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v3nusxsky · 8 months

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Hey

A playonic lesso where r goes to her crying in the middle of the night? X

🦖

Mama

*Authors note~ Agere eat your heart out. A friendly reminder that everyone is welcome here for this content, only my nsfw is 18 + unless stated otherwise. And a thank you to all those who have been supporting me, love you guys*

Note~~~ waiting for the day I get a little lesso cg r request ngllll

Trigger warnings~ nightmares of past trauma, child abuse, sexual abuse from an older teen, alcoholic parents? Neglect?

Prompt~see ask^^^^

Being a Never was well known for being strong. Not just physically but you have to be emotionally guarded and stronger than your opponents. At least that is what Leonora Lesso says. Yet your Dean immediately recognised you weren't like the other students. Not only are you a reader, but you seem to act like a scared child when faced with your peers. She thought a trip to the doom room could toughen you up. But what she didn't know is, the doom room felt like home to you, a familiar cold distant environment where you only had yourself to trust and care for. Upon leaving you just stood, bowed your head at the woman and left a without a word or anything else.

That was what caused her to take a more sudden interest in you, hoping to build a relationship with you in order to find out what is causing such an off behaviour for a never student. Of course you found this suspicious, an adult had never truly paid attention to you, let alone notice anything off in your behaviour. What was even stranger is she didn't try to touch you, as soon as you made it know you weren't okay with it, she made sure your wishes were respected inside and outside the classroom.

Sure it took her months to finally build that relationship with you but to her it was worth everything and for you, it meant everything and more. For the first time in your life you finally felt safe to show some weakness and vulnerability with another. It was freeing of a sort, but you knew deep down she didn't know the whole story, one day you'd tell her but only when you were sure she could be trusted. Leonora allowing you to do things your own pace showed you that, and that's why you told her bits in drips and drabs. To test the waters with the woman.

Nightmares have been a reoccurring situation for you, all your life you've been on edge and hyper vigilant, even in your sleep. And your sure if your parents were actually sober maybe they would've noticed and told you it's just an overactive imagination. But they were never sober, early on you had to learn to cook clean and dress yourself as well as care for a house that honestly they were never in. If they remembered sometimes your aunt would babysit you. But even then, it was a rarity and not one you loved at all.

You'd tried to tell them what she did, but they only got madder at you and made sure you'd be extra sore in the morning, to teach you about telling lies. But only it wasn't lies, they were just to drunk to care or notice that. Despite your aunts special time being all you knew, you knew it was wrong, and now you were safe the memories haunted your slumber.

On this particular night, you couldn't wake up, it was like being thrown back in the past where everything felt so real again. You would cry scream and fight your way through, desperately looking for an escape from the way her hands pinned you down or continued to hurt you in unimaginable and unspeakable ways. It wasn't fair. You were only 3, absolutely no chance of overpowering her, only this time it was like you were an outsider looking in on it.

When you finally got out of the horrid nightmare, your throat was horse from screaming and crying, body tangled in the sheets, littered with scratched and hits from your own hands and hot salty tears steadily streaming down your cheeks. The first thing you noticed was you needed air, it felt like you were drowning. The second thing you noticed was how everything looked overwhelming and massive to you. The third was that you were alone, and that meant she could find you again, and that wasn't something you or your little headspace wanted, so you went blindly searching for someone safe.

You'd lost count how many times you'd tripped over your own feet or even just air due to your shaking limbs. Everything seemed to move and blur as you desperately wanted to find safety, to subconsciously find her. The longer you stumbled along the halls the more upset you became, these damn nightmares causing such an emotional toll on your being that you couldn't help the rapid decrease in headspace.

You managed to finally find the door with the shiny on it, you knew it was hers. Only her door had the shiny golden rectangle on, you didn't even bother to knock but rather just walked on in. You didn't even noticed how much your arrival startled the dean, all you noticed was her. Safe now. If you were in your normal headspace you would reprimanded yourself for such an action, yet you weren't so you tried to run into her arms before stumbling and accidentally banging your head on her desk. "Mama" you whimpered through your tears and opened and closes your fists at the woman. It was a clear direct signal for touch, one she wasn't expecting to see.

