Hi, I'm the one who requested the headcanons for how they’d react to their girlfriend feeling nervous about their gyn exam. I wondering if I could possibly expand on that and get a story of them taking their girlfriend to the dr/going with her and maybe a bit on how they comfort her after too ... 😶
Of course ☺️
L Lawliet
She fidgeted with the sleeve of her hoodie, sitting stiffly beside L in the overly sterile waiting room. Everything smelled like disinfectant and lavender. That combination alone was enough to make her nauseous, never mind the appointment itself.
L sat next to her, legs pulled up in his usual crouch on the chair, typing something on his phone with one hand while his other casually reached over and stole a grape from the small snack bag in her lap.
"You’re nervous," he said without looking up.
“I’m mortified,” she muttered, cheeks already flushed. “Why are pap smears even still a thing? We’re in the future. We have drones.”
L blinked. “Technically we have drones, yes. But gynecological exams still require direct—”
“Nope. Nope. Please don’t explain it,” she hissed, burying her face in her hands.
He glanced at her, then reached out and tugged lightly at one of her sleeves to pull her hands away. “You asked me to come. I’ll stay the whole time.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d actually mean it,” she said, heart thudding. “You don’t have to, L. I know this is weird.”
He blinked slowly. “I want to understand everything about you. Even the uncomfortable parts.”
The nurse had raised her eyebrows when she asked if her “companion” was staying during the exam. But she just nodded, and L settled himself into the corner of the room like a cryptid in a hoodie, quietly watching the process unfold like a case study.
She felt a wave of burning shame when her feet went into the stirrups. Cold air kissed her most intimate parts and she wanted to disappear.
“This is humiliating,” she muttered toward the ceiling.
L, sitting with his chin resting on his knees, spoke softly from his spot. “You’re incredibly brave.”
She huffed out a half-laugh. “You’re watching me get probed and you think brave is the right word?”
“I know torture when I see it,” he said, half joking, eyes focused but strangely gentle. “And you’re enduring it without even flinching.”
The doctor, thankfully professional and brisk, made it quick—but her face was on fire the entire time.
At one point she turned her head to look at L, and to her surprise, he wasn’t analyzing the doctor’s every move. He was watching her—carefully. Respectfully. Like he was trying to memorize what pain looked like in her expression so he’d know how to ease it later.
L walked her back to their place instead of calling a ride, insisting the cold air would help clear her mind. She didn't argue.
“I feel gross,” she muttered, arms wrapped tightly around herself.
He tilted his head. “You didn’t look gross. You looked... courageous.”
“That’s the weirdest compliment I’ve ever gotten.”
“I mean it,” he said. “You let someone make you vulnerable, even though you hated every second. You endured it. That makes you stronger than me.”
They sat on the edge of the bed when they got home. She leaned her head against his shoulder. He didn’t say anything, just let his fingers trail down her back in a lazy motion, drawing patterns she couldn’t see but felt like quiet comfort.
Then, softly, “If there’s ever something you want me to do—any version of support—you only have to say it once.”
She looked up at him, eyes glossy but smiling now. “What if I say ‘never make me do that again’?”
He considered it and mostly jokingly replied, “Then I’ll kidnap the top gynecological researcher in the country and make them invent a better alternative.”
She burst out laughing and tackled him onto the bed.
And just like that, the worst day of the year didn’t feel so bad anymore.
Light Yagami
“I’m really regretting inviting you,” she muttered, hugging her jacket around her in the waiting room.
Light glanced at her, perfectly composed in his dark coat, the picture of calm maturity. “Why? You said you were nervous. I want to be here for you.”
“Yeah, I didn’t think you’d actually come.”
He smiled, tilting his head slightly. “I don’t abandon people when they need support. You know that.”
She sighed. “It’s not exactly romantic. There’s a paper gown. And stirrups. And…”
Light squeezed her hand gently. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about. This is part of taking care of your health. Anyone who makes you feel ashamed for that is a fool.”
She raised a brow. “That’s very noble of you.”
He gave a quiet chuckle. “I try.”
The nurse led them into the exam room. Light stood while she changed into the thin paper gown, hands tucked politely in his coat pockets, facing the wall.
She emerged and got up on the table, trying not to look mortified.
“You don’t have to stay,” she muttered, cheeks red. “You really, really don’t.”
“I told you—I want to. I’m fine.”
That confidence lasted exactly until the doctor began pulling out shiny, cold metal instruments and explaining the exam aloud. Light's eyes slightly widened, but he stayed silent, standing just far enough back to be out of the way, close enough to hold her gaze when she looked over nervously.
When her feet went into the stirrups, her whole body tensed.
