the meds. How can he know that the chemicals won't make it worst? Again, he believes in modern medicine, but his baby is...

He doesn't want to hurt his son more. Alfred and everyone else tried to help, but (Y/N) was just in too much pain to even think about calming down for a single second. Jason was sure that (Y/N)'s voice will be lost in a few more hours and Damian wanted to die.

Dick and Tim tried, but nothing worked. At all. Nothing. Tim was exhausted and Dick was going to snap soon. Very much soon. Damian and Titus were out of the manor for these couple of hours and Jason went to the Batcave.

Alfred, all of a sudden got an idea. Going to the garden, he got some roses and has decided to make some rosewater for (Y/N). He cleaned the flowers in the kitchen and then put the in a pot before submerging the petals underneath the water. He put it on low heat and let it simmer for now. He put a lid over it and sighed as he heard (Y/N) crying.

He waited and checked on the petals and smiled when he saw that the petals lost color. He turned the heat off and moved the pot away, allowing it to cool down completely. (Y/N) can't drink hot water. And it would be a nice alternative to the medicine that Bruce is so anxious about giving to (Y/N). The worry is understandable, babies are more fragile than toddlers and older kids so giving them harsh medicine is not a good idea.

Alfred turned on the radio and removed the lid from the pot. He could hear Bruce's voice trying to shush his son, but (Y/N) was still crying from the pain. Alfred waited patiently as he poured himself some whiskey.

Did he love his grandson more than life? Yes, but sometimes, alcohol was important to soothe the headache the crying might have caused. He slowly sipped his whiskey as he waited for the water to cool down. Jason and Damian came down to eat something and Alfred pointed at the leftovers in the fridge.

" What's in the pot Alfred? " Damian asked as the took a container of food to heat it up.

" You'll see soon. I'm just waiting for it to cool down. "

" Is it for (Y/N)? " Jason asked as he looked at the food in the fridge. " Please tell me it's for him.

" It is. " Alfred said and took another sip of his whiskey. Damian and Jason sighed in relief.

" Thank God. " Damian said as he started heating up his food. Jason smiled as he waited for his turn.

" What's in the pot though? " Jason asked as he peered over to look at the pot.

" Some rose water. It's great for the stomach. " Alfred explained and Jason nodded as he looked down to look at the water more intently.

" Since when do we have roses in the garden? " Jason asked as he started heating his own food up and Damian sat down and started eating his food.

" Since forever master Jason. " Alfred said as he finished his whiskey.

Jason nodded and took his food out of the microwave and started eating.

After 20 minutes, the water has cooled down and Jason and Damian have left the kitchen. Alfred rolled up his sleeves and went to the living room, with Bruce still soothing his son. Bruce was tired and Alfred was sure that Bruce's ears were going to start bleeding in a few minutes.

" Hand him over master Bruce. " Alfred said and Bruce gladly gave (Y/N) to Alfred and he just closed his eyes and relaxed, the sound of (Y/N) crying moving further away from him. He kept them closed until there was silence.

Why was there silence?

Bruce opened his eyes and went into the kitchen where he found Alfred, with a sleeping (Y/N) in his arms. How the hell was (Y/N) sleeping?

" Alfred? What did you do? " Bruce asked as he looked around. Why were on the counter stems... Were those rose stems? Alfred chuckled at the confusion that Bruce was exhibiting.

" Rosewater master Bruce. " Alfred said, giving him a very short answer.

Bruce was still confused and Alfred chuckled once more. " I fed him some rosewater. " Alfred explained and Bruce nodded. Whatever it was, it helped (Y/N) out and Bruce wasn't going to question it at all.

" Huh. Thank God for the rosewater I guess. "

" Yes, it's a more natural remedy. I know you were anxious about giving the medicine to master (Y/N), so I remembered this recipe. "

" Alfred, did I ever tell you that you are the most important member of the family? " Bruce asked as he walked closer to his beloved son, caressing his little cheek.

" All the time master Bruce. "

" Good. " Bruce said as he leaned down to kiss (Y/N)'s head and the little boy slowly reached for his father. Bruce took him into his arms and allowed him to rest in his arms.

Dick and Tim popped their hands in happy and relieved that their brother was not in pain anymore. And that he wasn't ruining their hearing anymore.

" Is he okay? " Tim asked quietly and Alfred nodded. Dick sighed in relief and put a hand over his heart.

" Thank God. It's nice to have a silent manor for once. " Dick joked and everyone chuckled. That much was true.

" Well, it's great that our brother is not in pain anymore. " Tim said and walked closer to his baby brother, just observing him.

" Thank you Alfred. " Dick said and Alfre laughed. Bruce rolled his eyes with a fond smile.

After the discovery of rose water, (Y/N) refused to drink anything else. Thankfully, Alfred started feeding him some solid foods so he wasn't going to be hungry. But it was funny the first time (Y/N) refused to drink anything that wasn't rosewater.

Bruce was confused, but Alfred already had batches of water prepared for his grandson. (Y/N) needs to be hydrated. Bruce sighed as he drank his coffee, looking at the garden outside. He needed to call a gardener to plant more roses in the garden...

He glanced back at his son who was happily drinking his water, with Alfred holding the bottle.

The four older brothers walked in for breakfast and they all laughed.

" (Y/N) is so fancy. " Tim said laughing as he made his way to the coffee pot and the cereal cabinet.

" More than you B. " Dick joked and Bruce rolled his eyes with a smile.

" Yes, (Y/N) is a true Wayne. All Waynes are fancy in their own right. " Damian confirmed and Bruce just kept smiling at the banter that was going on here.

" You do know that you have up your gardening skills, right old man? " Jason teased and laughed behind his coffee mug. (Y/N) really did bring everyone together.

" I'll call the gardener the moment I'm in office. " Bruce declared and everyone nodded and started eating in peace. This is a very nice and calm morning for their standards.

" Is it just me or (Y/N) brought us all together? " Jason asked and everyone paused for a moment.

" You are right. " Dick said first and everyone followed with either nods or soft murmurs of agreement.

Jason walked up to Alfred and (Y/N) who finished his bottle of rosewater and picked his brother up in his arms. " My little brother is so fancy. " Jason said as he rocked his little brother, who in turn was shrieking with laughter.

Everyone smiled even more. This morning is really nice. And (Y/N) is a glue that keeps this family close and together.

#dc comics #dc x male reader #x male reader #batfamily #bruce wayne x male reader #batman x male reader #jason todd x male reader #red hood x male reader #tim drake x male reader #red robin x male reader #dick grayson x male reader #nightwing x male reader #damian wayne x male reader #robin x male reader

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nanamiya3 · 8 months

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Hello! As an SA survivor, I really appreciated your story with Naoya. My comfort character is Nanami and I was wondering if you could write something similar? Where reader has an anxiety attack bc of her trauma and finally tells nanami about it? She’s worried that he won’t accept her and nanami reminds her he’ll never do that. It’s a heavy topic so I completely understand if you want to pass on this! I appreciate your writing regardless so thank you for taking the time to write & post these stories :)

hii! i'm sorry it's taken me so long to respond (can you believe my last post was almost half a year ago :0) but thank you for the ask! i made this absurdly long because i love backstories but i hope you like it :)

nanami x fem reader (she/her pronouns used) - fluff & comfort - pet names (darling, sweetheart, baby) - wc. 7.7k

please note that there are mentions of SA (nothing explicit/graphic) after the little "exhibit" sections are over. if you aren't comfortable with mentions of past SA (ex: nanami asking if someone has "hurt" reader) please don't read past the little "exhibit" scenarios or don't read/expand the post at all :) again, it's pure fluff in the "exhibit a, b, c" parts, after that SA is discussed/alluded to

Nanami Kento is an exceedingly patient man.

Exhibit A: The time you were an hour late to your first date.

—

“Come on, just trust me on this one!” Shoko exclaims as she pelts you with blueberries—your blueberries.

“Hey!” You glare at your best friend, snatching the bowl of fruit away before any more berries end up on the floor. “Do you know how much blueberries cost these days? They’re not in season right now and—”

“Blah blah,” Shoko sticks her tongue out at you. “I’m not saying you have to marry him.. It’s just one date!” She pauses, tone becoming uncharacteristically serious. “I’ve been friends with him since high school… He’s a really nice guy, very respectful.”

“Oh?” You quirk an eyebrow at your roommate, laughter bubbling over your lips. “Very respectful,” you’re giggling now, “I’m sure he’s veryy respectful.”

Shoko groans, hands scrubbing at her face. “You’re unbelievable—I need a cigarette,” she mutters.

“You’re unbelievable! You’re a med student who smokes!” you cry out, flinging an accusatory finger at her.

Shoko just snorts, waving a dismissive hand in your direction as she pats at her pockets for her lighter. “I’m serious though, I think he would be good for you.”

“Sure, he’s exactly what I need,” you reply dryly. “What was his name again? Nanami something—”

“Kento,” Shoko chimes in.

“—Nanami Kento,” you finish, twirling a blueberry between your thumb and index finger. “I’m sure he’s a great person. But you know there’s a reason why I’m never home when your guy friends are over…” You trail off, shrugging as if you’re unbothered, but Shoko sees the way your brows furrow and lips tremble. “Plus, I’m too busy with my dissertation and research to try to have a life,” you huff, easing the tension with some lighthearted humor, popping the berry into your mouth.

Shoko rolls her eyes at you good-naturedly, waggling her brows as she tries to lift your spirits. “What if I showed you a picture of him?”

Two photos, a not-so-slick mention of Nanami’s height by Shoko, and a sworn testament to his upstanding character later, you fold.

You, 6:47 PM

hey! i’m running late right now, there was an emergency at the lab. can we push the date from 7 to 8? i’m really sorry :(

Nanami Kento, 6:50 PM

Yes, of course. I hope everything is okay, take as long as you need.

You, 6:51 PM

thank you so much! again, i’m really sorry. i should be there by 8 :)

Nanami reads your text, slipping his phone into his pocket as he sighs. He had already arrived at the restaurant by the time he saw your first message—it’s too late to leave and come back now. He takes a seat in the waiting area, glancing at the bouquet in his lap. Shoko had threatened to break both his legs if he so much as breathed at you wrong tonight—he hopes you won’t find the flowers too much for a first date.

Nanami thinks back to what he knows about you. He remembers the first time he was at Shoko’s place: you were nowhere in sight (much to the dismay of Gojo, who kept asking Shoko to play matchmaker for him), but Shoko just explained that you were studying late at the library. Every time after that, it was another excuse: Shoko’s roommate can’t come because she’s busy in the lab, busy at the library, busy writing her dissertation, busy running simulations, busy reading papers, busy being a TA, busy meeting with her advisor. He’s only seen you once while at your apartment, and that was because he accidentally walked into your room thinking it was the bathroom: You’d been hunched over your desk, back to the door, and Nanami had immediately walked right back out into the hallway upon his realization that bathrooms didn’t usually contain beds and desks, shutting the door as quickly as possible so as to not disturb you. You hadn’t even turned around by the time he was gone.

That was the first and last time Nanami Kento ever saw you. At least until last week, when he received a text from Shoko detailing your contact info and a winky face, phone lighting up with a call from your roommate moments later.

“Hello?”

“Kentoooo!!! Guess what??” Shoko’s voice is all high pitched and giggly, barely containing her excitement.

Nanami thinks he knows exactly what she’s up to. “What is it?” he ventures.

“My roommate just agreed to go on a date! With you!!” Shoko’s glee is apparent, even through the tinny speaker on Nanami’s phone. “I just sent—”

“I never asked her out,” Nanami cuts in. He’s frowning slightly: not entirely opposed to the idea, just hoping Shoko hasn’t gone and planned your marriage without his knowledge.

Shoko’s sigh echoes loudly over the line, and Nanami winces at the earful he’s sure to be in for. “I know,” she’s rolling her eyes now. “That’s why—if you would just let me finish my sentence—I sent you her number so you could ask her yourself.”

Nanami’s quiet for a moment, thinking it over before he asks, “Why are you doing this?”

Shoko doesn’t miss a beat. “Because you’re both losers with no lives,” she laughs a little at her own joke, then slowly considers her next words. “And… I think you would treat her well—I know you would be good to her, and she deserves that.”

Nanami can tell how much Shoko cares about you, from the way she spoke about you to the way she threatened to buy 51% of his start up’s shares and tank the company if he ever hurt you. Yeah, he really hopes you don’t think he’s coming on too strong with the flowers.

So, Nanami sits in the restaurant patiently, checking his phone ever so often to make sure he hasn’t missed any messages from you, smiling and telling the hostess he’d like to wait a while longer to be seated. And when you do show up—17 minutes earlier than expected—he’s all smiles and reassurances. You’re feeling (and looking) frazzled, apologies spilling out from your mouth like a dam let loose as you follow him and the hostess to your table. But Nanami’s the quintessential gentleman: waving away your guilt and apologetic expression, pulling your chair out for you, handing you the beautiful arrangement of flowers, pouring you a glass of water to help calm you down, insisting you call him Kento.

