#autistic!fem!reader

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Hi! Can I request a mommy Wanda x fem reader where they’re at an amusement park and after awhile R gets overstimulated because the sun is sunning and there’s no clouds so she’s really hot and she’s also hungry and thirsty and her legs hurt but she doesn’t tell Wanda any of this because she gets really quiet/almost non-verbal when she’s overstimulated but Wanda is able to figure it out anyway? Much comfort and love 🤭💕

Mommy!Wanda Maximoff x autistic!fem!reader

Summary: It's time for a trip to the amusement park, but everything is overstimulating you.

Word Count: 1K

Warnings: Age gap relationship (W=34 R=23), Dom/sub dynamics(vague), comfort fic

Authors notes: I'm actually not a huge amusement park person (I don't like rides) so I hope this is good!

The sun blazed overhead as the bustling sounds of the amusement park surrounded you. The Avengers had planned this day off, a rare chance to relax and enjoy some fun together. It had started off great, with everyone in high spirits. Wanda had been especially excited, dragging you from ride to ride with a contagious enthusiasm.

But now, hours into the day, you felt the oppressive heat bearing down on you. Sweat trickled down your back, your mouth dry and throat parched. Your legs ached from the constant walking, and the cacophony of sounds—the shrieks of joy, the clanking of rides, the chatter of the crowd—felt like they were closing in on you.

You tried to keep a brave face, not wanting to ruin anyone's day. The others, including Wanda, seemed to be having such a great time. You didn't want to be the one to bring that to a halt. So, you stayed quiet, your usual chatter reduced to nearly nothing. You could feel yourself retreating into your shell, the overstimulation pushing you to the edge of being non-verbal.

Wanda, however, was incredibly perceptive. She had been keeping an eye on you throughout the day, and it didn’t take long for her to notice the subtle changes in your behavior. The way you trailed behind a bit more, the lack of response to her excited chatter, the small frown lines that had appeared on your forehead.

"Hey," she said gently, pulling you aside as the group decided on their next ride. She cupped your face with her hands, her touch cool against your flushed skin. "Are you okay?"

You forced a smile and nodded, but you could see the concern in her eyes. She wasn't buying it.

"Sweetheart," she said softly, "you don't have to hide how you're feeling. I can see you're struggling."

Your resolve crumbled a bit at her words, your eyes filling with tears. "I didn't want to ruin everyone's day," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wanda's expression softened even more, and she pulled you into a hug. "You could never ruin our day. If you're not okay, then we're not okay. Let's take care of you."

She led you to a shaded area, where you could sit down and take a break. The rest of the Avengers noticed and quickly joined, their concern evident.

"Hey, what's going on?" Natasha asked, crouching down beside you.

"Wanda thinks I need a break," you said quietly.

"Smart move," Tony agreed, handing you a cold bottle of water. "It's brutally hot out here."

As you sipped the water, feeling it cool your parched throat, Wanda sat next to you, her arm around your shoulders. "We're going to find some food and take it easy for a bit, okay?" she said.

You nodded, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. The team's understanding and support made the heavy weight of overstimulation a little easier to bear. Wanda kissed your forehead, her touch grounding you in a way that nothing else could.

"Thank you," you murmured, leaning into her.

"Always," Wanda replied. "Your well-being is what's most important. We're here for you, no matter what."

With that, the Avengers rallied to make sure you were comfortable, taking the rest of the day at a slower pace, making sure you were hydrated, fed, and rested. The love and care they showed you made you realize that you were never a burden, and that taking care of yourself was just as important as having fun.

The day continued at a much more relaxed pace. Wanda stayed by your side, her arm wrapped around your waist as you both wandered through the amusement park. You had insisted that the rest of the team continue enjoying their day, reassuring them that you were in good hands with Wanda. They reluctantly agreed, but not without checking in on you periodically.

Wanda, being your girlfriend, never minded taking care of you. To her, you were her precious little girl, and she took great joy in making sure you were happy and comfortable. She suggested you both try the carnival games, and you eagerly agreed. You played game after game, laughing and cheering each other on.

You managed to win a few adorable squishmallows, each representing your favorite Avengers. You secured one of Wanda, Natasha, Cap, and Peter. Each time you won, Wanda's eyes would light up with pride, and she'd kiss your cheek, making your heart flutter with warmth.

As the sun began to set, the amusement park transformed. The rides and stalls were lit up with twinkling lights, casting a magical glow over everything. You and Wanda decided to take a leisurely stroll, enjoying the cool evening air. The day's heat was finally dissipating, and the breeze felt refreshing against your skin.

You started to feel the exhaustion creeping in, your steps becoming slower and more unsteady. Wanda noticed immediately and didn't hesitate to scoop you up into her arms. You wrapped your arms around her neck, your head resting on her shoulder.

"Looks like someone is ready to call it a night," she teased gently, her voice soothing.

"Mhm," you mumbled, already feeling your eyelids drooping.

Wanda carried you toward the parking lot, her gentle rocking motion lulling you further into a sleepy haze. The day had taken all your energy, but it was worth it. Spending time with Wanda, winning those silly squishmallows, and seeing the amusement park lit up at night—it had all been worth it.

As she walked, Wanda spoke softly to you, her voice a comforting melody. "You did great today, sweetheart. I'm so proud of you for pushing through. I hope you had fun."

"I did," you whispered, nuzzling closer to her. "Thank you for taking care of me."

"Always," she replied, kissing your forehead. "I love you."

"I love you too," you managed to say before drifting off completely.

By the time you reached the car, you were fast asleep in Wanda's arms. She gently placed you in the passenger seat, buckling you in securely. The rest of the team soon joined, and everyone exchanged quiet, tired smiles as they settled in for the drive home.

As Wanda drove, she kept one hand on the wheel and the other holding yours, your fingers intertwined. The squishmallows you had won sat in the backseat, a reminder of the fun and love that had filled the day. You might have used all your spoons, but with Wanda by your side, it had been more than worth it.

[0o-junebug-o0]

First Meeting

summary: You're having difficulty with some code so you stop by Penelope's house for help, unaware that she has a guest. Spencer takes one look at you and is immediately head over heels.

genre: fluff

cw: meet cute (is it a meet cute?) completely gn!reader (reader is not described at all), no use of y/n, autistic!spencer (because every spencer is autistic!spencer), season 1 spencer, university/college student reader, talk about research and coding, pov switch from reader to spencer

wordcount: 1.5k

a/n: this is an actual error I had this summer when writing my spectra analysis code

You lean back in your chair with a sigh, scowling at the code you’re trying to write. You’re still relatively new to coding, the first time you ever took a class on it was just under two years ago, so this code has taken you significantly more time to write than it would have taken Penelope. But you’ve written it. You read through the code again and rerun it. Everything runs fine, the code should work, but it doesn’t. 

You rub your eyes and groan with frustration. You should be able to get a wavelength solution out of this. The professor you’re doing research with told you what you need to do to get the wavelength solution and then how to use it to find the redshift of the lensed galaxy and the foreground lensing galaxy, but nothing is lining up!

You’ve opened the data, plotted the variation in flux for each line in the image, fit a Gaussian to it to get the brightest point, and converted the pixel value of that point to vacuum wavelength, but none of the wavelengths you’re finding match up with what lines should be present in the spectra for this lamp type!

You briefly consider emailing your professor but decide against it. Even though he told you that asking him things wouldn’t bother him and that it’s his job, you don’t want to take up more of his time than you already have. 

You look around your apartment for anything that might help. Your eyes land on your keychain and the spare key Penelope gave you because she enjoys it when you stop by. You quickly shut your laptop, tucking it under your arm, grab your keys, slip on a pair of shoes, and make your way down the hall to Penelope’s apartment, not bothering to lock the door behind you. 

_____

Spencer sits awkwardly on one of Garcia’s kitchen stools, tapping his fingers on the Tardis mug she had filled with tea and given him. He’s not exactly sure why Garcia invited him over. She said she wanted to bond, but they’ve known each other for almost two years now, and Spencer considers her a good friend, so he doesn’t really know what bonding entails. So far, Garcia has just been bustling around her kitchen preparing snacks and drinks for their Doctor Who marathon.

The lock clicks and Spencer’s head whips toward the door just in time for it to burst open. Spencer freezes and stares at you in awe and confusion. 

“Penny!” you cry, your voice a mixture of a shout and a whine. 

Garcia calls your name with a surprised look. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“What?” you ask. Then you wave your hand flippantly. “Yeah I’m fine, I just need help with some code.” Your eyes land on Spencer and he can feel his heart rate increase. He really hopes his face isn’t as red as it feels. 

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you had someone over,” you say. “I can, um, I can come back later.”

Spencer watches as your posture stiffens slightly and you start to fiddle with your keychain. 

Spencer opens his mouth to reassure you but Garcia beats him to it. “No, no, it’s fine,” she says. “I’ve been wanting you two to meet anyway.” You shoot Spencer a small, awkward smile and wave from across the room when Garcia shares your name. When she introduces him, your eyes widen and you look toward Garcia with an expression Spencer can’t decipher and mouth something to her that makes her laugh loudly. 

Spencer can feel himself flushing at your reaction and takes a sip of his tea to hide his face.

“Anyway!” Garcia says cheerfully. “Do you mind if I help them real quick?”

“Go ahead,” Spencer responds, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. It’s difficult with you there, though, all his thoughts suddenly seem much harder to grasp. Like your presence is forcing them aside. 

Your eyes seem to linger on him for a moment before you head over to the counter and set your laptop down. “Right,” you mutter, opening it and entering the password. Spencer listens intently as you describe to Garcia what your code should be doing and he can’t help but smile at the clear passion in your voice. It sends butterflies to his stomach. 

“What do you study?” Spencer blurts out. 

You close your mouth and cock your head at him for a moment. “I’m, uh, I’m studying astrophysics. Specifically strong gravitational lensing. I’ve already made preliminary models of the system and I’m just working on analyzing the spectra now.”

Spencer nods and leans over to look at your code. 

“Do you want to help Penny find the issue?” you ask. You sound a bit nervous and Spencer looks up and smiles what he hopes is a soothing smile.

“I would if I could. I really don’t know how to code, though.”

“Seriously?” you ask. Spencer cocks his head at the tone of surprise in your voice. “Sorry, it’s just that Penny has told me a lot about you and about how you’re a genius and have three PhDs, which is insanely impressive by the way, so I guess I’m just surprised you don’t know something.”

“There’s a lot I don’t know,” Spencer admits. “Coding and other technological things are some of it. I don’t know too much about astrophysics either.” That’s not exactly true but it isn’t a lie either. He’s read papers on several astrophysical topics but he’s never come across one on strong lensing before. But the truth of the statement is irrelevant, the only reason he said it was to find an excuse to spend more time with you.

You smile and Spencer’s stomach feels like it does a backflip. “I won’t be much help teaching you how to code, Penny would be better for that, but I can tell you about some astro stuff at some point.”

“Alright, lovebirds,” Garcia teases and Spencer’s face burns. “Let’s focus.” You nod, clearly also a bit embarrassed, and turn back to your laptop.

“How about I go line by line and tell you what it should do and you let me know if something doesn’t do what I think it does,” you say. Garcia nods and both she and Spencer follow along as you point to and describe each line of code. You get to a printed image of the data file you’re analyzing before Garcia stops you.

“Can you open the file on your computer?” she asks.

You nod and open the file in a new application and move it so it’s side by side with the image in your code. “Wait,” you mutter, glancing back and forth between the two images. “Is that seriously the issue?” Spencer leans forward to get a closer look, the x-axes of the images are flipped. 

You throw your head back with a groan and change the rotation of the file in your code. “I swear, if this works,” you growl. The clear exasperation in your tone makes Spencer chuckle slightly. 

You rerun the code and compare several of the outputs to a list of wavelengths before groaning again and letting your head fall onto the counter. “I hate Python,” you grumble. “Why does it have to switch the axes!” 

Garcia laughs and pats you on the back. You raise your head off the counter and tap your forehead against her shoulder in a gesture Spencer assumes expresses gratitude. “Thanks, Penny,” you sigh. “You’re the best.”

“Of course I am!”

“Oh, and Spencer,” you say, turning to look at him. “We should get lunch sometime. I can tell you about astrophysics and you can tell me about all the crazy things you know.”

“I-I would love that,” Spencer stutters, unable to speak clearly with you looking into his eyes. He's hardly able to wrap his head around the fact that someone as beautiful as you would want to spend more time with him. Spencer's not sure whether you’re asking him on a date or just to go out as friends, but he doesn’t care either way as long as he gets to spend more time with you.

“Great!” you say happily. You stand and cross the room to quickly grab one of Garcia’s pens before returning. You hold the fluffy pink pen with a smile on your face and hold out your hand for his. “May I?” you ask. 

Spencer’s eyes widen and he nods, setting his hand in yours despite his usual aversion to touch. The contact makes his heart feel like it’s about to burst from his chest. You scrawl your number across the back of his hand before handing Spencer the pen and holding out your hand for him to do the same. He writes his number on your hand and watches in a sort of daze as you gather your computer and keys and wave goodbye before leaving.

Spencer jumps slightly as Garcia ruffles his hair. He looks over at her to see a knowing smile on her face. Spencer blushes and hides his face in his hands. “Shut up,” he grumbles, embarrassed.

“No way,” she laughs. “Derek’s going to have a field day with this. Boy genius has a crush!”

_____

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

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[writtenbymoonflower]

hello! I'm not sure if your requests are open, but could I ask for some hurt/comfort with poly!marauders with an autistic reader?

maybe reader has a meltdown because of sensory overload and they help her through it?

thank you so much! I love your writing xxx

thank you so much for requesting! poly!marauders x autistic fem!reader

cw: description of sensory overload, autistic meltdown/panic attack, brief mentions of unsafe stimming

943 words

By the time your building was in sight, you felt every ounce of adrenaline leave your body. You had been holding on by a fraying thread all day, taking every searing feeling of overwhelm in stride. Your hands were raw and scraped from digging your nails into your flesh, and your jaw was tight and aching from being permanently clenched. 

Usually, work wasn’t this stressful for you. There were difficulties for sure, but it was familiar and predictable. Today however, there had been a company mixer involving all of the branches of your company. The building was hot and crowded with bodies, everyone was talking over each other, there were new people constantly trapping you in mundane conversation, and it was all just too much. It felt like every aspect of the event was scheming for your demise. You made it, though. You were as friendly as you could muster and you hoped your simmering discomfort was mostly imperceptible to your coworkers. Unfortunately for you however, the come down was worse than the overwhelm itself. 

You kicked your pinching shoes off the minute you stepped through the door, wanting to rid yourself of all sensation. You rushed to your room to undress. All of your clothes were itching painfully into your skin and it was enough to make you want to scream. You tugged your blouse off, not even bothering to throw it in the hamper. Your hands were so shaky that you pinched your fingers in the zipper of your skirt. You were already close to tears, but when you punctured your stockings while tugging them off, it all caught up to you. You crumpled into a heap on the floor, shivering from the biting cold in the room. You rolled yourself into a ball as small as possible on the floor, shaking as tears rolled down your face. Everything was too much. You weren’t sure how long you had stayed like that, rocking back and forth and shaking your hands, as if you could shake off the crawling on your skin. In your overwhelmed state you didn’t notice the door open, or the footsteps rapidly approaching your room. 

