simon being a silent guy, but his daughter being the most vibrant, babbly baby possible. that’s because she’s gone on you.
you talk too much, it’s been on every report card since you were in year 5. your teachers recommended an adhd assessment, but the waiting lists were too long and your parents couldn’t afford to go private. so you’ve been bouncing off the walls since you were in school.
you met simon outside a coffee shop, whilst going to your corporate job, and after he’d been discharged. he seemed hollow, too silent, and you’d spilled coffee all over him, forgetting you didn’t have an extra arm when you were adjusting your bag’s strap.
you’d apologised (eight times) offered him another coffee (he wanted it black) and then talked his ear off for the next three hours. he didn’t say much, just nodded or shook his head, but you spoke enough for the two of you.
you left with his number on a piece of tissue, and that was how it began.
now, holding violet in your arms as she babbles away, you love to play with her, speak to her in baby talk, she’s so intelligent. but when she babbles at simon, it’s hilarious, because he doesn’t know what to say.
she’s always making him smile though, and she can’t get enough of her dada anyway, so you count that as a win.
her hands bat the scars on his cheek, twisting the skin, but he just smiles again.
“dada scar.” she says, seriously, “hurt?”
he looks at you, and then back at her, “not anymore.”
“no more?” she asks, her eyes big as she presses her face into the cheek. “owie.”
“no more owie.” he whispers, before putting a kiss on her head. she starts to babble again about her new favourite colour (it’s green, today.) and his eyes catch yours.
WARNINGS :: cursing, breakdown at work, getting yelled at by coworker, not understanding social cues (?), “blocked” joke, reader gets lost (?) in the grocery store, reader menstruates, reader takes meds, readers current hyperfixation is one piece (cause my current hyperfixation is one piece 😈😈😈), fluff, wee bit of angst
IN WHICH… you struggle w/ adhd, but your boyfriend is right next to you always supporting you <3
A/N :: i love the authors note cause im just screaming into a void. also i love making these but I hate formatting them bc tumblr hates me 10 ss
TW: angst, arguments, feelings of not belonging, ADHD mentioned once.
Comment to be added to the Taglist!
1.5k words
A/N: Just to preface, I'm medically diagnosed with ADHD, but that is not to say that my experience is everyone's experience with ADHD. This oneshot focuses more on the feelings of not belonging rather than ADHD itself.
You were always too much for people. A frequent consequence of being ADHD. It’s impossible to live up to the standards of society. Always somehow doing something wrong. It’s to dim your brightness, but still try to keep your flame flickering. Trying to be yourself, but trying to also, you don’t know, not be annoying?
“(Name), calm down. It’s not that serious.”
“You’re being a bit loud, don’t you think?”
You’ve tried so hard to find that “happy middle” that everyone wants you to be. Even your own parents can’t stand to be around your hyperactive self, claiming it’s exhausting. Eventually, you just shut down. Never talked more than you needed. Avoiding conversation as if it were the plague. No one knew you. And it was just hard never being able to be yourself without fear of rejection. There was not a single soul on this Earth you trusted with your heart. But then came Nanami.
It started off sweet. Tiny glances. First impressions. Fleeting touches. It seemed that you two found a mutual crush. Then it turned into something more. Going on dates. Meeting the parents. Moving in together. To getting married. You thought you had found the man who would make you happy forever.
He told you he loved the way you stood out in public with animated gestures and a wide grin on your face. Finding the way you jumped up from the couch when he came home to be adorable. Or when you would hang off on his neck, trying to get him to stay home, he felt wanted. You were just a happy person and Nanami was drawn to it. You thought he was okay with you being you. I mean he TOLD you he loved you, right?
But things have just been odd.
And you can’t understand what the change even is, but you can feel it. Cracking your heavy eyes open, you find his side of the bed neatly made. He didn’t wake you for a goodbye kiss? And the next morning, your kitchen counter is empty. Which is odd because every morning your sweet husband would make breakfast for you just so you wouldn’t have to take your meds on an empty stomach. Maybe he woke up late, but that doesn’t really sound like Nanami.
Then he started working late nights, claiming the office fired workers, so he was picking up the slack. When he was home, you could find him in rooms where you were not. Watching his face wince every time you open your mouth. Something is wrong.
The dining room is silent beyond the occasional clicking of forks to plates. Usually, you both sit side by side. Him, listening to your laughter and yap sessions, telling you not to talk with your mouth full. With you disregarding it completely and talking anyways. Yet today, he opted to sit at opposite sides of the table. Apparently the wine glass he’s nursing is better company than you are.
“I have a company dinner this week.” He says dully, patting his mouth with his napkin rigidly. “I’m required to bring a plus one.”
Looking up from your plate, you smile widely. This is the first thing he has said to you all evening, “It’s me, right? It’s me?” you beam.
“Yes.” He says shortly. He doesn’t even spare you a glance.
You gasp, “O-M-G, yay! What’s the dress code? Do you know? I’m going to buy the most beautiful dress.”
He winces. You pretend not to notice. “I am unsure. I will have to check the itinerary.” He states, standing up from the table without saying anything more. Creases form between your brows. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you call out, “Kento?”
He sighs, “Yes?”
Your fork plays with your food as you look back down. “I was just wondering if maybe you wanted to watch a movie with me tonight. I don’t know, we just haven’t really had time for each other, I guess. I miss you.”