"It's okay my little dove, shall mama get you coldies for your head?" She murmured before scooping you into her arms. Safe now. You were safe and that was all you could think about. Leonora didn't need a reply, the bruise already forming on your head told her the answer, so grabbing a cold pack she kept for her knee, she sat you on her lap and whispered reassurance and comfort, exactly like a mother would do while you soaked in her embrace. "Mama safe now" you murmured into her shoulder causing her to miss it slightly. "Safe from who my darling?" It was meant with care but you immediately went stiff and replied "mean lady."

As much as the dean could she tried to rack her brains for what you meant but she knew nothing. It was like trying to find some string in a yarn ball. Impossible. But soon enough your little state started to remember your nightmare and confide in your mama. That was the night she promised to keep you safe, taking on a mother role in your life and would never allow anyone to ever hurt you ever again. That was her promise as she settled you back to sleep. And a promise is something she wouldn't ever break.

Word count~ 1162

#anon answered #v3nusxsky answers #fanfic #anon requested #lady lesso #sfgae #leonora lesso #lady lesso x reader #lesso x reader #lady leonora lesso #cg lesso #lady lesso x you #leonora lesso x reader #lady leonora lesso x reader #little r #Agere #agere little #Tsfgae Agere

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ramsywasalittlelamb · 8 months

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fog in my mind darkens in my eyes, silently streaming for a distant sound

A Regressor!Tim Drake & Caregiver!Bruce Wayne fic :] 1.2k words, hurt/comfort, do not ship!! photos found on pinterest!

Tim’s regression is known to bruce! I think I made it more subtle than most agere based fics, but I made it based off of my own experiences and regression! This is my first ever fic, but I hope you all enjoy! I’m open to criticism as well! - Jay

Tim was starting to rethink his decisions.

In his defense, he knows his brain isn’t in the most rational state at the moment. Between sleep still addled his thoughts, the still fast heart rate from the nightmare that had woken him right up, and the seemingly increasing fuzz in his brain that he’s decided to ignore, he knew his logic was going to be flawed and any actions he took were going to be a little bit to the left of his usual functionality.

But before he could process it, his legs had already taken him to stand at the end of the dark hallway in front of Bruce’s bedroom door. He was still shaken up, mentally and physically. The tears had flowed freely down his cheeks without a hitch in his breath, now just leaving wet trails under his eyes, his hands trembling as they fidget with the hem of his oversized shirt— not his, technically. more like a band tee from Dick’s closet that mysteriously made its way into his own.— as a thin sheet of sweat covers his palms and hairline.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been standing there— Seconds? Minutes?— in his head, until a creak echoing throughout the manor brought him out of his thoughts. Whipping around at the noise with a sharp inhale, tensing his body in preparation for an attack. There’s nothing. The manor is old, it creaks, it’s what old buildings do, he thinks to himself as he releases the breath he didn’t know he held, attempting to shove logic into his sleepy and jumpy state.

Turning his attention back to the door and taking a deep breath, he places his shaky hand on the cold doorknob. Twisting and pushing slowly, he peers into the room through the small crack he’s made. He sees Bruce slumbering peacefully in the middle of his bed, the black sheets tucked in tightly around the edges of the bed, securing Bruce’s place where he sleeps on his back. Tim takes a moment and watches the rise and fall of his chest following the puffs of air that leave his slightly open mouth, confirming that Bruce was still asleep, judging by how slow the rhythm is.

And he’s alive.

It never hurts to check, Tim tells himself.

As he continues watching, doubt and regret slithers its way back into his thoughts. Really? Seeking out Bruce because of a nightmare? How pathetic, especially for Red Robin himself, to even consider sneaking into his dad’s bed for an ounce of comfort. He’s been through it all, why couldn’t he have just toughed out some flimsy bad dream? What would Bruce even think of him? If he can’t handle a simple bad dream, then he definitely can’t handle being Red Robin—

“Tim?”

Being yanked back into reality by the deep and gravelly voice calling his name, he blinks his eyes back into focus to see Bruce sitting up and staring at him with tired confusion, and concern.

He opens his mouth to begin apologizing, but the words die on his tongue and turns into an involuntary whimper, immediately making Tim close his mouth and forming a small thin line that wobbles with another whimper, beginning to shake his hands at his sides.