“Baby?” A voice was panicked, rushing over to you and crouching on the floor. You recognized the smell first, Sirius’ woodsy and fruity scent. His hands reached out to grab you before quickly retreating, not wanting to add to your state. “Baby, did you hurt yourself?” You shook your head rapidly, still choking on sobs. You winced as Sirius yelled. “Prongs! Moons!” They appeared in the doorway almost immediately, recognizing the urgency in his voice. 

“James, get the blanket.” Remus ordered. They had seen this happen a few times before but it didn’t make them panic any less. It was difficult for them to see you in pain, especially when there was no visible injury to tend to. You were still shaking, biting your hand compulsively. Remus was firm but kind as he kept you safe from yourself. “Honey, I need you to be gentle, okay?” You didn’t respond but still obeyed. Soon, a warm and heavy blanket was placed over your shoulders, it helped to calm your shaking, but you were still crying. 

“Will a hug help, lovie?” You nodded, craving the pressure. James pulled you onto his lap and squeezed you tight. The compression was wonderfully grounding, as if you could feel all the pain being juiced from your system like a lemon. He released you too soon, but you knew he was just being cautious. You tended to not know when pressure was too much, especially when you were in this state. It wasn’t rare for you to have bruises on your hands from squeezing or sitting on them when you got stressed. Still, you now felt calmer. 

“Remmy, can you turn the lights off please? The buzzing hurts.” You winced. He scrambled up to do so, in a way you knew likely hurt his aching joints. Your brain began to quiet down, your system being cleansed from the unwelcome and intrusive sensations of the day. “Thank you.” You mumbled, playing with your fingers. 

“Don’t thank us, baby.” Sirius wrapped the heavy blanket further around your shoulders. “Did something happen today?” 

You shook your head. “Not really, just a bunch of little things. It was just a lot, I didn’t expect it to affect me so much.” You said the last part with a bit too much shame for the boys liking. 

“Sometimes you don’t know until it’s happening.” James said gently. “I’m sorry it was a hard day, lovie.” 

“Is there anything more we can do?” Sirius said restlessly. He hates that this happens to you, it makes him wish he could wrap you in warm, quiet darkness and hold you to his chest, shutting all the pain out. 

You thought for a second. “I think I’m hungry. I haven’t eaten yet today. I was too distracted.” You knew the boys were still feeling especially tender, since you weren’t scolded. 

“Why don’t we order a takeaway?” Remus suggested. “That way we can just relax for a bit.” He stroked your exposed knee with his fingers.

“I think that Greek place is open.” James said before you could answer. “I’ll get the menu.” 

“Do you wanna move to the settee, sweet girl?” Sirius wrapped an arm around your shoulders. When you nodded he helped you stand up and ushered you to the sofa, wrapping you in more warm blankets when goosebumps rose. James handed you the remote. 

“Pick what you want, lovie.” James sat on your other side, caging you in wonderfully. You were again covered in sensation, but this time it was welcome and comforting.

[it-was-summer]

The Very First... Second... Third Night

A/N: Hey guys, happy fall!!! Fun fact about me, I love Season one reid so much it's not even funny. That's pookie!!!!! Anyways, enjoy this little fluffy cute thing I wrote in a romance-infused haze (I saw that photo of MGG in that pumpkin sweater at knott's berry farms and I needed Spencer in a Halloween way). MAYBE some porn coming soon idk man. Love you all!!-Em <3

Link to the Ao3: The Very First... Second... Third Night ->Link to the: Yee olde masterlist Tags: Can't remember if I use any female pronouns for reader, but warning just incase. Season one reid, MENTION OF JEID, SPENCELLE, AND bisexual Reid, Spencer reid being critical of himself, Spencer's POV for the most part, jello mentioned guys, Overstimulated Spencer Reid at a football game, mention of a cemetery, mention of Nosferatu (1922). Kind of proofread, yippie!!!

Genre: Fluffy meet cutes. Pairing: Season One! Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader.

Plot: Spencer runs into you twice before but only manages to get your name (and number) the third time.

Word Count: 3,863

First Meeting

Spencer can’t remember the last time this bookstore was so crowded. Personally, he tried to go on early Sunday mornings to avoid the crowds– if any– that came into the shop. Maybe he was being overdramatic. There couldn’t have been more than twenty people in the store with him. But it was still twenty too many. He softly apologizes to the elderly woman as he squeezes past her in the narrow nonfiction aisle. 

Most of the crowd seemed to be hovering around the fiction area, which was fine with him– the further away, the better. With his head turned to watch the small crowd bustle about the store, he didn’t notice the person standing just inches from him in the aisle. 

You stared at him with a confused expression for a second, thinking surely this man would move eventually. But the moment never came. He was tall with brown hair and long eyelashes. He had the fashion sense of a teacher– correction, teacher’s assistant. You clear your throat softly, hardcover clutched in hand as you watch the man’s head snap over to you, his cheeks flushing red. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t see you. Not that you’re hard to miss– I mean in a good way, you’re–” He closes his mouth and swallows hard, looking into your gentle eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

You would have felt a little agitated if he hadn’t seemed so earnest, but this man oozes social anxiety, and your heart takes pity on him. Your lips move to a slow smile, and you whisper a sweet, “That’s alright,” 

Spencer’s sure he’s never seen kinder eyes, “It’s just so busy today. I was looking at the crowd,” 

Your head turns at that, allowing Spencer to take in your features. A light sweater to accommodate the cool air this early-October morning, some Halloween earrings that make Spencer smile, and stunning eyes. “Book signing pop-up, it’ll be crazy until three. At least that's what the stock girl told me.” You’re soft-spoken, too. Spencer can appreciate that.

He nods slightly, looking down at the hardcover in your hand and then over at the crowd again, “Are you not here for the book signing?” 

“Afraid not,” You sigh as you hold up a historical fiction novel, “Me and my historical fiction novel were going to take a gander at some biographies.” 

He can’t help his peaked interest as he licks his lips, “Regarding?” He’s a fan of history himself and is always happy to interact with someone who also shares a love for it. He feels slightly less anxious talking about something he knows.

You twist your lips to the side like you’re silently debating whether or not you should tell him. You look away for a second, your eyes scanning the bookshelves on either side of you. “Salem Witch Trials.” You answer him bluntly. 

Spencer nods like he understands precisely what you mean, “Ah, the more humane witch trials.” It's a funny joke… to him, at least. 

But then your lips twitch upwards as you let out a quiet chuckle, “No burning for us, just rope and intense torture.” 

He feels electric, which is stupid because he shouldn’t feel excited over something as simple as someone joking with him, but he does. He’s been working on it upon Derek’s sarcastic request, and he can’t help but wonder if it is finally paying off now. 

Spencer feels the overwhelming urge to partake in what Garcia describes as ‘info-dumping ,’ but he bites his tongue as he settles on a simple question, “How come?” 

You shrug slightly as you look up at him. The bookstore light keeps making his eyes a soft amber, and you’re having a hard time looking away now. “Halloween tradition.” You watch his eyebrow furrow, raising a hand to explain yourself quickly. “My best friend and I each pick a historical event that is relatively macabre, and then we base our costumes around it and throw a party with a related theme. It’s... It’s stupid.” You say with a smile and a wave of your hand dismissively. 

Meanwhile, Spencer’s too busy thinking you’re the most extraordinary girl he’s ever interacted with. For the first time in his life, he’s desperate for an invite to a stranger’s party—a pretty stranger who has yet to tell him her name. 

“That’s not-” 

A woman’s voice cuts him off as she barrels down the aisle with a grin, “There you are, oh…” Her blue eyes look Spencer up and down carefully, studying him. “Hello, there.” She’s direct and forward and speaks in a tone that tells Spencer to leave you the hell alone. 

He nods curtly, waving slightly at your friend. You sigh out with mock annoyance as you say, “He’s a friendly, put your gun away.” 

“I don’t believe in guns.” 

“They’re very real, trust me.” Is your sarcastic reply before looking at Spencer again. “Thanks for the company. I’ll see you around.” And just like that… you’re gone. 

Second Meeting

Spencer is sure he’ll never see you again, but here he is a week later, still thinking about you on a case. Or rather, he’s thinking about every woman ever and that he’ll never have a chance with any of them… ever. He’s feeling rather lonely, or maybe his self-esteem is taking a certain nose-dive this fine San Diego day. 

It’s not because it’s his birthday. He doesn’t hate his birthday like Elle hates hers– that’s what she told him once—the day started off great: the trick candles, the big birthday hat, his embarrassing crush on JJ. And now, they’re discussing the case, a routine he enjoys. 

His mind, always full of helpful information, quickly recognized the ballad from the 17th century– betwixt death and a lady. After his comment regarding what people could find by typing the word ‘death’ in the search engine, Derek’s laughing, “Reid, no wonder you can’t get a date.”

It sticks on him; he would love to let it slide off his back, but he’s not familiar with that kind of territory– dating, that is– so it hits a nerve. A nerve that Spencer didn’t know was so exposed. The worst part is that Derek’s not wrong. Spencer can’t seem to get a date. Not with the pretty intellectual at the bookstore, JJ, or Elle– though that last one feels strange to admit to himself. 

He’s too awkward, speaks too fast, and, according to Gideon, needs to relax more. He’s sure… he’s cute, actually, he doesn’t know if he is. All he knows is that his mind is brilliant, his skills involving women… not so much. 

He’s silently mulling it over as he approaches one of the bulletin boards, muttering lines of the ballad softly when JJ walks up beside him, “Creepy, huh?” Her voice makes him look at her, hesitating as he replies. 

“Actually, uh, conversations between death and his victims was a fairly popular literary and artistic theme throughout the Renaissance.” He’s staring at the bulletin for a second before glancing her away, and his cheeks feel hot when he sees the way JJ is looking at him– disinterest. “But, yeah, creepy.” 

He feels like a teenager, and all those years spent in college and not high school are coming back to bite him. He liked girls and boys, too. He should be better at this, he has an IQ of 187 and five degrees to prove it. Spencer walks away from the conversation quickly, his feet carrying him away from the embarrassing moment as quickly as possible. He needs to focus on the case. 

And focus he does. He’s happy to analyze the meaning of the ballads at the crime scenes, his anxiety calming as he settles into the sweet caress of facts. Feelings, beauty, and tastes were all subjective. The objective was his comfort zone.

So it stands to reason that he feels lighter after conversing with Gideon about why the UnSub would start to use the ballad if it wasn’t a part of his signature. However, after the team delivers the profile, his lightness returns to his ruminating thoughts surrounding his lack of social skills. 

The more he thinks about it, the more he feels the icy breath of repressed memories breathing down his neck. A jammed locker, missing gym clothes, a dark bathroom bolted shut. As the team waits for the UnSub’s suspected phone call to the tip line, he reaches for his bag to pull out a Rubix cube. 

His fingers quickly twist and turn it aimlessly until he feels like it’s mixed around enough for him to solve it again. Elle is sitting in a desk chair in front of him as he solves it. He wants to ask her if she’d ever consider dating him, if she thinks JJ would, or if she feels any self-respecting woman would. He doesn’t, though, the question sounding too desperate in his head to say it out loud. 

Instead, he asks, “Do you think it’s weird that I knew that ballad?” His eyes don’t stray away from the cube for too long as he asks it, scared of what Elle’s gaze might tell him. 

He’s pleasantly surprised when she chuckles and says, “I don’t know how it is that you know half the things you know, but I’m glad you do.” 

Spencer feels insecure when he speaks again, but he has to know the answer, “Do you think it’s why I can’t get a date?” He looks up at her now, waiting for the brutal blow, which is her answer. 

Elle looks slightly amused. “You ever ask anyone out?” She smiles a little, seeing the genius look genuinely dumbfounded for a second as he thinks about it. 

He never had the confidence to walk up to someone he found attractive and say something interesting enough to warrant a ‘yes’ if he asked them on a date. “No,” 

She gives him a slight shrug of her shoulders, “That’s why you can't get a date.” And Spencer seems to nod at that, and his lips tighten for a second as he nods before he looks away from her again. His focus is pulled back to the case when the UnSub calls, and for a little while, he feels better. 

On the flight home, he’s almost completely forgotten about his spiral as he plays chess with Gideon. When he hands Spencer a small present, a little smile plays on his lips as he says, “But you don’t give birthday presents.” When he finally gets the present open, he feels a little confused as he thanks Gideon for the generous gift– two VIP box seat Redskin tickets. 

He’s excited, nonetheless, to experience something new with Gideon, and Spencer believes him when he says that Spencer will love it. 

“We are. You’re coming with me, right?” Spencer asks with a slight grin.

Gideon smiles, “No.” he doesn’t let Spencer’s confusion build for long as he quickly adds, “Someone else on the plane is a huge skins fan.” 

“Who?” 

“Only person in the world who calls you Spence.” 

Speaking of the only person in the world that calls him Spence, the date was going terribly. She had invited Penelope; she thought it was a group thing. He begged Hotch and Gideon for some pointers, anything. They reminded him she was already his friend, but that wasn’t very helpful. He knew how to talk to her on a typical day. On a date? Not so much.

Then, she invited Penelope. Now he’s stuck on a date where only one person in the group knows it was supposed to be a date, and he feels nauseous. He’s trying to keep a conversation going, but every time it picks up for a second, he feels himself fumble the metaphorical ball, and it dies again. 

Eventually, he excuses himself to get some air. He’s debating calling Gideon and updating him on how it’s going. His feet pace on the concrete stadium floor. He’s near the elevators, and he can barely hear himself– it’s auditory overload hell. He shuts his eyes tight, stuffing his phone back into his pocket as he covers his ears, leaning against the cool wall beside the elevators. 

It’s all muffled, barely helping, but the feeling of the cool wall on his back through his clothes helps relax him slightly. His shoulders relax briefly before he feels two fingers lightly tapping his shoulders, and he’s rigid again. 

Rigid until his eyes snap open to see that it’s you. You from the bookstore, with that same kind smile, same dazzling smile, it is you. You’re yelling over the shouting, but he can barely hear you. You laugh. He can only tell by your facial expression as all the sound falls deaf to his ears over the crowd's yelling. 

Once it calms down, you repeat yourself, “Are you alright?” 

He nods, then you’re giving him a skeptical look, and he slowly shakes his head. 

“Is it the noise?” 

A part of him wants to tell you that it’s everything he is experiencing today, but instead, he whispers a soft “Yes.” 

You twist your lips to the side, looking upset for him. Your empathy is so sweet and pure for him that he feels the knot in his chest unraveling slowly. “Let me buy you a water?” You offer, motioning to a concession stand a few steps away. 

He doesn’t remember saying yes, but you’re grinning as you walk with him to the stand and buy the two of you a bottle. After a sip or two, you say, “I’m not the biggest fan of football games either. My dad loves em’.”

He nods along silently, feeling so socially overwhelmed that he barely has the energy for more conversation. You seem happy to fill the gap: “I ran into you at that bookstore on 8th, right?” 

Spencer’s beaming as he pulls the bottle away from his lips, nodding, speaking for the first time in a while. “Yes.” 

You let out a happy hum, “Small world,” And Spencer agrees with you silently. 

It's the most comfortable he’s felt all week, and he wonders if maybe this failed date of his was a strange blessing in disguise. He’s about to ask for your name when Penelope approaches the two of you, blinking starstruck at Spencer and you as she introduces herself when the crowd begins to cheer again. Any noise he can hear is drowned out, frowning as you shake Penelope’s hand and say your name– a name he cannot hear. Some more words follow, but it's all small talk until you excuse yourself to return to your father in the stands. 