“I cannot tonight. The office needs the checking documents faxed as soon as possible.” Nanami picks up his plate and pauses, “Don’t wait for me. I’ll be working all night.”
“Oh.” Your hand clenches the fork. “Okay then.”
Feeling utterly rejected, you fight the hot tears that threaten to fall. Nanami Kento, who is normally so perceptive of your emotions, closes the door to his study with a soft thud.
As the days passed closing in on the dinner party, you felt yourself begin to cave inwards. For someone so loud and bright, you became quiet and dim. You haven’t said so much as a word to Nanami. You became a ghost in your home and the worst part is that your husband never even noticed or maybe he stopped caring.
The light hum of his engine comes to a halt when he finally pulls up to the company building. The hard set of his jaw tells you that he’s stressed. You stretch your hand outwards to him, only to hesitate and clasp it back into your chest. You’d only make it worse. He opens his door in one swoop movement, traveling over to your side.
Helping you out of the car, he holds your arm to his side. He’s only doing this because eyes that are not your own are on him. It leaves a bitter taste on your tongue. You open your mouth to speak, but he beats you to it. “Just act normal, okay?”
Craning your head to glance at him, you repeat, “Normal?”
He nods, staring straight ahead. “No theatrics or anything of the sort.”
Don’t be yourself. “Got it.”
Walking in, the first couple, The Hillsbury’s, come to greet you. You’ve known the wife for around 2 years now. Normally, you meet to get coffee or at parties like these. She is just as vibrant as ever with her husband holding her hand, gazing down at her when she pulls you into a huge hug. “(Name), where have you been? I feel like I haven’t seen you at any of the company events recently!”
Air gets trapped in your lungs. You tensely laugh, “what events?” She lets you go and you return to Nanami’s side.
“Did Nanami forget to tell you? Events have been going on all week. Although this is the party where wives are explicitly invited.” She looks between you, confused. The husband does the same. “Oh, right!” You cover up your shock. “I wasn’t feeling well these past few days.”
Which wasn’t a complete lie. Honestly, you feel sick to your stomach now. She narrows her eyes, but doesn’t press further. The night progresses on just as shaky as it started. With him pretending everything is fine and you trying your best to act “normal” or whatever that is. Attending these dinner parties used to be such a joy for you, but now you dread the next conversation.
“And how is life going for you?” Sherry, one of the many receptionists at the company, asks you. The words get caught in your throat. What’s a good response? What can you say that won’t upset him? Should you lie? “I— it’s been—” you clear your throat, “I suppose well…”
You feel his hand tighten on your arm. The conversation awkwardly trails off after that.
Setting down your purse on the kitchen counter, you hold back tears once again.
“I was on the cusp of a promotion.” Nanami stands beside you, staring you down. “We have different definitions of acting normal.”
“My normal or what you want me to be?” Your voice is raw.
He scoffs loudly, “They’re the same.” Breaking his stare to pour himself a glass of wine. His way of avoiding hard topics. You watch him down the drink. Unbelievable. He has to get drunk to handle talking to you.
You grit your teeth, “No. They aren’t.” Storming away to your shared bedroom, you slam the door shut. Grabbing the suitcase from under your bed, you furiously shove clothes into it.
The door knob rattles with a loud knock following. “Oh please-”
“I’m so fucking done with this bullshit.” You yell through the door. Your vision gets blurry every time you blink away the tears. “You knew who I was when you met me and you certainly knew it when you married me. You don’t get to try to change me now!”
“I haven’t tried to do a single thing with you.” His defensive voice is muffled through the door.
Throwing the last necessities into the suitcase, you begin to zip it up. “Exactly! You hide in your office every night instead. You don’t come to bed! When’s the last time we’ve held a conversation? A real one.”
“I—” Nanami sputters.
When you finally unlock the door, he comes bursting in immediately. His shirt and tie disheveled with his hair all tangled. His eyes frantically trail over you and then your suitcase. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“You don’t get to decide how much of me I should be. It’s all or nothing.” You push past him. “Take the bed. I won’t be here.”
“(Name), where are— It’s not safe out there—” He shouts out, but you’re already gone.
You're overstimulated and shut down, and Angel isn't getting any responses from you anymore, so she sends her ultimate weapon. Ronin.
Me? Get obsessed and hyperfixated over a game with dangerous people in it? idk what you're talking about.
Tags: Ronin/Reader, Gender neutral reader, AuDHD Reader, Neurodivergent Reader, Shutdown, Overstimulation, Fluff, Comfort, Angst, Soft Ronin Beaufort
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It has been a… long day, to say the least, your ears ringing and eyes still letting go of echoes of bright lights where you work, the slightest touch sets you on edge, rubbing you the wrong way that you just can't cope with. Every sound is too much, you can't even bring yourself to write, so you just lay in your desk chair, with your softest blanket underneath you to avoid any more unwanted overstimulation from touching the chair.
The slaughterhouse is open on your desktop, your private chat with Angel is what you've left it as, staring at the worried responses she's sent you all day when you told her just how exhausted you are.
Notifications start, and you fight through the full body tired you feel, dragging your leaden arm up to mute the server, dropping it when you've hit the buttons and you can't push yourself any further. Still, you watch the messages flow, unable to puzzle out how to turn down the brightness of your desktop when your mind is so overloaded with thoughts the way it is right now.
