#Autistic Reader

[petaldarling]

"and I am the idiot with the painted face,"

a/n: they notice you masking! :3

cn: cursing, autism, poor explanation of masking (i sort of only found out I was masking a few months ago lol)

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₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

RAHHHHH I LOVE COMFORT RAHHHH

[a-spes]

I was thinking about what going out with Wanda and Nat' as an autistic person would be like, because I feel they would be such supportive and accommodating girlfriends.

I feel like they would be absolutely perfect at anticipating your meltdowns because they know you so well that they've learned to read the signs.

—

You went to the restaurant with them and a part of the team for a girls night. You were having a great time and everything was going fine, until it was not anymore.

Quickly, everything became too much. The sound of the cutlery, the people eating, walking, talking, .. it is all giving you the urge to rip your ears off so you could eventually be at peace. It is getting so loud, and so obsessing, that you can't think about anything else.

Obviously, they saw what was happening before you did. It always happens that way, because you keep pushing your boundaries, always refusing to acknowledge the signs of an upcoming meltdown.

But they do.

The women know the signs. There is no chance that they would miss the way you stopped talking a moment ago, how you are not eating anymore, you fork playing with your food without actually taking a bite. There is also that slight frown on your face that betrays your worries. It is obvious that you are getting more restless as the minutes go by — you wouldn't stop shifting in your seat, unable to find a comfortable position.

You were sitting in front of them. You are the one who insisted on taking this specific place, if it was up to them, you would have spent the dinner between them, but you wanted to be as close as possible from Kate and Yelena. They are funnier — but you wouldn't tell that to Wanda and Natasha, you don't want to get in trouble.

“Come here, baby. You should definitely have a bite of my meal, you would love it,” she calls, and you don't hesitate a second before joining her, sitting on her lap when she silently asks you to do it. The meal was just an excuse because the woman is aware that you would have never admitted your struggles if she had simply asked if you were fine.

She feeds you a first bite, then handing you the fork so you can take more of the meal by yourself. It allows her free hands to find a place on your ears that they are now covering. Her touch is soothing, especially with her thumb running circles on your scalp, and so is her gesture. It may doesn't dumb down the world completely but, at least, it makes everything a little more bearable.

In the meanwhile, Natasha left to buy some headphones at the nearest shop. Unfortunately, they have forgotten yours at home. Yet, she doesn't care about spending hundreds on new ones — partly because it is Tony's money, mainly because she thinks you deserve it. When she comes back, less than fifteen minutes later, and eventually put the headphones in your ears, it feels like bliss. The world is eventually quiet, and you feel like you can properly breathe for the first time in the past hour.

[hyperfixatedbastard]

sweet, sweet silence

Vox x Autistic!GN!Reader

Dating the CEO of VoxTek Enterprises has its perks. You always get brand new devices before they even hit the shelves, and occasionally, Vox makes things specifically for you - like noise-cancelling headphones.

Word Count: 1.3k

WARNINGS: none!

A/N: this is for the autistic homies but it works for anyone with sensory issues! 'tis based off of my own experiences so apologies if it feels inaccurate to anyone, i'm projecting so hard rn. this is also my first time writing x reader/2nd person POV so I hope I did alright! also, i do requests if anyone would like to see more of this kind of thing :)

Dividers

"Doll, c'mere for a second, would ya?" Vox calls out to you, gesturing for you to come to his desk with a 'come hither' motion. 

You raise a brow in interest as you approach your boyfriend where he's sitting in his rather eccentric chair, tinkering with...something. You hop up onto the desk, careful to sit in a spot that you know has no important screens or buttons (you learned the hard way). You don't say anything, instead just tilting your head and waiting for Vox to show off whatever he's been working on this time.

He finally lets you see what's in his clawed hands: a pair of headphones. They're clearly a VoxTek product—the blue and red color scheme gives it away—though you're certain you've never seen these on sale before. It's not uncommon for Vox to show off new products to you before they're released, though, so you don't question it.

He smirks as he holds the headphones out to you. It's not that sly, devious smile he so often has on his screen, though; it's that grin you have when you're about to surprise someone and you just know they're going to love it. "These are for you, darling."

On one hand, you get a little excited (free shit, fuck yeah!). But on the other, you're a little worried—you're not good at receiving gifts. It always ends up awkward because you don't really know how to express gratitude in an expected, neurotypical way. But Vox is well aware of that, and he can tell when you're grateful, so you push those worries to the side and take the headphones from him.

You look at them curiously, inspecting the foldable hinges, the ear cushions, and the small assortment of buttons on the speakers. You can tell that the three buttons on the right speaker are for adjusting the volume—increase, mute, and decrease—but you have no damn clue what the button on the left speaker is for.

"Well? Put 'em on," Vox encourages you, still with that expectant grin as he anticipates your reaction.

You do as he says and place the headphones over your ears. They're certainly comfortable, but you don't see what the big deal is. You already have headphones—they’re not great, as it’s damn near impossible to drown out the unbearably overstimulating sounds of Hell, but you manage. Kinda.

Just as you’re about to ask what’s so special about these headphones, Vox presses that mystery button on the left speaker, and everything goes blissfully quiet.

Your eyes widen as you get the first moment of true silence for the first time since you arrived in Hell. The sudden difference is initially jarring, but the relief is downright euphoric. 

During the entirety of your afterlife in Hell, it's been ceaselessly loud and often unbearable. The screams, the explosions, the gunshots—it's incessant, and you never get a moment of peace. The V Tower is not nearly as bad as the rest of the Pride Ring, thanks to a lot of soundproofing, but there's always something. Moans and other lewd noises fill the halls of anywhere within five floors of Valentino's studios. You can hear the screeching and yelling beneath the thrum of music emitting from Velvette’s section of the tower. 666 Studios isn't much better, with the constant chattering of the crew and bickering between newscasters.

Vox's lair office is by far the quietest place in the entirety of Hell, at least in your experience. The soundproofing here is much more effective than anywhere else in V Tower, and Vox is the only person ever here. He does talk and maniacally laugh to himself fairly often, but you don’t usually don’t mind that (and he’ll typically quite down if he can tell you’re having a rough day). But it’s far from perfect—there’s still the intermittent click-clacking of a keyboard, the constant whirring of the computer fans, the low humming of all the tech, and the audio from whatever security camera Vox is spying on. You can tune it out most of the time, but it all overwhelms you so, so easily.

And you aren't very good at hiding it (at least not with Vox, who’s too observant for his own damn good when it comes to you).

Which is why your dear boyfriend has just spent the past several days making you the best noise-canceling headphones Hell has ever seen. He knows what the constant overstimulation does to you, and he sees it far more often than he'd like to. You get irritated and snippy, and sometimes it gets so bad you have a meltdown. It's gotten less common over time, but it still happens way too frequently for either of your likings. 

“So, who’s the best boyfriend ever?” he hints, clearly fishing for a compliment. His voice is surprisingly clear despite the headphones practically deafening you—his words are muffled, but just loud enough for you to understand what’s being said. He's grinning at you like he's the one that just got the excruciatingly heartfelt present. 

Usually, you’d have a witty comeback to Vox’s attempts at getting you to stroke his ego (always followed by an actual, genuine compliment to ease his insecurities hiding behind that ego), but you’re drawing a blank right now. 

The gift is so thoughtful that you don’t even know where to start on expressing your gratitude. Noise-canceling headphones seem so obvious now, but this is Hell! Both you and Vox had died before this technology became commonplace, and not many people in Hell care that much about the noise. Vox made these headphones specifically for you. He doesn’t need them (he can quite literally just turn off his audio input) and he probably won’t make much of a profit with them as a VoxTek product. He’s a busy man, being a CEO and an Overlord, yet he took the time to make this for you himself, not even passing the project off to one of the poor souls that works for him. 

“Babe?” Vox calls out gently, waving a hand in front of your face. Oh, shit—you’re overthinking your response so much that you forgot to actually fucking respond.

You blink a few times, meeting your boyfriend’s gaze. His brows are slightly furrowed, in what you think is a mix of concern and amusement. He’s a little worried he’s fucked up somehow, but he knows you well enough by now to recognize when you’re thinking too hard about something. He actually finds it quite adorable, at least when you’re not about to have a panic attack from it. 

As he looks at you expectantly, you decide to just go with your gut (at least, that’s what you think you’re doing—you’ve never entirely understood what the fuck that phrase means).

You don’t give yourself time to second-guess your actions before you’re practically jumping into Vox’s lap—though it’s more like falling since you were just sitting on the desk. He lets out a little ‘oof’ of surprise before he chuckles and moves his hands to your waist, holding you steady while being careful of his claws. He smirks as you wrap your arms around him and bury your face in his neck, jostling the headphones a little but not enough to fuck with the noise cancellation.

“So…you like them, then?” Vox prompts, just wanting the confirmation even though the answer is already clear. You can tell by his tone that he’s still grinning proudly.

You just gently nod, inadvertently rubbing your face against the fabric of his shirt (fortunately, Vox is a fancy bastard with high standards when it comes to clothing, and he’d long ago thrown out any garment made with fabric that triggered your sensory issues).

“Thank you,” you murmur against his neck. 

His hands tighten ever so slightly around your waist, and his response is so soft you can barely hear it through the headphones. “Anything for you, doll.”

[eowynstwin]

imprimatura / muses

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish shows up one day to model for your studio class. He's flirtatious, too attractive for his own good, and more interested in you than you'd ever expect him to be. And his boyfriend Ghost is interested too. - ao3

He arrives early as you’re setting up for your students, in jeans and a tight t-shirt, and the first thing that crosses your mind when you lay eyes on him is Jesus, he’s fit. 

You are no stranger to bodies. Hundreds of them have cycled through your studio, all shapes and sizes and colors; you think you may know every dip, every roll, every hard angle and soft curve that a human body is capable of holding. The mystique of defined muscle has long lost its novelty. Bodies are bodies, and each holds the same value as the next when subject to brush and canvas. It never matters, you teach your students, what a body looks like in the modeling chair. It only matters if they can reproduce it accurately.

Even so, when a body like this walks in, you really can’t help but take notice.

Decadent muscle, fed and worked well, round and full with hydration. It’s impossible to miss, even through his clothes; each group delineated clearly, gracefully, as if sculpted rather than built, and alive with soft, subcutaneous movement. It’s indulgent to look at, the comfortable breadth of his shoulders and chest down to that slight taper of his waist and bulk of his thick thighs. It’s a physique no hard-bodied gym rat could hope to achieve merely with extra time at the racks—a physique that is easily, harmoniously attractive in its makeup of muscle and healthy fat.

The man is also mohawked and suntanned, and his mouth rests at an angle that suggests he often smiles—as if he knows that Michelangelo would have swooned at the sight of him. He comes into your classroom, saunters over to you, and stops precisely two paces away from you.

“Sergeant John MacTavish,” he says, offering his hand. “I understand you’re the instructor?”

He has gorgeous, vivid blue eyes (pthalo and cremnitz, with a touch of hamsa). You blink several times. Fit is still rattling around your skull, and begins knocking against sergeant at the same rolling frequency as his warm Scottish brogue. You realize his hand is still outstretched and quickly take it to shake.

“Yes!” you say. His palm is tough, callused, and not soft in the slightest, but very warm. “Nice to meet you, sergeant.”

He gives a grimace. “John’s fine. Or Soap.”

“Soap?”

“Nickname, y’know.”

Neither of you have released from the handshake. Soap’s grip is firm, the kind of firm that suggests he can squeeze much, much tighter if he needs to. And if the grip isn’t any indication, the broad forearms, dusted soft with dark brown hair, certainly are.

Black lines, a sword and helmet framed in laurels, catch your notice. The ink has the soft edges of having lain in the skin for a few years. You turn his arm to see it more fully. “Oh. Nice tattoo.”

He looks at the ink as if it is entirely new to him, and then gives an easy grin. “Thanks. I’ve got a few more too. Hope they aren’t hard to draw.”

When you loosen your grip on his hand, he releases you immediately. You still feel the squeeze in your bones even as you drop your hand to your side.

“So, then, Soap,” you say, “have you ever modeled before?”

He shakes his head, tucking his hands into the front pockets of his low-slung jeans. It tugs the waistband just a bit, revealing a sliver of warm, tan skin (raw sienna, flesh ochre, naples yellow). “Should have, honestly, with how much it pays.”

“It gets very boring, very fast,” you say. “What do you plan to wear for the breaks?”