Then he’s the one being dragged away from you, convinced once more that he’ll never see his pretty stranger ever again. 

Third Meeting

It’s the night before Halloween. Ask anyone who knows Spencer; they will tell you he genuinely loves Halloween. It’s a part of him, always has been. He likes that you can dress up as anyone you want to be without judgment. He loves the build-up, the history, and the scents that fill the air. 

So, when he manages to get the night off, he’s quick to try and convince someone from the team to head over to a cemetery not too far from headquarters. Even when he explains how it is for a classic horror movie showing on the graveyard’s lands, everyone declines. 

Now, he’s setting up an oversized quilt on the soft grass, smoothing out the edges of the oversized quilt with his hands before sitting down on it. His hands move to his bag, pulling out a few of his favorite snacks, drinks, and so on as he watches the cemetery slowly fill up with people. 

He’s happy. He feels a little strange at the thought, but he’s happy– even if it is in the middle of a cemetery. 

A gentle voice cuts through the soft quiet of the graveyard, “I knew I was going to run into you sooner or later,” 

He turns his head to look at you, picnic basket and blanket in hand. You smile down at him. He trips over himself as he stands, his cheeks flushing as you laugh at the sight. He rubs his suddenly sweating hands on his button-up as he reluctantly offers you his hand to shake, only to realize that you don’t have a hand available. 

“Can I—” he says softly, “Would it be alright if I—" he swallows hard, his voice cracking lightly. Do you need help with your things?” 

You glance down at your hands, smiling slightly as you shake your head politely. “I’m sure I can find a good spot soon. I didn’t mean to disturb you.” 

“You’re not, honest. I’m, uh, I’m here alone, and it doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes.” You silently debate his offer, and then Spencer feels a wave of confidence surge through him, “You can always sit with me if you’d like. I promise I’ll try to be quiet.” 

You seem to think that’s funny as you nod, “Well, it is a silent film.” 

“You don’t have to say yes. I just have a big blanket, and I’m in a good spot to see the screen and–”

“I’ll sit with you,” You cut him off softly, bending down to gently get the picnic basket on the edge of his quilt. Spencer moves out of your way, awkwardly shuffling for a second before he decides this might be a good time to introduce himself. 

“I’m Spencer.” 

You glance up at him as you move to sit on the blanket, smiling as you tell him your name. He licks his lips nervously, nodding as he sits beside you. His nervous eyes dance over your figure as you set your blanket, which he now sees has little cartoon ghosts all over it, to the side of your basket. 

You’re frowning slightly as you reach into the basket, pulling out a small cup of jello and a spoon. “I’m sorry. If I had known I was sharing a blanket with someone, I would have brought another cup.” 

Spencer finds it funny as he leans over to his satchel and pulls out his own cup of jello and spoon, “No need,” 

You laugh lightly as you raise your jello cup to his. “Cheers, then. " Spencer smiles lightly as the two of you tap the edges together for a moment before falling into a comfortable silence while eating jello. 

Spencer’s spoon digs into the jello, and he asks, “Is this your first time seeing Nosferatu ?”

You let out a soft hum as you pull your spoon out of your mouth and quickly nod, “Yes!” You say after swallowing, “What about you?” 

“Third.” 

“Didn’t remember it well enough the first two times?” 

He lets out a shy laugh at that— it feels strange for someone to be unaware of his eidetic memory, and he wonders how long that’ll last. “Not exactly. I guess just like Halloween.” 

“A man of good taste,” You quip back softly, taking a smiling bite of jello. 

Spencer laughs as his eyes watch your lips close around your spoon before he pulls them away to look into your eye, hoping you don’t notice as he stutters lightly. “That’s debatable.” 

You’re looking down at your half-eaten Jello cup. “I’m the judge here. I deem it a fact that you are a man of good taste. You’re wearing a cardigan. That’s how the judicial system works, don’t you know?” You look back at him with a smirk, and Spencer can’t help the chortle that escapes his throat. 

“That is not how the United States judicial system works, but thank you.” 

“Yeah, you look like someone who would know all the inner workings of the judicial system.” 

Spencer can feel his cheeks getting red at how your voice sounds—teasing and a little flirty. Oh my god, were you flirting with him? He’s sure he’s all smiles and red cheeks as he looks at you, changing the topic. “None of your friends wanted to come with you tonight?”

“No, not their scene. It’s okay, though. I’m making a new friend right now.” 

Spencer’s finishing off his Jello as he steals a glance at you again, stars in his eyes. “You don’t even know me.” 

“Sure I do. Your name is Spencer. You like jello, nonfiction, Halloween, and dressing like a teacher’s assistant.” 

Spencer doesn’t want to say you’re wrong, even though he knows you’re just being nice, but he doesn’t want to spend another week without seeing you. He wants to be your friend— he’ll be anything you want him to be. “Could I–” He licks his lips, eyes searching yours nervously. 

You watch him carefully, tilting your head to the side as you look into his brown eyes. The sun is gone now, but the rising moon is shining down on him. He seems so… gentle, like a deer in a quiet forest.  A part of you just wants to scoop him up and bring him home with you, as inappropriate as that is. 

“You wouldn’t have to– It’s alright if you say no. I was just thinking I could give you my number sometime, maybe.” He manages with a gentle huff of air. 

You nod a little, “Sometime, maybe.” You repeat with a slight grin forming on your lips. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the projector starting to play the movie, and a hush falls over the cemetery’s lawn. 

Spencer’s voice is a little too loud as he rushes to say, “I mean, now. Would it be alright if I–” A shush cuts him off, and his back straightens quickly as he shuts his mouth. His eyes meet yours for a second before darting over to the projection. 

You’re watching him again, how he’s staring at the screen like his life depends on it. You scoot closer to him, grabbing your folded-up blanket in the process. Once you reach his side, you drape the folded blanket around his shoulders carefully before doing the same to your own. 

His fingers gingerly grab one of the blanket's edges, casting you an apologetic glance for a second as your pants graze against his. You seem unbothered as you lean toward him. “I would love your number after this, " you whisper, looking up into his doe-like eyes before turning your head to watch the film. 

He’s beaming now as he stares at you, and his chest tightens slightly when you lean close to him again. You’re so close he can smell your perfume, the scent tangling with the sweet smell of crisp fall air. “You like costume parties?” Your voice is barely audible. 

He signals that he does silently, his head moving up and down quickly. The sight makes you grin as you mouth a silent, ‘Perfect’ at him before your attention is fully pulled back to the movie. 

Spencer feels warm all over for the rest of the night, and three months from now, he’ll start to believe three is a lucky number as he picks you up for your third date with him and just how perfect everything feels when he kisses you. 

[fcthots]

Jason would wear an “I ❤️ my autistic girlfriend” shirt and think he’s funniest mf on the planet

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Hiya,

Do you think maybe you could write a Casey x Autistic!reader (not necessarily the same autistic reader from the previous ones) where casey snaps at reader after an interaction where reader thought everything was all fine and dandy, but things were in fact not fine and dandy (plus casey being under a lot of stress from work).

Ive had multiple social interactions where i get whiplashed because i thought i was doing all the right things and saying all the right things, but in fact wasn’t and getting scolded or teased (negative) about it…

-Ara

Hey, Ara! So glad to see a request from you! 💖 Every time you interact with any of my stuff, I'm like, "Oh, yay! Ara's here!" Ngl this one was hard to write. Mostly because I also have been in many social situations where I am trying so hard to do or say the right thing and end up messing things up for people I care about. There are a lot of things about being autistic that I've grown to enjoy and cherish, but this one... oof. This one's still hard. It's a little longer than my usual, but I hope it's what you're looking for! – illdowhatiwantthanks

They Go Low

Casey Novak x autistic!fem!reader Warnings: people being meanies, angst (resolved at the end though!), hurt/comfort-ish (?), explicit language (let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 3.2k

Summary: It's the annual New York County Lawyers Association gala, and you're going as Casey's date. You're terrified of messing something up, socially and, well, when the worst happens...

You exhaled heavily as you stood in front of the mirror, adjusting your tie and your pocket square. You looked good, objectively speaking. You’d gotten a haircut the day before. The suit was custom-made and fit you like a glove. And Casey had helped you put on “just a little makeup, babe.” But you weren’t worried about looking good at the New York County Lawyers Association Gala. You were worried about acting good.

Casey came up behind you and wrapped her arms around your waist. She looked so pretty it took your breath away. Full evening gown, in a deep, forest green, with a halter top, which you loved because it allowed the dress to contrast against Casey’s hair. Rich and red and glorious and one of your favorite parts of her, even if she did get self-conscious about it sometimes.

“You look so beautiful, honey,” she said, planting a light kiss on your cheek, careful not to leave any lipstick.

“Not as beautiful as you,” you told her. You knew that parties like this should be fun. What you wanted was to be a perfect partner for Casey, to be someone worth showing off at an event like this. Casey already felt like an outsider at a lot of these events because she wasn’t New York law royalty like some of the others. She didn’t come from money. She’d worked to get where she was. Hard.

You’d come a long way in accepting autism as part of yourself, even come a long way in loving yourself for it, thanks in no small part to Casey. But small talk? With strangers? It wasn’t your strong suit. You wanted so badly to make Casey proud, but you always felt like you were subpar. Like there were whole levels of conversation going on above you. You could tell they were there. You knew you were missing things, but you couldn’t tell what you were missing.

You let out another shaky breath, fidgeting, trying hard to keep your fingers quiet at your side as you stimmed, practicing for when you’d be at the gala.

“Hey,” Casey said, turning you around to look at her. You avoided her eyes, but she bent her head a bit so you had to meet them. She ruffled your hair a bit, playing with the waves, with the fluff of it at the top of your head. “You okay?”

You shrugged. “Just nervous.”

“You…” she started, straightening your suit jacket and helping you with your cufflinks. Your heart swelled; you hadn’t even asked–she just knew. “...are charming and funny and sweet. You’re so smart. You’re a great listener. You’re good with people, even if you don’t think you are.”

You nodded, drying your sweaty palms on your suit pants.

“You’re gonna be fine, honey. Alex will be there. So will Liz and Rita. If you get nervous and you can’t find me, or I’m having to talk with other people, you can always find them. They know you and they like you.”

“Okay,” you conceded, voice shaky.

In the taxi, you played with Casey’s fingers–a nervous tick that she indulged. You liked the feeling of a fresh coat of nail polish on her nails, liked to press on it, but you were careful not to press too hard and ruin it tonight.

“I like this color,” you told her, brushing the pads of your fingers along her wine-red nails.

“Me too,” she agreed. “You don’t think it looks too much like Christmas? With the dress?”

You surveyed her quickly and shook her head. “No. It looks nice. You look nice.”

Your leg started to bounce as you got closer to the venue.

“Casey, what will I even talk about? The weather!? The Bill of Rights!?” You were starting to panic a bit, even as you tried to shut it off–it was Casey’s night. You did not want her having to take care of you during the NYCLA gala.

“Well, let’s make a list, yeah?” Casey said, taking your hands and flattening them between hers to relieve the tension you held there. “You can ask about where they’re from and talk about where you’re from. That’s always a classic.”

You nodded, determined not to need help this evening.

“You could ask what type of law they practice.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Casey, I don’t know anything about law.”

She nudged you with her shoulder. “Sure you do! I talk about work all the time. Just talk about the lawyer-y stuff you know from me.”

“Okay.” You were talking more to yourself than her. “Okay, I can do that.”

Casey squeezed your hand as you exited the cab. You took a deep breath, offered her your arm, and walked in, determined to make Casey proud.

And for the most part, you did alright. Casey introduced you around during the cocktail reception, and you figured out what to say. Your go-to was making people laugh. If you could just find an anecdote, just latch onto a story that resonated with these people, then everything became easier. Then it was just a routine, like giving a rehearsed speech instead of improvising every conversation.

You ate dinner, spoke cordially, if quietly, with the other people at yours and Casey’s table, and laughed in all the right spots at the program. You’d even managed to keep your stimming to a minimum.

But now the night was winding down. Groups of lawyers were scattered about the room. When you returned from the restroom, Casey seemed in deep conversation with a few other people, and you didn’t want to interrupt, so you went to stand by the bar, nursing your last cocktail of the night and trying desperately not to look awkward or out-of-place.

A tall man, imposing, but with a friendly face, approached the bar, ordered a dirty martini, and stood nearby. He nodded at you, and you nodded back.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” he said.

“Yeah, I don’t attend a whole lot of lawyer events,” you replied, taking a quick sip.

The man laughed. That had been one of your best lines of the night.

He introduced himself, extending his hand. “Trevor Langan.”

“Y/N Y/L/N.” You shook his hand, flashbacks of practicing a “firm handshake” with your dad in the back of your mind.

“So what brings you to the NYCLA gala, if you’re not a lawyer?”

“Oh, um, do you know Casey Novak? She’s in the Manhattan DA’s office?”

Langan’s eyes lit up. “Oh, sure! Casey and I go way back.”

You smiled, glad to have something to talk about, something you could talk about forever–Casey. “She’s my girlfriend.”

“Ah,” Langan said, tipping his drink toward you, as if in a toast. “Lucky woman.”

“Her or me?”

He burst out laughing and you tried to laugh along, too, even though it had been a genuine question.

“Good one.” He took a sip of his martini. “In all seriousness, though, Casey knows her stuff. She doesn’t crack. Hard to believe she’s human sometimes.”

Oh, now you could hit your stride. Casey as a person. You loved getting to show off Casey’s soft side.

“She’s great at her job,” you agreed. “Not that I know a ton about being a lawyer, but… she struggles, too, you know? Some of the SVU cases can be really emotionally difficult. Like, I know she’s working on one right now that’s really taking a toll.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Oh, really? What’s the case?”

“There’s this serial rapist,” you explained. “Apparently, they’ve been trying to nail him for years. They had DNA evidence linking him to one of the rapes, but I guess the judge threw it out recently? Not really sure why… But Casey says there’s not a whole lot else to go on, so she’s been working really hard with SVU to dig up more evidence.”

“Huh,” Langan said, nodding toward Casey as she made her toward you both. “Sounds like it might be a lost cause.”

You shook your head, leaning into Casey as she placed her hand on the small of your back. “Nothing’s a lost cause with Casey. Right, honey? I was telling Trevor about that case you’re working on.”

Casey seemed to grow stiff beside you. “The serial rape case?” she asked, and you had to look at her face to confirm what you were hearing. She looked… angry? Scared? You couldn’t quite tell, but it was some flavor of upset. Maybe she was still worried about the case…

“Yeah,” you confirmed, hoping to lift her spirits with a little optimism. “You know, about how hard it is right now because the judge threw out the DNA, but that you’ve got it because you always do.”

She gripped your hand tightly, so tightly it almost hurt, and glared at Langan. “That’s fucking low, Langan. Even for you.”

“Just business, Casey,” he said, holding up his hands in defense.

You felt so deeply confused. Something had gone terribly awry in this conversation. Maybe Casey and Trevor Langan weren’t friends after all?

“You’re an asshole,” she spat at him. “She doesn’t know any better.”

Okay, so they were talking about you. Your mind raced back through the conversation, trying to figure out if you’d said something wrong.

“Yeah, honestly, Novak, I wouldn’t have put you two together,” Langan observed. “I don’t know that she’s quite in your league. You know, mentally.”