Misaki seems to be yapping with Luca about something, you're struggling to process exactly what it is they're talking about, but you try to read the messages anyway. And oh, Felicie has joined now too, of course, wherever Luca is, she isn't far behind. Angel and V pipe up every now and then, making small comments on the side, and you still haven't worked out what's going on, even when Vince and Ai Hua come into the conversation. The flow of messages oddly soothes you, consistent and calming, even though the constant movement on your screen adds to the overstimulation you feel. Until eventually even that movement is too much, so now you're just looking at the send button.
It occurs to you that the only person not talking now (apart from you and The Executioner Bot) is Ronin, which… is not something you have the energy to deal with right now. So you sit there, silent and unmoving, knees pressed to your chest and hands in between, hating the way your skin feels, wishing there was a way to pull it off and rinse it clean until it felt right again, fighting not to reach your hands into your hair and drag the greasiness up into it and make you feel worse (even though you just washed your hair yesterday, it shouldn't feel like this already) or pick at your face, nails digging sharply into anything that sticks out, making your skin feel worse than it already does.
And you're so overwhelmed, and bone tired, any movement seems like too much, even though you'd like to be curled up in a ball in the smallest, darkest place you can fit into. Your hair brushes your skin and you hug your limbs closer, avoiding the itchy painful touch that makes you want to cry and scream (but you never do).
You want to pull your hair out of your scalp, you need your skin off your face and arms and hands and scalp and you need it all off now (you whimper into your knees). Maybe… maybe if you ask… but you're so tired it hurts, it aches and you want your limbs severed too, take them off, make them stop, cut the muscles to loosen them up and make it all stop hurting please (tears sting your skin from where you've scrubbed too hard)(you cry but it doesn't make a sound)
Something screams and your hands snap up to block your ears, eyes squeezing shut until you realise it was your computer, another notification. It screams again (it's not a scream, it's not, but it's so loud) but before you can do anything, Ronin's chat replaces main.
<goreboy> an angel told me that something Is up with you darling
care to Let me help with what's going On?
And oh, you forgot that Angel and Ronin are so close, and that Angel cares about you too, so if she can't help, she'll get Ronin.
The messages sit there for a couple of minutes, and you stare at them, even the thought of moving your arms to type out a response hurts. So you wait.
<goreboy> it's Very cruel of you to sit there and ignore me
after Everything i'm trying to do for You, baby
There's another long pause, as though he's waiting for you to respond (your muscles are pulled tight as ropes, and you can't loosen them, joints aching in a way you can't fix)
<goreboy> Okay, i'm calling U.
Your hands are up to your ears again when the wailing starts (he's ringing you), fingers clenching into your hair, pulling it tight and painful (you're sobbing silently into your knees, lips forming pleas for it to stop, but no sound comes out)
And then it stops (you're still crying, the tears sting your cheeks and you want your skin off so bad why does it hurt) hands are still gripping your hair, threatening to pull chunks out but you can't manage to loosen your grip.
Ronin takes in the image of you, skin bare and shivering, knuckles white where you're clenching your hair, head bowed almost to your knees, but not touching, red lines trailing up your forearms where your nails have dragged against your skin, and his chest tightens, "Shit darlin'."
A gasping sob comes from you, and your head lifts up, eyes locking onto your boyfriend (great, your heart aches now too)
"Darlin, okay, breathe in for me?"
No response comes, your gaze has dropped slightly, taking a shuddering breath, the tears have started to hurt worse now, and one of your hands drops, roughly wiping your tears away and whining when it stings painfully.
"Baby? Fuck, alright hold on, I'm coming over, I'll be there in a moment." Ronin's standing up, leaning over the keyboard, and your heart stops, (he's leaving you) "Can you, shit, you gonna be fine if I leave the call? Cause you're not fine, so I'm thinking I move this to my phone while I'm on my way. Can you nod your head for me darlin' if that sounds like a good idea."
You swallow thickly, and nod your head slowly, eyes now on the ground, so you don't see the way Ronin's shoulders lower in relief, softening at the reassurance that you're still with him.
"Good, good, oh darlin', okay, I'm going to take a minute, but I'll be back, I'm not going to ring," Ronin's lips quirk up, and one hand is lifted up, fingers are pressed to his lips before he tilts his hand back and blowing, "And I'm calling your phone this time, so turn off your computer."
Your eyes are shut again when you hear the call sound end, and you tiredly move your hand to the mouse and shut down your desktop. Dragging yourself out of the chair is hard, but eventually you're on the floor, curled up under the desk with your blanket laid out underneath you.
Cool hard plastic digs into your palms as you clutch your phone tightly, not noticing when Ronin has called you.
The room around you is dark, so dark Ronin can barely make out your face, mainly seeing a silhouette of your head. You've moved, that much he can tell, but where? he isn't quite sure.
He's got earbuds in now, to try and block out the background noise of the outside world, but he mutes himself when he goes outside, just in case.
It's not much, to be on call with you, he's mostly focused on getting to you as quickly as possible. That being said, he still checks his phone every ten seconds, just to see in case you've moved, in case he's missed something, in case something has happened to you when he wasn't looking.
But you're still there, curled up and unmoving in the dark, never making a sound.