Light stepped forward, gently resting a hand on her shoulder.
“I’m here,” he said softly. “Just look at me.”
So she did. And somehow, despite the discomfort, the awkward angle, the stupid gown, and the cold, sterile room—having him there, calm and present, made it just a little less awful.
He didn’t flinch. Not once.
Even when she squeezed his hand so hard she thought she might break a bone.
The walk home was quiet.
“You were quiet,” she finally said.
“I didn’t want to embarrass you. Or make it about me.”
“That’s… surprisingly thoughtful.”
“I may be self-centered, but I do learn,” he said with a slight smirk.
She smiled, but it faded as she mumbled, “I still feel gross. I hate being that exposed. I hate that I needed you there.”
He stopped and turned to her. “Needing someone doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human. And if being seen at your most vulnerable scared you, then let me say this—” He reached over, gently lifting her chin to look at him. “Nothing about what I saw made me think less of you. If anything, it made me love you more. For being strong enough to let me be there.”
She blinked back tears, lips parting.
Then Light added, deadpan, “Though I will be having a quiet panic attack about that metal instrument later tonight.”
She laughed through her tears, pressing her forehead to his.
“Thank you, Light.”
“Always,” he whispered. “Even when it’s awkward. Especially then.”
Mihael Keehl
“This place smells like bleach and fear,” Mello muttered under his breath, arms crossed as he slouched in the waiting room chair.
His girlfriend let out a long sigh, sinking into herself, hoodie drawn up like armor. “You don’t have to stay, Mihael. I mean it. It’s already awkward enough.”
Mello’s brows furrowed. “Why would I leave you here? So you can be poked and prodded by some stranger with cold hands and zero bedside manner while you're humiliated in a paper napkin?”
She winced. “God, please stop talking.”
He huffed, leaning over to whisper, “You think I’m gonna let anyone make you feel uncomfortable and just walk away? Not happening.”
Her heart fluttered, even though her face was turning beet red. He wasn’t subtle. Or graceful. But he was hers—and loyal to a fault.
She changed behind the curtain, heart pounding, voice trembling. “I really don’t want you to see me like this.”
Mello stayed seated, facing the wall like she’d asked. “You don’t have to prove anything to me, you know.”
“I know,” she whispered. “But still. This is… personal. Ugly personal.”
“I’ve seen blood, guts, bullet wounds, and worse. None of that made me flinch. But if something hurts you—that’s the only thing that actually gets to me.”
Her hand trembled as she pulled on the paper gown.
When she stepped out, he turned around slowly, eyes softening. “You okay?”
“Not even close.”
He stood beside her as the doctor came in. “Want me to stay close?” he asked, voice gentler now.
She nodded, barely.
When she lay back and the stirrups clicked into place, she flinched hard.
Mello reached out, offering his hand without a word.
During the exam, he stood beside her, jaw clenched, eyes darting between the doctor and her face. She squeezed his hand tighter than she meant to.
“You’re okay,” he said softly. “You’re okay. I’m right here.”
His voice was quieter than usual. Controlled. Protective. Every muscle in his body was ready to jump in if she so much as frowned too hard.
And when it was over, he helped her sit up, keeping his hand at her back like she might fall apart otherwise.
They sat in his car, engine idling in silence. She stared out the window, quiet.
“I feel gross,” she finally mumbled.
Mello leaned back in the driver’s seat, still watching her. “You’re not.”
“I feel like that doctor just saw parts of me that aren’t meant for anyone but me. Or maybe you. I don’t know. I hated all of it.”
Mello reached over, brushing her hair away from her face. His glove was off—just his warm hand, rough and real.
“You let someone look at you like that, even though you were scared. That’s brave.”
She shook her head, eyes glassy. “It didn’t feel brave.”
“You didn’t cry. You didn’t run. You let me stay. That means something.” He paused. “And for the record? Nothing I saw in that room made you lesser. Not weaker. Not smaller. Not anything but stronger than I’ve ever seen you.”
She stared at him. “You always talk like a soldier,” she whispered.
“I am a soldier. But I’m your soldier.”
She smiled, tears finally slipping down. “You’re such a dork.”
He smirked, leaning over to kiss her forehead. “Yeah. But I’m your dork.”
And when she curled up into him, just needing to feel safe for a while, he held her like he’d fight the whole world just to protect her peace.
Mail Jeevas
She fidgeted with the hem of her sweater in the waiting room, eyes fixed on the floor. Every second felt like an hour, and the sterile smell of the clinic made her stomach twist.
Matt sat beside her, slouched and calm on the outside, legs spread, gloved fingers tapping lightly on his thigh. But he wasn’t playing a game today. His full attention was on her.