“Oh, Tim, come here.” Bruce calls out, his expression and voice softening in a way that makes the panic and guilt built into Tim’s chest dissipate a bit, watching as Bruce pats an empty spot on the bed next to him then opening his arms for Tim, who quickly takes the invitation and dives onto the mattress and his dads arms.

The warm weight of Bruce’s arms around Tim’s torso, the murmured words of comfort and reassurances, the way his dad tucks his face into the crook of his neck and pets his hair, feeling the warm tears— when had he started crying?— soaking into the shirt Bruce wore as he sniffled.

“It’s okay, I promise. Whatever happened, we’ll fix it, you’re safe here.” Bruce says into Tim’s hair, punctuating with a kiss to the crown of his head before resting his cheek on top. Tim sniffles with a hum in response, his hands slowing their flapping motion to rub the soft cotton hem of the blankets between his fingers, finding himself continuing what was meant to be a short hum into a consistent and steady vibration in his throat.

As the soothing sensations and stimming calms Tim’s panic in his gut, it reappears quickly when Bruce moves away, Tim letting out a whine and moving his hand to clutch at the front of Bruce’s shirt, as if his weak grip could stop him from moving away.

Though it doesn’t make Bruce stop, it most certainly makes him move quicker with hushes before returning and tucking Tim tighter in his embrace. “I’m not leaving you, it’s okay, you’re okay. I won’t ever leave you, I just had to grab your pacifier, okay?” He reassures Tim as he presses a kiss to his forehead.

He opens his mouth again to say something, an apology, a thank you, an excuse, but he’s only to be met with the same inability to form a word, making him release a whine of frustration followed by a sniffle. Bruce hums in response and grabs the pacifier from where he had laid it down on the bed, cleaning it off as best as he could with his shirt before offering it to Tim, who gladly accepts it with a grateful hum and small smile, the first one of the night.

Bruce wipes the tears on Tim’s cheeks away once they’ve stopped falling from his eyes, humming a small tune that Tim can’t quite place, not that he can find an ounce to care at the moment in his newfound peace. Enjoying the gentle hand rubbing circles onto his back, the thumb brushing against his cheekbone, the rumble of Bruce’s chest as he hums, the soothing motion of the pacifier in his mouth, all of it aiding the fuzz and lightness in his chest that he hadn’t realized had fully invaded his head already.

“My baby boy, what did I do to deserve you?” Bruce hums out rhetorically into Tim’s hair, slowly leaning both Tim and himself back to lay back on the bed, folding the blankets on top of the both of them.

Tim tucks himself closer to Bruce’s side, who responds by hugging him tighter, the two holding each other close in the newfound serenity. Tim fluttered his eyes open to look at Bruce, only to have sleep taunt him by trying to drag his eyelids closed again.

“Go to sleep. I’ll be here, you’ll be here, everyone will be here when you wake.” Bruce says, his eyes nearly closed with slumber as he watches Tim. Ensuring the younger's eyes shut before his, ensuring the younger’s breaths shallow out before his own, “I love you, Tim. We all love you.” he whispers out into the air for only Tim to hear as he finally closes his eyes. Even though he’s sure Tim is already too deep into sleep to even rustle at it, he hopes that Tim knows it.

“Sweet dreams, Prince.”

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cccotard · 1 year

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alright gonna be so ill about this scene rq and why its so incredibly amazing for Kanna’s character

Kanna understands the power of emotions and how it can drive people to do things they normally wouldn't, while other characters cannot quite grasp the concept. She's the only one confirmed going through it with hallucinations, (Sara, Keiji, and arguably Shin,) but isn't letting them deter her in any way, and in fact accepts the people who died trying to protect her and is living for her; which is obviously not the case with the other three.

Sara lets the memory of Joe completely consume her in chapter 2, and in the emotions route, while she no longer struggles with hallucinations of Joe, it's still evident that his death changed her motivations. This is different from Kanna, who already learned this lesson with her sister’s death in chapter 1-2; she learned from Reko and Sara to not let her sister’s death completely consume her and then learned from Shin's death how to recognize what compelled them to sacrifice themselves for her

The difference doesn't seem like a lot but it’s 'living for yourself, learning your strength from the people who loved you and could see it when you couldn't' vs 'living to not have someone's sacrifice in vain' y’know? It says a lot about Sara and Kanna's self worth in relation to the deaths of their loved ones.