You blushed furiously. You got the jab on that one, or at least the implications of it. That you didn’t deserve Casey. Which might be true, but it still hurt for someone else, someone who barely knew you, to see it and say it.

For her part, Casey looked like she might clock Langan with a strong right hook. “Well, she’s way out of yours.”

And with that, Casey pulled you away, out into the brisk, New York spring night. You tried to catch her eye as she hailed a taxi, but she wouldn’t look at you. You were growing increasingly anxious. You’d fucked up somehow. You knew it. You could tell. And you must have fucked up badly or Casey wouldn’t be this mad.

She was quiet on the way home, fuming. And she didn’t hold your hand. She always held your hand. Your stims got more anxious, more obvious, along the ride. You wanted to ask her what was wrong. Wanted her to tell you what it was you’d done to mess everything up, but you were afraid to ask in front of the taxi driver.

You opened your mouth to ask as soon as the door to the apartment shut behind you, but Casey was faster. She was angry. Her face was red. And she was nearly crying. Casey never cried.

“Why the fuck would you tell Langan about that case, Y/N?!” she yelled, furiously kicking her heels off.

You felt your heart drop, panic run up your spine like ice. “I– I was just trying to talk about lawyer stuff.”

“Not that stuff! Case details!? Babe… this is just common sense!”

Your heart felt like it was being suffocated. Your voice was shaky and weak. “H-he said he knew you, that you went way back.”

Casey laughed and pressed her hands to her face. “Oh, yeah. We sure do. Way back.”

You were trying so hard to get what she was saying, but your brain wouldn’t quite make the connection. “I… I don’t understand, Casey.”

A tear streaked down her cheek. “Of course you don’t understand!” she railed. “You never understand!” She sat down heavily, rubbing her forehead. “He’s the fucking rapist’s defense attorney, Y/N! And now he knows we’ve got nothing!”

You felt like you’d been slapped in the face. In fact, you almost would have preferred Casey actually slap you in the face. Tears filled your eyes, and you knew you were about to lose it. Casey had been mad at you before, but not like this. And you knew you didn’t understand a lot of things. You didn’t catch social nuance. It went right over your head. But to hear it from Casey… Casey who usually made you feel like there was nothing wrong with you. You’d ruined something. You’d ruined something important tonight. You felt guilty, but more than that you felt ashamed.

Your hands twitched by your side, and your breath came in huge, desperate gulps, and you knew you were on the verge of breaking down. And that last thing you wanted tonight was for your breakdown to be another fucking thing that Casey had to deal with. Another thing for her to fix. You’d already given her enough to fix tonight.

“Be right back,” you said, because it seemed like something normal to say, and you didn’t want to just exit. You walked quickly to the bathroom and shut the door behind you, locking it.

You sat on the floor and curled yourself as tightly as you could into the corner where the wall and the shower met, pulling your feet to your chest. Suddenly, everything felt very tight, too tight, and you yanked off your tie and your suit jacket, unbuttoning your collar because you could barely fucking breathe right now. You held your head in your hands and rocked back and forth, trying and failing to regulate your breathing. You kept hearing Casey’s and Langan’s words in your head, as if they were on a constant loop, replaying in your mind’s eye: She doesn’t know any better. She’s not quite in your league. You don’t understand, you never understand!

You knew you were crying, but it wasn’t something you were in control of, just hot tears streaming down your face, just your heart beating so rapidly you didn’t know how to tell it to slow down. You’d fucked up. You’d fucked up so bad that you’d hurt Casey. Maybe you’d fucked up so bad that Casey wouldn’t even want to be with you anymore, and who could blame her? You didn’t even really want to be with you. Stupid, stupid, stupid…

You heard a soft knock on the door, but couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge it, let alone open it.

“Y/N…” Casey called, voice muffled through the door and through your heartbeat pounding in your ears. “Will you open the door, honey?”

You couldn’t respond, didn’t want to respond, felt worse for Casey having to worry about you now. As if you hadn’t already given her enough to worry about tonight.

And your rocking back and forth, your absolute spiral, stopped only when you heard Casey’s voice crack, when you thought she might be crying. And your instinct to take care of her took over your instinct to wallow in self-loathing.

“Please, baby,” she begged. “I’m so sorry. Just let me in.”

You scrambled quickly to the door and unlocked it, then scrambled back to your corner, huddling protectively, your body literally shaking. You were scared, you realized. You didn’t like being scared of Casey. If anything, Casey should be scared of you, and how’d you’d mess things up for her. You buried your face in your hands as you heard the door creak open. You didn’t want to meet her eyes, terrified of what might be in them.

You heard Casey approach you, could feel the shift in the air around you as she sat down next to you, the rustle of her dress as she adjusted it.

You were so anxious that you were gripping tufts of your hair. You weren’t going to pull it out, but it gave you something to grab, at least.

“Y/N, honey, can you look at me?” she asked, and you could tell from how thick her voice was that she’d been crying.

You shook your head, still rocking back and forth.

She exhaled deeply, then continued. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. You do understand, okay? You understand me. You understand when it matters. You didn’t do anything wrong tonight. It was a dick move by Langan.”

You still couldn’t bring yourself to look at Casey. You were suspicious of her. Casey always made sure you were okay. You could see her lying to you to try to make you feel better. You felt her brush a bit of hair out of your face and jerked away.

“Look, if anything, it’s my fault,” she continued. “I should have been clearer about what lawyer things to talk about or not.”

Now, this you couldn’t abide by. Casey making it her fault? No. You lifted your face, blotched red with tear stains and looked at her, and the way her makeup ran–clearly she’d been crying–it broke your heart.

“You shouldn’t have to fucking explain!” you cried. “That’s not fair to you, Case! I should just know, and I don’t because I’m fucking dumb!”

“Hey,” she said, her voice sharp as she grasped your face in both hands. “You are not dumb. You’re one of the smartest people I know.”

“Stop lying to me!” you pleaded, more tears dripping down your face.

“Look at me,” Casey said, her voice rough with emotion as she held your face even tighter. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You know what is wrong? That you have to act a certain way for all those people tonight to like you. That’s dumb.”

You tried to look away, but she only gripped you harder. Her voice broke and you wanted to cry even more, cry with her and for her.

“Honey, you are so smart,” she continued between gulps of breath. “And so kind. And you have such a special way of making people feel like they can be themselves. You know you make me feel more loved than anyone ever has? You remember everything about me, everything I say. And you listen and you notice things and you… you make me feel like I’m who I’m supposed to be.”

Your sobs had quieted a little, until you were just shaking now, hiccuping with the aftermath. “You are, Casey,” you choked out. “You’re perfect.”

“See that?” she said, smiling a little and wiping your face with her hands. “You are twice the person Trevor Langan is. You build people up, you don’t bring them down.”

You let Casey slide next to you, let her wrap her arm around you and rest her chin on the top of your head.

“I’m still so sorry,” you mumbled. “I fucked up your whole case.”

She sighed and chuckled. “Honestly, it was already fucked. And Langan would have found out sooner or later.”

You let out a shaky sigh and settled into Casey, your head tucked under her neck, ear pressed to her chest so you could hear her heartbeat drawing you back down from your spiral.”

She breathed evenly, running her hands gently through the short hairs at the back of your head.

After a few minutes, Casey kissed the top of your head and pressed her hand to the side of your face, holding you close to her chest. “I love you, you know that?”

You nodded, snaking your arms around her waist and burying your face in her neck. “I love you, too.”

[abbyromanoff]

BREAKING POINT

PAIRINGS: Natasha Romanoff x autistic!reader

WORD COUNT: 1811

WARNINGS: fluff, angst, mentions of break ups, happy ending, R has autism, stressful moments, think that’s all :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

Nat’s footsteps seemed to be blocked from your ears, your mouths constant quivering being the only of the five senses that could work. You couldn’t stop picking the skin at your nails, causing blood to slowly arise from the flesh. And your fists continued to squeeze the sheets beneath you, but none of this seemed to register through your mind. No, the only recurring thought was the worry, the same worry you had been desperately trying to rid yourself of. After multiple months of therapy, psychiatry, medication, none of it worked. The only person who could help wasn’t you, it was the girl who chose you; your girlfriend.

She was your best friend, your keeper, and your lover. But she wasn’t here, not anymore. The large fight the two of you fell victim to seemed to cause your fall and the astronomical break-up. Nobody saw it coming, you two were a match made in heaven. But that didn’t seem to stop it from happening, and you found yourself desperately trying to fill the hole she left from only a week later. After the separation, Nat found herself arriving in the quinjet as she was forcibly given a mission with her heavy heart. She knew she could do it, but deep down she also knew she couldn’t; it felt like a constant battle between her sensibility and her idiotic nature.

But the entire time there was only one person on her mind: you. Not the enemies, not her teammates, not herself, but you. You always failed to leave her mind, even in times when it was not quite appropriate. She was determined to make it up to you some way or another, she knew she had to be with you again. She was hopeless without you, she didn’t know what to do with herself. But you always seemed to know, and that’s one thing she loved so dearly about you. Now that she was unable to sleep beside you, instead sleeping with the guilt of losing you, she felt lost.

“Y/N?” The voice startled you, your legs instinctively tightening against your chest for protection, your eyes only widening as you saw the woman you wished to see. But you were in her room, with her blankets, and the realization caused you to rush to your feet. You began fixing the bed but felt hands fall to your waist, causing your movements to falter before you quickly picked up from where you were.

“Y/N,” You sighed, and Nat’s frown deepened hearing the crack in your breath. She turned you effortlessly in her hold, her breathing turning ragged as she took in your expression. Your eyes were heavy from the tears and tiredness, your lip was bitten through and had dried drips of blood. Your smile was no longer visible, but she could see deep down how happy you were to be with her, you always failed to hide it.

“Look at me,” When you refused to complete her request, she spoke once more. “Please?” You sniffled before turning to look up at her, your eyes falling anywhere but in line with hers. That wasn’t unusual for you, but she still grew concerned.

“Can you tell me what’s going on?” You shrugged your shoulders, feeling as though weights were holding them down. You brought your head to the side again, but she tilted it back with a warm smile. She couldn’t truly smile seeing your saddened look, but she tried for you.

“I don’t know.” You weakly spoke, tears beginning to return to your drying cheeks as you felt your body growing in size. Your entire being felt so heavy, yet you weren’t. You were a normal, healthy size, but you felt as though you weighed ten tons.

“Do you want to sit down? Yeah, just sit, baby, you’re okay.” The nickname sent shivers down your spine, but you were unable to react, only leaning your head against her arms that found your shoulders.

“You don’t need to talk just yet, just breathe with me.” She drew circles on your skin as you watched her lips, your gaze constantly changing but she continued to praise your willingness to follow her directions. Moments later she was sat next to you, and she could tell you were now calmer than before.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You shrugged once again, and she chuckled softly. Her lips pressed onto your forehead, and her hand played with your hair while the other drew shapes across your thigh.

“Is it about us?” You shrugged.

“Is it about someone else?” You shrugged.

“Is it about work?” You shrugged.

“I just- I don’t know how to explain it.” Those were the first real words she heard you speak, and hearing your voice brought more relief than she imagined.

“Well, give it a shot and I can see if I understand.” You looked down at your fidgeting hands, a smile threatening to creep across your face as hers laid on top of yours.

“I had this really good plan, everything was all written down and memorized and I- I would’ve done everything and I would’ve been okay and I wouldn’t even have to spend time thinking about something else because I would be so busy. But then my alarm didn’t go off and I woke up late and I just felt so tired. I wanted to sleep and sleep and sleep but I knew I couldn’t, but I didn’t have any energy to get up! And then I went to grab a bowl and- and the dishes weren’t even done like I asked and my favorite cereal was gone so I didn’t know what to eat because I always eat that. And then I had training but there was this constant like, I don’t know, buzzing sound that was like a bug or something and no one but me could hear it, I felt crazy. And Steve just kept talking and talking and then I just snapped and started yelling at him, but I didn’t mean to! And I just ran out and I came in here because your blankets are really soft and they feel nicer than mine and I like to play with them but I realized I can’t be in your room once you came in and I freaked out, I didn’t know what to do.” You released a deep breath when meeting the end of your rant, your posture failing to land straight as you forced yourself not to sob. You were so close, you could feel your throat beginning to tighten, but you didn’t want to in front of Nat, not now.

“You’re always welcome in here, love.” She paused. “Can I ask you something?” You nodded, finding yourself unable to speak.

“That ‘something else’ you were trying to get your mind off of, what was it?” You continued to show a lack of response, and she could tell you weren’t going to.

“Was it me?” A small nod came from you after what felt like ages of waiting. She sighed, biting her lip and cursing to herself.

“I’m sorry, I- I know it’s not your fault-“

“No, it is. I’m so sorry, love, I’ve been so stressed lately and I didn’t know how to let it out, one thing about the Red Room is that they don’t teach you how to handle things well unless it involves fists. But that’s no excuse, I shouldn’t have taken it out on you or have let it ruin our relationship. I want to work on this, but first I want to take care of you, is that okay?” You agreed hesitantly, and she soon got to work. She knew you were too weak to bathe, so she planned to help you when you were more energized after resting. She led you to lay down on her bed, putting the blankets over you and grabbing a sweatshirt of hers. She helped you put it on before handing you the stuffed animal you loved so dearly. You had it since when you were a child, and it seemed to be your comfort on lonely and sad nights.

“Is it okay if I lay next to you?”

“Yes, please.” She giggled at your politeness and allowed herself to follow her steps. She asked Jarvis to turn down all lights and shades to create a dim room for you, you always loved having that darkness. The light often hurt your eyes and caused headaches, so she did as much as possible to belittle that.

“How about this: tomorrow afternoon, when we finish eating and training and getting in some work, we’ll take some time to help you work on an easier and less stressful schedule, yeah? And maybe we can ask your therapist if she’s willing to see the both of us for a few sessions, so we can work on anything that’s affecting our relationship. And I’ll be with you every step of the way, I promise.” She held out her pinky, causing you to instantly interlace yours with hers. She grinned, and you let your head rest on her shoulder as your arm went across her stomach. The plushie rested between you two as she left a kiss to its soft fur before kissing your lips in a slow, passionate manner.

“I’m sorry I can be a lot, Natty, I don’t mean to be.” Silence followed before the rustling of sheets was heard, causing you to lift your head while she looked down at you.

“You’re never too much for me, you’re just perfect.” You smiled softly in response.

“Nat?” She hummed, signaling for you to continue. “You’re perfect to me, too, you know.” Her lips turned upwards, and she felt her heartbeat rising as a blush ran to her face.

“I’m glad we can agree on that. Now go to bed, and when we wake up we can have a nice bath and maybe do some coloring?” It was more of a question than a statement, but she knew you’d say yes without a question.

“Can we also finish that documentary? Oh, and our puzzle! Or the Legos! And we can make cookies too, but they have to be chocolate chip.” She chuckled meaningfully, and her eyes began to close as her voice grew deeper as the tiredness from her mission began catching up to her.

“We can do whatever you want, sweetheart. Like I said, I’d do anything for you, even if it’s cookies and shows and puzzles and legos and coloring and baths.” She led on, causing your excitement to grow. You left a kiss on her cheek before bringing your body impossibly closer to her. Your warmth made her feel a sense of comfort that no one could describe as anything other than pure love.

“Sleep well, baby bear.”

“Sleep well, momma bear.”