“Was I supposed to bring that m’self?”

You are unable to suppress a laugh. “Yes, unfortunately.”

“Oh,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck and going a little sheepish—as if expecting a reprimand. You suppose it’s a valid expectation to have, in his world. You aren’t terribly familiar with the military, but you do know it’s one hell of a stickler for rules.

You also can’t help but admire the appealing pull and stretch of his bicep and deltoid, the flex of his pectoral as he lowers his arm. 

“Why don’t you wait here, and I’ll go see if I can find something for you?” you suggest kindly, letting him off the hook.

“Sorry,” he says, pretty blue eyes filled with genuine apology. “I’ll remember nex’ time. Thanks.”

The expression is so hangdog that you almost want to pat his head and noise at him reassuringly, like an actual dog. You press your lips together to hide a smile, and leave the studio.

When you get back from the models’ changing room, you find Soap with one hip against the counter where you’d been organizing your supplies, one knee loose and shoulders set at a relaxed angle. You want to laugh at his easy contrapposto. He’s going to be an excellent model. You can feel it. 

It looks as if he’s moving around the sticks of vine charcoal with one outstretched finger; he pulls his hand guiltily away when you reenter the studio, crossing his arms over his chest as if to hide the evidence of his snooping. It makes his pectorals bunch and round out, gathers the thickness of his biceps up into chiseled, full definition.

You lift one brow at him as you walk over.

“Never could keep my hands to m’self,” he admits, still sheepish.

“It’s alright,” you allow, smiling back. “Do you draw?”

“Used to,” he says. He looks back at the charcoal. “No time, now.”

“Are you deployed often?” you ask, taking the opportunity to look at his face. 

Beauty is cheap in art, but you notice it all the same—appreciate the strong brows, the hard angle of his jaw, the dark stubble of a beard you suspect he can’t keep shaved down, and the long scar that cuts through it across his chin. The light brown of his complexion is speckled with sun exposure, and there are the faintest of creases at the corners of his eyes, which you expect will deepen into genuine, gorgeous crow’s feet as he ages.

He’s not all rugged, though. There is a soft, thick curl to his lashes, which are as dark as strong coffee or expensive chocolate, and an equal decadence to the pink, plush little swell of his bottom lip—which, in the very middle, has the smallest of divots, as if he regularly spends time biting it. 

They’re traits that are far too sweet to belong on an otherwise masculine face, and their effect is such that they turn an objectively average set of features into a shockingly attractive portrait—that suddenly has something fluttering, just a bit, in the roof of your stomach.

He looks at you, and catches your survey. You can see him realize you’d been watching, the knowledge of it blooming in ocean blue eyes like ink dropped onto linen.

“More often than no’,” he answers, showing teeth in a crooked, interested grin. And now he’s looking at you—attention flitting across your face, dropping down your body and jumping back up to meet your gaze. The creases deepen at the corners of his eyes.

The fluttering intensifies. The sudden role reversal has you feeling at once flustered and unmoored. You are never the subject of any perusal—always comfortably the observer.

“Well—” you try, and you’re embarrassed at the low tone of your voice. You clear your throat. “Well, let’s make use of the time we have you, then.”

His smile remains, cocksure and easy. “Let’s.” 

He knows the effect he’s had.

“Anyway,” you say, blinking several times and proffering the sheet you’d retrieved, “none of the other models are your size, so I’m afraid this will have to do.”

He takes it in his hands, which are sun-dark and striking against the clean white linen. “So it’s a toga, then?” he asks.

“Whatever you like. Let’s go over the basics, and then you can undress.”

“Oh, already, aye? Y’move fast, hen,” he drawls, still grinning. “I like it.”

Heat rushes to your face, but you don’t feel embarrassed enough not to laugh. You busy yourself with tapping your charcoal sticks back in place, putting them back in an even row ascending in order of length, and saving yourself from having to look him in the eye. “Ha! We don’t do a lot of foreplay in this studio, I’m afraid.”

“No?” Soap hums, and he steps closer. He’s very warm, enough that you can feel it even with the space between you. You do have to look at him then. His eyes are half-lidded, lashes casting pretty shadows on his cheekbones as he gazes down at you. “That’s a shame. I’m right partial to it.”

Your brows lift, and you will your pulse to remain steady even as you inhale, catching a thread of—cologne? Aftershave? Just plain deodorant?—coming off of him. The scent caresses you, almost beckoning you to lean forward. You swear you can see the thrum of his heartbeat, there in the soft hollows by his Adam’s apple.

You blink. He is your model. “Well—I’ll try to set you up as best I can, anyway. Follow me, please.”

And you turn your back on him, because this is your workplace, and you are at work, and if you don’t get on with things you might do something stupid like actually flirt back.

Soap hadn’t been sure what to expect when he arrived at the art studio. He’s never been to one before, much less one housed in a university—which he has also never been to—and hell, he only ever took one art class in high school.

If pressed, he’d have imagined old brick walls covered in diagram posters, shelves of supplies in all colors, the smell of paint hanging permanently in the air. What he finds instead is modern, clean, and impersonal. Stage lights hang from fixtures in the ceiling, pointing at a platform in the back center of the room. A tight line of easels, all folded up, stand pressed into a far corner, next to a tower of stacked chairs, and waist-high cabinets line half the room against the bare, painted cinder block wall. The linoleum floor looks new.

None of this, however,  has any opportunity to disappoint him. His final unmet expectation, standing across the room and organizing a tray of art supplies, is a very welcome surprise.

You’re bonnie. Like, every point on his wishlist bonnie. Christ, he must’ve done something really good lately, because he can’t imagine just lucking into this. There’s not a hard angle to you, all sweet and soft, but when you meet his gaze during introductions there’s a sharpness to you that skewers him through the chest. You are much smarter than him, he can tell immediately. 

He’s always had a thing for smart women. Soft ones, too.  And if that weren’t enough, you let him flirt shamelessly with you, while checking him out the whole time.

Steaming Jesus.

You direct him to get onto the platform and sit down, still clothed, in an armchair draped in another pristine white sheet. The stage lights are bright overhead, and they highlight free-floating wisps of your hair in gold. 

“You want to ensure that you don’t rest your weight on only one or two points,” you explain. You have a nice voice. Steady, confident—this is your territory, your studio, and in it you are clearly the master. “The main danger is that your arms or legs might fall asleep, and you won’t realize it until you get up, in which case you’ll fall. We can’t touch you, so we can’t save you from that.”

“Y’canna touch me?” Soap repeats.

“Not without your explicit consent,” you say.

He smiles at you, the kind of smile he saves for bright nights at the pub over platoons of shot glasses. “I explicitly consent to you touching me.”

The corners of your mouth tug upward, just a bit, and you look away, clearly bashful. Something in Soap’s chest starts beating a drum. He knows already he’ll ask you to drinks after the class ends tonight.

“I doubt I’d be able to do much,” you say, “you’re a bit more substantial than the usual models.” Your eyes flick down his torso and back up.

“Guess I’ll have to follow your advice, then,” he says.

“You should,” you say, and he looks at your thigh shamelessly as you pat it—even beneath your jeans, he can see the ripple of the impact. “One of the worst-case scenarios is nerve damage.”

“So you have done this before!”

He can’t help it—Soap’s imagination runs wild. Titanic, draw-me-like-one-of-your-French-girls wild. It’s not exactly polite to imagine a teacher naked while she’s in the middle of giving him directions (and Jesus, what a concept, he might be half-mast already), but Soap has always found that people like it when he’s a little rude.

You drum your fingers. “I have.”

He finally hears the nerve damage part of your instruction. “How, uh—how bad can it get?”

The drumming stops. “For me? It just starts to twinge a bit if I sit on this side very long. So don’t rest your weight all on one hip, yeah?”

Concern assuaged that he had not ignored your genuine pain in order to objectify you, Soap grins. “Yeah.”

“Good,” you say. “Also—even if it doesn’t hurt, Soap, you can stop at any time, okay?”

That has him blinking. “Kinda defeats the purpose, doesnae?”

You shake your head. “It doesn’t matter. This is your first time modeling. You don’t know how you’ll feel, sitting here with your clothes off and everyone looking at you. If you need to stop, I want you to stop. I’ll make sure you’re paid anyway, so don’t worry about that.”

You are…so serious about this. The line of your brows is furrowed, imploring, like a little discomfort on his part is a violation of the highest order.

“Sure,” he says, a little dumbstruck and mostly lying. He’d be a rubbish soldier if he tapped out of a little thing like sitting down, but it’s nice that you care.

You purse your lips, nod, and then move onto the task at hand, stepping back and then down off the platform. When you begin to survey him—gaze flitting up and down his body, more pensive than appreciative—he has to resist the urge to flex.

Instead he watches you as you look at him. He especially likes, he decides, the slope of your nose and the smart, serious press of your mouth. You could get him all turned around, he thinks, if you gave it half a try.

Your tits are also great, but that’s by the by.

“Try resting your elbow up a little higher, and twist at the hips a bit,” you instruct, and Soap obeys. “Hm. How would you feel about crossing your ankles?”

You continue like this—nudging him in directions he doesn’t think make all that much of a difference, standing in different positions around the room to check the angles. He half-wishes he could step out of his body and join you, curious as he is about what you’re seeing, what your students will see. He’s not sure he has any clear expectations for how the class will go, but if you’re any indication, it’ll be more fun than he expects.

“Not sure if I’ll remember how to get back into this,” he says, partly to be helpful and partly to get you to talk to him again.

“I’ll help you, don’t worry,” you say. “Okay, I think that’s a good one, you can move now—I’m going to start setting up, the students should be here any minute.”

He stands, and you turn away to collect your supplies, so Soap figures this means it’s time for him to strip. He pulls off his shirt and drapes it over the chair’s arm, unbuttons his pants and shoves them down to his knees.

“Soap!”

He freezes. Then he looks at you. You’re blushing again, deep and saturated, mouth parted in surprise and hand pressed to your chest. He does not miss the quick flick of your gaze down his body; he’s probably violated some rule or another of the studio, but he can’t help but grin.

You’re adorable.

“Gotta happen eventually, right?” he says.

You cover your face with your palm. “I was going to leave the room first!”

“First time someone’s wanted to run away when I’m takin’ my clothes off, I won’t lie—”

“You just come get me when you’re done!” you say hastily as you beeline for the door. “I’ll be right outside!”

Soap chuckles a little when you’re gone, the door slamming mortified behind you, and folds his clothes up behind the armchair he’ll be sitting in. You’re so cute. He can’t wait to sit naked for you for the next three hours.

And he’s definitely asking you out for drinks.

next

[zamadness]

--- --- --- --- ---

GenZ! AuDHD! Reader : Having autism and ADHD is like having a huge library in your head but reference numbers and librarians

--- --- --- --- ---

GenZ! AuDHD! Reader : The neurodivergent experience is talking about your brain as if it’s a separate entity from yourself.

Lucifer : Oh my golly! I feel the same!

[Lucifer has ADHD and I stand by it]

--- --- --- --- ---

- When GenZ! Reader was alive -

GenZ! Reader : [searching frantically through my pockets] sh*t, I’ve lost my keys. Lemme borrow yours?

Prison Guard : No

GenZ! Reader : Danm it, man. Come on!

--- --- --- --- ---

GenZ! Reader : Radio Demon, I must confess my sins…

Alastor : [in nun costume] What’s the tea, my child? *aggressively sips tea*

--- --- --- --- ---

[bluemari23]

dazzling light || kim hongjoong

summary: your soul bond activates at a concert and you seriously doubt your actually going to be able to meet them, not when they are on the stage and more than likely can't see the soul light that surrounds you.

pairing: kim hongjoong x autistic reader

genre: soulmates, soul bonds, soul marks, fluff, some light angst

warnings: autistic reader, overstimulation, some slight panic,

word count: 1.5k

masterlist

---------------------------------

Despite your love for music, sometimes it could be too loud. Your ears ringing and sometimes you swore your brain actually shakes in your skull. The way you listened to music almost every second of the day was a surprise to some people, seeing as you were easily overstimulated and when too many things were happening at once, you used your noise canceling headphones for peace. 

You thought that a concert would be an isolated incident; Somewhere where you could only focus on the music and not on anything else. Where you could just feel the music and let your body sway to the rhythm. 

Finding out you had a soulmate at a concert was not on your plan for the night. 

And looking down at your wrist to see the gold letters building the name of your bias was also not on your plan for the night. 