Looking at Shin, while his hallucinations are more implied, I think it's fair to believe that at the Very Least he would struggle with delusions revolving Kanna's death.

^This scene specifically showcasing how if its not struggling with the reality of Kanna’s death, he’s ignoring it to cope. It’s easier to pretend the people he has to be allies with didn’t have as big of a role in her death as they did. - (this dialogue from Shin and Keiji is some of my favorite but that’s for another day)

Back to the topic at hand, after Kanna's death, Shin's motivations completely shift. One of my favorite scenes in 3A is when the gang uses the elevator for the first time and whichever one Sara decides to use, Shin uses the opposite. Of course, this can read as him just being petty, but before this, Shin typically followed people with high percentages- he usually wouldn't go somewhere for the first time by himself unless he goes with someone with a high percentage, or at least scoped out by someone with a higher percentage. This is such a character defining moment because this illustrates he is no longer desperate for his own survival.

Chapter 3 and on, Shin is only motivated by revenge. Revenge for Kanna, revenge for everything he's lost. His motivations went from 'cheat the death game, beat the odds. just survive, fuck everyone else' to 'revenge for Kanna, I don’t care if I die anymore, just as long as these people go down with me, how dare these people kill someone innocent' (how logical of him to throw his own survival....)

And finally Keiji- Keiji, like Kanna, went into the introduction scene already struggling with the death of a loved one, but he went into it knowing how to suppress his emotions way better. He, of course, lost Mr Policeman a while before the death game and is not a 14 yr kid who just lost her sister. Arguably, Keiji is one of the most, if not is the, most logical character in the game. He does a lot of cruel things for the sake of his, or someone he care's abouts’ survival - which is why he is able to vote for Kanna, or go behind Saras back for all the card trading in mg 2. Both cruel, but both helped him and Sara's chances of survival.

Keiji lost a kind part of himself after Mr. Policeman’s death. I'm not saying he’s evil, or cant feel emotions, but he is kind of .. empty. He’s been going through this death game motivated by his primal urge to survive. The only times his emotional side comes out is when his grief is pulled out and is used against him, like with Everything with Midori in 3A or all the gun discussions. Which due to the suppression of this grief and him not healing from Mr. Policeman’s death, it completely overwhelms and consumes him.

Joe, Kanna, and Mr.Policeman's deaths all communicated to the people that wanted to save them that they were Too Weak to save them. Something they did, or failed to do, caused their death. It is Sara/Shin/Keiji’s fault.

And now why Kanna's 'Kind Hallucinations' are amazing - she's the only character to willing to accept her weakness, and realize that she is surviving because the people before her saw her strength. Kanna knows she’s stuck in a death game and has little-to-no control over almost everything around her. But despite that, she stands up to characters like Midori in chapter three, not because of Shin or Kugie, but because she is strong; she is doing it for herself, and of course she has the world's best cheerleaders behind her, if only in spirit.

#i posted this on twt but i thought i should share here because it was fun to write #i was going through the wiki and saw this cg labeled smth like 'kanna and her kind hallucinations' and i was like REAL?#i remembered the cg but like . i thought shin and kugie were there for like artsy fartsy reasons #not that they were hallucinations r u kiddin me !!!!!#insanity #i used to do a lot of yttd analysis dunno if i posted them here or not but wth y not post this here #lemme know if u want more or analysis on specific characters or scenes because im insane #i used to be smart about these things but i took a year and a half break when i didnt know how to read but i am back #yttd #your turn to die #kimi ga shine #yttd analysis #your turn to die analysis #kanna kizuchi #shin tsukimi #kanna yttd #Sara Chidouin #keiji shinogi

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adurathelittle · 2 months

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Storm in a teacup ☕️

Hi, it me, Adura! I’m a shy little thing who asks alotta questions, but I don’t always know what to say otherwise.

Biologically 30+, psychologically smallie most of the time, and I’m a lifestyle little. My Papa makes my world go ‘round, n I adore him beyond all reason.

I wanna be a good girl but I don’t always get it right, cause I’m just a little peanut n I’m still learning.

My main hobbies are collecting hobbies and organizing them. I love arts and crafts, fine arts, digital art….life is art, so I guess I love that too 🩷

I’m always trying to grow: up, as a person, as a submissive, as a kinky little girl. I love to explore.

Do you wanna be friends?