—-

I would like to say before I receive any hate that I personally have autism myself and this is what I personally see as one of my struggles and I thought I’d write it

[thirtyratsinasuit]

𝚜𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚎 - 𝚜.𝚛.

ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ | ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ

𝙨𝙮𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨; 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 ��𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘶𝘴, 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘲𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨; 𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘤𝘮 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴, 𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘹 𝘥𝘳𝘶𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘰𝘭, 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺, 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘱 (𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘴 21, 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 36)

you were top of your class, graduating from harvard at age fifteen with a degree in psychology and several other certifications. it was no surprise that you got in to the bau, given that you're just what they needed. well, most of them would say that.

from the moment you walked through the doors and agent hotchner introduced you to everyone, there was one person in particular that stood out. he stared at you like he wanted to watch you 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘭. it made your blood boil.

"earth to spencer," penelope, the woman with the colorful clothes spoke as she snapped her fingers in agent reid's face, causing the man to blink. "you were staring at her like she was dinner!"

"its okay, i'm used to it by now. a lot of people arent used to seeing a twenty-one year old in my position." you shrugged, stepping closer, holding out a hand to shake as you told the brunette your name.

"i dont do handshakes," spencer narrowed his eyes as you awkwardly put your hand in your pocket. "doctor spencer reid."

"its nice to meet you, doctor."

"likewise." spencer spoke, studying you. "autism?"

"huh?"

"youre avoiding eye contact and youre swaying, which is a common attribute to stimming." the man spoke nonchalantly, leaving you speachless.

"how did you?-" "someone who belongs in the bau would know."

𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎

an; sorry for being so short!! btw this is post prison reid

tag list

@pleasantwitchgarden

[bwabys-scenarios]

Kurapika is the ultimate defender of his neurodivergent/disabled lover. No one says anything rude or negative about you, not on his watch. Did you SEE what he did to those men when they insulted Pairo? Well expect him to be beating the shit out of anyone that dares to belittle you.

He keeps fidget toys, small snacks and drinks, and word cards in his satchel in case you need something while you’re out and about with him. If you get overwhelmed he’ll guide you by the hand towards somewhere quiet and hold you in his lap and rock you if you’d like!

If you don’t like touch when you’re overstimulated, he’ll let you calm down while organizing a way to get you home so the two of you can curl up together and watch a movie.

Kurapika makes a note of what your triggers are, including sensory wise, and emotional wise. If anyone dares to hurt your feelings or make you feel less than, he comes to defend you… often violently. No one upsets his lover and gets away with it!

When you have a low social battery, he’ll sit with you in silence, reading a book while you do self care or something that recharges you. Kurapika doesn’t have to be touching or talking to you to enjoy your company, just being in the same room is enough to make his heart soar.

Leorio advocates for you when you go to the doctor. He’s there, holding your hand when you struggle to get your thoughts out, and makes sure your voice is uplifted when you can’t speak.

When you can’t seem to get out of bed, him and Kurapika take care of you. Leorio takes over your medical needs, making sure you take your meds and get your proper nutrients.

He makes sure you get enough rest, but not too much. Leorio will gently coax you into stretching your legs, even if it’s just getting out of bed and walking to the couch.

Leorio will massage your sore spots, his large hands are so warm and firm that you feel absolutely safe and loved with every touch. He can’t keep his hands off of you for long, wanting to hold you tight. Both him and Kurapika can be quiet… clingy.

He’ll hold you in his arms, kiss the top of your head. You’ll never feel like a burden when you have Leorio and Kurapika.

The two cuddle you close, peppering you in kisses and feeding you your safe foods as you watch a movie. It’s times like these where you’re grateful to have two adoring boyfriends that adore you.

[ashlynlovestlou]

i've gotten two requests for this, so here's a little something for both of them :)

cw: abby anderson x reader , reader has autism , abby being a sweetheart , mention of sensory issues (food & clothes) , mention of hyper-fixations

masterlist

daily click

ꕤ₊˚ abby would definitely be the type to buy you all the things that you're hyper-fixated on. literally anything you're obsessed with, whether it be a movie or a book or an animal, she'd buy it for you because she loves the way your eyes light up whenever you get new things.

ꕤ₊˚ on the topic of hyper-fixations, she could spend hours and hours listening to you yap about the things you're passionate about. even if she doesn't necessarily care, she'd just sit by you and watch you talk, so enamored by the way you stutter because of how excited you are.

ꕤ₊˚ shes the most patient human being ever. if you were having a meltdown she'd ask if it was okay to stay with you. it you wanted to be alone, she'd leave you alone, but if you let her stay, even better. she'd stay with you until you'd calm down

ꕤ₊˚ if you two were ever out at a party or somewhere loud, she would make sure the loudness doesn't bother you. and if it did, she would have one hand on your shoulder and best believe she'd get you out of there

ꕤ₊˚ speaking of sensory issues, she is very aware of what triggers you and what doesn't. every time you would come over she would make your favorite foods, or at least your safe ones.

ꕤ₊˚ aside from food, i feel like she would also have a bag of your comfort clothes in her car or a drawer in her dresser for them. just in case you need to change into something that doesn't bother you as much.

in other words, this girl is downBAD for you and would do anything to make you happy :)

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Drabbles

emo!Wanda x Emo!Fem!Reader Music exchange

The Widow's Shadow Drabble (Natasha Romanoff x Enhanced!Stark!Fem!Reader) 18+

Corruption (Fallen Angels!Wandanat x Angel!fem!reader)

Let The World Burn (Dark!Wanda Maximoff x Infatuated!Avenger!Fem!Reader)

Too Much (Mommy!Wanda Maximoff x Autistic!GN!reader)

For You I'd Do Anything (Queen!Wanda Maximoff x Knight!fem!reader)

In Safe Hands (Mommy!Wanda Maximoff x sub!fem!reader)

The Monsters Gone (Mommy!Wanda Maximoff x little!GN!reader)

Waiting On Them (Doms!CarolVal x sub!fem!reader)

A Walk in the (Amusement) Park (Mommy!Wanda Maximoff x autistic!fem!reader)

A Night With You (Police Officer!Natasha Romanoff x criminal!fem!reader)

Talk to Me (Mommy!Wanda x fem!reader)

To Care For You (Mommy!Wanda Maximoff x sub!fem!reader, Dom!Natasha x sub!fem!reader(platonic))

Throw a Tantrum (Mafia Boss!Lizzie Olsen x fem!reader)

My Honey Bunny (Mommy!Agatha Harkness x subby!fem!reader)

[0o-junebug-o0]

MORE AUTISTIC FEM! READER X SPENCER PLEASEEEE maybe her getting overstimulated at a bar with the team? or at the store? i neeeeddddd more of them!!

Bad Time at the Bar

here you go!! tho it's gn!reader bc gender didn't really come up, hope you don't mind!

genre: hurt/comfort

cw: autistic!reader, explicitly autistic spencer reid, overstimulation (and not the fun kind), meltdown (which reads a lot like a panic attack bc that's what my meltdowns are like), kinda self harm (hitting) and chewing lip until bleeding), internalized ableism and autism viewed in a negative light (spencer talks to reader about it and provides reassurance), completely gn!reader (reader is not described at all)

wordcount: 1.3k

There are too many people. The smell of sweat and alcohol hangs heavy in the air and burns your nose. The room is saturated with noise. Drinks clinking on tables, music playing, people talking. Your head pounds and you regret not bringing your headphones. You thought you’d be fine. You’ve never needed them when at the bar with the team in the past. Someone bumps into you and the unexpected contact causes panic to build in your chest. There’s not enough room. Everything feels like it’s closing in on you.

You suck in a breath through your teeth, gripping your bottle of beer so hard you’re surprised the glass doesn’t shatter. You chew on the inside of your lip until you taste blood, but it does nothing to soothe your quickly growing panic. 

You look around frantically, your eyes so wide you feel like they’re about to burst from your skull. Finally, you spot Spencer. He’s gathered around a table with Derek and some strangers, talking animatedly about something. You stagger forward, nearly tripping over your own feet as you try to reach him. People slam into your shoulders and chest and you can feel the burn of tears welling in your eyes. The tears cause the already painfully bright lights to reflect directly into your eyes so you blink hard and wipe them away.

Your whole body shakes and you desperately want to raise your hands to cover your ears but you’re still holding your drink and there’s not enough room and it’s embarrassing. You can feel your heart pounding throughout your body and your limbs feel like they’re going numb.

By some miracle, you manage to reach Spencer. You stumble toward him, reaching out and clinging to his arm. He startles and turns to look at you. Immediately, concern rushes over his face and he takes your drink and passes it to Derek before gently grabbing your hand. As quickly as he’s able, Spencer guides you through the bar toward an exit, using his own body to force people aside and away from you despite his dislike of germs. 

He holds open the back door and you practically fall into the alley. The door closes and immediately the smells, lights, and sounds lessen. You sink to the ground, pressing your hands against your ears now that there is no one but Spencer to see you. You curl your knees to your chest and stare with wide eyes at the ground. Each breath you take is a rasping, heaving mess, and a distressed groan forces itself from your throat with each exhale.

You feel like you’re dying.

Spencer crouches down beside you, sitting with his legs crossed and leaning against the wall, and you immediately press your body into his. You curl your legs beneath you and lean awkwardly in a way that hunches your back and presses your forehead into his knee. You squeeze your eyes shut and you can feel the way your tears soak his pants.

Spencer drapes himself over your back, using his body to provide the grounding pressure he’s learned you need in times like this. He wraps his arms around you and squeezes tightly. You let out a broken sob and slam the heel of your palm into the side of your head.

“Hey, hey,” Spencer mutters, gently taking a hold of your wrist. 

You shake your head. You need to hit. You need it. And there’s no way to redirect.

Spencer releases your hand and you move it to thump it against your chest.

“Okay, that’s better than your head,” Spencer says to himself. He squeezes your body in intervals and the varying pressure helps ground you. Slowly your sobs lessen to sniffles and hiccuping breaths and the hand hitting your chest falls limp against Spencer’s leg. 

“You’re okay,” Spencer mutters, rubbing his hand up and down your arm. “You’re going to be alright.”

You sniffle and move your head to press it against his stomach. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” he says softly. You can hear the love and care in his voice. “You feeling a bit better?”

You hum and nod against him.

“Do you need some more time, or do you want to go home?” he asks, keeping his body pressing against yours in case you still need the pressure.

You tap his leg twice.

“Home?” he asks sweetly.

You nod, and Spencer sits back. The sudden lack of pressure makes your body feel weird, and part of you wants to drag him back down. You decide against it, knowing that you’ll get used to it quickly and that Spencer will hold you again when you get home.

Spencer carefully guides you to your feet and, keeping an arm wrapped around you, leads you out of the alley and down the street to his car. He opens the passenger side door and you climb in. 

“Will you be okay for a minute or two while I run back in to grab our stuff from JJ?” Spencer asks.

You nod and do your best to smile at him. Spencer smiles back and closes the door. He locks the car and jogs back toward the bar. 

You sigh and wrap your hands around your stomach. Guilt and embarrassment coil painfully in your chest. You can’t believe that just happened. You should have been fine. Why this time? Why the one time you didn’t bring your headphones? You groan in frustration. Why couldn’t you just be normal? And Spencer. You feel so guilty for dragging him away from the rest of the team and the fun he was having to deal with you.

There’s a soft click as the doors unlock, then Spencer opens the driver's side door and climbs inside. You keep your head bowed as he closes the door and reaches into the backseat to set down both of your stuff. 

You see him still out of the corner of your eye, and he rests his hand gently on your shoulder. “Hey, what’s going on?” he asks.

“I–I’m sorry,” you mutter weakly.

“For what, sweetheart?”

“For this! For everything!” you cry. “You–you were having fun and I ruined it! You shouldn’t have to deal with this!”

Spencer says your name softly and, when you don’t respond, he whispers, “Please look at me.”

You slowly raise your head, wiping away the tears streaming down your cheeks.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I don’t care what it is I’m doing, if you’re upset or need help, I will always drop everything to be there for you. And it’s not ‘dealing with you’, baby. We’re partners. It’s our job to take care of each other. You can’t control when you get overstimulated or have a meltdown.”

“But I could have!” you insist. “I didn’t bring my headphones because I thought I’d be fine like every other time and then I wasn’t! It’s my fault I freaked out like this. I should be able to handle it.”

“There is no ‘should’. Having a meltdown will never be your fault. And I know you know that, because you would never think these things about me when I have a meltdown.”

Your jaw drops. “Of-of course not!” you stutter, taken aback.

“Then why is it different for you?” Spencer asks. “Why is your autism bad but mine isn’t?”

You open and close your mouth for a moment, unsure of what to say.

Spencer doesn’t speak.

“I–I don’t know,” you eventually admit.

“It’s because it isn’t bad. I understand why you might feel that way or why you feel guilty about making me deal with it, as you say. But I help you because I love you and care about you and because I want to. Just like you help me because you love and care about me and want you. And I will always choose to help you and be there for you, no matter what, no matter how ashamed you may feel. Okay?”

Your chin wobbles, and soon tears are streaming down your face as you let out a wailing sob.

Spencer leans over the armrest to hug you, neither of you caring about the awkward angle. 

You pull back and wipe at your eyes. “C-can we go home, now?” you ask weakly.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Spencer says kindly.

“And then cuddles?”

“Always.”

_____

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Taglist!: fill out this form if you want to be tagged when I post fics

@daryls-crossbow16 @roboticsuccubus83 @dorcas4meadowes @spenciesslut @pleasantwitchgarden @angeliccss @moonysreid @dead-universe @starlighta @eliscannotdance @written-in-the-stars @khxna

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

💗OkayokayokayKAY.

Miguel with autistic!AFAB!reader.

Plsplspls

hii!! I made this into headcanons, hope that’s okay. little disclaimer, autism is a spectrum so what one may experience, the other may not, and bc of that, I tried to make these sorta generic. thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

…

headcanons

miguel o’hara x autistic!fem!reader

word count: 468

✧.┊ MASTERLIST

— he's incredibly observant, so he picks up on lots of things most people would ignore

— the change in your demeanour, the way you stim and fidget, the way you'd essentially 'shut down'

— none of it goes unnoticed by miguel

— he's extremely patient and understanding 

— he is a spider-man/ scientist after all, so he def has lots of knowledge about it. he knows that it's a spectrum, and no two are the same, so he's spent a long time learning your behaviours and patterns to tailor his help exactly to you

— like he's trying to understand you better and see what you do like and don't like, what you need and what you don't need. boundaries and possible triggers etc etc

— he NEVER judges you, ever!! whether that be stimming, info dumping, special interests and hyper fixations, just anything !!