And though most people wince and attempt to change the topic when you talk research, Kento’s patient as he listens to your ramblings on the roadblocks you face, the students you have to teach, the lack of common sense in the lab. He makes a point to ask questions about your research, finding it interesting because you find it interesting, loving the way your face lights up when you get to describe the implications of your findings.

You hate to admit it, already hearing Shoko’s “I told you so!” in your head as you think to yourself, but Nanami Kento might just be exactly what you need.

—

Exhibit B: The time you spent 4 consecutive days with your head in a toilet bowl.

—

Shoko Ieri, 1:58 PM

dude, what the hell are you doing right now???

Nanami Kento, 2:01 PM

What do you mean? I’m working.

Shoko Ieri, 2:01 PM

what could possibly be so important with your company that you’d be working right now??

Nanami Kento, 2:02 PM

It’s 2 PM on a Monday… Am I not supposed to be working right now?

Shoko Ieri, 2:02 PM

you’re so fucking dense you would sink in the dead sea. your girlfriend has been throwing up all day and you’re WORKING?

Nanami Kento, 2:02 PM

Throwing up? What do you mean??

**Incoming call from Nanami Kento**

“Hey assho—”

“What do you mean she’s been throwing up all day?” Kento’s voice is tinged with urgency and worry. “Is she okay? Are you there with her? Can you check her temperature? I’ll be there in—”

“Dude,” Shoko cuts in, “Don’t act like you didn’t know. There’s no way you didn’t know—I mean she’s been hurling like crazy since this morning, and you’re an asshole for not checking up on her.”

Kento’s shocked, and still extremely worried, trying to just get Shoko to focus so he can make sure you’re okay. “I really didn’t know, Ieri, she hasn’t texted me at all today.” His voice is strained, concern evident in his tone. “Please tell me you’re at home with her—is she okay?”

“Well…” Shoko considers how to best put your condition so as to not cause Kento a heart attack, a little confused on why you didn’t tell him anything. “She’s been throwing up pretty steadily throughout the day and she’s got a pretty bad fever.”

“How bad are we talking? I’m driving over right now.”

“104 degrees… 104.6 last I checked,” Shoko winces as she says it, knowing how bad it sounds.

“Oh my god.” The absolute terror in Kento’s voice makes Shoko wince even harder. “Ieri, we need to get her to a hospital—this is serious.”

Shoko shakes her head, reporting dejectedly, “She won’t go. I tried a couple hours ago but she said she doesn’t get paid enough by the school to afford an emergency visit.”

Kento’s at a loss for words.

“She said she’ll be fine since I’m ‘basically a doctor,’” Shoko finishes bitterly.

“T-that’s not… You’re not… Y-you’re just a med student—that’s not the same thing—” Kento thinks he might have a heart attack.

“I know, I know,” Shoko sighs. “But, I don’t think it’s anything too bad. She isn’t throwing up blood, her breath and heart rate are both pretty stable, and she was conscious enough to talk back to me when I tried to get her to the hospital.”

“Okay,” Kento says as he takes deep breaths, trying to not think about you dying or suffering or—“Okay. Okay. Okay. I’ll be there soon, then. We can talk later.”

“Alright. Drive safe—I don’t need another patient to look after,” Shoko jokes before hanging up.

5 minutes later, a stressed Nanami Kento is on your doorstep, rushing in as soon as Shoko answers the door, barely listening to what she’s saying as he moves towards your room. And then he’s inside, kneeling before your bed as his eyes dart over your figure, murmuring a gentle, “Hi baby, how are you feeling?”

You blink your eyes open, trying to pull yourself out of that feverish fog blanketing your mind as you slowly register who’s in your line of sight. No… It can’t be. How did he find out? He’s not supposed to be here—you didn’t tell him for a reason.

“Ken?…” You rub at your eyes, sitting up with a whimper as a wave of nausea hits you square in the stomach. “W-why are you here?”

“Because somebody told me you have a 104 fever, and it wasn’t you,” Kento tuts, tone disapproving but eyes gentle.

“Ieri…” you mumble, shaking your head slightly.

“Ieri,” he confirms, shaking his own head—this time at you. “We’ll talk more about that later… Right now, I need to make sure my darling is feeling okay.”

Your mind is still foggy, but your lips quirk up into a small smile as you tease in a small voice, “Your darling is feeling superb.” You give him a weak thumbs up and cheesy grin. “I feel great.”

“Really? Because there’s a bit of vomit on your chin right now,” Kento deadpans, secretly relieved you’re feeling well enough to joke.

And then you cry out in mock outrage, regretting it almost immediately as you clutch at your middle, the outburst costing you a fit of spasms and pain in your stomach. Kento’s mood sobers instantly as he gently rubs at your back, asks if there’s anything he can do for you, adjusting the pillows behind you to help ease you into a more comfortable position.

“You should go,” you whisper as you reach up to grip his hand.

“Now why would I do that?” Kento asks, smiling softly as he feels your hold on his hand tighten.

You turn your face into the pillows, mumbling out a muffled, “I’m sick… and gross. I can’t let you see me like this.” You groan, turning your head back to look at your boyfriend as you caution, “And you’re going to get sick.”

Kento just smiles as he cups your hand between his own. “You never look gross, and I won’t get sick because I don’t overwork myself.”

You huff out a tired sigh, weakly swatting at the hands wrapped around your own as you slur, “It’s rude to torment the sick and dying,” and turn on your side to face the wall—away from your amused caretaker.

For the next three days, Kento—with the help of Shoko, (not quite) M.D.—looks after you as you miraculously manage to regurgitate every bit of sustenance you consume. He’s cleaned that metal “throw-up” bowl on your nightstand—meant to be used in case you couldn’t get to the bathroom in time—more times that he can count. He’s changed your sheets, helped you to the bathroom, and dutifully cooked light soups and stews, spooning them into your mouth before inevitably patting your back reassuringly as you throw it up into the toilet. Most of all, he’s poked and prodded you with that goddamn thermometer: if you had the strength to, you’d steal it right out of his hands and tell him to quit being a mother hen.

But Kento just can’t help his worrying. To take care of you, he’s been staying the night over, sleeping on that couch in the living room he’s definitely too large for. Even Shoko feels a little bad for him, watching him dutifully set alarms for every other hour so he can check up on you throughout the night. The two of them work in tandem to make sure you’re okay, combining the power of Shoko’s education with Kento’s sheer stress to maximize your care.

And when you finally come to—when the haze clouding your thoughts finally clears—he’s just as patient and gentle as he has been over the past few days.

“You’ve gotta stop overworking yourself, sweetheart,” Kento murmurs into the top of your head.

“I can rest when I’m dead,” you protest, twisting from your position on his chest to make a show out of the dramatic wink you send his way.

Kento groans. “That’s what I’m afraid of,” he says with a sigh, helping you curl back up on top of him.

You giggle, breath fanning out against his collarbone, amused by Kento’s exasperation. “Thanks for taking care of me though, Ken. You’re the best,” you whisper softly, turning to pressing a kiss against his neck.

“Of course, darling,” he replies quietly, voice full of love. Then, louder, feigning nonchalance, Kento announces, “But if you don’t start taking better care of yourself, you’ll be on your own, and I’ll just watch from a distance and say ‘I told you so’ when you get sick.”

“You wouldn’t do that to me!” you pout, frowning at the thought of him purposely ignoring you.

Kento sighs, pretending to be upset, “You’re right. I wouldn’t do that.” He reports dejectedly, “I just love you too much,” practically able to feel your smile at his words against his skin. “But—” he leans down and tilts your head up to look at him, thumb and forefinger holding your chin in place to maintain steady eye contact. “—the next time you’re sick or in need of help, you’ll tell me directly.” His voice is serious, as firm as his grip on your chin and it makes you nervous, like you’re in trouble, eyes darting around to avoid his gaze. “No trying to hide it, no making me worry. I shouldn’t have found out about your fever from Ieri—you should have told me yourself. I don’t want you hiding things from me, especially if it’s about your health and well-being. Got it?”

You’ve tensed up against Kento, heart hammering in your throat as you feel a wave of guilt wash over you. His free hand moves to soothe your back—trying to show that he’s not angry with you—as he drops his hand from your chin, eyes tracking the way you hang your head to avoid looking at him.

And then, after a bout of anxiousness, you nod, stealing a glance up at Kento to gauge his mood as you start, “I’m sorry, Ken, I didn’t mean to worry you.” You take a deep breath before you continue, “I just didn’t want to bother you. I knew you’d drop everything if you heard I was sick and it wouldn’t have been fair for me to take advantage of you like that.” You pick at a piece of lint on his shirt, avoiding catching his eye and aiming for humor as you add, “And nobody wants to watch their partner throw up, it’s gross. I couldn’t let you fall out of love with me like that.”

Kento cracks a smile. “Darling, if you think throwing up in front of me is going to make me stop loving you, I need to do a much better job of showing you how much you mean to me.”

You huff out a laugh at that, but he’s not done, cupping your hands with his own as he looks down at you. “And you’re never a bother, baby, ever. I’m never going to be upset with you for letting me know you’re not feeling well—and you won’t be ‘taking advantage’ of me by letting me know. It’s my own choice to take care of you and it makes me happy to do it.”

You’re looking down at where Kento’s hands are wrapped around your own, but you nod, letting his words sink in as you duck your head back down into the crook of his neck. “Thanks, Ken,” you whisper, trying to hide how relieved and emotional him saying that makes you feel. “That means… a lot to me. I’ll promise I won’t hide things from you anymore.”

Your boyfriend smiles, replying with a soft “good girl” as he runs his thumb along the back of your hand. He’s glad you’re opening up, and as you doze off on him, exhausted from your past couple of days and lulled to sleep by the comfortable silence and gentle caresses, he feels a surge of affection settle over his heart.

—

Exhibit C: The time you he won a stuffed lion at the fair.

—

Today is a special day. There are no papers to grade, no students to teach, no presentations or talks to prepare, and your research has reached a point where you can confidently take a few days off to rest. Naturally, you decide to optimize this golden opportunity by doing only the essentials: Scheduling a long overdue doctor’s appointment, deep cleaning your apartment, spending as much time with Kento as possible, going to the fair…. Just the essentials!

So—essentially—you’re at the fair with Kento, ignoring your ever growing list of responsibilities in favor of overpriced food and rigged carnival games. Kento’s already sporting a large tote on one shoulder, ready to collect all the prizes you’re eager to win.

Three hours, six stuffed animals, a pizza, two churros, a basket of fries, five rides, and a petting zoo later, you find yourself surveying the prizes on display in front of the cursed ring toss.

“Awww, Ken look at that one!” You’re pointing to a stuffed lion sitting amongst the prizes. “It kinda looks like you, don’t you think?”

The face Kento’s making right now can only be described as… distaste. “No… Love, I don’t see the resemblance.”

“No, no, no, look at the color! It looks just like your hair,” you exclaim, gasping and pointing once more as you realize, “Hey! It even has a little frown on its face! Do you see it Ken?”

“I don’t frown that often,” Kento says with a frown. “I’m quite happy when I’m with you.”

You burst into a fit of laughter, wishing he could have watched himself say that. “Sure, Ken,” you drawl, patting him on the shoulder as you get in line for the game, set on winning his lion-lookalike.

However, after 4 tries and an absurd amount of money, you decide to call for backup.

"Kennn," you singsong as you turn to look at him with big, pleading eyes. "Can you help me win this game?"

Kento's heart sinks, feeling conflicted. On the one hand, he'd do anything to make you happy. On the other hand, if he helps you win the lion, he'll spend the rest of his days hearing "Awww.. Isn't he just so cute?? He looks just like you, baby!" about a stuffed, over-evolved house cat.

But, in the end, the little angel on his shoulder (with a voice that sounds suspiciously similar to yours) wins. As Kento steps up for his try, he half considers putting no effort in and losing the game just so you won’t be able to correlate his good looks to a stuffed animal. Then, he (or maybe the little angel up there) decides he can’t do that to you—it would just be too cruel.

So, Kento gets ready for his turn: rolling his sleeves up, passing you the bag on his shoulder, and sighing without meaning to.

His first try is a failure. Each of the 5 rings supplied magically bounced off the bottlenecks, frustrating him to no end. “This game is rigged, sweetheart. We should find something else to play,” Kento grumbles, turning away from the booth with an irritated expression.

You shake your head, insisting, “But this is the only game we’ve seen that has that stuffed lion!” Then, you bring out the big guns, clasping your hands together and widening your eyes, begging, “Please, Ken..”

Aaaand…. He’s a goner, always so soft and willing when it comes to you.

Reinvigorated by your pleading and determined to make you happy, your boyfriend sets out on a mission to win you that stuffed lion.