“You good?” he asked gently.
“No,” she said flatly. “I’m about to get my hooha examined. I am the opposite of good. I hate this. It’s… invasive.”
He tilted his head, goggles pushed up just enough to meet her eyes. “Yeah, I get that.”
“Do you?” she mumbled.
“Babe, if someone told me to strip down and put my junk in paper shorts while they stared at it under a fluorescent light, I’d jump out a window.”
That got a tiny, unwilling laugh out of her. “It’s not the same.”
“I mean, not anatomically,” he said, bumping her shoulder lightly. “But nerves? Embarrassment? Wanting to melt into the floor? I’m pretty sure that’s universal.”
She glanced at him. “You really don’t mind coming in with me?”
He leaned closer, voice softer. “I want to be there. I want you to look at me when it’s weird and uncomfortable and remember you’re not doing it alone.”
She stepped out of the changing area in the thin paper gown, arms hugging herself. Her cheeks were already flushed.
Matt looked up from his chair—and paused. Then he stood and crossed the room, stopping a few feet away. “You look like a nervous little marshmallow.”
She groaned, face in her hands. “You said you’d behave.”
“I am behaving,” he said, and gently pulled her hands away. His smile softened. “But seriously… you look beautiful. And scared. And I’ve got you.”
He sat beside the exam table while she lay back, reaching for his hand the second the stirrups clicked into place.
The doctor spoke in a soothing voice, but her breathing hitched as the exam began.
Matt leaned closer, still holding her hand, his voice low and steady. “Focus on me, alright? You’re doing amazing.”
Her fingers clenched his. She winced.
“Hey,” he whispered, brushing his thumb across her knuckles. “You’re safe. I’m here. This sucks, yeah, but you’re stronger than it. You’ve got this.”
He kept his eyes on her face the whole time—not the doctor, not the tools. Just her. Present. Protective. Steady.
And when it was finally over, he helped her sit up, draping his hoodie over her shoulders before she even asked.
Back in his car, she curled up in the passenger seat with her legs tucked under her, wrapped in his hoodie
Matt pulled a protein bar and a small bottle of juice from the glove compartment and handed them to her like a peace offering.
She raised an eyebrow. “Emergency post-gyn snack stash?”
“I come prepared,” he said with a small smile. “Also, you look like you’re about to pass out from emotional fatigue.”
She took the juice with a shaky hand. “I feel… violated, honestly. Not by the doctor—she was fine—but just… ugh. My body doesn’t feel like mine right now.”
He nodded slowly. “Yeah. That tracks. And it’s okay to feel that way.”
She looked at him, eyes glassy. “Do you think I’m gross now?”
“Are you kidding me?” he said, leaning closer. “I think you’re the bravest damn person I know. You let someone poke around your most vulnerable place while you were terrified, and you still let me stay. That’s not gross, babe. That’s guts. And trust. And it means more to me than anything.”
“I didn’t feel brave.”
He glanced at her, goggles back over his eyes now. “You did something hard. You let me be there, even though it embarrassed you. That’s brave as hell in my book.”
She stared at him for a beat. “You really don’t think less of me?”
“I literally just watched you face one of your biggest fears with style, sarcasm, and only minimal crying. I think I love you more, honestly.”
She blinked. “Wait, what?”
He blinked back. “Huh. Yeah. That just slipped out.”
And he just held her there, hands steady, heart soft—her safe place in a world that didn’t always feel safe.
Nate River
She sat stiffly in the waiting room, picking at the fraying corner of her sleeve. The sterile scent of antiseptic and clean paper made her stomach churn. Beside her, Near sat curled into his usual hunched posture, a small puzzle cube twisting silently in his fingers.
“You really don’t have to stay,” she murmured.
“I know,” he said simply, not looking up. “I want to.”
She huffed softly. “It’s going to be awkward. You might… see stuff you can’t unsee.”
Near paused his cube, tilting his head. “I don’t think you understand how many naked people I’ve seen during crime scene reports.”
“That is so not the same.”
He hummed quietly. “I disagree. But if it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll keep my eyes closed.”
She shot him a look.
He offered a ghost of a smile. “Or open, if you prefer reassurance.”
She changed into the paper gown with shaking hands, cheeks burning. When she stepped out, Near was already seated calmly in the corner, legs folded, hands resting on his knees. The doctor entered shortly after, greeting them with practiced calm.
Near said nothing—but his eyes were everywhere. Watching the doctor's gloved hands, watching her breathing, watching the faint tremble in her fingers as she tried to relax.
When her feet were placed into the stirrups, she flinched.
“Is this okay?” the doctor asked.