Soon enough he's at your place, keys in hand, jingling quietly as he puts it into the lock, twisting it until it clicks open, and then he's in, hanging up the call, shoes off by the door which he locks behind himself, keys placed on the table before he pads through to your room.
Blinds are closed, lights are off, and you're nowhere to be seen. Not curled up in your bed like he'd expected, so he starts to search the floor, eyes tracking over every centimeter, before he has to step further into your room. Only then does he notice the blanket peeking out from under your desk, and he smiles.
Ronin doesn't even have to think, crouching down beside your desk, reaching a hand out to you, offering, but never pushing.
"I'm here now darlin' why don't you come out, hm? I'm sure the bed would be much more comfortable."
You don't take his hand, still curled tight as tight can be, shaking your head violently and gasping uneven breaths.
"Shit, alright baby, I'mma get a pillow to sit on then, and I'm gonna get your drink bottle while I'm up. I'll be back in a moment sweet thing."
He stands, grabbing a pillow off your bed and finding your drink bottle where it's perched on the bedside table, deciding that it's not even nearly full enough, Ronin leaves the room quietly to fill it up before returning to you.
The quiet house gives Ronin time to think on the whole situation. He knows about your neurodivergence, but what-
Oh. Oh.
Overstimulation seems to be one part of this, the fact that you're undressed aside from the bare minimum, the soft blanket that was on your chair but now on your floor, giving you something safe to touch, your reaction to him calling the first time, hands clamped over your ears, the whine when something touched your face, all the lights being off, and the blinds closed. Shit he should have noticed earlier.
And shutdown would be the rest, unable to talk, give much of any response, the desire to be curled up so tight and safe, somewhere small, the exhaustion he saw when you made any movements at all.
So he returns to your room, places your drink bottle down close to you so that you're able to reach it, and he sits, with his hand placed on the soft blanket, so that you know he's there.
Ronin doesn't really know how long the two of you stay there, he watches the way your form relaxes over time, grip becoming looser, limbs drooping to the floor. Eventually you finally reach for your drink bottle, taking a few sips before resettling, still curled up, but nowhere near as tight as before.
There's a soft smile on his face when you look up at him for the first time today, when he takes off his jacket, folding it up and placing it away from both of you, relaxing back into the wall.
Through it all, his hand remains outstretched, and when your face stops stinging as much, and you can't feel every follicle of hair, every bit of oil or grease on your skin, when your limbs start to hurt less, and your muscles don't feel quite as tight, you reach back, taking his hand in both of yours, and moving, slowly, wobbling like a baby deer, until you're in his lap, curling into Ronin, head buried in his chest, inhaling the familiar, comforting scent.
"There we go, just keep breathing for me darlin', I've got you." Ronin pauses, "Can I hold you? Nod your head if I can, otherwise-"
You're nodding your head, and arms are wrapped around you instantly, holding you closer, warmth surrounding you (you're safe).
And you're held, for what feels like eternity and less than a second, before your limbs go lax in Ronin's grasp and your breathing evens out. When he looks down at you, your eyes are shut, and you finally look peaceful. So Ronin scoops you into his arms, and carries you over to your bed, laying you down and tucking you in, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
He stands, searching for a scrap of paper and a pencil to write with, finding some and jotting out a note in case you wake up before he finishes making dinner.
Your arms clumsily wrap around Ronin from behind, resting your cheek on the back of his shoulder.
"Hey there darlin'." You can hear Ronin's smile (and boy is he smiling), "How'd you sleep?"
"Good." You mumble, still fighting off the last bits of sleep, "Miss'd you."
"Oh aren't you just the sweetest." Ronin twists in your arms until he's facing you, one hand on your waist, the other on the small of your back, and he leans in, pressing his lips to your neck and whispering, "I missed you too."
boy do i love making characters soft :)
Killer chat has eaten away at my brain and there is nothing else left guys. I'm feral now.
Is it puppy play if reader likes to be called pup and wear a collar. Asking for research reasons. (no one look at me, the shame is the elephant in the room.)
cw: kinda fauxcest ? (reader referred to as kid,), fluff, puppy play? (reader wears a collar and called pup)
You don’t really know where the idea came from—well, besides the fanfics and books, if you’re being honest. But lately, it’s all you can think about: a collar. Not tight enough to choke, just snug enough that you can feel it. You’d read that some neurodivergent people find comfort in compression, that a little pressure can quiet the noise in their heads. You’re not saying you’re diagnosed or anything—though Simon probably suspects something—but the thought stuck with you. It wasn’t about kink, not really. You were just…curious.
And one sleepless night, after too much tossing and turning, curiosity wins. You open your laptop, find a site that sells safe collars, and pick one in your favorite color—because of course you do. Fifteen minutes later, your shoulders feel lighter, and you drift off with a small, content smile.
The package shows up two days later, small enough that it almost looks innocent. You’d planned to grab it before Simon even noticed, but of course, he was already in the kitchen when you came out of the shower, hair wrapped up in a towel, and the box sitting right there on the counter.
He nods towards it, “Yours?”
You scratch your neck nervously, your throat drying up, “uh–yea, just a thing I ordered.”
He hums, “You gonna open it?”
You hesitate, if you go to your room now, Simon will be suspicious—you always open your packages in front of him, excited to show him what you got. And trying to lie to Simon just didn't seem all that worth it. So you nod stiffly, step closer, and open the box. Inside is soft, pretty packaging.