After his first try, Kento sighs so hard you think you might physically feel the wind from it tickling at your forehead.

After his second try, Kento turns to you and drops a sweet little kiss on your nose to remind himself why he’s subjecting himself to this frustrating torture.

After his third try, Kento runs a hand through his hair, readjusting his sleeves with more force than necessary as he squints menacingly at the table of glass bottles.

After his fourth try, you tug at his wrist, telling him, “You don’t have to keep trying, Ken. It’s okay.” You feel guilty watching him get more and more frustrated, but he smiles, patting the back of your hand as he tells you it’s okay.

After his fifth try, Kento looks up at the stuffed lion as he takes a deep, calming breath, trying to stay focused on winning the prize and not how annoying this blatantly rigged game is.

After his sixth try, you’re seriously impressed by Kento’s ability to remain calm. You practically had steam coming out of your ears with each of your missed throws, but he’s taking this like a champ—maybe you’ll read some of his self help books to learn his ways.

After his seventh try, Kento curses under his breath, beginning to lose his cool.

After his eighth try, Kento thinks it might be time to start believing in a deity: Maybe he would have won on his first or second try with divine intervention on his side.

And then! After returning to purchase almost ten consecutive attempts and officially creeping out the worker managing the booth, Kento’s fourth ring finally finds its place around the neck of a bottle!!

You jump up and down and clap in celebration, elated by Kento’s victory. He immediately turns toward you, excitement written across his features as he wraps you up in a hug. You’re giggling and pressing kisses onto his cheek, murmuring thank you’s against his skin as you both grin ear to ear—both entirely too old to be so elated over a win at the carnival.

And even as you tease him, holding the stuffed toy up next to his face in comparison, he thinks his patience may have just paid off.

—

Nanami Kento is an exceedingly patient man.

That’s why, as you break down in front of him, he’s patient.

Just minutes ago, you’d been okay—you’d been more than okay. Seated on Kento’s lap, breath heavy as he scattered kisses across your face—moving from cheek to nose to lips to forehead—you’d been beyond okay.

Nothing had been too out of the ordinary: though Kento wasn’t a voracious and demanding lover, the two of you had shared more than a fair amount of kisses and “makeout sessions.” And you enjoyed these kisses, these “sessions,” but you also enjoyed keeping it at that, never progressing further than a few wandering touches and a lost shirt or two. Kento, always happy to follow your lead, to respect your boundaries, would never press further when you’d break away and ask to go to bed, to watch the movie, to cook dinner together.

Tonight, you planned on spending the night together at Kento’s apartment. Falling asleep and waking up next to Kento might be one of your favorite things in the world: his hair is always perfectly mussed, voice deep and raspy, and touch gentle and loving. You always wake up happy and warm all over when you feel his arm around your middle, breath hot on your ear as he murmurs a low “Good morning, darling.”

So, you show up at Kento’s place at around 6, a bag of groceries on your arm, just like usual. The two of you work together in the kitchen, each spoon feeding the other small taste-tests, just like usual. Dinner is a quiet, romantic affair, intimate and sweet, just like usual. After the wining and dining, you two curl up in bed and watch an episode of that show you’re slowly making your way through together, just like usual.

And when you end up straddling him, TV already shut off, fingers gently twisting in his soft, golden hair, Kento thinks he can get used to this being added to your usual. His hands are splayed out across your back, keeping you close to his chest as he smiles into your swollen, kiss-bitten lips. And when he starts dropping sweet little kisses—like a saint delivering small blessings—all over your face, who are you to hold back that little whimper in the back of your throat? Who is Kento to deny the surge of desire flaring low in his stomach at your reactions? His hands slip underneath your shirt, playing with the band of your bra as you squirm against him and tilt your head up to kiss him again. He moves further—further than he’s ever gone with you—and runs a finger along the underside of the waistband of your pants, brushing a knuckle against the soft skin of your pelvis.

That’s when everything changes.

The second you feel Kento touch you lower than your stomach you freeze up, jerking away from the soft kiss you’d been caught up in. Your eyes go wide and you scramble off of his lap, breath frantic as you try to calm the spike of panic blurring your senses. You’re trying to keep an eye on Kento—on his movements and expressions and demeanor—but it’s hard with how suddenly you’ve become overwhelmed and it makes you feel scared, the way you don’t know what exactly he’s going to do next.

It was just one touch, it’s okay. He doesn’t know, he didn’t mean it, he wasn’t trying to... It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s—

“Sweetheart? Are you okay? I’m not gonna hurt you, it’s okay,” Kento tries to soothe you, but you look at him like you’re… scared of him and he hates himself for frightening you so bad.

What happened?

He thinks he might have an idea of what may have set you off, and as your breathing becomes more and more erratic, he begins to worry.

“Baby,” Kento starts, tone gentle. “Has someone ever… hurt you like this? By touching you?”

The way you flinch at his words is enough to confirm his suspicions, but Kento stays quiet, waiting for you to respond.

You don’t want to tell him. Your eyes keep darting around, nervous gaze cast down onto the blanket as you think about how you should lie—

But, wait. You promised Kento that you wouldn’t hide things from him, that you’d tell him things about your health and well-being. You really shouldn’t lie to him, not about this, but you really don’t want to tell him.

You don’t want to tell him because you don’t want him to say that it was your fault, that maybe you deserved it. You don’t want to tell him because you don’t want him to start treating you like you’re dirty or shameful, like an embarrassing secret. You don’t want to tell him because you don’t want him to get angry at you for not telling him sooner, because maybe he wouldn’t have loved you all this time—wasted all this time—if he knew. You don’t want to tell him because you don’t want him to tell you that it isn’t a big deal, that you don’t have a right to be so upset over something like this, that you’re overreacting. You don’t want to tell him because you don’t want to ruin this peaceful little thing between you and him with your own issues and nightmares. You don’t want to tell him because—

Crap. You’ve been stuck in your own head for too long. The air feels thick with an awkwardly long silence as you scramble to mash together an appropriate response, but Kento’s patient and he waits without judgement, kind eyes filled with worry.

And you really don’t want to tell him, eyes welling up with tears because you’re stressed and anxious and not sure about what you’re supposed to do.

Finally, you decide to just lie, choking out a pained, “No—” as hot tears spill over your cheeks. You feel horrible and guilty for lying, knowing that Kento has never been anything but upfront and honest with you, but you’ve never been as good and brave as him so you let the lie spread its wings and shield you.

Your breath is coming out in short, stuttered pants as you try to fight the wave of anxiety attempting to drown you, hands coming up to cover your mouth in an attempt to muffle your choked sobs.

You feel horrible.

You feel horrible for lying.

You feel horrible because you ruined the moment of fun you were having with Kento.

You feel horrible for this breakdown, even if you know you can’t help it, because Kento doesn’t deserve to have to deal with this baggage he didn’t ask for.

You feel horrible because being with Kento has helped you come so far out of your shell, but now it feels like it’s all been ruined, like no matter how much progress you make, you’ll never be able to fully heal, fully escape.

You feel horrible because you can’t get those memories out of your head.

You feel horrible because you keep thinking about the last time someone touched you where Kento did.

You feel horrible for ever correlating Kento and his goodness to that person, even if it’s just in your head, even if you can’t help it, even if it’s involuntary because you’re scared.

You just feel horrible. You feel horrible about everything. And when Kento reaches for you, moving to try and gently tug at your wrist, worried about your frantic breathing and the way you seem to be trying to stop your breathing altogether with your shaking hands, you feel even worse.

When you see Kento’s hand move toward your face, you flinch so hard you choke, gasping behind your palm as you squeeze your eyes shut, shoulders tightening up with fear. You’re so on edge right now and your vision is too blurry with tears to properly gauge if he’s angry at you or not, so you just figure he is. You figure he’s seen through your lie and he’s upset with you, upset for a multitude of reasons that just overwhelm you further. You figure that if your tears dried you’d look up and find an angry Kento looming above you, brows pulled low and lips stretched into a disgusted sneer.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Kento gently murmurs, pulling his hand back, interrupting your self-destructive thoughts. “I need you to take a few deep breaths with me—think you can do that for me baby?”

Numbly, through all the noise in your mind, you follow Kento’s voice like a lifeline, nodding with an uncoordinated jerk of your neck.

“Good girl,” he praises you kindly. “Now I’m gonna need you to move your hands away from your mouth,” Kento instructs, adding softly, “Gotta stop holding your breath sweetheart, gotta let yourself breathe, even if your breathing isn’t quite right yet.”

Taking a shuddering breath, you nod again, dropping your hands from your mouth. But, once your hands drop, you stop trying to control your gasping breathing and begin to panic at the heavy heaving of your chest. Now, you’re breathing too irregularly and awkwardly: inhaling when you need to exhale and exhaling over your exhales and struggling to just take a solid breath in because your lungs won’t listen.

Because you’re breathing too rapidly, you’re simultaneously suffocating and breathing too much, escalating your panic. You’re scared and getting lightheaded and it’s too much—one hand comes up to muffle your mouth again almost immediately.

However, this time Kento is prepared, and his voice pulls you back to reality as he murmurs, “Ohhh, baby. It’s okay, it’s okay.” His voice is low and sweet and it makes you pause, instinctively wanting to listen. “I know it’s scary, but you have to keep your hand away from your mouth. Don’t try to restrict your breathing—there you go, there’s my good girl.”

You’ve tugged your hand away again, placing it in your lap as you blink up at Kento through watery lashes.

“Alright, sweetheart, now I want you to focus on your breathing. I’m going to take a few deep breaths and I want you to try to match your breathing with mine,” he says gently. “Does that sound okay?”

You nod shakily, panic ebbing slightly as you listen to his familiar voice and begin to follow the slow rhythm he sets.

“Inhale…. Exhale…”

“Inhale…” Exhale.

Inhale… Exhale….

“Good girl, that was perfect. You’re doing amazing, love,” he praises. You know he’s just being kind—your breath is stuttering and you’re involuntarily mixing up the inhales and exhales—but Kento’s reassurance makes you feel safe and calm regardless.

After a few more cycles of breath, the dizziness fades and oxygen begins steadily flowing through your lungs as you follow Kento’s lead.

Inhale… “Exhale…”

“Inhale… Exhale…”

Inhale… Exhale….

As you continue to try to control your breathing, you reach out to pick up his hand, trying to silently bridge the gap between you two, making the small first move to show him that you’re slowly becoming more comfortable and grounded. He lets you lace your hand in his, thumb comfortingly brushing against the skin of your hand, the touch gently reassuring you that you’re safe.

Soon, you feel confident enough to wordlessly move towards Kento, letting him wrap you up in a comforting embrace. Being in his arms always makes you feel better, and now that you’ve calmed down enough to realize that he’s not going to hurt you, you press yourself into his chest, searching for his steady patience and gentle manner. Your breathing has evened out, and your mind has cleared enough for you to begin flipping back on what just happened. Kento stays quiet, letting you sort through the cascade of emotions you just experienced, but the silence doesn’t feel hostile—it’s welcoming and patient.

You were kissing Kento, and then he.. he touched you and it freaked you out, and then he was talking to you and… And then he asked you a question. He asked if… He wanted to know if—

Oh my god. You lied to him.

Oh god. You need to apologize—own up to what you did and tell him the truth. But as you think about what to do, your breath begins to stumble over itself again and your heart rate picks up, anxiety taking over your senses.

Your eyes fill up with tears and you look up at Kento, saying in a small voice, “Ken? I… I lied to you… earlier.” Your words are continually interrupted by an emerging pattern of involuntary breaths and hiccups, but you continue on, “I… When y-you asked… S-someone has hurt—hurt me.. before… I lied to—to you.”

You’re fully crying now, and Kento tries calming you down, rubbing your back carefully, heart sinking at your tears and the way your breathing begins to turn into struggling gasps again.

“Oh, darling. I’m so sorry,” he murmurs into the top of your head, continuing to gently soothe your back. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Thank you for telling me—my brave, brave girl.”

Kento’s heart hurts. It hurts knowing that you’ve been hurt in the past, that you’re sobbing in his arms because someone hurt you. It hurts knowing that you felt too scared to tell him the truth, and it hurts even more knowing that you feel scared to admit that you lied. He wants you to feel comfortable with him—to know that you should never be scared of him.

“I-Im,” you choke out through gasping breaths, “‘m sorry—I’m sorry, so—sorry. I’m sorry, K-Ken.”

You’re not sure what you’re apologizing for, you just know that you need to be apologizing for something. Maybe you’re apologizing for lying. Maybe you’re apologizing for having been assaulted. Maybe you’re apologizing to try to appease Kento so he won’t be as angry with you for your betrayal—for not being the person he thought you were. Maybe you’re apologizing for not letting him continue to touch you—for stopping before you’re hurt again.