#the story of a stupid girl #adura #r/l #little #duckie #cg/l #pinned intro #daddy #want to be friends?

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duraznita-frescante · 8 months

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hi!

is it possible that you could do an agere oneshot where scar gets chronic pains and regresses with a mumbo cg? /nf

🌱 — "to be loved (is to be seen)"

⇒ regressor! scar & cg! mumbo

⇒ word count: 1.3k

...

🌿 — this was the very first request sent in and my first ever time doing a writing per a request so thank sm!!! i hope i did okay with the prompt, i tried my best drawing from different sources on living with chronic pain so i really hope i did it justice with the right amount of sensitivity and respect. i love writing for cgmumbo so i hope you enjoy my writing of him as well. thank you!!!

(also also my computer kept changing mumbo to mambo so a really hope i caught all of those LMAO)

The idea of flaking out once again on a plan set weeks ago forced this rolling feeling in his stomach. Was that dread? He’ll go with dread. Scar was dreading the idea of telling his friends that he couldn’t build with them today despite being one of the ones to pitch the idea in the first place.

But standing in the middle of his kitchen, he could barely will the strength to make himself a proper meal. Or even one at all.

A soft whine bubbled up from throat and he rubbed his face as the deep-set thrumming of his joints came to a brief crescendo before simply sitting on the cold tile. His head thumped gently on the cabinet behind him and he wondered if he could get away with sitting here all day, letting the tile cool down his aching legs. The pattering of little feet quickly dismissed that idea though, he turned his head just as Jellie rounded the corner, an indigent meow filling the air and hitting sharply against his ears.

“Hi, Jellie,” Scar greeted with a smile as she came over, butting her head across his knee and up to his waist, leaving her soft grey fur on his pyjama pants in her wake. Eventually, she settled in his lap, this time to meow directly into his face. “I know I’m supposed to message someone by now,” he says quietly, letting his hand run down her back, another meow follows.

“But asking him is hard…” he whined as Jellie jumped out of his lap and bumped her body against the cabinet next to him that she knew held her cans of food. The idea of popping open a can made his fingers ache. “But Jellie needs breakfast…” Scar concluded, watching as Jellie paced the kitchen to better project her demands for breakfast.

He pulled out his communicator and typed out a message to the lesser of two evils. Evils, in this case, was breaking the news to his friends that he was having a bad pain day or telling Mumbo the same. He needed Mumbo first, for Jellie of course. What with how his fingers ached as they did, opening a tab can would not go too well for him.

[GoodTimesWithScar] come o ver [GoodTimesWithScar] jellie is askin for you

It didn’t take long at all for Scar to hear his front door creak open and the familiar light footsteps of Mumbo Jumbo, slightly clicky from the dress shoes that he insists are comfortable for everyday wear.

To someone unfamiliar with Scar and his fluctuating pain levels, the sight upon entering the kitchen might’ve been concerning. One might think he’d fallen, maybe they would fuss over him and insist they check him over for injury. And in some distant past that was Mumbo as well– that was everyone who’d joined in those early days. But now Mumbo knew, and all of his friends on the server knew, this wasn’t an ordeal that needed to be dealt with urgency and pity.

“Bad pain day?” he asked with a reassuring smile, squatting down to Scar’s level. Scar confirmed with a soft huff that might’ve been a chuckle or indication of pain. It didn’t really matter, they both knew what it meant. Scar held out a tin can that he managed to get out of the cabinet while waiting for Mumbo.

“Fingers too bendy ‘n Jellie hasn’ had b’eakfast,” He slurred out, his mind relaxing at just the sight of his caregiver. “Open, please?”

“Of course,” Mumbo took it gently and spoke as he peeled off the metal top and placed it to the side for Jellie to enjoy, “And what about Scar, has he had breakfast?”

A definite shake of the head that threw Scar’s fringe over his eyes was what he got in response.

Mumbo chuckled lightly and Scar grinned at the sound, letting his hair be pushed to the side to make way for the kiss pressed onto his forehead. Those same hands settled on either side of his face, holding him.