For soulmates, soul bonds only activate when you are in the same room, gold letters representing the soul spell out the name of your soulmate. A gold light also surrounds the people within the bond so you could find your other half easier. 

But you knew who your other half was, and you doubted they could see you from the stage. 

You were seated near the front of the stage, a front row seat in the first part of the seated section. You had felt beyond lucky to get the seat, knowing how quickly the seats go and how easily the concerts sell out tickets. Now, you wonder if it was fate bringing you here. 

You anxiously sat, waiting for some kind of sign that he also sees you. But Hongjoong seemed to look almost everywhere but where you were seated. That was until he glanced at your section during Guerilla and seemed to do an obvious double glance. Everyone around you was screaming, thinking that he was looking at them, but you know differently. 

But then he didn’t look your way again. 

You couldn’t help but to think, maybe he doesn’t want a soulmate?

Did he see your soul light?

He probably isn’t interested in having a soulmate. Another person to depend on. It’s probably for the best anyways, with your disability anyways. You couldn’t always control your brain or the way your body took in stimuli. 

Seeing reason, you tried to just enjoy the rest of the concert, listening to Answer and then Crazy Form, which was one of your favorites. You followed the crowd and moved your light stick along with them. You even got up and danced for as long as you could handle. 

When the concert ended, though, you couldn’t help but to wait a couple minutes. You told yourself it was because you couldn’t handle the crowds trying to leave the stadium at the same time, but you knew it was because you hoped that he did want you, even the tiniest bit. 

After waiting about ten minutes, you gave up hope and started to grab your things. It was disappointing, but nothing you weren’t used to. Being a burden was unfortunately something you felt a lot, and this was nothing different. 

After grabbing your things, you began to make your way down the small walkway that led to the inner hallways of the stadium, out into the main concession area. You pass through the entryway only to bump into a large man in a stadium uniform. 

“Are you Ms. Y/n L/n?” The large man was imposing and his voice was deep and intimidating, making you hesitate for a couple of seconds before nodding your head, not wanting any trouble. 

“We’ll need you to come with us then.” You heard another voice, and someone pushed past the large and intimidating man to stand in front of you. 

This man was shorter, but still nonetheless intimidating. He wore a stern expression and his glasses reminded you of an old professor you had in college who loved to yell and throw things across the classroom when someone was talking during his lecture. It was safe to say you were now shaking in your shoes. 

The ma wore no indication of his position with regards to the stadium, and you were thoroughly confused now to what could be going on. 

“Is there something wrong, Sirs?” Your voice was weaker than you wanted to push out, showing how uncomfortable you were. 

The men just turned around and started walking, not even looking to see if you were following. But you did, entirely scared and uncomfortable and feeling entirely intimidated to do anything but what the men say. 

You followed them through a different hallway, one with the words “CREW ONLY” plastered to the front. You now went from being scared to freaked out. Your thoughts were going a hundred miles an hour until you ended up in front of a set of double doors that had the word “ATEEZ” printed on a sheet of paper and taped to the right-side door. 

Now, now you were completely frozen.

You swear your heart actually stopped. 

“Please.” The short man gestured you forward, knocking on the door for you without giving you a second to move. 

Before you could catch your breath, someone opened the door, a casual smile on their lips and a baggy but comfortable looking t-shirt with the new Ateez designs on it. You assumed this was one of the managers as he shook the smaller man’s hand and thanked them for bringing you here. 

“Hello, you must be Ms. Y/n?” The man then turned to look at you, his bright eyes centered on you and then your wrist where Hongjoong’s name resided in gold ink.

You just stared at the man, your obvious nerves showcased on your face, still completely frozen as you look up at him. 

“Please, don’t be nervous. Hongjoong is actually excited that we were able to find you still here and might actually start freaking out if we leave him in there with Wooyoung and Jongho’s teasing any longer.” The man cracks another warm-hearted smile at you before holding his hand out for you to take, a nice gesture. 

“How about we go and introduce you to your soulmate, hm?” The man, who still didn’t introduce himself moved behind you, hand hovering against your back as he opens the door again, the noise from inside becoming completely silent as you slowly moved inside. 

You saw Hongjoong first, his eyes catching yours as a large smile grows on his lips, his cheeks pushed wide as he does so. You then catch Wooyoung actually hanging off of the captain, Seonghwa trying and failing to get him off until you appear, both men slowly moving away from their leader. 

The soul light slowly dims until its gone when you are now only a couple feet apart. You could feel your body slowly relaxing as you got closer to your soulmate, something you’ve never felt before. Relaxation and peace were always hard to come by when your body always seemed to take in more stimuli that you could handle.

But you felt at ease, now an arm’s length away from the person you were destined for. 

“Hello. It’s nice to meet you.” Hongjoong spoke softly as if not wanting to break the moment between you. 

“Hi.” You smile a little, wanting to show him that you were okay, that you were okay with everything. 

“Why don’t we sit, get to know each other better.” He asked you, motioning to the now vacant couch behind you, big enough for the two of you. You also noticed the sneaky glances that the other Ateez members sent each other. 

“Okay.” You smiled at the boys as you passed by them, each of them introducing themselves to you as if you didn’t just attend their concert. 

You sat down, and before Hongjoong could pick another place to sit, every single other spot than the one beside you was taken by the boys. Hongjoong just took it in stride, sitting beside you as he dramatically shakes his head and sighs at his members actions. You couldn’t help but to let out a little laugh at their actions, trying to play matchmaker between soulmates. 

It was as if they all started speaking at once, the younger members just yelling out questions for you as you sat next to Hongjoong, Seonghwa trying but failing to reign them in, even if it was a half-hearted attempt at doing so. 

You didn’t even attempt to answer, seeing as you couldn’t distinguish a single question. Instead, you just took the hand that your soulmate offered you, shyly holding it in your grasp. 

“They’re always like this. I promise, they like you already.” Hongjoong leans down and whispers into your ear. You could hear the smile and adoration in his voice, something that made you smile again. 

“It’s okay. I can get used to it. I promise, I like them too.” You whisper back, looking up at him and watching as the look of adoration switches from his members to you. 

[islayhawkin]

Night out

john price x autistic!f!reader

summary: john takes you out for a drink with his team

A/N: this shows the parts of autism from my own experience. Doesn't mean everybody has the same experience. Husband John is so cute.

Found out that I'm way better at writing angst than fluff haha oops

Fluff

It was a friday evening when john took you out to meet up with his comrades. You were introduced to them before but you never really spoke to them. Mostly because john took measures to keep his private life -you- separated from his work. But he came home today and was going to meet up with them just as friends outside of work so he asked you to come along since he didn't want to leave you alone immediately after he just returned.

So it happened that you were sat next to your husband in the car while he drove you both to the bar they agreed to. When you watched him drive you couldn't help but admire the way he effortlessly switched gears and scanned the street through the front as if he was checking a battlefield. He smiled and rested his hand on your thigh once he met your gaze. "You tell me if they make you uncomfortable alright? They can be quite...well you know how soldiers are." he told you in that gruff voice of his, but he somehow made it sound incredibly soft.

"I will. Thanks." You smiled at him and squeezed his hand gratefully.

"Of course."

"There's a toilet, right?" you asked as your mind was already in the bar.

"Yeah 'course. I'll show you." he reassured.

"Okay good."

He glanced at you a few times during the ride. Clearly observing the slight tension in your body and how you tapped your fingers anxiously on your knee, but he didn't comment on it.

After a few minutes of silent driving, he parked the car on the side of a street, shut the motor off and went out to open the door for you before you were able to pull a jacket on. The sound of your shoes could be heard on the gravel in the otherwise quiet street as well as the slam of the door behind you.

John offered his arm and you settled your hand in the crook of his elbow. His form shielded you from the street as he always insisted to walk on the side closest to the ongoing cars. Usually, you would have felt unsettled to walk in such a quiet part of the city in the dark but with john by your side you felt the safest you could ever be.

A torrent of noise engulfed you the moment you stepped foot into the bar. People talking, music playing in the background, glasses clanging. John guided you through the group of people to a table in the back. Loud laughter on the right. A door swinging shut on the left. The arm of a man pushing you slightly into John's side.

He pulled you close to him and cleared the path as well as he could. Apparently, John's friends were already there. He greeted them as the three men stood up and clapped each other on the back rather roughly it seemed to you. You had to do without his arm as support now so you busied yourself with your hands while swaying from one side to the other. Their mouths moved but you weren't able to make out their words through all the noise.

When John stepped back one of them stretched their hand out for you and you took it as your cue to shake his hand and smile at them politely while another man -the other Johnny you recalled- shook your hand. The hand was big but slimmer than John's and slightly sweaty. You wiped your palm against your clothes to rid the feeling, but the urge to wash them lingered.

Kyle and ghost made their way over to the bar to grab you all drinks while you sat down around the table. John arranged the seating so you would only sit next to him and not squeeze in between the men. He leaned his head down and grabbed your hand softly in his.

"You good?" he muttered in your ear. His eyes scanning your face. "It will get quieter soon."

You nodded and grasped his hand back.

One of his fingers pointed in the direction to the left. "There are the toilets"

You followed his eyesight until you spotted a door in the corner. You nodded and moved your thumb up and down over the back of his hand in a soothing manner.

Soap leaned over the table with a smug look on his face. "...never seen the captain like this..." You looked between John and Soap. John was already sighting exasperated next to you.

"What do you mean?"

Soap laughed. He looked carefree as the laugh took over his whole face. You rarely saw such a laugh on John.

"He's all lovey-dovey with ye. We know him to be a lot differently." Soap grinned.

You glance at john next to you, who rubbed his eyebrows, already embarrassed. But there a was a slight pull in his lips that told you he enjoyed people seeing you with him. It made a feeling of warmth spread through your body at his reaction. He looked almost... proud? Maybe you were just interpreting too much into it.

"Wha- how do you mean?" You leaned back over to soap. Careful to put enough distance between you but still being able to hear him.

"Well ya kno', he's a pretty harsh captain. Always scoldin us, shoutin around the field. Doin things that... are verra different from how he treats ya. All soft and gentle."

"Oh. I guess it would be weird if he was that way on the field too. I don't know him any differently..." you shrug.

"Oh lass we're gonna have a lot of fun." he winked. John already feared what he was talking about.

"Alright I think that's enough gossipin about me now."

Soap just laughed but to john's luck gaz and ghost came back with the drinks in hand and sat down next to soap.

The drinks were handed around the table leaving you empty handed. "Cap said you don't want anything, you sure?" Gaz asked as he noticed it.

You nodded with a smile. "Yeah thanks. I drink from john's." You pointed to the drink in front of john.

Gaz gave a nod. "Well let me know if you change your mind ma'am."

You smiled genuinely this time. Being called ma'am wasn't a usual occurance in your life, but every soldier you met did it. It was respectful. You appreciated that. Especially when john had adressed you with it at the beginning of your relationship.

The men started a easy conversation sometimes asking you questions to involve you. It was difficult to hold a conversation when you could only understand half of what they were saying, but over time the bar began to quieten down which made you feel more at ease.

You took john's glass to drink even though you didn't know what it was. Something non-alcoholic since he was driving but still bitter. Just the way john liked it.

John apperantly saw the grimace you made at the taste. "I can get you a other one if you don't like this one, love"

"It's fine."

John scanned your face. He knew you too well and it wasn't the first time you went out together. There were two possible reasons why you didn't want to drink. Either you thought it too expencive or you were too anxious to get anything down.

"I want you to drink something nice. You don't worry about the price alright? You're my mrs. Price I can afford you a drink." He smiled and lowered his head to get to your eye-level. He always did this. You didn't know if he was aware of it. But somehow he was able to make himself look smaller and less intimidating with his body language.

Your eyes shied away to settle on his lips instead. "Okay." You grinned sheepishly. "You know me too well."

Johns face lighted up triumphically. "I'll get it. Be right back." He pecked your temple before walking over to the bar.

The moment he left the table gaz and johnny started talking to you too.

"You know he's thinkin about you all the time when we're out. Always carrin' that picture with him and worryin'."

"-all he does is worry. Can be bloody annoying, no offence." Ghost piped in.

"...also the first few nights" johnny wistled. "He must miss you much-"

"Johnny don't talk like that to the lady."

Soap looked offended. "She knows that for sure! Not something that's unknown to her probably."