But Kento just shakes his head kindly, patting your back good-naturedly in response. “It’s okay sweetheart. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. Shhhh, shhhhhh, you’re okay, it’s okay, shhhhh,” he coaxes gently.

“I’m sorry—sorry, ‘m really sorry f-for lying to you.” You keep apologizing, barely registering his words to you. All of your guilt from everything has cumulated, and though you’re apologizing for lying, deep down you’re apologizing for much, much more.

“It’s okay, darling,” Kento tells you quietly, ever so patient as you choke on sob after sob. “I’m not upset with you, it’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong, I’m not angry, baby.”

His voice is so achingly gentle, and the way he rubs circles into your back makes your heart break and shatter. How can a person be filled with so much good? You expected anger and rejection, but Kento is being so accepting and sweet it makes you break down into tears. After being mistreated for so long, it feels odd to be embraced so wholly and kindly, and you feel like you don’t deserve to be treated with so much care.

Kento, however, is on a mission to make you feel better. He gracefully waves off your apologies, insisting that it’s okay, that you have nothing to be sorry for. Instead, he apologizes, bowing his head as he begs your forgiveness for overstepping your boundaries. When you shake your head vehemently, insisting he didn’t do anything wrong, he just scolds you gently, “You don’t need to take the blame for everything—it’s okay to give yourself a break. I know I hurt you, and I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I want you to know that I’m deeply sorry. I pushed you past what you were comfortable with and it’s not your fault, it’s mine.”

That makes you go quiet, the silence split only by your uneven and choppy breathing—remnants of the tears still sporadically tumbling from your lashes. Kento’s apology is earnest, and his insistence that you not blame yourself makes you see the situation in a new light.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe it’s okay for you to give yourself a break once in a while. Maybe you didn’t do anything wrong and you’re just so used to being told it was your fault that you’ve come to believe it. Maybe, even if he didn’t mean you any harm, he still hurt you, and you deserved his apology for the way it scared you.

You’re silent for a little while longer, but then you reach up and pat him on the head, fluffy strands of hair ruffled by the act of affection.

“Thank you, Ken,” you tell him with a sweet, forgiving smile. “Thank you for apologizing, but I don’t blame you for what happened. You didn’t know my exact boundaries and you didn’t mean to hurt me. It’s okay, really.”

However, there’s still one more thing in the back of your mind bothering you.

“But… Do you still.. want to be with me? I mean, does it bother you that—that—” You break off, unable to finish your sentence.

“Hey, hey, hey. Look at me, love.” Kento pulls back slightly, one arm cradling your back as the other moves to wipe at a stray tear on your cheek. “This doesn’t change anything, okay? You’re still the same person I fell in love with, and I’m not ‘bothered’ by anything about you. Nothing about this is your fault, and I would never treat it as such.”

You nod, relief written all over your face as you breathe out, “Okay, okay.”

“Seriously,” he huffs. “Where are you getting these silly ideas from? I would never leave you, especially not over this.”

Kento seems almost offended that you think he’d stoop so low, tapping your nose as he clucks his tongue in disapproval. You just shrug self-consciously, a little flustered by how sincere he’s being.

“Okay, then,” you sigh dramatically, scrubbing away at the last of your tears. “I guess I’ll have to just take one for the team and stay with you forever—since you’re obviously so obsessed with me.”

“Oh yeah?” he murmurs, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips. “You’re quite generous, entertaining this obsession.”

“Yup,” you confirm, waving a dismissive hand as you continue in a conspiratorial whisper, “It’s your lucky day. I’m running a one-night special where I grant the favors of my fans.” A grin is slowly making its way onto your face, and your smile bleeds into your tone when you tease, “Don’t get too excited though—I know it’s big news.”

Kento has the most lovesick look on his face as he looks down at you, shaking his head in amusement. “Well, I’m certainly one lucky fan.”

And you giggle at that, wrapping your arms around his middle as you snuggle into his hold. “You’re my favorite fan,” you mumble into his shirt, pressing your cheek against his chest to listen to his steady heartbeat.

“Hey, does that mean you have other fans you like?”

—

bonus:

“What are you watching?” You ask, poking your head over Kento’s shoulder to peek at the video he’s watching on his phone.

He jumps up, shutting off the screen immediately, stuttering, “N-nothing, darling.”

You’re unconvinced, reaching for his phone as you squint at him. “Really? You seem awfully jumpy for someone doing ‘nothing,’” you deadpan. Then, you narrow your eyes, accusing, “You better not be watching extra episodes of that kdrama you said you hated without me. I know you secretly love it—it’s okay, you can admit it!”

You’ve got a smug grin on your face and Kento doesn’t even try to fight it as you enter the passcode to his phone (your birthday, of course), accepting defeat and rubbing at his temples as the screen unlocks to the Youtube video he’d been watching. He’d rather endure the teasing than try to wrestle the device away from you and accidentally hurt or scare you in the process.

“‘Helping Someone Who Is Having A Panic Attack,’” you read out loud, glancing up at your boyfriend as your eyes widen, grin slowly fading. You click on his watch history, jaw dropping as you see his recently played videos.

What Is A Panic Attack?

How To Help Your Friend During A Panic Attack

Signs Of Hyperventilation And How To Stop Hyperventilating

Best Breathing Technique To Calm Panic Attacks And Anxiety

What NOT To Say To Someone Who Is Having An Anxiety Attack

“Oh my.. Oh my god. Oh my god, Ken.” Your eyes have welled up with tears. You can’t believe he’s been researching how to help you—you don’t even have words to describe how emotional this makes you feel.

Kento has a sheepish look on his face, a little embarrassed you caught him binging those videos. “Yeah… I uh..” He clears his throat awkwardly. “Just wanted to… yknow…” He shrugs, and it’s pathetic and lame and it makes you love him that much more. “Wanted to make sure I was doing the right thing… Just in case you ever get… scared.. again.” He coughs a little, looking self-conscious. “Not—not that I think it’ll happen again but—”

You cut him off before he can get another word in, practically suffocating him as you wrap him up in a tight hug. Your arms around his neck are squeezing, but Kento doesn’t make any moves to stop you. Instead, he wraps his arms around your waist, turning his head to press a kiss to your cheek as you whisper, “Thank you,” voice thick with emotion.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

—

if you've made it this far: thank you for reading :) please take care of yourself, and for all of my survivors out there, please know that it's not your fault, never will be your fault, and never has been your fault!! i love you all and i hope everybody has a great rest of their summer :D

#nanami kento #kento nanami #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #jjk fluff #jjk comfort #jjk fluff & comfort #nanami fanfic #nanami fluff #kento nanami fluff #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk nanami #nanami x you #nanami x fem!reader #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento x you #jujutsu kaisen nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen comfort

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vampsquerade · 11 months

Note

CAN YOU PLEASE GIVE US HARD DOM KÖNIG WITH A FEMALE READER i just need that big hunk of man meat to dominate me- dies

DOM KÖNIG YES I LIVE FOR DOM KÖNIG SO FUCKING MUCH UGHHHH I WANT HIM TO CRUSH MY HEAD WITH HIS THIGHS AND BICEPS UGHHHAVBAHSHSH THANKS ANON I KINDA WENT WILD WITH IT

(also pls forgive there might be some annoying mistranslations istg i’m learning german i promise also sorry for not answering dms and stuff you’re gonna have to give me a minute cause i’m very prone to anxiety after being off my meds for a bit)

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König x Female!Reader: Royalty’s Cruelty

Trigger Warnings: NSFW, smut, rough sex, dom!könig, sub!reader, spanking, bondage, fingering, orgasm denial, degradation, asphyxiation, aftercare

Wanton and loud cries of pleasure for your beloved military boyfriend fell from your lips each and every time his large, callous hands came into contact with the skin of your ass. “I thought I warned you about what would happen if you teased me while I was on a mission—you know damn well you deserve this kind of punishment.” König scolds venomously, pure malice and sadism dripping as he speaks. “I-I’m sorry!” you cry out as his hand smacks loudly against your skin once more. “Halt deine Hurenmaul! I don’t want to hear you telling me you’re sorry!” He commands. Tears stream down your face pathetically, whimpering in pain as he stops momentarily. “The very knee you’re bent over is the same one I use to kill my enemies—do you want to hear just how exactly it is that I do it?” he says coldly.

“H-Hah…~ What do you do to them with this knee..?” you ask softly, not wanting to further incur his wrath. König’s hand then tightly grips at your flesh with the strength of a hawk’s talons, making your severely sore ass sting even more. A sob emits from you, turning your head slightly so you can look up at him, “I snap their spines and necks on here…I even go so far as to cave their heads in…” He says in a chilling tone, chuckling darkly. His eyes are shrouded with the mists of sadism, relishing in the sight of you pathetically bent over his knee. “Now tell me—just because you’re my cute little liebling, do you think I should offer any semblance of mercy to you? Do you think you really deserve it even after I warned you?”

You hesitate on what to say, swallowing your saliva hard. Your mind is racing as you try and get a hold of yourself as you hear just how evil König’s voice sounded. “Don’t make me impatient, liebling. Your punishment is just starting and you know how much I hate wasting my time.” König warns. Body tensing in anticipation, you just nod, “N-No…not even I deserve your mercy…I willingly put myself into this position…” You whimper softly, yelping loudly once he begins to fondle your flesh. “Good girl—not even my liebling deserves my mercy…” König says. His hand then travels off your ass and to your dripping cunt, gently stroking his hand from your clit down to your core that twitches with each and every movement.

“Mmpf..!~ König…~” you moan softly, not even able to hold yourself back. “I don’t think I gave you permission to speak. Not a single sound is to fall from those whorish lips of yours—you don’t want it to get worse.” König seethes. He then fully pulls your panties down and discards them somewhere across the floor, his gloved fingers then letting go of your ass and continuing to tease your dripping cunt. You bite your lip and smack your hand over your mouth, letting his large gloved fingers continue its work against your clit. “Unless that’s exactly what you want…” König whispers. You can hear the sickeningly malicious chill in his voice before he speaks again, “Want me to show you just how ruthless and unrelenting I can be? Does that thought excite you?”

You hesitate, unsure if you’ve been given permission to speak, so you nod your head sheepishly. Behind his sniper’s hood, you can just see how excited he is about this. You could see the sadistic smile he always gives whenever you misbehave; it’s a pleasantly frightening sight when you get the chance to see it. You practically drip more at the imagination you have, biting your lip harder as you stare up at him. “You do? Mein Gott, you really are a degenerate…to think I'd never imagine seeing someone as sweet and as caring as you to be into this kind of thing…” König breathes, degrading you. His hand then stops what it’s doing, as he brings his fingers up to inspect them. His eyes seemingly squint even more out of pure delight as his sadistic smile only widens.

“But yet here you are—bent over my knee and getting wet at the thought of me absolutely ravaging you…proving me wrong to think you would never be so depraved…” He chuckles, licking his gloves clean, “Such a naughty, naughty girl…” König then pulls his glove off with his sharp teeth after bringing it under his hood. He then spits it out of his mouth, and puts his hand back in between your legs. Now feeling his warm hand right up against you instead of the gloves, it makes you shiver at the sensation of skin touching skin. You try to moan as his middle finger strokes up and down your even wetter cunt, eyes screwing shut to focus on keeping yourself quiet as his finger drags itself up and down. “So wet…You have no idea just how addictive it is to watch you squirm and try to keep yourself quiet.” König purrs.

His middle finger soon dips inside of you and you can’t help but clench around him. Your eyes open wide at the feeling and it just gets harder for you to keep quiet. Agonizingly slow, König begins to pull his finger out before pushing it back into you with enough force to drive you crazy already. Your bottom lip was bleeding from how hard you were biting it, keeping yourself as quiet for as long as you can. You huffed out a puff of air with every other breath each time he teased you, pushing his fingers in a little faster with little effort before slowing back down. The limit was getting closer and closer every single time but right when you were going to reach it you were forcefully pulled away in an aggressive manner. And not even realizing, you had let out a loud whine from your bitten lips behind your mouth.

König stops his fingers after having just added a second one inside of you. The air becomes so thick it’s hard to breathe; either because of that, or because his other hand was gripped tightly around your throat. “Ich habe dich verdammt noch mal gewarnt – jetzt wirst du unter den Konsequenzen leiden, du dreckiger Degenerierter.” König seethes in a tone you had never heard before. Suddenly, you were lifted up by his right hand’s vice grip around your throat before he lightly let you go once you were safely over the mattress. “You had better appreciate me not downright slamming you onto the bed. That’s going to be the only time I’m nice to you tonight—I’ll fuck you until the only thing that’s on your mind is your broken obedience.” König seethes.

The towering man then climbs over you and rips off your bra before pulling you up by the nape of your neck. “Do you really want this? Once we do this,” his striking blue eyes hold bolts of lightning within them as he stares you in the eyes, “you can’t go back ever again,” König warns you. Though it doesn’t sound like it, he seems to be offering one last chance to save yourself from the wrath that’s coming. More intrigued at just what is in store, you decide to just open up Pandora’s Box. “I do…” you mumble. König then lets go of your neck and pushes you back down on the mattress. Sitting atop your abdomen, he unbuckles his belt and removes it from the loops in one swift motion.