“I think…” Mumbo drew out in that exaggerated way that he knew made a little Scar hang on to every word, “It is a wonderful day for a bedroom picnic, what do you think?” Bedroom picnic was this fun activity that the duo made up many moons ago in which you bring everything entertaining and enough snacks to last you the day into somewhere comfy, usually a bedroom, and stay there. It was reserved for days like these when being anything but stationary was far too laborious on Scar’s body. He could spend the day napping and being small in between to try and ignore the aches.

“I can’t! I’m ‘posed to help Gri and ‘mpulse to build today and– and I don’t want them to be mad at me,” Scar pulled himself from Mumbo’s gentle hold and oh did that hurt Mumbo more than it should have.

“What? Why would they be mad?” In Mumbo’s anxiety-ridden mind, thoughts of the worst flooded his brain. Had Grian or Impulse said something rude? By mistake or otherwise? Did someone else say something rude? Someone new? Had Mumbo himself said something off and he didn’t even notice?

“I just– I said that I could an’…an’ I can but I can’t even though I p’omised,” Scar rambled on half coherently and just like that, those irrational thoughts drained from his mind. Yes, of course. Of course Scar wasn’t upset over what anyone else would have said, he’s had a lifetime of experience to tell him that what others say about him doesn’t matter. But it seems he’s in his head today and this is clearly something that’s been on his mind for a while. To Mumbo, there were a few options on how to handle this.

The first, well, wasn’t viable and would not even happen now that he was here. The first option would be to just let Scar exert his body with the idea that he had to in order to please his friends, an option that could only happen if Scar were in the headspace for it– read, an adult headspace that was at suboptimal mental health.

But Scar isn’t entirely an adult right now and as young as he is right now, he doesn’t have the mental power right now for the nuance of overexerting himself for the sake of others. If he did, he would not have called for Mumbo in the first place.

“I see…” Then there was the second option, “Well, those two in particular know Scar very well,” Mumbo continued, “and I think they’d be very sad if they knew their best friend was hurting because of them, hm?” Play into Scar’s endless sympathy. Nobody can be sad on Scar’s watch, be it while he’s big or little, everyone must be happy. He designed and built a whole theme park for the sole purpose of seeing his friends happy.

And it worked like a charm

“I don’t want Gri to be sad!” He exclaimed loudly, the idea of his best friend being gloomy just unbearable.

“Just… Grian?” Mumbo couldn’t help himself, he had to tease a little bit if Scar was going to cling to one idea at a time.

“Or Impulse!” Scar tacked on as well, the lighthearted jab flying over his head.

“Gosh, I don’t want them sad either, now that I think of it,” Mumbo pretended to fret, knowing just how much the little one needed some dramatics to get the whole message. “And if a hurting Scar makes them sad…” he trailed off, looking off to the side with a finger on his chin.

“I know! A Scar that’s not hurtin’ will—will make them happy!”

And with a little bit of storytelling logic, Mumbo is victorious in fixing this issue without a single tear shed.

“What a clever lad, I think that will make them very happy,” he says softly, letting himself fall away from the exaggerated way of speaking. “Let’s head back to bed and then tell them this great news together, yeah?” Mumbo stood from his space on the floor and extended a hand toward Scar. In response, the younger raised both of his arms in silent request.

And who was Mumbo to deny him?

#nita writes #mcyt agere #agere writing #hermitcraft agere #hermitcraft #r! scar #cg! mumbo #mumbo jumbo #goodtimeswithscar #gtws #requests open #<< see pinned!!!

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babibrew · 1 year

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Cg!Philza R!Wilbur moodboard for @tybeanybabie !!

Sorry this took so long, I misread your ask at first but the fixed one looked bad imo so have both?

#sfw age regression #sfw agere #agere aesthetic #agere blog #agere moodboard #fandom agere #dsmp agere #mcyt age regression #mcyt agere #safe age regression #brew's boards #philza #wilbur soot #cg!philza #r!wilbur soot #dsmp age regression

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abc04 · 2 months

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[Image Description: Six circle icons of Mei Ling and Meryl from the Metal Gear series over the lesbian caregiver flag. There are three of each of them. /end ID]

lesbian caregiver mei ling and meryl 💕🧃

#they r gfs fr #our posts #sfw agere #agere icons #cg icons #fandom agere #metal gear agere #metal gear solid agere #mgs agere

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thisearthycat · 7 months

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stage play redraw 🥹 i love them sm

og below the cut 👇

#code geass #code geass lloyd asplund #lloyd asplund #cecile croomy #suzaku kururugi #it’s been a while since ive drawn cg omg #they r everything to me i need to draw them moreee #my art

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ramsywasalittlelamb · 7 months

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if anything could ever be this good again

A Regressor!Tim Drake & Caregiver!Bruce Wayne fic :] 1.3k words, pure comfort!! do not ship!! photos found on pinterest!