You laugh and raise your brows ammused. "I made my assumptions. Even though john rather always seems to complain about you three"

They laugh and slap eachothers arms before engaging in a animated talk about the topic.

The later it get's the more energy was drained. You had an almost blank look on your face and weren't able to make polite smiles anymore neither engaging in the conversation. John noticed of course. He observed the way you became quieter over the evening and seemed to sink into yourself. Even when he saw you this way so many times before it seemed his heart couldn't take you being unhappy in any way. It made him want scoop you up and bring you home. He hated not being able to shield you from everything. Even the others were shooting their captain confused looks.

"You okay?" John muttered, only for your ears to hear.

You nodded. "Can we go home soon?"

"Of course. You tired?" He brushed a calloused thumb over your cheek.

You nodded in response. "If you wanna stay I can wait a bit. I don't want to cut your evening short."

He smiled reassuringly. "I need to get you home."

Relief flooded through you even though you felt guilty for pulling john back again.

"Alright lads. We'll be going. The missus needs to put this old man to bed." He joked.

Even though it was a joke it meant a lot to you. He took the blame for your departure. It made you blink up at him in disbelief.

The men made some comments and complained about you leaving so soon but goodbyes were given and a moment later john led you out of the bar. His hand resting gently against your back.

Your walk to the car was silent but you could feel his glances on you. It wasn't in a uncomfortable way, it made you feel looked out for.

"Why did you do that? Lie about us leaving."

John looked slightly taken aback by the question as if he didn't think about it before.

"Well I assumed it wouldn't feel nice to you for me to announce that you were the reason we were going home. And It's easier for me to take a few hits from the boys than for you. Honestly didn't think much about it."

He opened the door for you before walking around to the other side himself. Your gaze followed him as he shifted in his seat to get comfortable and clip his seatbelt shut. He met your gaze when he looked up.

There was a small smile hidden beneath his beard. "What?" His voices sounded gruff as if he had smoked too much. Maybe he had.

"You're amazing, you know that?"

His expression softened considerably. "Because I'm putting a seatbelt on?" He teased gently.

You gave him a 'seriously?' look. "I'm serious john. You're the best husband I could ever wish for."

He lowered his head bashfully. His heart skipping a beat. He'll never get used to being called your husband. "I try my best darling. I'm glad you think so."

You leaned over to him and kissed his cheek. The hairs of his beard tickling you. It was a familiar feeling. There was no smile on your face, there didn't need to be, you didn't have to pretend anything with him.

"Thank you."

John grabbed your hand in his bigger one giving it a squeeze. "For what?"

"Being you." Your eyes met his and you were able to hold eye contact for the moment.

John chuckled. "That's not a-"

"For always looking out for me. For accepting me the way I am and always trying to meet my needs even if you want something else. For never getting angry at me and being SO considerate. Like, like you did back there taking the hit for me without even thinking about it. You do stuff like that all the time."

It sounded so genuine coming from you even though your tone sounded flat. Almost like you were stating facts. "And I feel like I'm holding you back a lot. You need to give up so much for me and I need you for so many things it probably can be annoying for you..."

John's brows furrowed instantly. "Darling...it's not- you're not annoying to me. Never. And I'll gladly give up whatever if it means that I get your love." His voice was so gentle, that his friends would probably fall from their chair. A slight shake in his head to contradict your thoughts. He adjusted his position to cup your cheek in his palm.

His mind was spiraling to express his thoughts and make you aware of your importance to him. Did he ever make you feel like you weren't? Where did you get the idea? Had he acted annoyed when he helped you sometime? Maybe that time were he had gotten home from work...

"I never meant to make you feel this way. You need to put up with all my bullshit too and I'm so grateful for you. I-" his voice cracked slightly and he cleared his throat.

You were overwhelmed by how you should react. It wasn't the first time you saw him vulnerable, you were used to his nightmares or worries, but it didn't happen frequently either and there wasn't excactly a handbook for 'what to do when your husband feels-' well you weren't entirely sure what emotion he felt at the moment either.

He took a breath. "You just mean a lot to me, love. I want you to be happy."

"But you need to be happy too." you stated quietly.

He smiled. "I am happy. More than happy with you. You're about the best thing that happened to me." A chuckle escaped his lips. "And honestly I quite like that you're a bit dependend on me. Makes me feel needed."

John pulled his head down to lean his head against yours. "You don't need to say anything. I just don't want you to think that you're a burden to me."

"But it is hard on you sometimes is it not?" you whispered. The blue in his eyes was so close that it blurred.

"Yes it is. But I know it's hard for you too being with me sometimes." He adjusted his eyes downwards.

"Yes. We make it work tough."

"That we do love. We make it work." he whispered before closing the small gap and touching your lips with his.

[katsu2ji]

imagine telling sugawara all about your special interest and him just sitting there and genuinely listening to you. he loves the way your face lights up as you talk about the thing you love so much to the point that it’s sometimes all you can think about. he’d ask questions to keep you going and make the conversation feel less one sided, to show you that he truly cares. he doesn’t mind that you’re rambling, barely aware of how long you’ve been talking or whether or not he even knows what you’re talking about—the fact that you trust him enough to talk about your special interest with him, to share this part of you, is more than enough. he doesn’t care how “weird” or niche it is, he’s just happy to be there learning from you. if you feel guilty afterwards for info dumping and being “too much,” he wouldn’t hesitate to remind you that you are anything but. all he wants is for you to be happy, and seeing you this excited makes him the happiest man alive.

katsu2ji © 2024. please don't copy, modify, or do anything of the sort with my work! i work very hard and you simply do not have my permission.

[loganhowlettshousewife]

diversity december masterlist

logan howlett x reader

the idea of diversity december is to write fanfics for people like me who don't often see themselves represented. these don't necessarily need to be holiday related fics, or even winter related.

if any other writers want to participate i would absolutely adore that. even just one fanfic means a lot when you never see things written with you in mind.

🤍 fluff, 🖤 angst, 🩷 smut, 🩶 dark

the librarian (latina reader) (🤍): after the events of logan (2017), in a world where logan survives, he and laura move to a small town to start a new life. laura quickly becomes very attached to the librarian, and seeing you with his daughter makes logan fall hard.

autistic reader (🤍): a drabble about logan dealing with reader who gets overstimulated. also slightly a logan character study.

curvy reader (🩷🤍): logan is obsessed with your thighs. this was supposed to be shameless smut and somehow turned out soft and loving.

black reader (🤍): you're a single mom to a shy daughter. when your daughter makes a new friend, laura, you start to spend more time with her father, and naturally, you fall for his gruff demeanour and kind heart.

afro-latina reader (🤍): when you start working as a professor at the x-mansion, you give logan a reason to stay and spend more time there. friends to lovers.

genderfluid reader (🤍): you love decorating, you do it for every season and holiday. this time, logan joins you in the festivities. (no religion is specified for the reader, it is not mentioned whether they celebrate christmas or not)

bisexual reader (🖤🤍): the worst wolverine comes from a universe very different from this one. a universe where things aren't as great for queer people. so naturally, he panics when you ask him if he has a crush on his roommate.

autistic reader (🤍): there are days where eating is a struggle, where nothing tastes right and it becomes overwhelming to deal with. logan refuses to let you go to bed without food, so trial and error it is.

disabled reader (🤍🖤): dealing with chronic pain is hard, especially as an x-men. but logan is always there to take care of you when you have a bad pain day.

desi reader (🤍🩷): trying to teach logan how to cook ends with you on the table, his head between your legs.

latina reader (coming december 24): annoyed at the way laura always makes comments in spanish when she doesn't want him to understand, logan comes to you, asking you to teach him his daughter's native language.

jewish reader (coming december 26): with all the christmas celebrations and decor in the x-mansion, you decide to take it upon yourself to plan hanukkah festivities for the jewish children at the mansion.

jewish reader (coming december 30): as magneto's daughter, you often find yourself fighting the x-men. but it's one x-man in particular that keeps you coming back. you love the adrenaline of fighting and so does logan. but there are other ways to let off steam.

main taglist: @raeinyourdreams @meetmypointlessaddiction @chubbyhedgehog @yxtkiwiyxt @isepod @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes @deaky-with-a-c

latina reader: @naggywaggy @mami-veracruz @spencerswh0r3 @taextannie @gl1ndathegoodwitch @uncertified-doc

autistic reader: @thegothempress @z0m3r-blud @yourlocalmerchgirl

curvy reader: @spencerswh0r3 @seasonofthenerd @thegothempress @yourlocalmerchgirl

bisexual reader: @spencerswh0r3

desi reader: @seasonofthenerd

comment on this post to be added to the taglist or if you only want to be tagged in a specific fic, that's fine too.

[sundrop-writes]

if ur taking requests then how about female reader being a bau member and is receiving unwanted attention from the local cops but she cant pick up on social cues very well so it’s extra stressful for her to naviagte

Then enter protective and somewhat jealous jj that tries to protect her and shows her what true love and respect is with soft softdom!jj

I really like this, but I like the idea of it more as a short then a full fic, so... here we go.

JJ Being Protective of You - (Jennifer Jareau x Fem!Autistic!Reader)

Warnings: some harassing behaviour from a random male cop towards the reader; the man uses condescending pet names toward the reader; JJ goes full boss mode; use of the term L/N (as in 'Last Name') to refer to the reader; she reader uses she/her pronouns; the reader experiences a small accidental injury; pre-established relationship. Idk what else. Not proofread.

Paperwork. This is where you thrived. Much like Spencer, you loved a good paper trail.

You were currently in the back room of the police station, going through their old case files, looking at every case from the last forty years that had yet to be digitised. You were looking for previous murders that matched the signature of the killer the team was currently after, since the working theory was that the UnSub had 'taken on' the work of his father or another older figure in his life.

So you had to dig through all the files of unsolved murders and see if you could find a pattern stemming back - to see if you could find more killings that this father might have committed.

It was stuffy and dusty in the file room, but you were finding it to be the kind of work that you did best - your brain churning on all cylinders as you looked through the many files for all the markers in the killings that would have aligned with his killer. You put some files aside and closed the lid on a box, and then moved to a new stack, going to take down a box from 1973 - it was rather heavy and awkward to lift, but you could manage it.

"Oh, little lady, let me help you with that,"

Suddenly, someone appeared beside you, as if out of nowhere, and a second pair of hands began tugging on the box.

"I got it." You grunted out, tugging the box back in your direction, trying to get a better grip on it.

"Trust me, doll, someone like you shouldn't be lugging this crap around on your own." The man's voice argued, becoming slightly strained - angry?

Was he frustrated because it was too heavy for him to lift? Did he feel like he had to help because you looked weak and he was frustrated because of the social obligation?

"It's fine." You assured him, tugging on it again. But - he still wouldn't let go. "I'm stronger than I look, trust me."

That was something that Emily and Derek often joked about. You had used a shovel to break a double welded chain in order to get into a basement when a child was in danger. The police had been arguing about getting a warrant and talking about how they would need heavy duty bolt cutters to get through the chain away, and you were down there in minutes - and from then on, the team all agreed not to mess with you. Especially not in an emergency.

"Sweetie, just let go of it-"

His grip slipped off the box, and it went flying in the opposite direction then, and one of the sharp corners smacked you on the head - a piercing pain went through your whole forehead and and papers came flying out of the box, spilling across the floor and fluttering everywhere.

"Oh my god, ow!" You exclaimed loudly, stepping backward, raising a hand to your forehead toward the throbbing pain. You were alarmed when you felt wetness, and you quickly drew your fingers back and saw blood.

"Oh, goodness. I'm sorry, darlin'." The man appeared in front of you, and soon, completely unprompted, he put his hands on both of your cheeks, trying to lift your head to better inspect the cut. "See, that's why you shouldn't-"

"Don't touch me!" You screamed, reaching up inside of his forearms to shove his hands off you. Your skin was crawling with a terrible, icky itch where his hands had been touching you.

He became slack-jawed with shock at this.

"There's no need to shout." He chuckled. "Calm down."

"Ugh, no!" You shouted back.

You were suddenly feeling terribly trapped in the small, stuffy, dusty room, and though you knew that the papers needed to be cleaned up and you needed to finish your fishing expedition for the trail of murders - you had to leave. You needed air.

You needed JJ.

You shoved past the man and your feet carried you as fast as you could go, frantically looking for that head of blonde hair.

"Listen, babydoll, just calm down-"

"Woah, woah, her name is not babydoll."

That voice. Your hero.