He’s quiet and focused, gripping both your wrists tight before putting them between the bars of the headboard. König then tightly wraps his belt around them, “No escape for you, little rabbit—you’re all helpless and exposed for the big hunter. Aren’t you excited?” he asks. Feeling a sense of genuine fear, you can’t help but whimper softly. “Oh, don’t be so scared all of a sudden,” König chuckles, getting off of you to undo the button to his pants as well as his zipper, “you asked for this.” He then lifts your legs up and closes them, pushing them up to your chest. “As much as I’d love to fuck those cute thighs, I’ll settle for what you’ve got right,” König says as he pushes in already, making you cry out for him, “here.” he growls as he forces himself inside you.

You expected it to hurt because of how big he is except this time around, the pain makes you moan loudly. “A-Ah!~” you cry out. “You filthy degenerate…just listen to how loud you’re moaning for me already. Do it some more—let me hear you scream for me.” König demands. His large hands grip your calf and thigh on each of your legs tightly as he pulls himself out just so he’s barely inside of you. He doesn’t even look at you when you stare at him with wide eyes and shaking your head no; he’s purely driven by the desire to show you just how ruthless he can be with you if you misbehave. König disregards your silent pleads before pushing back in. “Mmpf!~” You moan, biting your bottom lip hard for a moment before opening your mouth again.

Each harsh thrust from him gets you a loud groan and growl, as he feels you convulse and quiver beneath him. Your eyes roll back slightly as the pain now completely subsides as the way he thrusts his massive cock in and out of you over and over again. “Tell me…how does it feel, little rabbit?” König asks. You try to look at him, but once the tip of his cock starts hitting your cervix you can’t even respond. He then strikes your thigh hard, forcing you to pay attention, “I thought I fucking asked you a question. “How does it feel, little rabbit?’” he seethes. You cry out, eyes rolling back down to look at him, “Feels so good!~ God—König!~ I already feel so close..~” you moan loudly. “Oh do you now?” König asks before laughing maniacally. His thrusts are no longer as fast as they were, much slower and more forceful.

He built you up so high and forced you back down, making you whimper and whine. “I’m not done with you quite yet. Hold it the fuck in.” König says. You whimper and whine even more now, and König appears to be getting annoyed by it. He then leans forward and as punishment, decides to only lightly grind himself against you before then wrapping a tight hand around your throat. You strain to breathe now, his crushing grip once directed to your legs has now focused on your throat. “Moan like this—I want to watch you writhe and squirm before you lose consciousness.” König says as he continues to grind into you. Even like this he manages to be forceful, his tip still rubbing right up against your cervix. This alongside the vice grip he had on your throat, it was just driving you further into the stars, moaning louder and louder despite rapidly losing consciousness.

Your eyes start to flutter shut as a dark vignette begins to surround the corners of your vision. Before you could pass out, König’s hand comes up and shakes you to make you come back. “Keep your eyes open. Breathe for now before I crush your trachea again.” he threatens. You nod, regaining your breath as best you could before he started again. “Güt?” He asks, his hand creeping up to grip your throat against. “Y-Yes…” you mumble softly. “Louder.” he says as he slowly begins to apply pressure. “Yes!” you exclaim much louder. “You’re very obedient—maybe I should let you see my face, ja? Or do you prefer the sniper’s hood while I’m deep inside you, pounding away at you like you mean absolutely nothing to me?” König asks as he starts choking you again.

“K-Keep it on…” You strain as his hand crushes your trachea. “Filthy whore…” König growls as he starts thrusting into you harder and faster than he was before. You wail and cry out on pleasure, being able to slightly breathe a little better as you do since he wasn’t choking you too hard. That previous build up to an orgasm was coming dangerously close, as you stared pathetically into König’s sharp blue eyes pierced into your own. Behind the sniper’s hood, his jaw was clenched tight as he growled deep within his chest and throat. His breathing was heavy, focused on just finally pushing you over the edge. “Want to cum, little rabbit?” He asks, unrelenting with his thrusts. It seems König was already at the edge himself, and wanted to finally get over it with you.

“Y-Yes! Please…please let me cum, König! I-I promise I won’t misbehave or be disobedient ever again!” you moan loudly as König’s grip on your throat becomes tight once again. “Then cum…cum for me…” König growls softly. As if right at his command, you scream his name so loud that it manages to catch him by surprise. His hips stutter as you start to cling to him tightly and he spills himself deep inside with a soft moan of your name. The two of you stay like this, catching your breath as your bodies seemingly melt into each other now. “Fuck…are you okay..? Did I hurt you too badly? I’m so sorry if I went overboard today…” König apologizes, breaking the silence. Seeing his demeanor change completely like this, it just filled your heart with a warmth you’d always held for him.

“I’m pretty sure I’ll be really sore tomorrow…” you say softly, laughing breathlessly. König’s hands begin to gently caress your legs as he pressed gentle kisses against your calves. He pulls himself out of you slowly, sighing contentedly once he watches a bit of his semen drip out of you. “You did really good today…I’m so proud of you for holding it together…I’m still really sorry if it hurt…do you need water? A massage? I’ll give you anything to make sure the slaps and spanks I gave you earlier…would ice also help?” König suggests, praising you for how well you did. “Maybe a nice shower with my big boyfriend would be much more helpful…I feel so sticky.” you day, laughing softly. “And don’t be worried about hurting me too hard—if it was too much for me, I would’ve used our safe word. You did fine, alright? Don’t feel guilty about it. I love you, and I trust you, König.” You reassure, giving him a pleasant smile.

König nods before then removing his sniper’s hood, tossing it somewhere in your shared room. He puts your legs down to properly kiss you, his hand that once held a crushing grip on your neck now gently and lovingly strokes your cheek. You kiss him back, smiling softly as you bring your own hand up to caress his as he gently holds onto your face. After a bit, he pulls away and peppers your jaw, face, and neck in little kisses. “Ich liebe dich, kleines Kaninchen…” he whispers softly against the crook of your neck. “I love you too…now let’s go take a shower. We can come back and cuddle for as long as we need to,” you say, tilting your head downwards to kiss the top of his head. “O-Okay…I’ll carry you and make sure to hold you up, I don’t want to risk you falling over and getting hurt.” König says, giving you a soft smile.

#cod #cod mw22 #cod mw2 #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2022 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod könig #könig #könig x reader #x reader #x reader smut #cod x reader #cod x reader angst

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thebibliosphere · 5 months

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Sorry if this is an obvious question but with the impending doom stuff- how different is that to. Hm how to phrase this. I have a sort of long term foreshortened future thing going on with my illness where I'm Always certain I'm going to die soon, and sometimes I get periods of Oh it's Getting Closer. I don't really feel afraid, but I tend to seek medical help anyway just in case- and in most cases something is wrong. Usually I have a virus.

But I don't really know how to categorise that feeling seperately from depression? And people talking about calm acceptance in Sense of Impending Doom resonates with me. But I'm always worried about mentioning this certainty to doctors because they tend to already think I'm making shit up/overdramatic.

Sorry for rambling. Point is- do you know much about a longer term "sense of Impending doom" ?

Possibly. Hm, let me see if I can put this in words.

So, my near-death experience in 2019 was a slow, drawn-out process largely facilitated by medical neglect. I knew something was Wrong in my body, and no one was listening to me. I knew it was going to kill me soon, but again, no one was listening, so I just kind of... quietly got my shit together. It felt gradual but inevitable. Creeping. With hindsight, that was my organs slowly winding down. Horrible feeling.

But that was very different from what I will now categorize as Immediate Impending Doom, which sort of hits like a tidal wave. It's weird to say it's an urgent-calm feeling, but that's what it is.

It's a very now feeling. Like, death within the next twenty minutes to an hour. It's the difference between "This will happen soon, get your affairs in order," and "This is a medical emergency; pay attention. Now."

Which I also have to differentiate from the "something is wrong" feeling I get as a chronically ill person when something new pops up.

I sometimes get what I think of as "warning flashes." My immune system is overreactive thanks to my mast cells being little malfunctioning bastards, so when I get sick with something else, it kicks off my fight or flight due to adrenaline and a bunch of other hormones being thrown into the mix like a Molotov cocktail.

I've had to learn to distinguish that from anxiety/depression because of the nature of my illness (can it be remedied with my meds, does doing grounding exercises help, what are my vitals etc), and I imagine it's the same for other chronically ill people, even if they don't have my specific immune problems.

A virus or something else will absolutely stress out an already stressed nervous system, and it can send you into a feeling of fight or flight, which can feel a bit doom-y.

But the Impending Doom they talk about with heart attacks, strokes, anaphylaxis etc, etc, is a very immediate and all-consuming feeling. The "soon" you seem to be describing seems to be "it'll happen sooner than later" but the Immediate Impending Doom is "right the fuck now." Is that right? Did I pick up on that, or am I way off?

Gah. I'm still probably doing a very bad job of explaining this.

#chronic health tag #impending doom #medical trauma #death mention

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ametrictonofaudacity · 1 year

Text

Gaps 2

Platonic Yandere Batfam x Mentally Ill/Forgetful Reader

Warning: This work is a yandere work, hopefully part of a series, as as such will contain themes of manipulation, abuse, violence and obsession. This specific work contains drugging. Stay safe, and enjoy!!

“(Y/N), maybe you should stay at the Manor for the night. It’s coming down pretty hard out there.” Bruce comments, passing you a warm mug. You curl your fingers around the mug, enjoying the heat seeping into your hands, and glance outside. It was pouring, yeah, but nothing beyond what was standard for Gotham.

“Bruce, I’ve driven in this sort of weather hundreds of times.” You point out, even as you curl up on the soft couch. The large man sits next to you, a touch too close for your comfort, and takes a sip from his own mug. The bitter smell makes your nose wrinkle, and you glance at the cup of black coffee. You much preferred your hot chocolate.

“Still. I’d rather you not have to. Just for the night? Alfred can drop you off at work, if you need him too.” Bruce cajoles gently. He turns on the TV, to some drama or soap opera you don’t recognize, and you sigh, taking a sip of your hot chocolate.

There’s a strange aftertaste you can’t quite place. You wonder if Alfred changed the recipe.

“Bruce, please. Let’s not do this.” You plead, absolutely exhausted. Emotionally and mentally. You adored the Wayne’s, you really did, but they tended to treat you like you were younger than you were, constantly hovering and fretting. “I know you worry but I need you to trust me.”

He doesn’t respond for a bit, and when he does, he leans forward, eyes fixed on the crackling fire.

“It’s not you I don’t trust, (Y/N). You know that.”

You take another gulp of hot chocolate, hoping the sweetness will wash down the bitter words coming to your mouth, but you let the man continue. The fire casts his face into something intense, something almost other, and you watch as the shadows seemingly twist and dance around him.

“I just… everyone in the family worries, (Y/N). You’re very important to all of us, and we worry that something might happen to you when you’re away. Especially with how much you struggle with your memory.”

You lick your lips, waiting patiently for him to continue. When you realize he’s waiting on a response, you word your sentence carefully, even though they’re heavy in your mouth and make your lips tingle.

“That’s not.. that not y’all’s job. You don’t have to worry about me. Not that I don’t appreciate it, it’s just…”

It’s just that they’re stepping over your boundaries. It’s just that they’re stomping all over them, walking all over them gleefully. You preferred to keep people at a distance, preferred solitude, but the Wayne’s had already wiggled their way into your heart with ease. You didn’t mind that, but you did mind how they seemed determined to take care of you when you didn’t need to be taken care of.

“(Y/N), I know you aren’t used to being taken care of. I understand that. Just let us help you. Even if it’s something as simple as picking up medication, or helping you find an item. You don’t have to rely entirely on yourself anymore.” Bruce is almost fervent when he says this, leaning forward towards you, and there is a warm, earnest expression on his face. It’s not Brucie, his public persona, but the intensity of it steals the breath from your lungs and makes your chest tighten.

Your fingers buzz, and you take a sip of your cocoa, realizing you had forgotten to take your anxiety meds.

Maybe that’s why you were so put off by all this. Maybe the wires in your head were too crossed, too tangled, for you to understand genuine care versus smothering. Maybe Bruce really did just want to help.

“I’ll let you guys help.” You finally decide, and his shoulders unwind, before he reaches forward.

You aren’t sure what you expect, but the hand gently ruffling your hair isn’t it. You blink as the man stands, picking up his cup.

“Thank you, (Y/N). I mean it. Are you finished with your..?”

“Oh, ah, hold on.” You quickly chug the rest of the unfinished drink, because far be it for you to waste Alfred’s cocoa, and pass him the mug, wiping the foam from your lip.