— I feel like he feels special to be able to see the true you (unmasked) maybe there's a pun or inside joke about both of you wearing masks

— he loves to hear what's been running riot in your brain- your new fave show, a new topic you've found interest in. he def likes to listen to you talk and would never make you feel bad for doing so

— he's careful with the way he words things, as you may struggle to understand the meaning and intention- and wouldn't want to upset you

— but he doesn't treat you like you're fragile, like you're made of glass. he gives your special treatment bc he loves you, not bc of your disability

— he makes sure that you never feel like a burden. you may apologise every so often for 'being too much work' but he reassures you constantly, saying he would have it no other way etc

— despite him wanting to be around you all the time, he knows that you need to have your alone time, especially if you're overstimulated 

— he lets you be and gives you space while still being near- he keeps a close distance essentially. close enough to let you breathe, but still there to comfort you if needed

— he has great paternal instincts but never treats you like a baby or child. he utilises his knowledge of fatherhood and uses it in ways to help you without being condescending or patronising

— sorta feel like he's a mind reader. like he just knows what you need when you need it, but without suffocating you. like he can tell if you're about to be non-verbal. and he just knows the moment before you get overwhelmed and helps you out of the situation (again without smothering you)

— he appreciates your empathy, and need for justice. dare I say, he loves your anger too (without it sounding selfish) like he admires your vast range of emotions, and how you're so human

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

[shyentsmissingink]

.PLACIDITY by rena|shyent

-Scaramouche x fem!reader

-Reader's autistic if you squint (you can certainly read regardless whether or not you are <3)

-reader is like, a head taller than him

-male masturbation

.When he’d open his eyes, you would cease the brushing of the back of your fingers against the porcelain smoothness of his cheeks, responding to the placidity of Scaramouche’s stare with an aversion of your eyes to the transparency of your window’s glass. The coolness of the evening’s waning heat makes warm—the tone—the baby hairs on your cheeks and the curls sprouting from your scalp. 

Your head would be propped up against an old cushion, the back of his resting comfortably against the midsection of your chest and legs wrapped loosely around his waist. Scaramouche had half the urge to reach his hand out and touch you; to graze the corner of your eye, to your cheekbone, to palm your cheek and to brush your lips with the flat tip of his thumb; to reciprocate your ministrations. Instead, however…

“What?”

“Uh…what?”

“You want to say something; spit it out.”

You hum, “Nothing.”

He’d return to staring at the ceiling with a sigh, closing his eyes once more. You would resume the stroking of his cheeks, and the contours and curves of his face, hands on either side, holding him like a prized possession. Each time Scaramouche would have awakened from his half sleep, he’d glance up to meet you, the permutation in heat, the weather and the colours of the sky would be emulated in the warmth and the coolness of your ever-changing hue.

“Hey, Sweetheart?”

It would never cease to make his heart stutter a beat when you referred to him as such. Sweetheart. He remembered the first time you'd called him that, the hesitation in your tone, fidgeting, and the indecisiveness expressed in the flapping of your hands.

When you'd finally managed to stutter it out, he couldn't help but tease you. Nonchalant, had Scaramouche been, or at least...he would like to think that you hadn't noticed the reddening at the edge of his ears as he'd turn away from you.

Nevertheless, he hums in response, voice cracking from misuse.

“Do you wanna masturbate?”, you asked.

“What-”

Yeah, so, anyway he choked on his spit, flying into a sitting position—a coughing fit—tears pricking at his eyes, cheeks dusted pink and glaring at you like you’d called his mother hot (again). 

“What the fuck-”,  he strangled out. “Kind of question is—did I hear that-?”

“Wanna masturbate?”  You’d propose again, tilting your head. Okay, he did hear that right.

“...Why?”

“Because I wanna see you masturbate-”

“Okay, yeah, no I get that, but why?”

“The real question is why not?”

“No, dumbass, it’s not. Who suddenly asks ‘wanna masturbate?’”

“...Girls who wanna see their boyfriends masturbate?”

“...”

“Is that a no?”

“How did I end up with someone like you...”

“Is this you calling me spec-ed again?” you whine.

“No—Archons…”, one day, he'll understand how you ever jump to the conclusions that you do. That, he swears.

“So?”

Your boyfriend did not know how to respond to that and took to lying back down against your body on his side instead. Or well, atleast, he hadn't come to a conclusion yet…

Am I actually considering this? 

He clasps your breast and massages it in circles with a roll of his eyes. He flicks at a hardening, impervious nipple followed by a series of squishing. It made for the perfect stress ball, really. A really cute stress ball.

He loved how perfectly the ball of tissue fit so perfectly in his palm, the gap between your breasts that would perfectly accommodate his head, how you'd caress his hair and shoulders whenever he cupped a feel. Just as you were now.

It felt safe, this trust, this exclusivity. He didn't want to say it yet because he is afraid of startling you, but he loves you, well as the mutual sanctity that you both can find in each other's presence. He absolutely adores you, he truly does... but the shit that comes out of your mouth, by the gods. He'd eat broken glass for you, certainly. But have you ever looked at a girl and wondered, what is going through her mind?

“...Would it be coercion if I said please?”

“I don’t think so? I don’t feel pressured by you.” He never does.

With some pondering on his words, connecting the dots around the definition of the word, you eventually nod in agreement.

“Oh. So, please?” You pause, before adding teasingly, “If you do…I’ll give you a scooby snack.”  I should pinch her for that, he considers.

“That is not a real thing.”

“It can be.”

“It is not a real thing, [name].”

“But it can be—man, you’d look cute on a leash.”

“I’ll do it—wait, what?”

“You’d put on a leash for me?”

“No—archons…”

So, that is how he found himself slipping his fingers underneath the band of his shorts, tracing the line of his hip—as if to delay it—with you wrapped around his body.

“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”

“What, did you finally realise how absurd this is?”

“Not absurd, I still want this, but-”

“But?”

“Don’t cut me off-”

“You’re acting as if you weren’t about to go on a whole tangent of ‘hms’ and ‘buts’ and ‘uhs’.”

“...fuck off.”

“Do you want me to do it or not?”

“Please.”

“Then shut up.”

“You always tell me to shut up…”, you pout. Cute.

Scaramouche exhales as the rest of his hand disappears into his pants, his fingers trailing along the length of his cock, creating a larger bulge outlining it. He’d prod his cock under his shorts, squeezing it lightly before trailing his thumb along a less than prominent vein, yet, he couldn’t derive any pleasure from it. It was like he'd forgotten how to touch himself. Recognizing his nervousness, you cover his eyes with your hand and rub circles into his lower stomach.

“Is this okay?”

He takes his hand out and fondles the bulge through the fabric of  his shorts. It was when he’d roll his hips into his hand had Scaramouche finally reach into his shorts to palm his newfound arousal, giving it a light squeeze and murmurs his approval as he feels a fraction of his nervousness fading away.

He uses his free hand to his boxers, allowing his dick leeway to spring out. So that’s what it looks like, you thought. It was your first time seeing one, aside from years back when you were younger and changing with the opposite sex hadn’t been taboo. Weird. 

Scaramouche’s legs were somewhat stiff, as if he didn’t want to show any more reaction than what he deemed necessary. His thumb circled the tip, giving the upper end of his member an occasional pump, inducing beads of precum and collecting them at his fingertips, slowly making his way down as he coat the length little by little. All the while, you'd massage your heel into his outer thigh, your hand going from his stomach to his waist before going south.

"May I touch you here?" You whisper.

"Mhm..."

And with a smile, you caress his hip dip. Once he’d finally reach the base, Scaramouche pumped himself a few before repeating the process while slowly producing a pool of saliva within the confines of his mouth. So, when he finally let out a soft groan, a finger grazing a vein, he'd lubricate his palm with his spit. You had to admit, watching him coat his hand with his own fluids was pretty hot.

You nudge a knee of his to the side with another foot, coaxing him to spread his legs a bit, and his complies without protest. At last, his hand wraps around his cock. Slowly, he begins with an almost lackadaisical roll of his hips, his hand moving in equilibrium as he gradually finds his pace.

It's dark, Scaramouche would realise, as you brush back his bangs, bringing an end to the compromisation of his sight. And you're beautiful. He adds, a momentary last of his shutting eyes, repressing a hum in response to the growing pleasure pooling between his legs.

"Your eyes are so pretty, and listen to the way you pant, gosh."

Your middle to pinky finger caressed the angle of his mandible, index tracing a line of drool trailing down his jaw.

"And the way your hips are moving…it’s so cute.”

“Cute?” he exhales, brows furrowing.

“Yeah, cute. And, I love how easily I can wrap my legs around you. You’re so small, y’know?”

“Small isn’t really what a guy would like to be called by his girlfriend when he has his dick out in front of her.”

“Scara, you’re like a head smaller than I am, you’re literally a petite guy…And well, I wouldn’t know whether or not you’re big or small...I’ve never seen another guy’s penis before. But it’s okay, if it makes you feel better, I’d like you even if you were modest in size.” you run a hand over his chest over his shirt.

“Modest…can’t tell whether or not I should slip a tear or take what I can get.”

“I don’t watch porn! How should I know? What do you want me to say, oh Scara, your dick is so big and fat and-”

“What’d make me feel better is if you'd just shut up and- yeah...t-that's fine...”

You insert your hand into the neckline of his shirt, the back of your nails scraping the bareness of his chest. You had to be careful to not rush it, lest you'd want to accidentally nick him with the ridges, but you can hear the blood in your chest rumbling!

Excited at the prospect of making your adorable boyfriend squirm. To make him feel good. To hear him moan and groan and whimper and hum and cuss, to coax the cute thrusting of his hips out of him, to hear him say your name like he wanted to fuck you. So cute, so needy, so precious.

Scraping lightly against his skin and fingers splitting just as they were about to touch was most sensitive. You’d repeat this motion a few more times as your boyfriend would nudge his chest towards your touch, trying to atleast get you to graze him where he needed you to. 

“Stop teasing me.. ” 

“Haha! I’m sorry, but the way you’re reacting is just so cute! I—oh gods, was that a whimper? Would you do it again if I…” You relent with your teasing, eager to earn yourself another one. You press your thumb down on his nipple and your grin widens as his eyes roll back. He was practically seeing stars, brain short-circuiting for a moment.

Your gaze furthers down as you drank in the sight of Scaramouche's heels kneading into the mattress, the contractions of his stomach, the twitching of his thighs, the acceleration of his hand gliding along his slickened cock and the tantalizing jerk of hips. He could feel the pressure building up, the blood rushing to his dick and the trails of fire the cells left in its wake through his body. His climax was approaching.

His low moans devolve into round of panting and groaning before transitioning into a stream of choppy whimpering and needy hums. All this time, he'd been looking outwards at the ceiling, but as his climax approached, Scaramouche would chin up and find it in himself to look up at you, reciprocating the tenderness of you gaze with a lustful and affectionate haze. Whatever reserves he had fading to the back of his mind, and archons, he loves you so much. You're so beautiful, how-

Scaramouche's skin prickles, the knot in his stomach comes undone. So—with the arch of his back—he chokes back a moan, substituting it with a strangled cuss and a hiss as he felt his orgasm roll in waves through his nerves, to the very tip of his digits. You wrap your arms around him once more and with a squeeze, you bury a kiss into his scalp. You watched in an almost childlike fascination, toes flickering and a soft string of hums vocalising at the back of your throat, tapping your fingers on him, as his shot up in threads.

"...It's kind of like silk...from a spider."

He finally fell limp and breathless and your legs wrapped almost snuggly around him once more. It had taken him a moment to process what you just said, coming down from his high. When he did, however, he groaned. Whether or not it was due to the aftershocks of his orgasm or out of annoyance (probably both), he didn't quite know. You assumed the latter though.

"[name], no. Gods...fuck." he mumbles, followed by some incoherent cussing and murmurs.

Scaramouche rolls to the side and cups you breast once more, languish, fondling it before slipping his still messy hand up your shirt. It felt weird...you liked it. And how cute he was, when he'd eventually succumb to his fatigue. And, soon, he'd awaken to you too once more.

Author's note: Pleaseeee comment!! This was my first smut and I'd love to hear some praises and constructive criticism. And please reblog :D Thank you so much for reaching to the end.

[eddiemunsonsmum]

This is Babysitting Club, not Hellfire Club

Eddie Munson x Original Female Character

Summary: Eddie volunteers the services of Babysitting Cl- Uh, Hellfire Club when a friend needs someone to watch their child for an hour. Eddie tries to run a campaign while taking care of a 4 year old and is relentlessly bullied by said child as a result.

Tags: Fluff, Joking, Banter, Eddie gets bullied by a 4yo, Comedy (I hope), pregnancy, friendship, Hellfire Club, References to spice, Unhinged DM!Eddie loses the plot.

Words: 6.7k

A/N: This story sits somewhere between Anticipation and Fuck You Maureen but should be able to be read as a standalone!

~~

“You’re sadistic.” Mike Wheeler said flatly. A pinched expression on his face as he glared at his Dungeon Master from under thick brows. 

“I’m fun.” Eddie corrected, not looking up from tracing his finger down the columns of numbers on his side of the DM screen blocking him from the other players.

“He’s self-indulgent.” Jeff corrected again, sharing a knowing look with Grant and Gareth as the two of them nodded in agreement.

“Hey!” Eddie shouted suddenly, eyes stern as he looked up at them over the top of the screen. Their outlines were illuminated by the afternoon light that filtered through the dining room window behind them. Their faces obscured by the shadows cast on them. “I’ve been through a lot this year.” He defended weakly, eyes softening as he turned them back to his notes and the boys around the table muttered about ‘letting him have this one.’

Silence descended on the room once more as Eddie honed in on his notes. Not noticing as a lone figure crept up beside him and began staring at them as well.

“What’s that?” A voice asked suddenly from right beside his head.

Eddie jumped involuntarily. Easily startled these days. 

He was grateful for once that his natural fright reflex was flight and not fight so he had not lashed out as he looked down into the wide, innocent eyes of his 4 year old neighbor, Jack.

“Jesus Christ!” He let slip, breathing hard as the kid giggled at the fact that he had apparently frightened the adult in front of him.

“That!” He repeated when Eddie didn’t answer, little finger pointing to the numbers Eddie had been studying.

“Sorry!” Jack’s Father John called as he entered through the open front door and closed it quickly behind him. “He got away from me.” He explained sheepishly as he tugged on the kid’s arm. “Come on, leave Eddie alone.” John chided gently, giving a wave to the table before heading off.

Eddie watched them walk towards the back of the house where his girlfriend Karmen was trying to work in her office. Turning back to his friends and noticing all eyes in his direction, waiting for an explanation.

“Karmen babysits.” He said with a shrug. “A lot.” He added under his breath as he picked up his pen and tried to figure out where they’d left off.

~

“The door is locked.” Eddie smiled smugly as a collective groan rolled around the table at his words. A satisfied chuckle falling from his grinning lips as he watched his club come to terms with the plot twist.

“Why are they always locked?” Gareth growled, placing his head in his hands.

“Because it would be a pretty boring game if you could just go wherever you wanted.” Eddie said with a shrug. “So the way I see it, you have two choices.” He began. “You can–”

“No!” Karmen shouted angrily, interrupting his words and making his head snap around in time to see her rounding the corner into the kitchen. Frustrated hands grasping at the air as bare feet stomped on the hollow flooring.

“It’s just for an hour, please!” John begged, practically on his knees as he followed at her heels. “Forty-five minutes, tops.” He lied, making Karmen bark out a laugh as she turned on him.

“I’ve lived your forty-five minutes Marston and I’m not keen to live it again!” She countered, turning away from him.

“It’ll be different this time, I promise.” He assured her, slumping heavily on the counter as she opened the fridge and fished around inside it. 

Eddie watched on silently, eyes raking over her back as she grasped at nothing in the cold shelves. Trying to look busy so she could put distance between herself and whatever John was requesting.

She settled on a bottle of cold water. Taking it out even though she hadn’t really wanted it and setting her eyes on her friend again.

Eddie rolled his entire head with his eyes, turning back to the guys and shaking it as he held up a finger. Letting them know he would be waiting for the argument behind them to resolve before he continued. He held up his calculator, letting them know that he was going to figure out his equations for the next part of the campaign now and if they had anything to work out themselves, now was the time.