You reach for it, and lay it gently on the counter, still unopened. But it's evident what it was.
Simon blinks, it's not often he's caught off guard, but he's learning that with you, it’s happening more and more. Then quietly, "you're gonna have to explain this one to me, kid.”
Your face burns. “It’s not what you think.”
He raises a brow.
You’ve never been good with words. “It’s just—” you exhale, words tripping over themselves. “Well you know how you think I have—that doesn't matter—I guess it does actually–”
“Kid,” Simon cuts in gently.
“Sorry.” You take a deep breath, “It’s not a kink thing. I just… I read that pressure helps ground people. And I thought maybe–I don’t know, it might help.”
There’s a long pause. Then he steps closer, his voice steady. “Alright.”
You blink. “Alright?”
He shrugs. “Makes sense, yeah? You like weighted blankets, don’t you?”
You nod. His easy acceptance—something you didn’t realize you were waiting for—loosens your chest. You pick up the collar and pull it from the packaging. It’s soft leather, bending flexibly between your fingers, the ring at the front catches the kitchen light.
He takes the collar from your hand, testing the leather between his fingers. “This one looks decent. Not too tight, though. You’ll let me check the fit?”
Your heart stumbles over itself, “O-okay.” Then quieter, “It’s adjustable.”
He hums and fastens it gently around your neck, his fingers brushing the back of your skin. The buckle clicks into place, not constricting, just there—a steady, grounding weight.
“Breathe,” he murmurs, thumb resting lightly at your jaw. “Still good?”
You nod again, and his mouth tilts, the barest hint of a smile.
“Good. Looks right on you.”
The warmth in his voice makes something flutter in your chest. You glance away, embarrassed. “Stop.”
He leans in just a little, voice low, steady. “Relax, pup.”
The word lands casually, almost accidental—but it steals your breath all the same. Your body reacts before your mind does, shoulders dropping, pulse easing under the pressure of the collar.
You don’t say anything for a moment. You just feel it. The sound of his voice, the weight around your throat, the strange, overwhelming calm that follows.
Simon notices. Of course he does. His hand comes up again, thumb brushing the edge of the collar. “Yeah,” he murmurs, like he’s just figured something out. “Thought so.”
You’re rendered speechless, no thought in your head that could scrounge up a single word.
“Si-,” you try, because you’re kind of freaking out, but the pressure is grounding all at the same time.
He cups your face,making sure your wandering attention settles on him. “It's a fine pup, just breathing. You are fine, kid. You like it, yea?”
You nod.
“Then nothing else to think about,” he murmurs. “Puppies don't need to use their head, not when I'm here.”
Safe to say you discovered something new about yourself.
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a/n: ૮ ․ ․ ྀིა (ᵕ•_•) sorry fr...sickos (me + whoever liked this)...love you guys
i saw your story with the reader with adhd. could you do one with malleus/azul? if not both then you can pick which one
Thank you so much for the request! It took me a while, but I was just waiting for something about my ADHD to irk me enough to make me want to write something about it with some actual emotion! (I'll do Malleus in another post <3)
ADHD Reader Part 2
(Part 1)
TW: Mentions of meds and brain fog, struggles that come with ADHD, struggles that come with certain ADHD meds, appetite issues
AN: As you guys probably already know, I have ADHD. I base these off my own struggles, but those struggles won't fit with all people who have ADHD and, similarly, relating to some aspects does not mean you have it either. Talk to a healthcare professional if you think you may have it and want to find ways to accommodate it such as meds and whatnot. ALSO, I, personally, take Adderall so that's what I'll be basing medication side effects on.
Lastly, this fic is not meant to paint ADHD in a negative light or victimize those who have it. There are plenty of good things that come with it, I'm just choosing to delve into the negative stuff as a way of coping with some of my own symptoms <3
Riddle had invited you to an unbirthday party after school and, as usual, you agreed to come. Crewel had recently managed to get you on meds for your ADHD and, from what you could tell, the medication would be virtually the same as the one you were on in your old world. Your assumption only gained more legitimacy once the negative side effects you were oh so used to started showing themselves.
You arrived at the unbirthday party with Grim right on time and took a seat next to Riddle. The party went on as usual, except you didn't really eat. It's not that you weren't hungry, you were; you were starving. However, just looking at all the pastries made you feel sick. It didn't exactly worry you though.
Appetite problems are a well-known issue people with ADHD can struggle with, and for a variety of reasons. Sometimes it can be the condition itself that causes it, and sometimes medication can be the core of the problem. In your case, it was the medication at the moment.
The medicine the psychiatrist prescribed you was, as far as you could tell, a replica of your world's Adderall. You knew from experience that Adderall could cause losses of appetite; your body just happens to feel that side effect rather strongly.
You grabbed some assorted nuts from a bowl next to you and picked at them for the duration of the party, eating a few once you felt like you could stomach more.
When the party was just about over Riddle pulled you aside to take a walk with him through the gardens. The two of you walked in relative silence through the maze of roses until finally stopping at a round pergola covered in a thick wall of rose vines that provided some much-appreciated shade from the harsh evening sun.