“Be right back.”

The TV drones on when he comes back, and there’s a blanket in his hands, which he wraps around you. You don’t mind. The warmth is pleasant, seeping into your bones which are rapidly getting looser, and you sigh, burying your face into the soft faux fur.

Bruce sits down. He’s closer than he was before, radiating heat, and you grumble when your body falls against his thanks to the shifting weight. He doesn’t move you, instead wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

You’re not sure how to react. It’s warm and it’s nice and good, but part of you reels against being causally held like a small child.

You decide to let it continue, if only because you were too tired to care.

“Bruce?” The word is barely understandable, slurred, and you frown. That wasn’t quite right.

“Mm?”

“I think-“ You yawn, jaw popping loudly. “I think Alfred is gonna have to drop me off tomorrow.”

“Thats alright. You just get some rest, okay?” He soothes, and you nod, feeling him adjust the blankets around you.

You sink into oblivion like that, warm and safe and heavy.

#yandere dc #yandere platonic batfam #yandere platonic x reader

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andhumanslovedstories · 3 months

Note

Hey so your post about pain management as a bedside nurse is so important to my own nursing practice that I've considered printing it out so I can have it to hand all the time. So thanks for that. Also, how do you deal with assignments that are busy enough that pain management is harder than it should be? I'm coming up on two years as a nurse and I feel like I take it personally when I am too busy to adequately manage my patients pain. I'm also coming from a newly unionized hospital where the ratios are still horrendous (I do 1:10 on med surg) and I'm hoping once we can enforce our staffing grids it'll be better but idk I'm burning out and I love my job so much and I really respect your nursing philosophy? I guess. Sorry for the word vomit it's been a crazy shift.

I've been trying to think of how to answer this since I got it. It's just such a horrendous ratio. With ten patients a shift, that's like six minutes an hour for each in a fantasy world where there's no charting and everything is exactly where you need it to be. I feel like I don't have great insight into this because the most med surg patients I've had assigned is five. Ten patients to one nurse is just a raw deal for everyone. Like christ no wonder you feel like you're burning out! I'll give you what thoughts I have and hopefully other people can chime in if they have suggestions. But that's such a hard patient load.

When I've been super swamped, I've found that's when being really explicit about your thinking with the patient helps. Like if I have to dash into a room and then dash back out, I'll make sure the board is updated with the next medication time and that the patient knows when the medication is going to kick in. I'll also provide call light parameters. I have a lot of success telling people, "the med should be doing something by 5:30. If I haven't checked in with you by then, and the pain is unchanged or barely changed, hit your call light and we'll try the next step. Also hit your call light if you feel any sudden change, like now you're nauseated or you have a headache or the type of pain changes or something just feels very wrong. Is there anything you need before I step out of the room?"

I like to be explicit about when to call me because I think there's two directions call light usage can go wrong: someone calls all the time, or someone never calls. With someone who calls all the time, I find that telling them when I'll be back and that I want them to call me if I'm not takes away some of that anxiety that can causes some people to call frequently. Often those patients are afraid that if they aren't on the call light, they're gonna get ignored.

For the other type of patient, the one that doesn't call, I want to make explicit that it's GOOD AND NORMAL TO CALL YOUR NURSE WHEN YOU HAVE SYMPTOMS. We've all had that patient at the end of shift who goes, "btw the gnawing pain in my leg is now a 10/10" and you're like "what gnawing pain sir?? you've literally never mentioned it before now?? I don't have any meds for that lemme page super quick????" These patients can get into pain crises easily because they don't ask for help until something is unbearable. In addition to pain crisis bad, it takes a lot more time to deal with something unbearable than it does to deal with something uncomfortable.

On that note, are you spending your very limited time efficiently? To me, that actually means spend more time talking with patients, at least up front. Manage expectations, make sure people know what to expect. Having conversations with patients that are like, "You just had surgery, it's not gonna happen that we get you completely painless. We want to get you to a manageable pain level that allows you to do whatever it is you most want to do this shift." (For me on nights, that's usually sleeping at least a little, but sometimes the realistic goal you make together is that you will feel at some point better than you feel right now.) "You have this medication scheduled, and you have this one available every X hours when your pain is severe. Is there anything you know that helps you deal with pain?"

Also establish if patients want to be woken up for certain prn medications or if they're sleeping, to let them sleep. With some patients, I will advise them to get woken up for pain medication because I know that they're going to need consistent control to avoid a crisis. (Crises take so much time!)

When I'm crunched for time, I'm fond of bringing in an ice pack and being like "if it works, great, if it doesn't, just take it off, either way here it is." Sometimes I'll do the same with a warm blanket. If I know my patient needs to take pills, I'll bring a cup of water with me into the room. If there's a basic prn like melatonin or tylenol that I think they might want, I'll pull them in advance. If the patient doesn't want them, I return them next time I'm in the med room. (Obviously, don't do this with controlled substances. It's super easy to forget to return them, and not returning opioids is one of those whoopsies people get fired over.)

Decision making takes time. Walking to go get stuff takes time. I want to save the time it takes to assess if the patient needs those things and then walk off to fetch them by just having the things already. If your tightest resource is time, be liberal with resources you can spare. If you're stuck with a patient, do you have anyone you can delegate a prn med pass to? Do you know how to do the absolute minimum charting you need to? Do you have flushes and alcohol wipes and whatever other most common things you need? And since you can't hoard time, if you've got some to spare, ask yourself if there is anything you can do now that will save you time later. If you have five free minutes now and an incontinent patient, getting them up to the bathroom now can save you from taking the time for incontinence care and a bed change later on when they've also sundowned and decide they hate everything but most of all you.

So much of this answer I realize is investing as much time upfront as you can, which I realize is so hard when you are so busy. It sucks immensely that prepping takes much less time than not being prepared does when you don't always have time to prep. Plus when you invest that time to pain plan with patients and do small preventative interventions, I think it also provides some psychological comfort that helps with pain. You're letting them know you're invested and you care and you have a plan, even if you don't have all the time you'd like. That can mean better pain control, which can mean needing to spend less time in that room overall, meaning you can save six whole minutes at some point and maybe even, if we're feeling crazy, get a chance to indulge in that greatest of indulgences: just a real leisurely on-shift piss.

#nursing tag #i hope this helps at all i know how much it sucks to end a shift like 'cool. i didn't help my patients. feel great about that.'#it sucks when you don't have enough time to take care of people because you have too many people to take care of #anyway also thank you re: pain post compliment. and also thank you re: getting to talk about pain mgmt again #marge simpson holding potato voice: i just think [nursing process and symptom management] is neat!

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peachesofteal · 10 months

Note

okay okay I’m the anon who sent in the ask about if Simon would’ve chased Darling and like…now you have me intensely needing that AU where he chases her, carries her back, and ties her to the bed 😈

AND wondering how they even got her to the flat in the first place?? Like even Darling is confused, so it must’ve been that quick for Simon and Johnny to get her from the hotel back home for her to wonder how the hell she got back there

Sorry sorry I’m just so obsessed with Dead Disco and all these possible AUs and different scenes and scenarios have me going absolutely FERAL

I could be very well tempted to write "tying to the bed" au but also, loved this opportunity to revisit Darling and the guys between chapters three and four, when she was incredibly vulnerable and in a difficult mental space. So, thank you. All my love to you! 🩵

Canon for Dead Disco - takes place between Chapters 3 and 4. 18+ Mature themes. No smut but Darling doing darling things (eating issues, alcohol use, anxiety, depressive episode, etc.) Mentions of prescription medication.

“Do you have any clothes?” Johnny asks, rubbing your shoulder softly. You nod and point to the bag that sits haphazardly on the chair. Simon rifles through it while Johnny works the towel in your hair, trying to get it as dry as possible. You sit still for him, unmoving, and it hurts when he remembers the way you were only two months when he washed your hair, giggling against him, relaxed and happy while he massaged his fingertips into your scalp, carefully making sure everything was rinsed from roots to ends.

Something rattles in Simon’s hands, and it draws your attention, your head whipping to where he’s got a bottle of pills in his hand, a full bottle, and Johnny smothers his grimace. Simon puts it back in your bag without saying anything, but the silence speaks for itself. You haven’t been taking your meds.

“I’m sorry.” You lament, voice choked with tears, and Johnny pulls you into his chest, smoothing a hand over your hair.

“Shhh. It’s alright, we know.” His heart breaks for you, for what he knows is going on in your head, for how you must feel. Abandoned. You felt abandoned by them. You felt like you were on the outside. You felt left behind. He swallows the guilt, not allowing his own unsteady emotions to take over, instead choosing to finish with your hair and coaxing you out of your robe to get changed.

“Are we…” you begin but trail off, and he holds the t shirt that Simon pulled from the bag towards you. “really going to get a new place?” you finish once your head pops through the hole, and he realizes it’s Simon’s t shirt. You were wearing his own when you answered the door, and he wonders how much of your bag is actually their clothing.

“Yes, darling.” Simon answers. “But first we need to get you home.” You stare at him kind of blankly, a little void-like, before you blink and nod slowly.

“Okay.”

“Okay? You’ll let us take you home?” Simon clarifies, because he needs it. Johnny knows, he needs to hear it, the permission, the allowance for what comes next.

Control.

“Yes.” You whisper. Simon looks at him, and it’s all Johnny needs to understand. Stand down. Let me handle it. Lock step. Johnny nods.

They get the hotel room together pretty quickly. You sit on the bed with your legs crossed the entire time, eyes burning a hole in the wall, vacancy still present there, unmoving until Simon prompts you, encourages you to stand, where Johnny hesitantly offers you his hand, to hold. Take it. Take it, please darling. Trust me. I’m here. I’m right here.

You stare for a long moment, before you’re finally clutching onto him, letting his fingers intertwine with yours as he moves you towards the door.

When the three of you get to the elevator, you falter. You step away from the both of them, letting go of Johnny’s hand, panic rising through you, your eyes darting between them and the elevator.

“Darling.” Johnny tries to reach for you, but you step back.

“I-“ you gasp, and then press your palm over your heart, like it aches, like you’re physically hurting. “I d-don’t know what’s wrong with me.” You sob, the sound tearing into Johnny, shredding him apart and he gapes at you, momentarily confused. No, no no. Come back to us. “I don’t- I don’t know.” Simon moves, fast, into your orbit, wide palm streaking across the dead air to hold onto you, pulling you into his chest while gripping your neck. Not hard, not enough to hurt, but enough to act as the fail-safe, the thing that they turn to sometimes when presented with no other choice. The shutdown button. It settles you easily, gently, and pulls you back into yourself in moments like these. “I’m sorry.” You blubber, while Simon walks you backwards, slowly, until you’re pressed against Johnny, and his arms come around you easily.

“Stay with us, darling. Stay here. With us.” He coaches you, trying to keep you present, keep you calm while kneads his fingers against your shoulder. He vaguely remembers the still cold, half drank beer that was sitting in the dresser in your room, and it clicks together a bit more, why you’re so upset in this moment, compared to the tired, subdued, near catatonic state you’ve been in for the last hour. Alcohol is a depressant. And for you, and others who struggle similarly, it can make or break you. It can leave you feeling anxious for days after over consuming, can make your heart hurt and your brain confused that much more easily when you’re vulnerable like this. Johnny knows this. “Love, look at me.” He taps your jaw while Simon shuffles your bag back onto his arm and presses the elevator button, all the while still rubbing your neck. You peek up at him, face still half burrowed in his chest, and he takes the opportunity to ask. “Were you drinking earlier?”

“Yeah.” You whisper. “I’m so-“

“Don’t.” Simon soothes you. “Don’t apologize, darling. You’re okay. Everything’s alright now. We’re going to get you home, and get you into bed. Maybe something easy to eat if you feel up to it, okay?”

“Okay.” You mumble. You keep yourself pressed into Johnny and he can’t help but soak it up, loving the feeling of you in his arms, safe, here, with him. Not gone. Not MIA. Here.

You fall asleep in the car. Johnny holds you in the backseat, the entire time, and nobody speaks. Simon occasionally checks on him via the rearview mirror, and then reaches his hand behind the driver’s seat to squeeze Johnny’s knee. It’s a comfort, and Johnny just wants to fast forward until the three of you are together, at home, in bed.

He wakes you when they pull into the parking garage, managing to rouse you enough to get you into the elevator, and by the time the doors are opening on their floor, you’re fully awake, your hands twisted together while you walk. He breathes deeper, breathes easier, when the front door opens, and he walks through, turning to coax you through the doorway with an outstretched hand and open palm, as Simon stands with every muscle tense, his eyes not blinking, not willing tear his gaze away from where you linger, and he knows its because he is afraid you'll bolt. Johnny's not sure he could keep him from chasing you down at this point, and when he glances at him again, he sees how his body is thrumming with nervous energy, ready to break into a sprint at a split second’s notice.