Before she could answer, Near spoke—his voice soft but firm. “She doesn’t like the feeling of being restrained. She’ll say it’s fine, but it isn’t.”
Her eyes shot to him. He wasn’t even looking at her—just watching the doctor now, like a quiet guardian.
The doctor nodded, adjusting gently. “We’ll go slow.”
Near finally turned his head to her, meeting her eyes with a kind of serene stillness. “You’re doing well,” he said simply. “I’m here.”
That was all. Just two words.
But they grounded her more than anything else.
Back home, she buried herself in a blanket and let out a groan.
“I feel like I lost all my dignity today.”
Near sat on the floor beside the couch, a small white robot toy rolling across the carpet between his fingers. “You didn’t lose anything.”
“I was in a gown that barely covered my butt while someone stared at my mm, mm, Near!" She says, pointing downwards when she says 'mm,mm'. "You saw it!”
He tilted his head again, as if processing her shame like a math problem. “I saw a medical procedure performed on the person I care about most. There was nothing demeaning about it.”
“But it’s weird.”
“It is,” he agreed. “And unnecessarily invasive. I’ll file a proposal for better screening technology.”
She laughed weakly, hiding her face.
After a long pause, she whispered, “Did you think I was gross?”
Near leaned his chin on the edge of the couch, staring at her gently.
“No,” he said. “I thought you were vulnerable. And very, very brave.”
She peeked out of the blanket, eyes soft. “You’re not as emotionless as people think.”
He shrugged slightly. “Only around you.”
Then, after a pause, he made an attempt at humor, “If it helps, I plan to destroy every speculum manufacturer in the northern hemisphere.”
She laughed again—loud and real this time—until she slid off the couch and into his arms.
He caught her without hesitation.
And just held her there.
Misa Amane
“I’m going to die,” her girlfriend muttered, burying her face in her hands in the waiting room.
Misa sat beside her, legs crossed, wearing heart-shaped sunglasses indoors and sipping a pink drink from a rhinestone-covered tumbler. “You are not going to die,” she said cheerfully. “It’s just a little exam! Totally normal! I’ve done this, like, five times!”
“You say that like it’s comforting.”
“It is! You’re gonna get checked out, make sure everything’s good, and then we’ll get donuts after. Maybe matcha ones.”
Her girlfriend groaned. “I hate this. I hate that you’re here. I’m wearing a paper gown soon. You’re gonna see parts of me in an unflattering way.”
Misa pouted dramatically. “Sweetie, I’ve seen you half-asleep with drool on your chin. Nothing will ever ruin how cute you are to me.”
That earned a reluctant laugh—and a very red face.
The nurse handed her girlfriend a gown and left them alone in the exam room. Misa twirled on the little stool while her girlfriend changed behind the curtain.
“You sure you don’t wanna stay out there?” her girlfriend mumbled.
“And miss the bonding experience? No way!”
When she stepped out, awkwardly clutching the gown closed in the back, Misa stood up and gave her a once-over. “Honestly? You still look hot.”
“Stop it,” she whispered, horrified.
“I’m being supportive!”
The doctor came in and started prepping. Her girlfriend lay back on the table, clearly tense. Misa moved closer, slipping her hand into hers.
“Just breathe,” she whispered. “Focus on me. Not the cold metal tray of doom.”
That earned another laugh—but her grip tightened as her feet went into the stirrups.
Misa kept her eyes on her girlfriend’s face, staying close as the doctor worked. “You’re doing so good,” she whispered. “I know this part sucks. But I’m here.”
Even when her girlfriend winced, even when the discomfort made her flinch, Misa didn’t look away. She didn’t make a single joke. Just held her hand, steady and soft, with that same loyal light in her eyes.
They sat in the car afterward, her girlfriend wrapped in Misa’s fuzzy pink jacket.
“I feel like my hooha has been interrogated.”
Misa handed her a donut. “And it said no comment to everything. Good job.”
Her girlfriend took a slow bite. “That was… awful. But also not as bad as I thought. Mostly because of you.”
Misa beamed. “I am the best girlfriend ever.”
“You kinda are,” she mumbled into her donut.
Misa reached over, brushing her fingers through her girlfriend’s hair, now mussed from lying down. “You were brave,” she said, softer now. “Like… really brave. You let someone poke around your most sacred area and still managed to look adorable.”
“Shut up.”
Misa leaned in and kissed her temple. “Don’t ever feel embarrassed around me. I love every bit of you. Even the nervous, pap-smear-hating, flustered mess version.”
Her girlfriend leaned into her, finally relaxing. “You’re lucky I love you.”
“Oh, I know I am.”