As the two of you sit down on one of the benches circling the inside of the structure, Riddle breaks the silence "Was. . .was the assortment of pastries today not to your liking?" You can tell Riddle has had this question biting at him for a while from how his voice shakes a little with timidness despite how he tries to sound unfazed and cordial.
"No. I'm sure it was all lovely. Your dorm has the best pâtissier on the island, after all." you reply casually to his inquiry.
Silence falls for a few moments once more, the only sound being that of the gently rustling leaves from the rose vines surrounding you as a soft breeze brushes past them. The refreshing scent of the blooming flowers creates a relaxing atmosphere. Well, for you at least.
After a moment Riddle clears his throat. "Then. . .may I ask why you did not seem to partake much in the spread?" Riddle's tone is undeniably tense and palpably hesitant.
"Well. . .how do I explain this without sounding rude." You sigh, pulling your legs up onto the bench to sit criss cross. "My medicine can really mess with my appetite."
Riddle immediately perks up. "Why would that sound rude?"
"Well, because. . .it's not that I'm not hungry. But. . .the thought of some foods, depending on the day and time, makes me feel like vomiting even if I usually like it."
Riddle nods understandingly, his shoulders much less tense now. He only seems to become more understanding when you tell him what medicine you're on. With all of his studying to go into the med field he'd heard the name here and there along with its side effects. "I see. Do you at least get your proper nutrients every day?"
"I try my best." You smile.
Your answer leaves Riddle a little on edge, but he decides to brush it off for the time being. "Just let me know if you ever need my help. . .or just someone to talk to." Riddle stands up next to you and turns to face you: extending a hand "How about we go check the Heartslabyul kitchen to see if there's anything you feel like you can eat."
The botanical garden was warm and bright as usual. You sat in the grass at the base of a tree reading and rereading a page from your textbook. The assignment was to read the section and then answer questions on it, but the whole reading thing wasn't really going too well. With a tired sigh you lean your head back to stare up at the canopy of leaves above you. You close your eyes for a moment and take a deep breath. However, when you open your eyes once more you are not met with the green leaves of the tree and dappled sunlight. Instead you see the familiar face of a certain lion beastman staring down at you.
"What's with the melodramatic sighing, Herbivore? I'm trying to sleep." Leona's words come out as an annoyed growl, but, having known him for a while now, you can tell he's not particularly mad at you or anything.
"I can't focus." you reply shortly, looking back down at the book in your lap only for it to no longer be there. There's a grunt beside you as Leona takes a seat with your textbook in hand. "I need that." you sigh, reaching for the book only for it to be lifted out of your reach.
"What happened to the little star student you've become recently?" Leona smirks as he glimpses over the words on the page.
"I have an attention disorder and my meds wore off." you explain, finally snatching the book from the man.
Leona doesn't seem particularly shocked and simply hums. "Cheka has onea those."
"I had a hunch." You reply, holding up your question sheet and staring at it as though the answers will just suddenly appear.
"Want me to read if for you?" Leona suddenly asks: eyeing the textbook in your lap.
"Huh?" You stare wide-eyed. Surely you heard him wrong. There's no way the notoriously lazy-
"I asked if ya wanted me to read if aloud for ya so you can focus on the questions."
You blink for a moment: dumbfounded.
"It's a yes of no question, Herbivore." Leona narrows his eyes at you.
"uh. . .sure?"
To your surprise, Leona actually does as he offers. He reads the text slow enough to make sure you don't miss any important information and stops to let you write out answers. If you miss something he stops and points out what you passed over.
Before you know it you've finished the worksheet.
You pack your things into your bag but, before you can get up to leave, Leona stops you. He tosses your bag to the side and flops his head down onto your lap.
"Leona. . .what are you doing?"
"You didn't think I'd help you for free, did ya?"
That's how you got stuck being Leona's personal pillow for an hour until Ruggie came to drag the lion off to spelldrive practice.
You sat in one of the booths in the monstro lounge with your notebook on the table in front of you. It was opened to a blank page, a page that had been blank for the entire half hour since you opened to it. Your head was laid on the table next to the empty page faced toward the scarcely populated lounge as you stared blankly off into the distance.
With a sigh, you sit up and stare at the page, pencil tapping restlessly against the tabletop. Then, moments later, you go back to laying your head on the table with yet another sigh.
Azul, who had been watching this seemingly endlessly repeating cycle from across the lounge finally gets up and crosses the room to stand beside the booth table. "Is there a problem, Prefect?" he asks in his usual sickeningly sweet tone, giving you a slightly irritated smile.
"Mmn," you grumble. Azul takes it as a no, but remains standing where he is.
"I can't say I believe you." He replies with a twitch of his eye.
You shrug limply.
Azul stands there for a moment longer before sighing and letting his smile drop before he sits across from you in the booth. "You have been at this table for half an hour now and your page remains blank. You told me when you came in that you were going to be working on an essay."
You're quiet just long enough for Azul to question if you fell asleep with your eyes open before you finally sit up, once more tapping your pencil. "Can't think." you sigh.
Azul is about to open his mouth when you add "My medicine wore off. It leaves me with brain fog sometimes. I think I'm just going to have to give up for today and just work on it tomorrow during lunch."
Azul's brows furrow before relaxing. "Come by the board game club tomorrow before classes. I can help you with it then since you lost some of your work time today. Floyd has a similar problem quite frequently, so I've gotten pretty good at assisting in the writing of last-minute essays."