Summary: Tim Drake gets nostalgic, plots, and regresses. Bruce, being a wonderful father, plays along with his son's plan.

Title from Everlong - Foo Fighters

Was it a little odd for Tim to do this?

Maybe.

Was it a great idea though?

Absolutely.

Him and Bruce had just gotten into the sleek, black and shiny Lamborghini that Bruce only really took to gala’s like tonight. The seats warm with a click of a button on the dashboard to fight off the Gotham chill that nipped at their nose and cheeks, Tim’s phone automatically connects to the speakers only to quietly play Everlong by Foo Fighters, Bruce’s gentle humming beside him as his fingers tap on the steering wheel.

It reminded him of when he was younger and he would be coming back from an event with his parents. His mom’s floral perfume wafting back towards him, the heat on blast as he looked out the frosted windows, listening to Frank Sinatra faintly on the radio. Those times were some of his favorites, when his parents weren’t arguing, too exhausted from the socializing and media to care to chat any further, just a somber silence hanging over them on the drive back home.

Once they got home and the engine died down with a twist of keys, Tim would pretend he was asleep. He’s pretty sure his parents knew he was never actually asleep, but they’d play along with his 4 year old antics, unbuckling him and picking up his (semi) limp body, an uncontrollable smile gracing over his definitely asleep face as he got carried up to his room. Four year old Tim should’ve won an Oscar for his performances, really.

Current Tim rested his head against the cool window, allowing that full-body fuzz settle over his body, alongside the seat warmers and hot air, his fingertips feeling as light as feathers as he closed his eyes. The suit was a little uncomfortable, but it will be worth it if his plan works out as well as his ones as RR do.

It’s times like these that Tim is glad the other’s hate going to events or generally can’t go into the public eye. He was able to have time with Bruce, not Batman, but Bruce. There was no tension between them, a comfortable quietness settling between the two as the older drove them back to the manor– their home. No siblings, no friends, no unpredictable dangers taunting them, just Tim and Bruce. He cherished these small moments. He hoped Bruce did as well.

He struggled to push down a giddy smile as he felt the car take a familiar turn, excited to see if his acting skills are as good as he remembers them being, the butterflies in his stomach start fluttering as he tries to keep still from excitement– and people who are asleep don’t move. He can remember that, even when he feels all small and safe.

The car slides smoothly into a stop, the echo of the rumbling engine informing Tim that they’re in the garage. They’re home. He fights off a smile again, his fingers twitch in his lap as he hears the click of the power button and the keys twisting out, the music and heating cutting out with the engine. He can hear Bruce shuffling in the driver seat before a pause.

“Tim?” Bruce says quietly to his side, Tim can feel a hand hovering over his shoulder, and then it moves away. He thought, anyway, until a warm hand made its way into his pomade-ridden, slicked back, hair. The fingertips gliding loose strands out of the way and unfurling any knots that may have made their way in during the event. Tim melts at the touch, a hum subconsciously making its way from the back of his throat as he sinks into the chair further and– Wait. People who are sleeping don’t do that!

He tenses and lets out a whine before he can realize he’s doing it, a pout forming when the hand stills in his hair, hands clenching in his lap. Bruce lets out a soft chuckle, continuing to pet through Tim’s longer-than-usual hair, the black strands becoming looser and losing their neat shape in the way Alfred had helped Tim style it in.

“You gotta get up, bud. You’ll be much more cozy in your bed rather than the car.” Bruce hums out as he keeps brushing through the younger’s hair, even though there's no more knots or stray hairs. Tim pouts, leaning his head into the touch. “Noooo,” He immediately whines out, “Papa’s s’pposed to carry me.”

“Oh? Is that so?” Bruce gently questions, a smile evident in his voice as he tucks Tim’s hair behind his ears with a feather light touch. “I guess I can’t argue with that, huh?” The older sighs out, hesitantly removing his hand from Tim’s hair (with a whine of disappointment), a click from the buckle and the noise of the car door opening and closing following soon after.