You blinked past a haze if tears you hadn't even noticed was forming, and saw the pale blue shirt and blonde hair that you knew was her - you ran to stand behind her, grabbing her hand tightly, which she gripped back, grounding you, letting you know that she was right there.

"I'm not sure what kind of slack operation you people run around here, but we are professionals. You are going to refer to her by her full title, Special Agent L/N - or you won't talk to her at all. You won't even look at her. Do you understand me?" JJ barked at him.

The pure authority dripping from her voice made you feel so utterly safe.

"Listen, m'am, I'm not sure-"

"It's not 'm'am', it's Agent." JJ corrected him, now straining through her teeth, absolutely seething. "We are here representing the FBI, trying to catch a very dangerous man to help keep your town safe. We're not just little secretaries skittering around to get you your coffee and clean up after you. Just because we're women, we're not here to wipe your ass!"

You heard a chuckle from behind you, and you thought it was Emily's voice. This was followed by a low whistle - probably Derek.

"Is that clear?" JJ finished off, daring the man to talk back to her.

The man sighed and turned around to leave, finally defeated. This is when JJ turned to you.

"Are you okay?" She asked, her voice much softer now. "Oh my god, what happened to your head?"

"There was... a box..." You mumbled quietly, still feeling shaken up.

"He hit you with a box?" JJ snapped, looking back in the direction he had walked off.

"JJ, please." You begged, quietly, squeezing her hand, directing her attention back to you.

She knew what her priority was right now.

"Come on,"

JJ walked you to the bathroom, and as she was cleaning up the cut with a damp paper towel, she was still huffing hard through her nose, the anger still pumping through her.

"I'm going to find that guy's supervisor, I'm going to put in a report about him, I'm going to-"

"It's okay, JJ." You said, reaching out to run a gentle hand along her lower back. "I'm pretty sure he's not gonna come near me again after what you said."

She let out a snort of laughter, and half her mouth upturned in a smile. You both knew that she could be incredibly intimidating despite her looks, and she always protected you - just one of the many things that had attracted you to her in the first place.

"Yeah, well... nobody comes near my girl and gets away with it."

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Headcanons for Jennifer Check with an autistic S/O?

I love this idea so much- I took inspiration from some of my own experiences so this might not apply to everyone but I certainly did my best! I really hope you like it <3

Jennifer Check with an autistic s/o

Warnings: brief mention of meltdowns/sensory overloads, references to ableism/ignorant people, very brief (somewhat) joking mention of committing murder (it's Jenny, what do you expect), very salty and blunt language that I'm honestly not even sorry for

I honestly think Jennifer would appreciate dating an autistic person, especially if you're the type who's very straight forward or overly blunt about things

She probably thought you were a bit of a bitch at first I'm not gonna lie lol, but she makes that assumption about pretty much everyone when she first meets them

You'd seen each other around school before but your first real conversation was when you were paired up for some sort of science project. She was not looking or feeling like her typical hot and fabulous self, and while you weren't the first to notice you were the only one brave enough to point it out

"Have you been getting enough sleep recently? You have really heavy bags under your eyes"

Jennifer wanted to snap at you at first, thinking you were being sarcastic (because obviously she had bags under her eyes, she didn't need anyone pointing it out) but much to her surprise you didn't look like you were making fun of her. In fact, you seemed a little concerned

"Your hair looks pretty damaged." You continued, oblivious to the look of utter shock on her face that you would actually say something like that out loud. "If using both shampoo and conditioner is too much of a trouble I can recommend some two-in-one products. Or you can always use dry shampoo in between washes"

The woman was too stunned to speak. All she was able to do was mutter an awkward "thank you", something that you simply nodded your head at before turning the conversation back over to the project

She gained a lot of respect for you that day, as you were the only person who wasn't afraid to say what everyone was thinking (though she soon learned this was due to you not knowing what was and wasn't considered 'appropriate' to say)

Out of everyone, you're the one person Jennifer goes to (other than maybe Needy) when she needs an honest opinion on something because you won't lie to spare her feelings or try to flatter her

"Which tank top do you think I should wear to school tomorrow, the pink one or the black one?"

"Well, the pink one makes you look like slut. But the black one makes you look like both a slut and a bitch, too"

"Perfect. Black it is, then"

If you ever accidentally make a situation awkward or uncomfortable by your comments or questions you won't even have to worry about being embarrassed because she'll immediately come out with saying something so bitchy and/or vulgar that whatever you said looks innocent in comparison and is forgotten about right away

She'll get very protective if people try to purposely make you feel bad for the out of pocket things you say. After all, you're just telling people the truth, it's not their fault if they can't handle a dose of reality (her words, not mine)

Even though she loves to party she'll most likely either tone it down or just stop going altogether when she finds out you don't like them all that much because of the loud music, bright lights, small spaces crowded with lots of drunk people, etc. She'd rather be with you any way

Always lets you infodump to her about your newest interest or favorite thing, which truly shows just how much she loves you as she usually always has to be the one dominating any conversation she's a part of. Sometimes you wonder if she ever really listens until she gets you something relating to your latest hyperfixation and then you're like "ah okay so she does care :D"

Honestly she's such a trashy mcbling y2k girly (canon, she told me herself) that I feel like she's the type of person to buy you stim/fidget toys and then help you 'bling' them out by gluing on fake rhinestones and such because "you can't just walk around with boring accessories"

Is she the type of person to tease you/make a bunch of sex jokes if you have an oral fixation? Yes. Will she start carrying around lollipops, gum, chew rings, etc. in her purse to give to you when you're feeling distressed in a public place? Also yes

Totally understands if you don't like/can't eat certain foods due to pickiness, especially if this is after her demon possession. She goes out of her way to make sure the pantry is stocked with your safe foods and all your favorite snacks for whenever you come over so you won't run out of them

She may not be the best at comforting you if you're in the middle of a meltdown/sensory overload or if you start crying (especially if it's over something small) but she tries her best to be gentle, not wanting to accidentally make things worse. If you need physical comfort then she'll gladly let you wrap your arms around her and get as close as possible, but if not then she'll stay a safe distance away while trying to cheer you up with words of encouragement

Absolutely hates ableist people. Hates and will eat them /hj. She can't stand when people make you feel bad for not understanding certain phrases or not being able to pick up on social cues

If you're ever confused on something then she takes the time to explain it to you, and yes this includes her sarcasm. She can't stop being sarcastic for anyone, including you (sorry) but she can make accomadations so you don't feel stupid or left out

Jennifer finds your stimming so adorable, especially if you do it when you're excited to see her. The fact that you get so happy you have to make a physical show of it just to get the extra energy out warms her cold, otherwise unfeeling and bitchy heart

If you're a really physically affectionate person then she one hundred percent welcomes it and allows you to touch her at literally any given moment no matter where you are. If not, then that's all the more reason for her to feel special and loved if you ever do give her, say, a hug, especially if you have an aversion to touch

Speaking of which, if there are any clothes of hers that you don't like because the texture of it bothers you/makes your skin crawl then she simply won't wear them around you, and might even get rid of them so you can feel more comfortable touching her. This includes making sure her bed always has the coziest pillows and blankets and comfiest sheets for whenever you spend the night

Overall I think Jen would love you no matter what personality quirks you may have regarding being autistic, and she would never fail to tell you just how much she loves you for them

Main masterlist | Jennifer's Body masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated <3

🏷 taglist: @anxiously-sad @iloveentrapta @ghot-girl @taecube @corn3liiia @gilmore-angel @your-next-daydream @alexxavicry @noisy-dumb-piece-of-shit @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous (if you were crossed out it means I couldn't tag you for some reason)

[lorisidirgiichi2002]

TADC - Anxiety/Autistic Reader Headcanons.

Gender-Neutral Pronouns Friendship levelled relationships.

--------------------------------------------

For Pomni, she is just as anxious as you, though while she has started to cope with it a lot better for a few months, she can relate to wanting to escape and get out of the circus just as much. The first few interactions are awkward, but after hanging out with them, and you understand her scenario, you both grow to relatable friends and might look for the exit together while trying to go with the flow of the adventures and curious to hear about her adventures, though won't reveal some Out of Bounds secrets early on so you don't recklessly go looking for it fearing of being Abstracted.

Since Ragatha offered a hand to you, you saw Ragatha as a sort of mother figure, if not that, a really good person to go towards for advice or comfort away from the chaotic scenarios that happen in the Circus. While you have confirmed that you mostly rather be left alone to do your favourite activities, you'd start to panic if anything happens to your close friends, especially to Ragatha and she'd respect your space and boundaries the most, even in a bad mood. If there's something the others don't understand about you, you tell them to Ragatha and passes it on towards others, though might raise a eyebrow on Jax knowing him.

Depending on the type of person you are, you either going to relate to Jax or you're going to hate him. Jax is a snarky jackass that would purposely lead you into danger or screw you over or pull pranks. You'd rightfully call him out and would lose your cool towards him, though if you manage to catch some rare instances that he's depressed or in a low mood, you might be able to strike a conversation with him when the mood is calmer, though he tries to hide it. Jax when the façade breaks would probably speak his frustrations about this place and you'd understand his feelings and probably wanted to hang out with him if the adventures started to get boring and stale and cause a tiny bit of trouble. (Not too much to his extent.) Though you know it doesn't excuse the few times he pranked you and left you panicking and overwhelmed and messing with your pattern and routine with dealing with the Digital Circus.

Gangle is probably a member of the Digital Circus that you'd would probably feel the most empathy for and relates to being the joke of the group. Gangle is the most fragile and emotional of the group and to see someone step up and be there for them would be a mood bringer. You'd would be the most apologetic if you ever broke their comedy mask and would help out in repairing it and probably talk about your hyperfixations and some funny stories to try and cheer Gangle up. Though depending with your relationship with Jax, you'd 100% protect Gangle like their life depends on it, because that's not what friends are for being bullies to each other or respectfully tell him to stop.

Kinger is something that is absolutely hard to crack and understand personality wise and difficult. Being the most paranoid and unpredictable member of the group, you could see themselves as Kinger if Ragatha didn't come to your aid and had to adapt without help. You'd probably be scared about Kinger's absent minded and slow reactions to your presence and be scared of them screaming or wielding a shotgun, though tried to calm him down and be there for them regardless of how you feel about him. Depending on the episode canon by the time of writing this (30th September 2024), it is unknown if Kinger would ever talk about Queenie or even mention about her towards you.

Zooble is the most rude and irritable member of the group, while she might be off to do her own thing and not partake in adventures with a soft side to newcomers, I believe that Zooble might be a member that might take a long time to bond with, but maybe an alternative to Jax and wants to let off some steam if Ragatha isn't available and just say a bunch of censored swears. Though you might feel a bit sad if Zooble told you to !#@? off or insulting you and gives them space. Zooble might believe that next to Kinger, you might be the next member to be abstracted knowing how you're coping with living here, just to break out their persona would try to understand and help you.

Caine is definitely the most uneasy member to hang out with, being the know it all and so forth running the circus. You might call to him to ask any questions or any rules and logic you need to understand living in the digital circus and write it down in notes, though might use that information to Pomni for understanding and finding a way out. While Caine is generally cheerful and willing to help you, you can't help but sense there's something uncanny about him outside of his strange appearance. Just the understanding of the concept of Abstraction sends shivers down your spine despite him telling you not to worry about it too much and motivates you to leave even more. Bubble appearing out of nowhere would startle you and probably pop them without Caine's permission via instinct and habit if they kept interrupting you.

What do you guys think? Was there some things you'd change? Do you want to see a S/O sequel to this? Let me know in the comments below.

[blckbrrybasket]

Disruption of Mind

Rafe Cameron x Autistic!Gn!reader

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: (quick) strangers to lovers, overstimulation, very slight angst, mainly fluff, Topper

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1.4k

ɴᴏᴛᴇ: canon divergent 🩶

Rafe and you had been dating for almost a year now. It was odd when he was finally left to find peace after Ward died. He had decided to stay in the Outer Banks, wanting to get serious. Obviously though, Rafe would still throw a party here and there. That’s how he met you.

He had found you speeding away from the party up the stairs. At first Rafe had assumed you were somewhat shady, running away so briskly, so he’d followed you. That thought was soon squashed when he saw your hand covering your ear, shoulder pressed to the other as you tried the knobs of different rooms. You definitely seemed more upset than trying to bang someone where you shouldn’t be.