". . .what would I owe you?" you ask suspiciously.
"Nothing. I was supposed to tutor Floyd during that time, but he has basketball practice he forgot about. I already cut out a space in my schedule so it would just go to waste otherwise."
You look at him skeptically but agree anyway.
The next morning, upon entering the club room, you're greeted with a few small, assorted snacks and a warm drink along with a certain octomer who seems to be trying desperately to act like he just happened to have it all laying around.
Sevika's job is cruel and grueling, but providing small acts of service makes her feel like a normal person at the end of the day. It's a reminder to herself that she's a lover, that she hasn't lost her way of caring, that she is more than her job. If it was up to her, her girlfriend wouldn't ever have to lift a finger again.
or; Sevika's acts of service
(lowk adhd coded reader bc samesies)
.oOo.
Sevika sighs when she steps foot into her and her partners shared closet, or should she say stepped foot onto her partners clothes. She sighs; not out of annoyance or frustration, maybe a little out of inconvenience, but she's unable to feel any real malice behind it. She's always known, even before moving in together, how forgetful and messy her partner could be.
Messy isn't Sevika's choice of words though. Her girlfriend certainly isn't dirty or slobbish. She just has a tendency to become very easily distracted, often leaving traces of her forgetfulness behind as her brain had already moved on to its next task. Maybe disorganized was a better word. But that didn't seem right either. It's not the first time Sevika has failed to capture her partner in words though.
It's not uncommon that there's forgotten clothes left behind as her girlfriend rushed to get ready for work earlier that morning. Or that there's jackets and sweaters left on the couch and the backs of chairs that had been forgotten about. Or that only Sevika's side of the bathroom sink has more than an inch of visible counter space. Or that there's a pile of laundry sitting on top of the dryer that her partner swore she would put away "tomorrow".
Sevika loves this about her partner. While at first her girlfriend was shameful of this forgetfulness, always profusely apologizing at the realization of her mess, Sevika had done more than enough to reassure her that she really doesn't mind. Sometimes to this day her partner does feel apologetic, but it's no longer from guilt or anxiety, it's more so out of frustration with herself.
Sevika appreciates that it gives her an easy service to do. For most people, coming home from work to almost tripping over a small pile of clothes would be enough to set them off. When Sevika comes home from a long day to a pile of clothes, she uses this task to allow herself a release from that hard and rough front she puts on all day at her job. It took 10 seconds to put away her girlfriend's clothes, and 10 seconds to be reminded of who she really is. She's still a human who has the ability to do no harm. Who is not only capable of loving, but also of being loved.
This mess is an indicator of her and her girlfriend's safety. She's safe, in their own home, where expectations and pressures are non-existent. Her girlfriend is safe, even feels safe enough to leave a mess in the first place. The ability to let yourself be messy around someone is something only a deep trust can bring about.
Sevika turns those 10 seconds into 30 as she chooses to fold up one of her own shirts, placing it on top of her girlfriend's side for when she gets home from work.
.oOo.
While her partner may be forgetful, Sevika always remembered. She never minded having to remember for the both of them. Though sometimes the questions of "Do you know where-?" can get quite repetitive, Sevika knows it's only asked because her girlfriend knows she has it handled. Sevika takes great pride in the underlying confidence and trust that her girlfriend has in her to take care of things.
"Do you know where my lighter is?" Sevika looks up from her place on the couch, where her eyes were buried in a book. "You have probably 10 around the house, babe. Which one?" She easily averts all of her attention towards her partner, not minding the interruption one bit. Not from her, at least.
"I don't know, just any of them?" She hears the opening and closing of drawers as she searches. Sevika sighs and shifts, her hand grasping onto the circular clipper lighter, and she gets a quick flash of pink and grey in between her fingers as she pulls it out. It's one of her girlfriend's lighters, to be exact.
"Here, Hun." She holds the lighter above her head so the girl can see it from behind the couch. She hears the immediate footsteps on the creaking wood of their living room, until the lighter is gleefully snatched from Sevika's fingers. Her partner leans over the back of the couch, pressing a kiss to the top of Sevika's head. Sevika's own hand snakes around to hold the back of her girlfriend's neck, and she tilts her head up to capture her lips before she has a chance to pull away.
"I want that one back though, it's always my backup for when you lose your other nine." Sevika teases, nothing but adoration showing through not only her eyes but her tone as well. She can't hide the smile that graces her dark tinted lips when she sees how flustered the girl gets.
.oOo.
Sevika has a love-hate relationships with mornings. She loves the quiet moments she spends with her girlfriend as they get ready together, but hates when they inevitably have to part ways for the day. So she cherishes every second of their quiet mornings.
She finally rolls out of bed when the bathroom light has remained on for a couple minutes too long, sleepily trudging through their shared bedroom to reach the light. She's met with her favorite sight: her girlfriend leaned over the sink as she does her makeup for the day.
Sevika was never one for makeup past her casual eyeliner and lipstick, but there was something so attractive to her about watching a partner do it. Maybe it was because she loves the femininity of it, or maybe it was the intimacy of being allowed to share such an important part of a daily routine with someone. She's too tired to really consider the "why's" at the moment.