Come on, love. Come inside.

“Darling?”

#peaches asks #peaches writes #dead disco #ghost x soap x reader #soap x ghost x reader #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mctavish x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley #john mactavish #simon riley x reader #johnny mactavish x reader

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lokislittlemidgardian · 1 year

Note

Hi friend :) can please write Bucky x little reader where our therapist recommends we try age regression and how we are very hesitant at first but he just makes us feel loved and comfortable?

Let’s try it

Content - age regression, cg!bucky, psychologists, anxiety, apprehensive!reader, light swearing, soft toys, dummy use, bottles, slight angst, fluff cuddles, not proofread, don’t like don’t read.

Summary - when your psychologist gives you a new coping mechanism to try bucky helps makes you feel comfortable with trying it.

Authors note - thank you for the request my love sorry it took so long I hope you enjoy it!, reblogs are greatly appreciated<3

Translation - honey love = med lyubov'

“Age what?” You questioned your psychologist curiosity, you never got over how many things you’d never heard of before in terms of the mind.

“Age regression dear, I think it might benefit you” dr irin said plainly with a reassuring smile plastered across her lips “what does that entail?” “Well age regression therapy is when you revert to a childlike mindset in order to heal your inner child so to speak.”

You sat there for a minute trying to process the information given to you. “So how old would I go back too?” “It’s hard to say dear, it depends on what your mind does” she smiled reaching into her desk to pull out a pamphlet and some recommended websites.

“Now I was also thinking that some people who experience age regression find it easier when they have someone to take care of them, so maybe your partner James-“ “Bucky, yeah no I’m not bothering him with this” you said butterfly’s making their way into your chest.

“Okay hon” dr irin said softly “just know it’s nothing to be ashamed of, it’s perfectly healthy” “okay” you sighed looking down at the pamphlet.

───── ⋆⋅◇⋅⋆ ─────

“Hi baby” Bucky smiled putting down the spatula and turning down the heat on the stove before walking over too you.

“Hi Bub, what’re you making?” You asked curiously walking over to the frying pan “pancakes, figured you might like some after your session” he smiled kissing your temple.

“Aww thank you, you bloody softy come here” you smiled pulling him in and kissing his soft lips “your welcome, so how’d you go?” He asked returning to the stove and flipping a pancake over on the other side.

“Yeah it was okay” you sighed sitting down on one of the kitchen chairs “what did you talk about?” “Not much she just gave me some strategies” you sighed smiling as you watched Bucky place the pancakes on a plate “what do you want on ‘em bub?” He said walking over to the fridge.

“Can I have one with maple syrup and fruit and another with lemon and sugar please?” “Of course you can my love.”

───── ⋆⋅◇⋅⋆ ─────

A few hours went by eventually turning the sky dark.

You were currently sitting on the sofa your favourite show playing on the telly while scrolling through your unanswered messages of the day.

Suddenly you realised your phone was about to run out of charge “buck can you get me my portable charger please?” You called out to Bucky who was sitting in the kitchen reading a newspaper.

“Sure where is it?” “In my bag I think” “okay”

In retrospect you probably should of remembered that you took your bag to your appointment. A few minutes later bucky came out with your portable charger in one hand and the pamphlet in his vibranium one.

“Here you go doll, hey what’s this?” He asked as he scanned the contents “what’s what?” You asked plugging in your phone and looking up at him “oh shit.”

“It’s nothing” you said quickly attempting to snatch it off him only to have him hold it up higher still accessing the words “it’s just something dr irin gave me give it here” “sounds interesting” he said gently giving it to you.

“Don’t judge it please I don’t even wanna do it it’s stupid” you whispered “hey hey no it’s not stupid if your doctor said it might help you should give it a go” he said kindly sitting next to you gently making you look at him.

“But I don’t know how and what if it doesn’t work it’s gonna be weird I just don’t-“ “hey dolly look at me yeah deep breaths in for 5 hold for 4 out for 5, that’s the way” he said softly guiding you through your breathing.

Once you calmed down you talked Bucky through what your psychologist had told you and he was completely on board.

During the next few days things went back to normal, that was until bucky received a large package “Bucky” you said suspiciously watching him sign for it seeing his cheeky smile.

“What have you done now” you said accusingly “ahh it’s actually for you sweetheart” he said kindly placing the box on the kitchen bench and ripping it open.

Inside there was a selection of soft toys, colouring in books, some bottles and a teal dummy. “Oh buck” you said breathlessly moving to embrace him.

“I told you angel I’m on board with this 100 percent”

───── ⋆⋅◇⋅⋆ ─────

A few days later you finally slipped after lots of research and trying out different approaches. You were currently sat on the sofa with your dummy in your mouth and alpine laying down beside you her soft breathing and snores alerting you to the fact she had fallen asleep.

“Daddy” you whispered to Bucky watching his face light up when you called him that “yes little one?” “Look at pine pine” you giggled pointing at her “aww she’s asleep, what do you think cats dream about baby bunny?”

“I dunno, mice?” “Mice” he chuckled heartily “yes” you said definitively “dada” “hmm?” “Can I have a cuddle?” “Of course you can my little angel” he said softly.

Repositioning yourself to lie between his legs your back of resting against his chest you felt his vibranium arm gently come to play with your hair “do you feel better med lyubov'?”

“Mhm” you hummed feeling yourself grow sleepy in the embrace of your caregiver.

───── ⋆⋅◇⋅⋆ ─────

Taglist - @bootlegmothman420 @littlephia @whippedforhongjoong @youngstarfishdinosaur @patchesofwork @buggyateabug @autisticbeauty @friendlyneighborhoodkillerbunny @sparklybuck @2-gay-possums-in-a-trench-coat @hopelesswritergall @stuckysgirl27 @sleepyprinc3ss @chaotic-little-witch @looksthatkilledd

#daddy!bucky #daddy!bucky barnes #little!reader #cg!bucky #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader #sfw age regression #caregiver #age regression reader #sfw littlespace #little reader #agere sfw #ria answers

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apprenticestanheight · 3 months

Note

kindly asking for hoffman taking care of a sick s/o (but also not opposed to the same prompt for amanda,,)

Hoffman and Amanda taking care of a sick s/o headcanons

Okay!! This is coming out literal months after it was sent into my inbox and for that, I apologize! I am notoriously terrible at time management and I will procrastinate as much as the day is long.

Procrastination in accompaniment with a couple of personal issues and mountains of demotivation and anxiety as tall as mount everest are not the best cocktail and again, I am very sorry for how long this has taken!

I do have it titled in a way that might be a little confusing but, just to clarify, I did do headcanons and I did two separate sets rolled up into one fic just so that I could make it a little easier on myself because I could not, for the life of me, choose between hoffman and amanda for this. I don't write enough for either of them so this is kind of how I'm compensating for that lol

Fic type - this is very fluffy!

Warnings - the reader has a sinus infection/cold, so there's likely to be symptoms of that discussed, plus mentions of medication

oooookay!! To start, we're gonna go with Hoffman!

You wake up sick one random morning at the beginning of February and Mark is immediately like "oh NO, did I give them the sinus cold that's been going around work?" bc he had it like,, two or so weeks beforehand

and when you say good morning in a way that tells mark you're groggy but also sick, he calls in sick from work on your behalf and then calls the precinct to waste a few sick days to take care of you

After he's called in sick from work, he kisses your forehead both because he wants to and also to check for a fever. He finds that you're burning up, which is a bit of a surprise given the fact that, the minute Mark had adjusted, you'd practically stolen all of the blankets from him.

So, he kisses you on the forehead again and then leaves your apartment to grab the essentials: ibuprofen for the inevitable headache, a combination pack Nyquil and Dayquil to ease the fever and also help you function like a person during the day and get some sleep at night.

He also grabs chicken noodle soup and bread for toast, plus a few of your favorite snacks.

When he gets back home, he tosses one of his older NJPD sweaters into the dryer so that it comes out warm once the fever has broken, finds you in your bed with nothing but a stolen pair of Marks boxers and one of his button ups to act as clothes. A thick blanket covers your legs entirely and you've sat up in the bed, clearly trying to will yourself to function like you would if you weren't sick.

Mark is at your side relatively quickly with a Dayquil and bottle of gatorade in hand, kissing your forehead as you take the pills and thank him for running the errand.

Generally, Mark is absolutely the type of guy who just wants to make sure you have the time to rest. He takes care of the house work, makes sure that the windows are open so that you're still getting fresh air but aren't practically drowning in the wintery cold, does everything he can to make sure you're resting well.

that also means he's with you lots of the time--he'll lay down with you in bed for as long as you want, happy to kiss the top of your head and act as your anchor when a migraine sets in.

It also means kisses after you've taken your meds--you'll pop a Dayquil, sip some gatorade, and Mark will kiss your forehead or your cheek and then say nothing when you fall asleep against his shoulder twenty minutes later

he's generally very sweet and absolutely one hell of a guy to have around when you have a cold

okay! It's Mandys turn

Amanda is super clingy and has herself a few connections, so when she finds out you have a cold she uses those connections.

the biggest connection that she has is lawrence (I am firmly of the belief that they had a sibling dynamic and also that they were both only children) and she uses it the second you're asleep while sinus-infected and bedridden

she calls him up like "hi. my partner has a cold. I need a prescription for the best cold meds you have or at least a bit of advice please and thanks."

so, Lawrence kind of like,, he gives her the play-by-play, right? He tells her what over-the-counter meds work the best and gives her advice on how to help you

she follows it bc she wants you to get better. She gets you the good stuff and benadryl, which has the tendency to knock a person out as it were and the night-time cold meds were out of stock at the pharmacy she went to.

She even goes to walmart and gets you a heated blanket. she is the fuckin--she loves you so much that she's willing to spend the 2001 equivalent of modern-day $20 for one of the decent ones.

And then she gets home and kisses you on the cheek bc emotional support, and you thank her while she sets up the heated blanket

generally, Amanda is like--she's on top of your care. She makes sure you're always comfortable, bribes you with kisses to get you to take the buckleys or whatever it is that she finds when she checks another pharamacy after a bit of apprenticing one day

you also sleep a lot, and Amanda pretty much acts as your body pillow??

the minute you're tiredly pressing your face against her shoulder, she's just kind of happy to let you sleep as you please because she wants you to get better

generally, she's very attentive and is quick to get you what you need when you need it.

#mark hoffman x reader #amanda young x reader #mark hoffman #amanda young #saw 2004 #saw franchise

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dontyouworrydaddy · 5 months

Note

Hi! new follower here! I really, I mean really love your writing!!

If asks are still open can i request 141 + LV, Konig & Horangi x GN!Civvie!Reader?? I know this might be cringe,,

(You can delete this if asks are closed!!)

Civvie!Reader is a happy person but is also depressed but secretly takes Prozac? (Also known as Happy Pills, if i'm not wrong) They don't know about it because they go on missions for like months and stuff,, but they get suspicious of her because Civvie!Reader acts strangely?? How will they react if they found out Civvie!Reader takes happy pills??

Also, please take your time and take care of yourself!!! 💖

H A P P Y H O U S E

Task Force 141 (+König, Horangi & LV) + gn! reader

AHHHHHH. Thank you so so much🥹🥹 I really appreciate your kind words 💘 I love this idea so much because I also do take meds to calm my anxieties and continue living a "normal" life. I love this ask sm, thank you for requesting it :) I hope you love this❣️❣️ Have a wonderful day <3

P.S: This wasn’t cringe at all🩷 Feel free to send anything you want without any second thoughts <3

P.P.S: I had to use google translate for the spanish words so I‘m sorry if there are any mistakes 😅 Correct me if I wrote something wrong <3

✧༺♥༻∞　　∞༺♥༻✧

König

König returned from another intense mission, a mix of exhaustion and adrenaline coursing through his veins. You awaited his arrival, a subtle smile playing on your lips despite the hidden battles within your mind. And you’re really good at hiding it because not even a soldier knows about your secret.

The two of you had built a connection that transcended the chaos of König's missions, finding solace in the moments you shared.

As König settled into the room, he noticed a subtle change in you. Your normally vibrant energy seemed to be not there and a shadow lingered behind your smile. Unbeknownst to him, you navigated the depths of depression, relying on a secret source of solace – the Prozac you secretly took.

Months passed, and the suspicion grew like an insidious seed in König's mind. The observant operative couldn't shake the feeling that something was off with you, the person he cared for deeply. Yet, the nature of his missions kept him away for extended periods, leaving a void where questions were left in his mind. Was it just you going through a phase or is it just a bad month for you?

One day, as he returned from a particularly grueling mission, the atmosphere between you two shifted. König's piercing gaze met yours, seeking answers veiled behind your eyes. Sensing his unease, you attempted to deflect, keeping the shadows of your struggles hidden.