“Look John, even if I wanted to, I have too much work to do. I haven’t finished settling the accounts.” Karmen argued from behind his back, slamming the fridge shut and twisting at the cap of her bottle.

“But you work for me…” John argued meekly. “I don’t care if it’s not done.” He lied again through gritted teeth.

“You told me you needed it done by tomorrow.” She snipped, pressing the bottle to her lips and pausing before taking a drink. “Unless that was a lie?” She added, watching the color drain from his face as she took a sip of the beverage.

“No…” He answered bashfully, looking away from her. “It wasn’t.”

“Right.” She nodded, smiling sarcastically as she wiped at her wet lips with the back of her hand. “So it’s gonna’ look bad on you when it’s not done.” 

“This is more important than–”

“Don’t lie to me again. It’s not worth it for you.” Karmen warned, cutting him off with a scowl as John shut his mouth tight and took a calming breath. A grimace-like smile on his face as he pressed his hands together and pointed them at her as if he was in prayer.

“One hour.” He promised, tilting his head towards his son who had followed them back into the kitchen and was sitting just shy of the counter. His little hands moved a ceramic duck around in the air. Making little quacking noises for it as he played with the breakable object he’d taken from the shelf in Karmen’s office.

She huffed at the sight. Wanting nothing more than to take it back and remind him for the thousandth time that not everything was a toy.

She looked to John with a frown, waiting for him to say something and shaking her head when he didn’t.

Useless.

She thought to herself. Ready to open her mouth and rant about how she had to do everything for everyone when Eddie piped up, surprising her.

“I could do it.” He said from his place at the table. Not looking up from his notebook as he continued to punch equations into his calculator and pen down the answers.

The couple in the kitchen stopped bickering at his offer. Both turned to him with incredulous looks on their faces as they waited for the other shoe to drop. 

The punchline.

Eddie placed down his pen, swiveling so he was sitting sideways. One arm leaning on the table and the other on the back of his chair. He looked at them both, frowning at their skeptical expressions. 

“What?” He asked after a long moment. John’s eyes flicked to Karmen’s before he shrugged lightly and turned back to Eddie.

“You wanna’ watch my kid?” He asked. “You know that’s what we’re arguing about.” He added with a scoff. Convinced that Eddie had misread the situation.

“Sure.” Eddie answered with a shrug. “If you need someone.” He added nonchalantly, turning back to the table and realizing the whole club had raised their heads like gophers in the dirt. He narrowed his eyes at them all, watching as they went back to their character sheets one by one. 

“What do you think?” John asked Karmen. Mocking the way she scrunched up her face at his question by imitating her. “What?” He asked with a laugh. “You have an opinion on everythin’ but not this?” He asked, gesturing towards the dining table.

“Offer’s expiring.” Eddie sing-songed. Wanting to snatch it back immediately with the way John had sniped at Karmen. 

But he wasn’t offering to help him. He was offering for her.

“I think you don’t have a choice.” Karmen replied finally, placing down her bottle of water and leaning her hip against the bench. “Unless you don’t want to go.” She said scandalously. A mocking pout on her lips.

“Ugh.” John grumbled as he turned back to Eddie who was busy ignoring them for his own sanity. “Fine!” He said loudly, catching the younger man’s attention. “But if Karmen goes out, Jack goes with her.” 

“Cute you think you have control over that.” Eddie murmured, placing his pen down for the second time and turning back to them. “Whatever. Bring him over here.” He said flatly, gesturing to the space beside him and looking up to see Karmen smiling at him from the kitchen.

He knew she’d cave into the begging and pleading soon enough and he wanted to offer an alternative. Knowing that once she had agreed, there was no chance in hell that John would choose Eddie instead. He’d had to offer before she did.

“He’s a child.” John said frankly as he scooped up Jack and ripped the duck from his hands. The kid protested loudly at the absence of his 'toy'. 

“You can’t just put him down and expect him not to move. He’s not gonna just sit there while you do your thing.” He said, holding up the ceramic as an example of Jack not doing what he’d been told.

“Are you trying to talk me out of it?” Eddie asked, irritated. 

The other man didn’t answer. Instead plopping Jack down in the space between Eddie at the head of the table and Dustin on the other corner.

“Be good for Eddie please?” He asked Jack quietly as he placed the duck on the table in front of Eddie’s DM screen. 

The toddler ignored him completely as wide eyes looked over all the small exciting things on the table in front of him.

John stood back, crossing his arms as he watched for a minute as if waiting for Eddie to launch himself at Jack and tackle him to the ground or pull some drugs out of his pocket and give them to the toddler to play with.

When that obviously didn’t happen he took another few steps back. Eddie watched with an annoyed expression the entire time before finally, John waved goodbye to them all and left out the front door.

“Alright.” Karmen said loudly, walking up behind the boys and petting Jack on the head as he looked up at her with a little grin. “Come on Jack.” She coaxed, jerking her head back towards her office. 

Eddie watched them, confused before realising suddenly that she didn’t think he was serious. That he knew she’d cave and he was just fucking with John for his own amusement.

“Kam…” he said hastily, placing a hand on her arm to stop her from walking away and catching her attention. “I was serious.” He assured her, stifling a laugh at the look she gave him. 

“What?” She asked candidly, making the guys around the table chuckle. 

“Yeah, what?” Mike repeated, leaning around Dustin to look Eddie in the eye as he raised his brows in question. “You’re in the middle of a session.” He said, waving his hands over the table as if Eddie had forgotten what they were doing.

“So?” Eddie asked, feeling defensive of their questions.

“So….” Dustin began slowly, trying to be as gentle as possible. “I think maybe Mike’s concern is that you won’t be able to run the campaign as efficiently as you’d like while taking care of a kid…” He said, rolling his hands as he spoke.

“Yeah and what do you know about taking care of kids anyway?” Garreth piped up, a nod of agreement murmured around the table.

“Oh my God you guys.” Eddie griped, once again rolling his entire head with his eyes dramatically. “Will you stop?” He asked with a smile as he shook his head sarcastically in their direction. “You have bigger problems right now than my concentration. If you don’t figure out what you’re gonna do about this door and that Undead Goldhoarder chasing you then none of this is gonna’ matter.” He said frankly, pushing himself up from the table and swooping Jack up with arms around his middle.

Jack didn’t protest, instead swinging his legs excitedly at being picked up as Eddie turned to Karmen.

“Go.” He said softly, flicking his head back towards the hallway as he turned around. “Please.” He added, softer. Sitting himself down and placing Jack on his lap. One arm slung around the toddler’s stomach to keep him in place as he picked up his pen. He knew she wouldn’t walk away until she saw them all sitting harmoniously.

“Okay…” She agreed, reluctant. “But come and get me if he gets too much.” She said, sighing as Eddie waved his pen at her without looking up.

“Alright.” He announced as he heard the door to her office close. “What’s the plan?” He asked, looking around the table with a wicked smile.

~~

“No! No Jack!” Eddie chastised gently. “Choking hazard.” He explained firmly as he pulled one of his dice from sticky fingers. “Nothing on this table is for eating, kid.”  

“But this is where we eat food?” Jack replied incredulously.

“Well, it’s also where we play games sometimes.” The Dungeon Master said as he dragged the kid back, closer to his torso. His right hand scribbled on the page of his notebook. His body tilted sideways to try and keep Jack’s stubby arms from being able to grab anything else on the table.

“Why do you play games?” The toddler asked, sounding bored as he gave up trying to reach for the table and slumped bonelessly against Eddie’s arm. Somehow making him even harder to hold.

“Because it’s fun.” Eddie sighed, rubbing at his eyes as he restarted the equation he was trying to do for the sixth time.

“You’re a dad-ult.” Jack said pointedly as Eddie stifled a laugh.

“Ad-ult.” He corrected. “And adults like to play games too.”

“Adult.” Jack repeated. “Did you know I’m bored?” He asked immediately afterwards, one of the guys chuckling at this candidness. Eddie couldn’t see who it was from the angle he had to sit to keep the kid on his lap and write at the same time.

“Oh yeah?” He asked, not surprised. “Well I’m getting bored of holding you so– Stop licking me!” He exclaimed suddenly, pulling his arm away from the kid’s mouth and gagging as Jack’s wet lips cackled at the reaction.

“Alright.” Eddie groaned, slipping his hands under the kid’s armpits and holding him up above his head with surprising strength. “Does anyone else wanna’ hold this thing?” He asked, jiggling the kid around and watching as five pairs of eyes looked away quicker than he could finish his sentence.

“He can sit with me for a bit.” Dustin offered from the next chair over, catching Eddie’s eyes and realizing he was the only one still watching.

“Right Jackie, go sit with Dustin please.” Eddie instructed, placing the child on the floor next to him and shooting out an arm to grab the back of his shirt and stop him from sprinting off.

Jack lurched back as Eddie’s hand fisted in the fabric. Catching himself on unsteady little feet and turning back to Eddie with large glaring eyes as he grumbled about wanting Aunty Karmen because Eddie was boring.

“With Dustin please.” Eddie said flatly, ignoring the insult and steering the kid towards Dustin’s waiting arms.

“Hey there little guy.” He said cheerily as Jack let himself be lifted onto someone else’s boney knees.

“You talk funny.” He said bluntly.

“Jack!” Eddie hissed angrily as the little one looked up at him with a confused expression.

“What?” He asked obliviously. Not sure what he did to deserve the dad-ult’s ire.

“Kid you can’t just… Just point stuff like that out, it’s rude.” Eddie explained, teeth ground together as a flush rose on his cheeks. Angry eyes daring the toddler to try it again as Dustin chuckled, jostling Jack on his lap.

“It’s fine dude, honestly.” He waved it off but Eddie still felt compelled to apologize on the kid’s behalf and reiterate to Jack that it was rude to point out things that people couldn’t change about themselves.

“Is ‘annoying’ something that people can’t change?” Jack asked in response as Eddie blinked at him in stunned silence.

“Yes.” He answered simply, tone quiet and dangerous as the kid seemed to heed his unspoken warning. Either that or he had decided that Eddie was right and it would have been rude to point out how annoying he was. “Alright.” Eddie said after a moment of silence. Finally finished his equation and ready to move on. “Are you guys opening the door or not?” He asked tiredly, giving them a moment to make a decision.

“I think we all agree we want to open it.” Jeff answered for them, a murmur of agreement moving around the table as Eddie nodded, taking a breath and readying himself to speak.

“Okay.” He began holding up his hands to articulate his words. “The weary travelers are given a choice. When faced with such a bold decision, it would be wise to take a little longer to make up one's mind as you never know what kind of dangers are lur–”

“Eddie, now you sound funny.” Jack exclaimed, his pudgy finger an inch from Eddie’s nose as he giggled at the man’s expression. The group around the table bursting into fits of laughter.

The Dungeon Master looked up at them all exasperatedly before turning back to Jack.

“I… Yes I’m..” He started to explain, giving up as Jack turned his attention on something else mid sentence and the laughter from the club began to die down. Eddie sighed to himself, holding up his hands once more and trying again. “-dangers are lurking behind the–“ He stopped, dropping his arms to his sides and huffing indignantly as the cackling reared up again.

“Really? That’s all it took?” He deadpanned. “I DM for you guys for a fucking year but a toddler points out I’m using a ‘funny voice’ and it’s hysterical?”

“Sorry dude it’s just… Like he’s right. I don’t know, his comedic timing was on point.” Gareth laughed out, the others agreeing with the sentiment as Jack looked around excitedly at the group he had made laugh. Slapping his palm eagerly against Jeff’s as the man held it up for him to high five across the table.

“I like Aunty Kam’s friends!” Jack said with a grin as Eddie turned to him in exasperation.

“They’re my friends.” He argued, tone a little more wounded than he’d intended.

“Oh?” Jack balked, looking up at Eddie sceptically as the guys around the table broke into roaring laughter once more at the statement. “Are you sure?” He asked frankly, bending forward as Dustin’s chest pressed against his back. The teen, not able to help physically doubling over, he was laughing so hard.

“No.” Eddie answered tersely, narrowed eyes stopping on each of them pointedly as he waited for them to stop having a good time at his expense.

Eddie had been bullied quite a bit in his young life but he was quickly learning the hard way that no scornful words from someone that disliked him could ever feel quite as brutal as the honesty of a small child that didn’t realize they were hurting feelings. 

“How long has it been?” He asked suddenly, pulling up his arm to check his watch and realizing he hadn’t looked at the time when John left. He only had a guess to go by based on what time his friends arrived and how far into the session they had been.

“About  ten minutes.” Karmen answered from behind him, a sly smile on her face as Eddie turned to look at her with guilty eyes. “Are you done yet?” She asked with a laugh. “He’s a handful when you’re trying to concentrate isn’t he?” 

Eddie turned back to Jack, watching as the kid bounced up and down on Dustin’s knee, picking up everything he could find within his grasp and asking questions about each item before discarding them anywhere but where he’d picked it up from. Seemingly oblivious to the battle Eddie was fighting between his brain and his heart. 

Doing what he wanted to versus what he knew was right.

He sighed aloud, plastering a fake smile on his lips before turning back to Karmen.

“Nope, not done.” He answered cheerily. “We’re fine here, thank you.”

She raised a brow at him skeptically, watching with folded arms as Jack lunged for Eddie’s calculator. Misjudging the distance and launching  not only the ceramic duck off the table but the calculator too, sending it hurdling with lighting speed. 

Karmen winced as the duck hit the ground, smashing into three pieces at Eddie’s feet. While the electronic device continued to sail in the air for about a foot before being stopped by the object in its path.

The person… In its path.

Silence descended on the room as Eddie doubled over. Hands fisted together in front of his crotch where the calculator had just connected. The device fell from his pelvis to the floor beside the broken duck with a large clunk. The sound of broken plastic as the back of the battery pack popped off, didn’t do much to stifle the long wheezing groan of pain Eddie let forth. 

Both of the batteries flew out of the compartment in different directions. One of them hitting against the leg of the table and rolling under Dustin’s chair while the other landed in front of Karmen’s feet. Rolling slowly to a stop as it hit against the side of her bare foot. 

She stared down at it for a second, eyes flicking up to watch as Eddie decided his pride wasn’t worth saving and he took a knee, gasping in pain as he shuffled over, pulling a piece of duck from the denim and resting a forearm heavily on the edge of the table.

He pressed his face into it and huffed out a long shaky breath.

His shoulders were shaking and Karmen couldn’t tell if he was actually crying or just pantomiming as he recovered from the blows to his dick, his knee and his ego.

“Oops.” Jack said loudly after a moment of collective silence. All eyes in the room bar Eddie’s turning to the boy as he shrugged in an exaggerated manner. “Sowwy.” 

A sniffing sound from behind them had the boy turning. Locking eyes with Karmen along with everyone else in the room as she pressed her lips together harshly, eyes watering as her shoulders shook, breath erratic as she tried her darndest not to laugh. 

Losing the battle abruptly and barking out a strangled sound that snowballed quickly into hearty laughter at Eddie’s expense.

The rest of the table followed suit and doubled over against the wooden top in hysterics. Rambunctious laughter that shook the game board and threatened to topple all the little characters in the middle as they hollered heartily in response to Eddie’s pain.

The shaking table rattled the Dungeon Master’s teeth. He pulled his face away. Bracing his forearm on it and pushing himself back up onto his feet now that the pain in his crotch had begun to subside.