She takes a step towards her girlfriend and presses her own front to her back, her arms wrapping around the girls waist. Sevika watches in the mirror as her girlfriend's smile grows. "Morning, Vika." Her partner mumbles tiredly, adoringly. "Morning, hun." Sevika responds in a similar tone.
She stays where she is as she watches her girlfriend brush on her mascara, before deciding she should stop being a lovesick little puppy and actually help out a bit. She pulls back only slightly, just enough to reach for the necklace laying down on the counter beside her. The necklace her girlfriend has had for years, that one piece of staple jewelry that she is never seen without.
Sevika wordlessly wraps it around her girlfriend's front, and carefully clasps it around her neck. Her girlfriend had moved on to her lipstick by the time the chain and charm rested firmly against her chest. Sevika grabs her rings next, and once she's sure her girlfriend can finish her task with a single hand, she softly grabs the other in her own.
She slides on each of the rings, knowing the exact placement of each one. She intertwines her fingers as the last ring is in place, and repeats the same process on her other hand as soon as the lipstick is set back down on the counter. Not a single word has to be spoken, but when they lock eyes in the bathroom mirror, a silent appreciation is made known.
(non-specific, but I try to add as much as I can to make everyone feel included. I will probably make one specific for my personal things in the future, but this is just a general one :))
ALSO I know I usually do all of the Batfam, but I’m still working on ideas for the others, so I will have to just post it with the main batsons (Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, Bruce)
Bruce has found out he has another biological child, but they’re neurodivergent:
Bruce had, of course, known about your diagnoses (if you have one) beforehand. He thought it’d be fine- he had dealt with so much more than just a kid who’s a little special, right?
He didn’t realize that there’s a big difference between a kid with severe trauma, and a kid who is naturally different than the rest of the people around them
So one thing he was surprised by was your ability to obsess/hyperfixate on something. It’s not like he minded buying you the merchandise, or bringing you to the cons, or listening to you talk for hours about your interest (he actually quite enjoys listening to you, and it makes it easier to shop for your birthday and Christmas), but he just didn’t expect to be fully taken aback by your enthusiasm
He also didn’t know how to handle your abnormalities with schoolwork, especially if you’re unmedicated. He still loved you, of course! He loved you so much. You’re his baby, no matter what age you are, but he’s had to learn to accommodate you
Dick has known many people, and he’d be lying if he said that none of his teammates or friends were neurodivergent, so he had a much easier time adjusting to your needs
You’re overwhelmed? Here, he has some earplugs and knows the perfect breathing exercises! You want to sit in complete silence and shut down? Dick will make you some little snacks and make sure everyone leaves you alone! You need to ramble? Dick wouldn’t mind listening!
He’s your brother- your OLDEST brother- and he wants you to rely on him/have somewhere to go
Jason is NOT equipped to handle this. He’s in the boat with Bruce of ‘trying to learn, but has a long ways to go’
Sometimes he says jokes you take too literally, so he’s had to teach himself to cool it a bit, or at least clarify that no, he does not hate you at all. Sometimes he gets too loud or worked up when you’re shutting down, so he’s gotten you to give him a signal when you need him to tone it down or just leave you be.
He’s trying. He may not understand as well as Dick or Tim, but he’s trying, and he appreciates that you’re being patient with him
Tim is great with you! He did his homework, obviously, (come on, he’s Tim!) and he’s got as many things as you’ll need. He’s learned to carry fidgets in his pockets, headphones/earplugs if needed, and is ready to help in social situations when needed.
You and him both are mutual yappers. He yaps, you listen, and vise versa. It’s actually very refreshing! You feel better, knowing you can both enjoy each other’s company
Damian, to everyone’s surprise, is the most understanding.
Actually, many people assume that Damian IS neurodivergent (whether he is or not, he’s never been tested), so he’s pretty pleased to have a siblings that understands he isn’t being irrational on some things.
You need things organized a certain way? Him too. You hate change? He wishes everything stayed static. You don’t feel emotions the same way as everyone else/respond inappropriately to situations? Finally, someone who gets it! (ASPD, certain people with ASD, etc.)
You end up being one of his new favorite siblings
Extra:
(I keep seeing theories that Batman is autistic/neurodivergent, and I think those are cute so here’s my take on if you and him both liked bats a lot because I need fluff in my life)
Okay, so Bruce gets you, his second biological child (or first, depending on age), in his custody, and what does he see?
Well, it’s you, but the second you walk inside and see ANY piece of Bat memorabilia, you get all excited! It’s so cute!
He watches you guess what kind of bat is which, show him your own toys/shirts/etc. of bats, and when he tells you he’s the BATMAN? He finally feels like a cool dad!
Alfred is frozen SOLID. It’s just a mini-Bruce.
Suddenly, Christmas is very easy when it comes to shopping. One year, Dick decides to get you both matching pajama sets, and Bruce felt like he could cry.
He likes to call you “Little Bat” and stuff, which starts to be caught on by the rest of the family. It doesn’t matter if your 3 or 18, he’ll always call you that.
(Lmk if you like this a lot because I’d LOVE to write more of just Bruce and reader being hyperfixated on bats together)
———
Tysm for reading!! I plan to finish this with the others. I love them all, but these were just the easiest to think up ideas for
if you have a specific condition you’d like me to write for, lmk!
Thank you for all the support btw! This is so fun are y’all are so sweet!! 💕