However, the walls of secrecy could only hold for so long. König, driven by concern and a deep-rooted connection, pressed further, demanding the truth "Schatz, please tell me why you’re acting off these days? Is there something wrong? Did I do something wrong?" . Your heart raced as you hesitated, contemplating whether to expose the truth about the Happy Pills that kept your internal storms at bay.

With a heavy sigh, you confessed, explaining the battles fought in silence, the pills as your silent rises. The revelation hung in the air, a delicate balance between vulnerability and the strength that kept you going.

König faced a moment of internal conflict which was very unlikely for a soldier like him. His commitment to duty clashed with the newfound knowledge of your struggles. The air thickened with tension as he absorbed the weight of your revelation.

With a steady hand, König reached out, offering support in a way only he could. The revelation became a turning point, fostering a deeper connection that transcended the chaos of missions. This was not just your mission but also his.

Simon Riley

You radiated happiness in your everyday life. The laughter that echoed in your shared apartment seemed to drown out the chaos of the world outside. Unbeknownst to Simon, beneath your cheerful facade, you struggled with a persistent darkness that only you knew too well.

Months passed, and Simon's returns became less about the joyous reunions and more about the subtle observations. He noticed the moments when you seemed lost in thought, your laughter a bit too forced, your smiles not reaching your eyes. Concern etched across his face as he began to piece together the puzzle of your shifting demeanor.

One evening, after a particularly challenging mission, Simon returned home to find you sitting on the couch, staring into the void. The apartment, usually filled with the sound of your laughter, now felt heavy with an unspoken tension.

"Hey," Simon greeted, concern etched on his face. "Is everything okay?"

You hesitated, battling the conflicting emotions within. "Yeah, just a tough day, you know?"

Simon nodded, recognizing the weight of their shared profession. "You can always talk to me, you know."

As the weeks passed, Simon's concern grew. The distance between you widened, and the moments of joy became fleeting. One day, unable to bear the weight of your secret any longer, you decided to share the truth.

"Simon," you began, your voice wavering. "There's something I need to tell you."

His piercing blue eyes met yours, urging you to continue.

"I... I'm taking pills, for my depression…" you confessed, the words heavy with vulnerability. "It helps me cope, especially when you're away for so long."

Simon's expression shifted from confusion to understanding. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want you to worry," you admitted, tears welling up in your eyes. "I wanted to be strong for you, for us."

He sighed, reaching out to gently cup your face. "You don't have to carry this alone. Remember our vows to each other, y/n?"

John MacTavish

Months passed, marked by the silence of lonely nights and the constant hum of worry that clung to your thoughts. When Soap returned, his presence was a comforting storm that swept through the apartment. You welcomed him with a smile, hiding your internal struggles behind a façade of joy.

Yet, the missions took a toll on you, and Prozac became your silent ally. It was your lifeline, a small pill that held the power to lift the heavy fog that sometimes clouded your mind. As the days unfolded, Soap grew more observant, sensing subtle shifts in your behavior.

One evening, after a particularly challenging mission, Soap's gaze lingered on you as you sat on the edge of the bed, lost in your own thoughts. He sat down beside you, his eyes reflecting concern.

"You've been acting strangely, love. Is everything alright?" he asked, his voice a gentle inquiry.

You hesitated, the weight of your secret pressing against your chest. "Yeah, just... a bit tired, you definitely know what I‘m talking about, no?"

But Soap was perceptive, his military instincts attuned to the slightest deviations. "It's more than that, isn't it? You can talk to me, you know."

The words hung in the air, and you felt the weight of the truth pressing against your lips. This time your heart is talking instead of your brain. Because your heart has had enough.

"I... I've been struggling, Johnny. It's hard when you're away for so long. I just wanted to be the happy person you deserve."

His expression softened, understanding dawning in his eyes. "You don't have to pretend with me, love. We’re getting married in 2 Months. Stop pretending please."

You took a deep breath, the secret threatening to spill out. "There's something else," you confessed, and with shaky hands, you revealed the pill bottle. "I take these... for the low days. To stay afloat when you're not around."

Soap's brows furrowed as he processed the revelation. "Why didn't you tell me?"

You looked down, guilt and fear intertwined. "I didn't want you to worry. You have enough with the missions.This shouldn’t be another mission for you."

He gently lifted your chin, his eyes locking onto yours. "Love, your well-being is my priority. I want to be there for you, through the good and the challenging times." Johnny embraced you, the warmth of his presence

"We'll face this together," he murmured.

John Price

In the living room, John sat on the couch, cleaning his trusty M1911. You joined him on the couch, a book in hand, but your gaze was distant.

Price noticed your mood change. Concern etched across his rugged features, he gently asked, "Everything okay, love?"

You managed a smile, a facade you'd perfected over time. "Just tired, love. You know how it is."

He studied you for a moment, a war-hardened man with a keen eye for subtleties. "You've been different lately. Something on your mind?"

The weight of your secret pressed on you, but you dismissed it with a casual shrug. "Just the usual stress. Nothing I can't handle."

John , however, was not convinced. He set aside his gun-cleaning kit and turned to face you, his eyes locked onto yours. "You can talk to me, you know that, right?"

Your heart ached with a mixture of love and guilt. "I appreciate that, really, but some things are better left unsaid."

———

One evening, as Price returned from a particularly grueling mission, he noticed the pill bottle peeking out from your bag. His expression shifted from exhaustion to concern and worry. "What's this, love?"

You hesitated, caught off guard by the discovery. "It's just something to help me cope. No big deal."Price's eyes bore into yours, searching for answers. "Coping with what, exactly?"

Torn between honesty and protecting him from the harsh reality, you sighed. "Life, John. It gets heavy sometimes."

He sat down beside you, his rough hand finding yours. "You don't have to carry it alone. Talk to me."

And so, the conversation unfolded—a delicate dance between confession and reassurance. "I wish you had told me earlier," he admitted, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "We face enough demons out there. Let me help you battle the ones within."

Kyle Garrick

Kyle, fresh from a lengthy mission, entered the apartment he shared with you. The scent of your favorite coffee filled the air, but something seemed off. As he approached, he noticed you sitting on the couch, staring into space, a faint smile playing on your lips.

"Hey, love. Missed you," Kyle greeted, wrapping his arms around you. You leaned into the hug, but there was a distant look in your eyes.

"Missed you too, Kyle" you replied, your voice lacking the usual enthusiasm.

Concern etched across his face, Kyle sat down beside you. "Is everything okay, love? You seem a bit... off."

You sighed, hesitating for a moment before opening up. "I've just been feeling a bit down, but nothing serious. Just life stuff, you know?"

His brows furrowed with worry. "You can talk to me about anything, you know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know," you said, forcing a smile. "I just need some time to sort things out. It's nothing you need to worry about."

Over the next few days, Kyle couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. You became more withdrawn, and he often caught you staring into space, lost in your thoughts. Finally, unable to contain his concern any longer, he gently broached the subject.

"Baby, I can't help but notice that you've been acting a bit... different. Are you sure you're okay?"

Your heart raced, but you maintained your composure. "I appreciate your concern, Kyle, but I promise it's just a rough patch. I'll get through it."

Despite your reassurances, Kyle's concern lingered. One evening, he accidentally stumbled upon a small prescription bottle while searching for something in the apartment.

"What's this?" he asked, holding up the Prozac bottle.

You froze, your heart pounding. "It's just... something to help me stay balanced. Don't worry about it."

His expression shifted from confusion to understanding. "You've been taking Happy Pills? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to burden you with my problems, especially when you're out there risking your life on missions," you confessed, avoiding eye contact.

Kyle gently lifted your chin, making you meet his gaze. "You're not a burden, You. We're in this together. I want to be there for you, no matter what."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you finally let your guard down. "I didn't want you to see me as weak or incapable of handling things."

Kyle hugged you tightly. "You're not weak, and taking medication doesn't change how strong you are. I just want to support you, okay?"

Horangi

You sat on the couch, anxiously twirling a strand of your hair as you waited for Horangi to return from his latest mission. You were grateful for the moments you shared when he was home, but the weight of your secret lingered like a shadow.

Horangi finally walked through the door, a weary but triumphant smile on his face. He dropped his gear by the entrance and moved towards you, pulling you into a warm embrace. "Missed you," he murmured against your hair.

"I missed you too, Horangi," you replied, managing a smile despite the persistent unease within you. The balance between the joy of his return and the fear of your secret being exposed was a constant struggle.

Horangi began to notice subtle changes in your behavior. Your laughter didn't ring as true, and the spark in your eyes seemed to flicker at times. This evening, he caught you staring into space, lost in thought.

"Is everything okay, love?" he asked, concern etching his features.

You looked up, forcing a smile. "Yeah, just tired from work, you know?" It was a half-truth, one you had repeated countless times. The Prozac helped you maintain a semblance of normalcy, but the battle was getting harder to overcome.

But it didn’t stop here.

Horangi's suspicions deepened each time. He decided to confront you one evening, concern etched across his face. "You've been distant, and I can't shake the feeling that something's off. Please, talk to me."

You took a deep breath, hesitating before finally deciding to trust him. "Horangi, I've been struggling. I... I take Prozac."

His brows furrowed in confusion. "Prozac? Why? What's going on?"

Tears welled up in your eyes as you began to unravel the truth. "I've been dealing with depression, and these pills help me get through the tough times. I didn't want you to worry, especially with your missions taking you away for so long."

His expression softened as he took in the weight of your confession. "You should have told me, Y/N. I'm here for you my beautiful partner."

"I was afraid, Horangi. Afraid that you'd see me differently, that you'd worry too much," you admitted, vulnerability laid bare.

He gently cupped your face, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb. "I love you, and I want to be here for you. We're in this together, remember? You don't have to carry this burden alone, my Love."

Alejandro

Alejandro returned after a long mission. You greeted him with a bright smile, your eyes hiding the sadness within. The two of you had found peace and happiness in each other. But what he didn’t know is that you are on the edge of falling apart.

Alejandro continued his missions, leaving you to navigate through your own life. You maintained the façade of a happy soul, laughter echoing through the rooms when he was around. But, behind closed doors, you confronted the darkness, relying on Prozac.

One evening, as Alejandro unpacked his gear, he noticed the subtle changes in your behavior—the lingering sadness, the guarded moments when your eyes flickered with pain. Concern etched across his face, he gently inquired, "Something seems off, mi amor. Is everything okay?"

You hesitated, crafting a smile to mask the turmoil within. "I'm fine, just a bit tired, you know?" But Alejandro wasn't easily convinced.

He took your hands, his gaze penetrating. "You can tell me anything. We're in this together."

Your breath hitched, torn between the desire to confide and the fear of burdening him. "I... sometimes struggle with my emotions, but it's nothing major. I promise."

His eyes softened with understanding. "You don't have to carry it alone, cariño. We face battles together, remember?"

Alejandro observed the nuances in your behavior, the way you withdrew when the darkness loomed. The realization struck him as he stumbled upon the carefully concealed bottle of your happy pills, after deciding to put his clothes into the washing machine. A torrent of emotions flooded him—concern, empathy, and a tinge of hurt that you hadn't told him.

Quietly, he approached you, holding the bottle. "I found this. Why didn't you tell me?"

Tears welled in your eyes as you stammered, "uh…I uhm..I didn't want to burden you. You have enough on your plate with missions."

His gaze softened, and he cupped your face. "We face these things together, remember? Your pain is mine too."

Rodolfo

Rudy‘s daily life was on his extended missions, you on the other hand navigated your daily life, concealing a battle against depression. The small pills were your silent companions, providing a fragile balance to the storm within. Despite the challenges, you maintained a facade of happiness, always eager to cherish the fleeting moments when Rudy returned home.

Rudy,because of his strong instincts, noticed subtle changes in your behavior upon each return. Your laughter seemed a bit forced, and the sparkle in your eyes, though still present, appeared dimmed. Concern grew on his face as he began to sense something‘s wrong, forcing him to investigate.

The evening Rudy saw you sitting on the couch, lost in thought after having dinner together. His expression softened as he took in the weariness etched across your face. "You okay, amor?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

You forced a smile, brushing off his worries with practiced ease. "Just tired, babe. You know how it is."

However, Rodolfo, read in reading between the lines, wasn't easily convinced. He persisted, gently pressing you to share your burdens. As you hesitated, a moment of vulnerability slipped through, prompting you to reveal the existence of the little pills that brought temporary peace to your depression.

Rodolfo's eyes widened in realization as the pieces of the puzzle started falling into place. He listened attentively as you explained the battles you fought silently while he was away. The weight of your revelation hung in the air.

A mix of worry, guilt, and love clouded Rodolfo's features. "Why didn't you tell me?" he whispered, his voice heavy with regret.

"I didn't want to burden you with my problems. You have enough problems with your missions," you admitted, a pang of guilt creeping into your voice.

Rudy, however, embraced you, dispelling the notion that your struggles were a burden. "You're not alone in this, my love. I love youu" he asserted, his commitment unwavering.

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