Rafe’s brows furrowed when he followed you into his room that had swung open under your command. “You good?” He almost jumped when you did, your body pivoting towards him. Your eyes were wide and frantic and you sputtered over your words. “Shit- sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” You nodded rapidly, too rapid for comfort and jerked your head to the door. “Too loud,” was the first thing he heard from you and he automatically closed the door.

There was a pause as Rafe considered the odd situation. “Better?” He prompted and looked over his shoulder at you. You slowly nodded and sunk to the floor, Rafe mirroring you shortly thereafter. What else was he supposed to do? Sure he could kick you out but he wasn’t blind. Something was up. Somehow he picked up to be quiet and he made no move to speak, even when your breathing evened out. Eventually you had apologized, embarrassed, yet he hadn’t accepted it.

To him there was no reason to say sorry and that thought only solidified when you hurriedly explained that you were overstimulated, a somewhat common occurrence. A few years ago Rafe would probably have had a different reaction, not able to understand so easily, but nowadays he liked the silence. He could relate to not wanting to have so many people around you. And while that wasn’t the only thing your autism affected he didn’t care, it was just another part of you.

That night he’d brought food up to you, leaving you with his number when you inevitably left.

Months later Rafe found himself with four tickets to go see Gunna in concert. It was a given that he invited Kelce and Topper, but he also wanted to invite you. If he could he would take you everywhere with him. The two of you ran over how the venue would be smaller with no seating, but you’d prep and bring headphones in case of overstimulation. Rafe was hesitant, not wanting to force you into an uncomfortable encounter. However, it was one of his favorite rappers and you’d do damn near anything to make him happy. How could you pass up the once in a lifetime opportunity?

After hours of reassurance that you’d be fine he was finally at ease with the idea of you coming along. He was excited, truly. Rafe had made sure that the group would arrive a bit early to secure a good spot without being trapped against the railing. By the time you made it to the front of the space, Rafe kept his arm around your waist, promising enough room for you in the crowd.

His tall figure bent to rest his chin on your head. “Havin’ fun?” Rafe murmured to you as the opener started, and you were. It was effortless to become fully immersed, jumping when instructed, happily yelling the lyrics, and leaning against Rafe for support when the crowd shifted. Being lost in the excitement caused a challenge to tell when you were reaching your limits. Kelce and Topper had retreated to the back after a while to grab waters. When they hadn’t come back the two of you figured the crowd had closed in, and they wouldn’t be able to come back to the front again.

You didn’t pay too much attention to their absence as you sang along and bobbed next to Rafe. He was too captivated by how ecstatic you seemed to care about the others. Time seemed to pass on its own, hours ticking by in seconds. Neither of you noticed how long it’d been till the crowd erupted, demanding for an encore. Seemingly brought down to reality, Rafe intertwined his hand with yours and used his height to weave through the crowd. People eagerly made room for you to pass, eager to get slightly closer to the rails.

Dazed by the loud music and lights you felt like you were floating through the venue. Luckily, Rafe caught Kelce and Topper’s eye and nodded towards the exit, signaling it was time to leave. They didn’t put up a fight, aware that the crowd was about to get worse when everyone made their way out. Leaving a song or two early always helped avoid shoving their way back to Rafe’s truck.

Once you pushed open the doors, the cool night air brushed against your flushed face. Rafe immediately turned to check if you were doing okay. Seeing your radiant smile made his heart soar. “Doing okay?” He spun you around to face him, hand falling to the small of your back when you bumped into him with a giggle. “Yes! Oh my god, Rafe, that was amazing.” A grin spread across his face as he couldn’t resist scooping you into his arms, dashing to his truck.

Behind him, Topper and Kelce protested having to run. “Keep up then!” He shouted above your laughter. Maybe if you hadn’t been so swept up you would have realized the signs of overstimulation creeping in, or if you had taken a moment to breathe you would have recognized the overwhelming nature of the situation. Sometimes you aren't able to, nobody is perfect. As Rafe flung open the door and helped you in your seat you felt the high energy beginning to fade.

It was an almost dreadful feeling, but you pushed through it. Adapt and overcome, wasn’t that the saying? You didn’t want to spoil anyone’s night! Yet you certainly didn’t expect the volume of Topper and Kelce when they hopped into the truck. They went on to scold a smug Rafe who simply turned on the truck, engine revving and music coming on. The overlapping stimulants hit your ears all at once, your brain near spasming at the speed of the environment changing.

The conglomerate voices made it hard to discern who was talking and what was happening. “Yo, you good?” Kelce tried, but failed to get an answer from you. The question drew the attention of Rafe as you leaned forward to try and turn the music off. God why were there so many dials on his stereo? The frantic movement of your hands desperately shutting down the sound dawned on Rafe. You were overstimulated.

Far too overwhelmed to realize it was mainly quiet now, aside from the radio and Topper, you tapped away at the controls. Rafe reached over, making sure not to hit your hand in the process, and shut off the music entirely. “Shut the fuck up.” One sentence from Rafe but it was enough for Topper to snap his mouth shut. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” You whispered in embarrassment, covering your face with your shaking hands.

Rafe leaned over to press a chaste but tender kiss to the backs of them. “Can I touch you?” He murmured. Normally, he’d mull over how Topper and Kelce perceived him, but not now. Not when you needed him. You nodded slowly, tensing momentarily when the palm of his hand settled on your head. He didn’t stay still for long, gently stroking your hair down to sooth you. “Nothin’ to be sorry for. It happens.”

“But-“ you started, but Rafe shut it down. “Nah. No but’s. We’re all fine, and ‘m sure Top and Kelce are too.” Rafe’s stern look at the two had them stiffening. “Yeah, yeah. We’re all good as long as you’re good,” Kelce responded. Topper sighed as if he were going to protest until he conceded. Honestly he was more pissed at Rafe snapping at him. “I’m fine…can we still listen to music though?”

“Topper,” Kelce groaned in annoyance at his insistence. You looked between the seats and smiled at Topper. “It’s okay.” And maybe it was, but they were all thankful that you couldn’t see the deadly look in Rafe’s eye. “We’ll play your playlist a’ight babe?” Hearing the tension in his voice you peered up at Rafe. “Are you okay?” Instantly, he softened at your gaze. “Always when I’m with you.”

As Rafe began to drive, he left his hand open and inviting on the console for you to hold whenever you felt comfortable.

[airbendertendou]

a small compilation of moments between autistic!reader + connor happy disability pride month <3

anon requested : hi! i was wondering if you could do something with connor and the autistic reader and like them going nonverbal and how he would handle that? You don’t have to do it if you don’t wanna! :)

please do not use this as a way to self-diagnose. having one thing in common does not necessarily mean you are autistic. im not a therapist or doctor, if you think you’re on the spectrum, talk to them. <3

if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.

temperature irregulation ♥︎

hank was a firm believer in a cold house. when the summer season came and brought a heatwave with it, the older man wouldn’t allow anything other than a brisk, chilly living room.

it was often you’d come over to go over old cases and study with hank. interning with the detroit police department was fun — the academy, however, you could live without. you’d learned to dress warm when visiting hank’s house, having a hard time warming up once you were cold.

“here,” a thicker sweater is placed over the couch, the sleeve laying on your shoulder. you take it without thought, swapping your thinner one for the new one. connor smiles at the pattern on your fuzzy socks, the sight of your toes curling in delight at the warmth bringing something tender to his brain. “better?”

you nod with a hum, “thanks, detective.”

hank rolls his eyes, hiding the curl of his lips at your obliviousness. “anyways, as i was saying—”

[interrupted] routine ♥︎

every day at 12:10 pm, you’d wander into the breakroom for a snack and drink refill. connor didn’t mean to memorize your specific regimen — but after watching you do the same thing for a week straight, it stuck to his mind.

you loitered in the doorway to the breakroom, peeking in occassionally to see if it’d emptied out any. gavin caught your gaze, rolling his eyes at your hesitance. it was then you spotted the mug in his hands — your mug, the one you always used. your frown deepened.

connor budged his way into the crowd, bumping into gavin and causing his drink to spill. every curse leaving the human’s mouth went ignored — connor only watched as you cowered away from gavin’s angry steps as he left. grabbing the dropped mug, connor rinsed it four times before holding it out to you shyly.

you crept into the breakroom, grabbing the handle of the mug and shooting the android a thankful grin.

stimming with pressure ♥︎

hank opened the door to his house with a sigh. connor’s eyebrows furrowed as he tilted his head, questioning the elder silently. hank leans against the door, “[name]’s been here a while, s’all. won’t leave my bathtub.”

a safe zone, connor concludes, somewhere small and compact ; where you could see every corner and every threat. he makes his way to the bathroom without another thought, pausing at the sight of you.

your eyes are closed, face crumpled in displeasure as you clench and unclench your fists in a pattern. connor knocks on the door, announcing his presence without startling you. your eyes fly open, “hello, detective.”

“you can call me connor, if you’d like.” the android steps further into the bathroom slowly, allowing you to object if you need to. your eyes stay on him — his thirium pump stutters in his chest. “anything i can do to help?”

taking in a deep breath, you puff your cheeks as you release the air. “maybe. if you don’t think it’s weird.”

connor stares down at you, his upper lip curled in hesitance as you lay in hank’s bed. you adjust yourself, wiggling around until you’ve splayed your limbs where you want them. you blink up at him, “well?”

“it is a little... strange.” connor tries to be nice, he really does. but asking an android to lay on you — to put their full weight on you — he’s concered. “i will crush you.”

you roll your eyes, “i have a weighted blanket at home ; it’s no different.”

“i weigh quite a bit more than—”

“are you going to lay on me or not, connor?”

maybe it was the sound of you saying his name for the first time ; maybe it was the way you looked so defeated. whatever it was, connor found himself laying on you as gently as he could. the relaxation was immediate — he could feel the breath of relief you let out ; the way your body sagged.

you fell asleep that way — with connor holding his breath and tensing up the closer you got.

sensory overload ♥︎

the scene you were going to was a lot. it was nighttime now, the sirens and flashing lights bringing everyone’s attention this way. hank leaves the car first, grumbling as he goes. the sound that leaks through his open door causes you to whimper.

connor turns his head to you, “everything alright?”

your gaze hasn’t left the window as you squint, blinking at all of the lights. you gulp before biting your lip. “i’ll be fine. this is what i signed up for.”

you’re barely out of the car and already wincing at the noise and the lights. you can’t see hank ; can’t hear or understand anything being said around you. the world is blinking in hues of red and blue, wailing sirens going off with every flash of the lights.

the sound grows muffled as soft and sturdy hands cup your ears. a thumb moves from your ear briefly, just long enough for you to hear a whisper. “close your eyes and i’ll lead you into the house. that’s where the lieutenant is.”

trusting connor’s words — a little too easily — you squeeze your eyes shut. your hands go up to cover his, sealing your ears from the harsh sounds around you. stumbling a little here and there, you eventually feel a difference in temperature as you enter the house.

letting out a sigh, your shoulders moving with the motion, slowly your eyes peel open. you glance at connor, ignoring the tenderness of his gaze. “thanks, connor.”

he lets out a deep breath, ignoring the sly grin hank sends his way. “no problem, [name].” 

verbal shutdown ♥︎

it happened so quick. your safe foods had vanished from their designated cabinet ; your chair’s wheel was squeaking incessently ; hank hadn’t shown up today. everything was piling on and you finally exploded.

the evidence locker was empty as you shakily typed in hank’s password. you hit the wrong button a few times, squeezing your eyes together at the little beeps. your breathing picks up — you hold it in your chest and shake your hands, releasing the tension built inside you.

you all but crawl into the secure room, your back hitting the wall as you sit down. your eyes squeeze shut again and you go through the motions, choosing the less destructive ways to calm yourself down.

none of them work.

when connor finds you, you’re drawing shapes on the floor with your finger. you’ve curled into yourself, not making a sound ; your usual means of comfort absent from your lips. he walks to you cautiously, “[name]? hank has returned. he’s asking to see you.”

you don’t move ; not a sound falls from your lips. connor sits in front of you, crossing his legs as he waits. from his suit pocket comes a ring of multicolored notecards — your eyes flash to his at the sight of them. connor holds them out further so that you can see them properly. “want to use these?”

a miniscule nod, but it’s enough to make him smile. “alright,” he flicks through the blue cards — feelings. stopping at your set of upset verbs, he slides the ring your way. “any of these describe how you’re feeling?”

a shaky finger hits the word overstimulated before dragging over to panic. connor nods, flipping to the pink set — solutions. “what do you want to do? go home ; nap ; have a snack ; get your puzzle book ; coloring book...” connor holds them up to you, reading out each one until you nod — except you don’t. pausing, connor speaks up again, “want me to leave?”

you shake your head. slowly, your hand crawls across the floor until it meets his. you nudge his hand, curling your fingers under his. connor holds his breath, adjusting your fingers until you’re holding hands properly. his eyes stay to the floor, “this is okay, too. let me know when you’re ready to leave.”

emotional regulation ft. lots of crying ♥︎

“connor,” your voice brings him out of his work. standing beside his desk, connor watches as you sway side to side. he tilts his head and it makes your eyes water. “i’m going to cry.”

that was his cue to take you into his arms. connor stands to do so, gathering your body against his and rocking you side to side slowly. your body hiccups a few times, sniffles leaving your nose occassionally. you seem to calm down even more as he rubs your back soothingly — connor’s led light flashes yellow as he stores that information for later.

you pull away with a deep breath, rubbing your face with the hoodie you’re wearing. connor frowns, “better?”

you nod, “needed that. thank you.”