Tim’s door opens, steady hands readily catching his limp body that rested against it, “I got you, bud.” Papa’s voice reassures him as he gets unbuckled, a sleepy grin plastered on his face when he gets lifted from the seat by warm and familiar arms. He vaguely hears the car door shut from the cotton in his ears as his mind drifts, only focusing on the absolute safety he’s feeling as he gets carried to his room.

He doesn’t budge when he hears another familiar, welcoming voice talking beside Bruce as he gets held, jostling ever so slightly when they go up the steps, his head comfortably resting on Bruce’s chest. He loves feeling the rumble of Bruce’s chest when he talks, hearing Papa’s heartbeat will always be one of his favorite sounds– along with the rest of his family.

The voices carry a conversation over his head as he gets sat down on a bed, two sets of hands carefully undressing him out of his suit and into more comfortable, bigger clothes. He blearily opens his eyes to see he’s wearing too long of gray pajama pants and a black tee that swallows his torso. Oh. He’s wearing Papa’s clothes.

Bruce’s hands return to pick him up, to which he easily complies with and rests his cheek on his shoulder, closing his eyes briefly before a warmer but smaller hand than Papa’s pats gently at his cheek. He opens his tired eyes again to see Alfred smiling at him, a blue pacifier taps at his mouth, to which he gratefully accepts with a smile and hum. Tim then spots Aurora– his stuffed white dragon plush– in the butler's arms, the latter of which must’ve followed the younger’s line of sight and tucked Aurora into Tim’s loose hold.

Papa’s hand returns to his hair, fingertips grazing through his strands and scratching at his scalp gently. Instinctively, Tim closes his eyes and melts into Bruce’s arms, sucking on the pacifier as his own hands run against Aurora’s soft fur. He vaguely recognizes himself being laid down onto the plush mattress, a weight dipping the bed beside him as warm blankets get pulled up to his chin, ensuring warmth and comfort, but not as much as– Papa’s arms wrap around Tim’s smaller frame and holds him closely.

Tim hears a sigh after his head gets tucked under Bruce’s chin, his dad’s hand rubbing gentle circles in between his shoulder blades as he curls in on himself– and Aurora. Tim (attempts) to say a goodnight to his Papa, the pacifier and the already present slurring of his speech making him unsure if Papa could even understand him, Until he heard “Goodnight, Tim.” mumbled above his head. A yawn escapes from Bruce’s mouth as he talks, punctuating with a gentle kiss to Tim’s forehead.

Tim’s plot of being carried to his bed from being “asleep” in the car didn’t work out exactly like he had planned, but he thinks he might have gotten a better result.

He can’t wait to do this after the next event.

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cotyledon8 · 1 year

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Regressed Anakin headcanons with Obi-wan as his caregiver?

💫 regressor!anakin + cg!obi-wan

→ it’s not something they ever really put a name to, it’s something that just is. they’re already so close anyway that when the development of caregiver-regressor came about, it was something that just felt natural.

→ obi-wan always indulges anakin’s little rambles, whenever it’s a good sort of regression, anakin always gets super excited about everything around them and can just talk for hours. obi-wan always pulls off being excited and asking heaps of questions about whatever topic he’s chosen.

→ anakin always tries to beat back regressing as much as he can, he just doesn’t like how vulnerable it makes him feel. as a result whenever he regresses, he always crashes hard. obi-wan always does his best to turn it into an at least tolerable time, but when he can’t, he’s content to just sit there and comfort him however.

→ obi-wan is absolutely amazing at telling stories, he can turn the most boring adventure into some exciting tale; it works great as distractions and great as bedtime stories.

→ obi-wan absolutely teases anakin to pieces, there’s a reason he’s such a good negotiator in their jedi work, he’s developed an almost perfect talent at teasing something into being small. anakin resents it as much as he enjoys it.

→ obi-wan is a super tactile caregiver in really casual ways. he’s constantly ruffling anakin’s hair, squeezing his shoulder, a one-armed hug; it’s perfect for anakin that always struggles with touch being just-right and too much.

#age regression #age regression writing #caregiver headcanons #regressor headcanons #sfw agere #star wars #star wars agere #anakin skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #cg obi-wan #r!anakin #sorry this is long I love them sm

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