“want to tell me what upset you? only if you want to.”

connor never knew what to expect your answer to be. sometimes you just shook your head and snuggled close to him again. other times, you did talk about why you were crying and it made connor realize the extent of human emotions. 

“no more chocolate in the snack cabinet.”

“had a nice dream.”

“hank is wearing yellow.”

“it’s such a pretty day today!”

“too much noise.”

“gavin cut his hair.”

you let out another sniffle, lips pouting in thought. “not too sure this time. jus’ felt like i needed to cry.”

connor nods to himself, his led light whirring yellow once more. “i’m glad you feel comfortable with me, [name]. i’ll be here if you need another cry.”

you grin, meeting his eyes for a brisk second before reaching out to hold his hand. you swing your entwined hands lightly, grin softening into something gentle. “i know. thanks, con.”

the detective was sure he’d implode because of you soon. just not yet — not when you’re still holding his hand.

——♥︎—— for some reason my brain tells me to only write autistic readers n pair them w connor. like?? work w me here!! anyways. i hope this was okay, remember to take your meds, drink some water and have a nice snack!! airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.

[venuscrashed]

could you please you do a miles 42 x male reader who is autistic and can’t pick up on subtle hints and sarcasm and is just over all a very forward and blunt person just straight up tells people what they think and doesn’t sugarcoat things at all

Sorry if I get anything wrong, I’m not autistic nor really educated. FEM READER DNI

First meet:

The first time you met him he thought you had a problem with him. He was about to throw hands, but something in the back of his mind told him not to.

You two were talking for a group project and somehow got off topic. It ended up being a conversation about clothes and you straight up went “Yeah, I like your hair but your outfits kinda weird. I like the shoes though.”

He stared at you and so did the rest of the group. They all thought something was about to go down until your friend popped up saying you do that and mean no harm.

”Well aren’t you a ray of sunshine.”

”No not really.” Then you went in with the project, leaving everyone a bit confused.

Confession:

He was frustrated, screaming into his pillow every night. Venting to his mom and uncle about your obliviousness.

Yes, he knew you were autistic, but it still bothered him. He would straight out flirt with you, no shame whatsoever, and you still didn’t get the hint.

“If I got into a relationship I want you to be my boyfriend.”

“Cool.”

When he confessed he had to make it so obvious. He had a sign and some candy and went to your apartment at night.

The sign said “will you be my boyfriend?” Can’t get more obvious than that, can it?

”Is this sarcasm of some kind of prank?”

He climbed into your room, discarding the candy and sign. “No. I would like you to my boyfriend.” He looked you in the eyes, “I’d like to be with you. Now and forever.”

“I don’t know about forever…” you both chuckled at this. He knew you weren’t lying but he’ll keep you, one way or another. “I’d like to be your boyfriend to.”

He cupped your face and kissed you softly. Enjoying the moment that he knew will forever be engraved into his mind. “Could use some chapstick.” He’s second guessing his thoughts.

Relationship:

He’s always by you. He’s like a guard dog, if someone hints at something he doesn’t like, he’s staring the down until they leave.

If they say it out right to your face, you’ll have to hold him back. But it’s fine, you usually say something back.

”That’s irrelevant, like you.”

He was in the floor laughing about it, proud to. He even told his uncle and that’s when his uncle knew he liked you.

Although it’s a little hard when Miles wants something. If he hints at it it goes over his head. “You know I’m cold and lonely over here.” “Get a blanket and just talk to me.”

He appreciates your honesty…somewhat.

”That color doesn’t look good on you.” “…thanks.”

”It’s not your best cooking but it’s not your worst.” “I’ll keep that in mind.”

”Maybe-“ “No.”

He loves you.

Just stop testing him from time to time. and if anyone says the same thing, he’s about to send people to the hospital.

[purpleyoonn]

The Line Between Love and War 12

C H A P T E R 1 2: PTD D1 AND OVERSTIMULATION

“It is said that the night sky is made up of tiny wishes that humans were never able to fulfill. That the stars only became bright by the fulfillment of those wishes. In your eyes, the stars that shine never seemed real, your childhood wishes dark and dim as you grow. But now, now you understand the twinkle in their eyes as they look down at you.”

Summary: Your experiences told you that soulmates were something you would never have the pleasure of having; something not given to you because of who you are, despite the soulmark that resides on your inner left wrist. During your solo trip to Los Angeles, you find out that you are more than capable, that your soulmates had been waiting for you for a long time, and would not be letting you go anytime soon.

Genre: soulmate au, bts au, idol bts, polyamory relationship, eventual smut

Paring: Idol!BTS x autistic!mc

Status: Ongoing (randomly updated)

Warnings: mental illness, talk of disability, lots of angst, miscommunication, feelings of depression, feelings of isolation, polyamory bts, stalking, dangerous behavior, eventual smut, 

Chapter Warnings: the concert, overstimulation, shut downs, not much, lots of feelings,

Taglist: @azazel-nyx​​​  @yuzon3​​​ @hannahdinse8​​​ @quirkybtsarmy​​​ @mageprincess7​​​  @fluffy-canada-pancakes​​​ @suckerforv​​​ @chaoticthingpizza​​​ @drissteele​​​ @carolinexkpop​​​ @avadakadabra93​​​ @lachimolala22019​​​  @justaweird0​​​ @singukieee​​​  @welcometomyworld13​​​ @toughbook​​​ @kimana122​​​ @kpopmultistantrashsstuff​​​ @0funsite0​​ @joyless-living​​ @sinceritythatcouldntbedelivered​ @elliott-calls​​ @psychosupernatural​​

Masterlist // Chapter 11 // Chapter 13

————————————————–

Previously on The Line Between Love and War:

“Alright then. We well let Sejin and Seungho know. For now, I would appreciate if I could have some pre-concert kisses from my littlest mate.” Namjoon reached his arms out, pouting his lip a little knowing it would cause you to laugh at him. 

You struggle to get yourself out of Hobi and Taehyung’s embrace, who noticeably tightened their grip once Namjoon opened his arms. 

“Heyyyy, not nice!” You whine, finally pulling yourself away and falling into Namjoon’s arms. 

“But we want pre-concert kisses too!” Taehyung whined back, making you laugh again, hiding your face in Namjoon’s neck.

You could already hear Army beginning to enter the arena, voices and screams echoing as the pre-concert videos started to play on the big screens. Taehyung was sitting with you, having finished getting ready first. He was in the middle of making sure you were okay being in the security gates in front of everyone else. He knew how loud noises made you feel. 

“Don’t worry Tae! I’ve got the headphones that Yoongi gave me.” You smiled wide at him, hoping that would reassure your stressed-looking mate. It didn’t reassure him at all though. He opened his mouth to say something else but was cut off by Seungho.

“Come on, Y/n. We need to get you to your seat before the boys start.” Seungho gives Taehyung an apologetic glance and nod before he starts to lead you out of the room. But before you can leave, you turn around and quickly give each of the boys a hug, not wanting to kiss them in case it ruins the make up the make-up artists spent so long on. 

“Good luck! I’m so excited!” You tell the last part to Seungho as you hold your hands up to your chest, your fists shaking in excitement. 

You went from traveling about a week early to experience Los Angeles by yourself because you couldn’t get any tickets to now having seven soulmates and being able to attend not just one, but all four of the PTD La concerts. Your entire life literally changed at the blink of any eye, or well, more like running into a wall. 

“This is your first concert, correct?” Seungho asked you, not remembering if you’ve attended anything before. 

“Yes!” You exclaimed back, your fists still shaking as you make it to the stairs that will get you to the ground floor and into the security gates in front of the stage. There was a good maybe ten feet between the security gates for the floor seats and the stage where the boys would be performing.

Hobi explained it to you that you would have a seat in the section right in front of the edge of the stage, and that it wouldn’t be close to the floor seats where Army is seated. 

They were worried to say the least. While they loved Army, and trusted them with you, they also knew there were some “fans” who were not happy that they found their last soulmate, and that it wasn’t any of them. They wanted you to be safe, which was why they wanted you up with their family in the box. Obviously, due to your fear of heights, they had to figure something else out, wanting you to experience their concert like an Army. 

Seungho escorts you to the seat set aside but you don’t sit down, to excited and pumped up. You stood watching the stage, taking everything in. It seemed way different than it did earlier before sound check. The entire atmosphere was different. You could feel the energy and excitement of every single Army coming in and finding their seats. Some even running down to the 100’s section. 

What caught your eye though was the people who had soundcheck coming back down to the floor section, all running towards you. You startled, Seungho moving directly in front of you once he caught the movement of the crowd. You held onto his arm before letting go just as quickly, not knowing if he was comfortable with your touch. 

Despite your aversion to touch, you felt safe with him; you just didn’t know if he also had an aversion to touch and you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. 

However, a single, subtle nod from him let you know your actions were okay, holding onto his arm again as you try to peak over or around his broad shoulders to see the group of Armies still running your way. You didn’t know if it was because you were directly in front of the stage or what, but seeing a group of men and women running towards you scared the crap out of you.

Now you understand how celebrities feel when fans spot them out and about, without security with them. 

“Stay behind me please, Y/n.” Seungho told you, feeling you trying to peek around him. He had a feeling they were rushing for you, trying to get close to the barrier in front of you. He had been watching your social media, following the discussions and posts about you. You were well liked by a lot of people, and also not so liked by some. He didn’t know which it was coming for you tonight, and he didn’t like it. 

You could hear your name being called; pictures being taken of you. It was weird and seemed a bit unreal, just like earlier when you did the Instagram live. You could feel some other members of the boys’ security team moving to help Seungho.

“Seungho, I think they are just excited. I don’t think they’ll hurt me. I have you to help protect me. Plus, there is about five feet between my seat and the barrier.” You were not going to lie, you were freaking out. But you didn’t want Seungho or the boys to have to worry about you the entire time, and if Seungho continued to try and hide you from Army, you knew that would happen. 

He looked back at you, and seeing how serious you were, only moved a couple inches to the left, still in front of you but not necessarily hiding you. Taking a deep breath, and trying to hide your nervous stimming, you looked at Army. 

“Hi guys! Please enjoy the concert! The boys have worked super hard and are so excited to see you guys again.” You spoke loudly, not wanting to yell in Seungho’s ears as he still stood close. 

“Y/n! What song are you excited for?”

“Y/n! Have you completed the bond yet?”

“Who is your bias?”

You ignored the second question, and the others like it that were being yelled your way, instead, you tried to answer some of the questions, but didn’t want to make the night about yourself. This night was about the boys, not you. 

“Please guys, the concert is about to start!” You decided to move back to your seat and not stand in front of the barrier anymore. 

You were now actively stimming, your body trying to help you feel more comfortable with the attention and new experiences. Your fists were clenched in front of you, shaking fast back and forth. It was a stim you’ve been doing since you were a kid, something you did when you got really excited or happy. You tried not to, despite how much you needed to, because you always felt embarrassed when doing that particular stim. You had been made fun of before for doing it, so instead you rocked your body forwards and backwards slowly. 

It took a couple more minutes before you could hear the intro starting, music slowly becoming louder until the boys came on stage from below. It also took the same amount of time for you to become completely overwhelmed and overstimulated. Despite your headphones, the music was loud and seemed to be louder than the screams behind you. The lights were flashing and the movement of the boys on stage had you practically shutting down. The stares you could feel on your back didn’t help, either.

You tried hard not to though, even though you know you needed it. Your boys needed this more. This was the first concert for them since the pandemic started and the went into the army. You knew they were happy being back on stage after so long and didn’t want to ruin anything for them. You wanted them to see you happy and not having any issues. You didn’t want them to worry. 

You could feel the sting from your nails digging into your palm as you clenched your hands. Your voice gone as you tried to show some kind of emotion resembling happiness or awe on your face. You didn’t need Seungho trying to bring you back into the dressing room and alerting everyone that something was wrong. 

So, you spent the rest of the concert rocking back and forth and mouthing along to all the songs the boys sang. Your nails were practically stuck in your palm and you were stuck in your head. You could tell the cord connecting your mouth and brain wasn’t connected anymore and didn’t know when it would again.

You just wanted Jungkook to hold you and rub your back again but figured you probably wouldn’t get that tonight. They would probably be too pumped up with adrenal after the concert to do anything other than want to celebrate with army like normal. 

You could probably get away with cuddling up to Yoongi’s sweatshirt again as you laid in your shared bed. You didn’t want to bother them when they shared this excitement and happiness with army after so long. The last thing you wanted was to be a burden. 

-*-*-

Despite being completely overstimulated, you thought the concert was amazing. You don’t think you would go to one again, but you could see why so many people always praised your soulmates’ concerts and performance skills. 

You waited in the dressing room as the last notes of the last song play out throughout the stadium speakers. Seungho had thought it a safety issue to exit with the rest of army to try and make it backstage. So, he had taken you back during the second to last song. 

You still haven’t spoken a word, and Seungho could tell something was wrong. Your facial expression was vacant and it seemed as though your eyes were glazed over as you stared down at the small table in front of you. He was worried. 

You almost didn’t notice the arrival of your soulmates, mind gone to the stimulation you felt. 

“Hey baby! Did you have fun?” Jin came up and sat next to you on the loveseat, securing the spot next to you before anyone else. It was a couple of hours until his birthday and he was feeling the excitement of having his birthday with his finally complete soulbond group. 

But once he saw you, zoned out and not even registering their entrance, he had a feeling of what was going on. He was reminded of the closet incidence, your wide eyes glazed and unable to track what was going on. He moved in front of you, kneeling down so he could catch your eye. 

“Baby?” Jin tried, but you were gone. He now had the attention of the others, and Taehyung and Yoongi made it over first. 

“What should we do? Should we hold her like last time?” Taehyung asked, remembering how Jungkook held you in his arms and how the physical contact helped bring you back. 

“Here, let me try something.” Namjoon took control, switching places with Jin who now sat back next to you. Their movement didn’t phase you, your eyes still glazed over. 

Namjoon moved slowly, just in case you came back to, and moved so his palm was cupping your cheek. At his touch, your eyes became focused again and he could see how truly tired you were. 

“Hi baby girl. Are you okay?” He knew you weren’t but he still needed to know if something was physically wrong, and you seemed to know his intention as you shook your head no. At this response, they all knew you were nonverbal; Jimin, Jungkook and Taehyung all watching from the back as their hyungs take over the situation. 

“How about we go back to the hotel, and have a relaxing night, hmm?” Namjoon asks but stops as you shake your head, grabbing tightly to his forearm. His face scrunched up in concern, wondering what was going on through your head. 

You swallow your spit, trying your hardest to push words through your lips, only for them to keep getting caught in the back of your throat. Finally, you manage to push through one word, hoping they understand what you mean. 

“Celebrate.” You word is raspy, as if you had a bad cold recently. 

They had just gotten back from the military only months ago, managed to plan two weekends worth of content and concerts for Army, and as only a fan could know, they usually celebrated the concert afterwards with a live. You didn’t want that taken away from Army, and you didn’t want the boys to break a tradition just because you got overstimulated. It didn’t seem fair in any way. 

You would be fine; you always were before. Yeah, it might take time, but you would be fine. 

Army needed the boys more than you right now. 

“What do you mean baby?” Jimin asked from behind Hobi, eyes narrowed in confusion as he watches your expression. 

You knew you couldn’t push out another word, so you grabbed Namjoon’s palm from your cheek and held it flat in front of you, using your pointer finger you traced the word Army on his palm, hoping he would get it. You even trace it in Hangul when he didn’t get it in English. 

“You want us to celebrate with Army?” Namjoon finally realizes what you were trying to say, nodding his head as it clicks. 

You nod your head in response but stop once you see the look on your soulmates faces. You could tell they didn’t understand why you were asking them that. Why you wanted them to celebrate with army even when you weren’t doing good. 

So, you pull out the big guns, something Jimin taught you when Jin kept telling you no more ice cream. Jimin said it would bring out an immediate ‘yes’ from the hyungs every time, so you tried it.

You pulled out the puppy dog eyes and the lip pout. 

An immediate round of groans sounded throughout the room, every single one of your soulmates looked away from you, trying not to be drawn in by your expression. 

To seal the deal, you brought your hands together, folded in a way that everyone usually added with pleading words, but you couldn’t speak right now, so you held your clenched hands up close to your face. 

Eventually, Jin was the one who folded. 

“Alright baby! But we have some conditions.” He raised an eyebrow at you as you turned to face him. 

“We’ll do the live as long as you are there with us, so we can see you and make sure you’re okay. You’re going to drink some water, and let one of us hold you until the live, because that helped you a lot last time.” You knew they were talking about the last time you got too overstimulated, so you agreed. 

Maybe selfishly, though, you agreed to the terms. You kind of just wanted to be cocooned in like a little safety nest as you watched the boys do their live, maybe covered in one of their shirts or sweaters again. They always made you feel safe and comfortable and were slowly becoming a part of your collection of safe clothing. 

“Okay, boys, lets grab our things so we can get back to the hotel. Namjoon, why don’t you grab out little soulmate and go get into the car, we’ll grab your things.” Jin clapped his hands together after moving the night along, wanting to get back to the hotel. 

It didn’t take but a couple seconds for Namjoon to pick you up, his hands moving under your thighs and holding you to him so you were chest to chest. 

“Come here baby. Let’s go.” You looked around for your backpack, only to see Seungho handing it off to Jungkook who had deemed your backpack his responsibility. You can’t fight him for carrying you this time, exhaustion finally hitting you as you tuck your head into the curve of your soulmate’s neck. 

It was a good thing too, as you didn’t realize some fans had figured out where the boys’ vans were and had been waiting outside for you all to leave, phones at the ready to take pictures and videos. This also meant that it would take longer to get back to the hotel, as some fans loved trying to follow the boys to figure out where you all were staying. 

One of Namjoon’s hands moved from your holding your thigh to covering your face, protecting you in what he considers a vulnerable moment. He walked faster, Sejin moving with him so he could open the door for you both before having a word with one of the drivers. 

Even as you get into the car, and Namjoon’s sits down, he still holds you on his lap, crossing his arms behind your back so you were practically glued to his chest. He moved his left hand lower, almost touching your butt as he moves his hand under your shirt, making contact with your back and begins rubbing his hand up and down your back. He knew this helped you last time and it was one of the only things he had to go on right now as far as helping you out of your shut down. 

You both wait patiently for your other soulmates, time passing slowly as you turn your head and watch fans take pictures of the van. You knew they couldn’t get pictures of you through the tinted windows, but you still felt a little vulnerable. You were unable to protect yourself in anyway, nonverbal and in the middle of a shutdown, and it was a little daunting. 

You turned your head back into Namjoon’s neck, your head resting against his chest as you watch the boys all begin to make their way quickly to the vans. Jungkook, Hobi, and Yoongi made their way into your van, while the others went into the first one. 

“Okay, so Sejin is going to separate our vans, each going a separate way to make it back to the hotel so we aren’t followed. We also have three deco vans waiting to draw confusion.” Yoongi’s voice was raspy and slow from the concert and his own emotions. 

He, along with the others were feeling a lot of emotions from finally being able to perform at a concert for Army, but also watching you shut down from the very same concert. It was a lot. 

“How is she?” Jungkook asks quietly. 

Out of all your soulmates, Jungkook seems to have taken on most of the responsibility for your care and well-being on himself. He finally has a soulmate younger than him, that can rely on him and that he can provide for. So, for him, he has put the responsibility on his own shoulders, something his soulmates have already talked to him about. 

“I’m okay.” 

You were. You had just been relishing in Namjoon’s touch and had felt the connection build again between your brain and mouth. You still weren’t used to being taken care of, to mean something to other people, and you knew it would take a while but you loved the way they worried about you, the way they cared for you. 

It was the same way you cared for them. 

-*-*-

It had taken you over an hour to make it back to the hotel. There had been several vehicles trying to follow you, the final car getting lost at a traffic light about fifteen minutes ago. To be safe, the driver kept driving around. 

Your van had been the last to make it back to the hotel, and when you go to the room, a small bundle of blankets and pillows, along with some of the boys’ sweaters had been made into a little nest for you by the far wall close to the kitchen. You were in perfect view of the boys as the couches and chairs had been rearranged so they could all be in view of the camera. 

When Namjoon let you down, a bundle of clothes had been shoved into your hand as Jimin led you to your shared room with Yoongi and Jin to change. Jimin walked into the bathroom while you changed into a pair of your comfy leggings and one of Taehyung’s shirts. 

After doing your skincare for you, wanting you to feel nice and clean while you waited for them to be finished, Jimin helped you back into the living room and into your small nest, bundling Jin and Jungkook’s sweater around you while you watched the boys set up snacks and drinks on the coffee table. 

“Okay, now, don’t move.” Jimin pointed his finger at you, his face scrunching playfully as he tries to make you smile. And it works, a small giggle making its way out of your mouth catching the attention of your soulmates. 

“Here,” he pulls your phone out of his back pocket, pulling up the live on it before handing it to you. “Keep an eye out for questions you think we should answer, okay baby?” He asks you, wanting you to still be involved in their tradition with Army. While he would rather you be seated with them on the couch, he knows it’s not what you need right now. 

 “I will, Minnie.” You nod and smile tiredly at his request. He smiles back, kissing you softly before pulling back entirely, Jungkook taking his place with a bottle of water for you. He stays quiet, kissing your forehead before moving to sit with Hobi and Joon on the couch. 

You watch them as the live starts, hundreds of questions showing up on the screen as thousands of viewers turn into millions. At first a lot of the questions are about you, why Namjoon was seen carrying you out of the venue and some were even asking why you stayed seated the entire concert. 

The boys said a simple response to questions about you. They agreed that they wanted to stop the rumors of any health issues or problems while they could, especially after Namjoon was seen carrying you out. 

“Y/n is doing okay and is resting here with us after a long and overstimulating day. She had a lot of new experiences and is in the middle of processing them.” Namjoon spoke in his leader voice, glancing at you for a few seconds as he speaks. 

The questions and comments continue, but this time mainly about the boys and the concerts and their upcoming plans. You even commented a few things, trying to remember what it felt like to be Army, commenting “I love you” and hoping they would see it. 

You did that the entire time, finding cute little comments and even yelling out “Yoongi Marry Me” every time you saw it which did not amuse your cute soulmate who only looked your way while the others laughed every time. You also drank your entire bottled water, knowing that was one of the promises you made to Jin. 

And in the end, once the live was finished, he was the first to go to you, picking you up out of your little nest and into his arms. You were feeling a lot better, no longer overstimulated due to your soulmates care. 

“How are you feeling, baby?” You could hear the concern in his voice. 

“I’m doing a lot better! You all always seem to know what to do.” You hug him tightly, kissing his jaw in a show of thanks. 

“Well, I bought tickets for an amusement park for tonight for us. Do you think you might be up for it?” Jin couldn’t even finish his question before you were squealing in his ear, jumping from his hold and rushing to your shared room. 

“I guess that is a yes.” He told Yoongi and Taehyung who were staring at Jin, seeing the entire thing before walking off to the room. 

Jimin and Jungkook were already in the room, helping you pick out a matching outfit with Jin, who was going in a pair of his overalls and a white shirt. He wanted you all to match, but you and Jimin were the only ones who currently had a pair of overalls to wear. 

You were excited, jumping in your seat as you waited for everyone else to get ready to go. You loved the rides and playing the games but you think your favorite was the food. You never really went to the fair often, which was as close to an amusement park as you had gotten, your mother thinking going to a big field full of people of all walks of life below her standing. 

But you loved it and couldn’t wait to experience it with your soulmates.