He slid backward into his chair. Resting his elbows on his knees and placing his face into his palms as he waited for everyone to calm down. He stared down at the broken duck under his feet. Feeling about the same as even Kam laughed at his expense.

He jumped at the feel of a hand on his back. Looking up and expecting to see her standing there but the space beside him was empty. He looked down instead, locking eyes with Jack who had slipped off Dustin’s lap in the chaos and was staring into Eddie’s dejected brown orbs with his bright blue ones, wide and full of wonder.

“Sowwy Eddie.” He said again, sure this time that the man could hear him. “Can I still play?” He asked softly, large eyes suddenly bashful as the laughter around the table died down and Eddie levelled him with a tired stare.

Eddie held a sigh deep inside his lungs as he forced himself to fix his face. A grin splitting across it from ear to ear as he winked at the kid and nodded with feigned excitement.

“Don’t worry about it Jackie.” He said softly, sitting back and motioning for the kid to jump up on his lap again. “Of course you can.” He added, turning to Karmen as she walked up beside him. An apologetic smile on her face as she handed him one of the batteries and bent down to pick up the calculator and the pieces of duck from the floor.

She handed him the device. A legitimate warm smile on her features. He took it from her, noting the way her eyes sparkled as she raked them up and down his figure before swiping his bangs out of the way and placing a wet kiss on his forehead.

She didn’t care about the duck and she was thankful.

Jack held up grabby hands at her as she pulled away, making her chuckle as she did the same for him. The kid giggled and squirmed as she held him in place for longer than she had Eddie. Making a show of the kiss being extra sloppy just so he would exclaim disgust and wipe it away after she pulled back.

Jack did just that. Looking up at her annoyed as she ruffled his hair and retreated to the back of the house. Leaving the group sitting in silence as they all eyed Eddie warily and waited to see what would happen next.

“Alright.” Eddie sighed, one arm wrapped around Jack’s middle as the other grabbed hold of the bottom of his chair and scooched it forward. The grating sound of wood scraping on wood reverberated around the room as he looked up at them with the same fake smile he’d given Jack. Although this one was somehow a little more unnerving. “Roll.” He said simply. Picking up his pen and going back to his equations. This time manually as he was still missing a battery somewhere.

The guys looked around the table, catching gazes, shaking heads and shrugging until Dustin cleared his throat, piping up for all of them and asking:

“Who?”

“Whoever is opening the door.” Eddie answered, not looking up from his notepad.

“I’ll do it.” Mike volunteered, pushing himself up from his chair and reaching for the dice he needed. He looked around at the others hesitantly, pausing for a moment before jiggling the piece of plastic in between his palms and letting it go over top of the board. All eyes around the table watching as it halted on a number and Eddie looked up from his math. A small huff through his nose as he flicked his eyes to Mike and smiled widely.

“Dead.” 

“What?” Mike yelped, making Jack laugh against Eddie’s forearm as the man smiled up at the teen. Nodding once before looking away and addressing the rest of the table.

“Who’s up?” He asked as Mike began to protest.

“What do you mean dea–” 

“Oh sorry.” Eddie interjected quickly. “You’re dead.” He clarified. “Your character is dead. Who’s next?” He asked again, the collective silent horror of the club around the table making Jack’s giggling at Eddie’s candidness seem a lot louder than he actually was.

“But… But we don’t…” Jeff began.

“Know what dangers lurk behind the door?” Eddie asked, staring at him pointedly. “No, I wouldn’t imagine you do because you didn’t let me finish.”

“That’s not fair!” The young Wheeler shouted, thrusting a hand towards Jack. “He cut you off, not us!” 

Eddie hummed softly in agreement, tilting his head and leaning over slightly to look down at Jack who turned to look up at him at the same time. Eddie frowned at the kid for a second, his lips quirking into a smile as he winked at him once more.

“You did interrupt.” Eddie agreed with a sigh. “So what do you think, my little assistant DM?” He asked, bouncing his thigh to drive home that he meant Jack.. “Do you think Mike should get another turn at opening the door?” He asked, raising his brows and waiting for him to reply.

Jack stared at him with awe-filled eyes, mouth falling open as he gasped in excitement. Twisting abruptly away from Eddie and making strong eye contact with Mike as he threw his hands up and shouted:

“Dead!” 

“Atta’ boy.” Eddie laughed, nodding to himself as he grinned for real this time. Pushing himself up onto his feet and holding Jack around the middle. The toddler screamed in glee as Eddie held him parallel to the table. Describing Mike’s character piece and instructing the kid to remove it from the table however he saw fit.

A little hand swiped against the plastic, the character flying across the room as the calculator had and pinging off the glass of the dining room window as Eddie laughed maniacally and Mike screeched about following the rules. 

“There are no rules here anymore Wheeler.” Eddie laughed, voice boarding on unhinged as he flopped back down into his chair and replaced Jack on his knee. “The first rule of my campaigns is to respect the DM.” He said snarkily, sitting back against the chair like an entitled King and smirking as the group rolled their eyes in his direction. “Which all of you, break consistently.” He added, tone commanding. “So let’s try it your way then.” He added. “Rules are out the window. Like Mike’s Paladin.” He smiled sarcastically, a chuckle rounding the table at the joke as Eddie set dark eyes on Dustin next. The kid snapped his mouth shut in an instant and tried to pretend as though he hadn’t been snickering.

“Roll.” 

~~

John pulled the squeaking handbrake on in his work truck and removed the keys from the ignition. Opening the door he jumped from the step and slammed it behind him in one swift motion. Sighing to himself as he turned towards the road that divided his and Karmen’s houses. 

His errand had taken a little more than two hours. Which wasn’t too bad. But he had promised Karmen an hour. So he knew she would have something to say about being right. 

He twirled his keys around his finger, looking up at the feel of moisture falling from the sky and frowning at the clouds as he realized it was spitting. He sighed again, placing his keys in his back jeans pocket and pulling his jacket closer to himself. He rested his gaze in front of him again, checking for traffic as he reached the sidewalk. 

He crossed the road, starting to walk across the grass towards the front steps when movement caught his eyes from the driveway. He turned to look for the source, tilting his head in confusion as he spied Karmen sitting in the driver's seat of her car with her head in her hands.

He stopped walking, watching her for a second before his gaze was pulled towards the house. A chorus of frenzied yelling and maniacal laughter made him raise his brows as he watched what he could see of The Hellfire Club around the table through the dining room window. 

Eddie was on his feet, pointing at one of them with a deranged expression only egged on by Jack on his shoulders. Fistfuls of wild curls holding him in place as he moved his own little mouth in tune with Eddie’s. Both of them yelled at the table as the guys seemed to shout back, protesting something and quickly losing a battle they weren’t prepared for.

John blinked at the scene in front of him. Taking a step towards the house and changing his mind as he turned back to Karmen. Veering off the grass and onto the path towards the car.

He knocked against the glass, startling her and making her jump as she looked up at him with anger in her eyes and jerked her head towards the passenger seat.

He nodded, rounding the car and opening the door, intending to slip into the seat out of the rain and grumbling as he instead used moist hands to gently remove her paperwork from his path, placing it on the dash as he sat inside before closing the door with a thud and turning to her with pursed lips and expectant eyes.

“Sounds like everyone is having fun.” He said carefully after a moment of silence. Her own worn out eyes eating him alive as she stared at him with a wry expression. 

“Mm.” She hummed, turning back to the paper in her lap. “They’re loud.” She explained simply, knowing he didn’t actually ask but also that the next question out of his mouth would be why.

She ignored the way she could feel his eyes boring into her cheek as he waited for her to say more.

“I’ll pay you back, you know?” John said softly when he realized she really wasn’t going to say anything else.

“I do the payroll, you will definitely be paying me for this.” She said with a laugh, leaning towards the pile of papers he had stacked on the dash and flicking fingers through them as she searched for something.

“Yes.” He chuckled, watching as she began to lose her grip on the paper and pushing them closer to her. “But I meant all the babysitting.” He clarified, sitting back in the chair and studying the hands in his lap as he saw her head whip around in his peripherals. 

He could feel her staring as he had been at her. Not daring to look up until he saw her look away and knew she was sitting back in her own seat, staring out of the windscreen as the small droplets of water raced one another down the glass to the bonnet.

“Eddie will be a good Dad.” He said as he lifted his head, turning to look at her and watching as she scrunched her nose at his words, eyes watering as they flicked towards him and they finally caught each.

“I told you not to lie to me again.” She whispered, shaking her head as he scoffed at her.

“You don’t think he will be a good Dad?” He asked incredulously as she leaned closer and slapped her hand against his arm.

“Of course I do!” She snapped playfully. “He will be a wonderful Dad.” She added angrily. “Don’t lie to me that you think he will be a good one.” She explained, making him balk.

“I’m not!” He justified, shrugging at her with an open mouth as she shook her head disappointedly. “He will be a good Dad!” He said again, damn near shouting it.

“Okay John.” She said sarcastically, making a face as she imitated his accent. “Father of the Year.” She said with a dragged out Southern drawl. Swinging her forearm wildly as if she was a caricature of a redneck in a cartoon.

“Fuck you.” John laughed, pointing a finger at her face before lowering it to point at her belly. “Not you.” He clarified. “Just you.” He nodded, raising it back up to point at Karmen again as she tried to slap it away with a handful of papers and they both laughed at the absurdity of her fanning him with them in an effort to get him to move.

“Seriously though.” She said as she lowered the papers to her lap. “I appreciate it.” She said softly as John smiled at her earnestly. “But I will never let you watch my child.” She added, grimacing as the words came out and opening her door before he could react. Slipping from the car and stopping outside the window to point down at the papers she’d left on her seat on the way out. 

“They need to be done by the morning.” She said, raising her voice through the glass as John stared up at her in horror. The click of the doors locking made him swivel in his seat as he pulled at the handle and nothing happened. 

He turned back, mouth falling open as he watched Karmen already ascending the front steps hastily to get herself out of the rain. Her keys jingling in her hand as she went.

~~

Click

John’s eyes snapped open at the sound, sitting up abruptly and knocking the makeshift blanket of paperwork from his body as he turned to look out the window, ready to yell at Karmen for locking him in but instead making strong eye contact with Eddie who smiled at him amusedly.

“She forgot about me, didn’t she?” John asked flatly as Eddie took a step back so he could open the door and let himself out.

“No comment.” Eddie replied, as the other man shook his head. Leaning back into the car and gathering his work before stepping out of the way of the door and watching as Eddie closed it and relocked it with a set of keys that were definitely not his. A fluffy blue heart dangled from them as he jiggled them in lock and clicked it over.

“I could have suffocated in there.” John griped.

“Pfft.” Eddie scoffed as he stepped back again, leaning against his own car as he made room for John to move past him. “You would have been fine until morning.” 

“Speaking of morning.” John grumbled. “What time is it?” He asked, taking in the fact that it was dark along with Eddie’s half dressed state. 

No shirt, boxer shorts and an open robe that showed off the scars down his chest and neck. A pair of pink slippers that were several sizes too small just barely protecting his feet from the wet ground.

“Like… Ten?” Eddie guessed, bringing his hand up to look at his watch and sighing as he remembered he had taken it off to shower after Jack fell asleep and never actually made it to the shower before Karmen had ambushed him with thanks for being such a good babysitter.

He smiled to himself at the memory as John gaped in response.

“What?” He exclaimed. “Ten?” He asked. “Where’s Jack?”

“Asleep in our bed.” Eddie answered quickly. “Which is why I was asleep on the couch.” He explained, as if John had that information already. “Until Kam scared the shit out of me by shaking me awake and telling me you were stuck in there and I had to let you out because you’d kill her.” 

“I hate you both.” John replied with a nod. Eddie nodded back in understanding as the other man huffed in exasperation “But thanks for the nap.” He added, holding up the stack of papers and handing them to Eddie with a smile. “Tell Kam these need to be done by the morning.” 

“Will do.” Eddie replied, oblivious to what he had just agreed to. John sniggered to himself and started on the short journey back to his own home. “Tell her to bring Jack over when she drops off the paperwork.” He added over his shoulder, watching as Eddie gave him a sarcastic salute before heading back towards the steps and inside the house. 

He stared at the paperwork for a long minute. Shaking his head as he realized it had been written on quite a bit and he flicked through it briefly to see that John had actually completed it for her. 

He sniffed out a laugh. Sitting it on the counter as he walked into the kitchen. Hanging up her keys on the fridge next to a small black and white picture dated one week earlier.

Eddie smiled at it. Pressing a kiss to the tips of his fingers before placing them gingerly on top of the sonogram.

“I hope you have as much fun playing DnD with me as Jack did.” He whispered to the baby in the picture. “But I don’t think the guys are gonna’ like that the Assistant DM slot is going to be permanently filled.” He chuckled, taking his hand back. “Eh, they still have six months to get used to the idea.” He said with a shrug.

He turned away, heading down the hall towards the bedroom to let Karmen know he had completed her side quest and was ready to go back to the main storyline now. 

~~

More Notes: Karmen did not intend to leave John in there for more than 10 minutes. Just FYI. But pregnancy brain is a bitch. 😂

I started writing this one 2 years ago just so I could use the title because I thought that was fun. It took a long ass time but it's finally here and I really hope you liked it.

Read the rest of the series here :)

This series is so personal to me, so it means the world to me when someone let’s me know they enjoy a work from this series. If you guys liked this please pleaseee consider letting me know via comment, reblog, message, anon ask etc.  

Tags: @3ddi3-daydreamer @micheledawn1975 @munson-blurbs @wheels-of-despair @browneyes528 @stevemunsons

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Hi!!! I love your Amelia and Emily fics so much, I’ve basically binged them 😂 I was wondering if I could request an Amelia x reader fic where maybe reader is like 6 months pregnant with her and Amelia’s first child and has a bad history with her dad and her dad comes into the hospital with his new wife and her kid and it just stirs bad feelings for reader and Amelia comforts her? Maybe autistic reader? Thank you so much!

Thank you so much! 💕 I'm so, so glad you enjoy them! Also, thanks especially for an autistic!reader request, they're some of my favorites to write! Hope you enjoy! – illdowhatiwantthanks

The R Word

Amelia Shepherd x fem!autistic!reader Warnings: autism struggles, ableism, use of ableist slurs, overstimulation (the autism kind, not the sex kind), explicit language, pregnancy times (let me know if I've missed anything!) Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: It's a typical day working with a child in the ER when your estranged father shows up and makes you feel just as small and stupid and alien as he did when you were growing up. Amelia is there to comfort you and remind you of who you really are.

“No, Mommy!” the little girl wailed as she writhed on the hospital bed. “I want to go home!”

Her mom looked at you apologetically as she tried to soothe her child. You needed to get her vitals. Based on the mom’s description, you also probably needed to get IV fluids and an antiemetic in her. But you knew that wasn’t going to happen while the kid felt scared and overwhelmed. This wasn’t your first rodeo with kids in the ER. In fact, the other ER nurses often called you over when kids were difficult to work with. They called you the “bad kid whisperer.”

You knew better. They weren’t bad kids. They were usually just scared. There was a lot to be scared of at a hospital. And you were good with them because you understood better than most what it was like for your body and brain to feel so overwhelmed that you could no longer regulate your emotions. Being autistic was hard sometimes, it made you stand out, but this was a place where it made you stand out in a good way.

You lifted your hands to show the little girl that you were setting down all your medical instruments.

“It’s okay,” you said quietly, pulling the curtain closed around the bed. Sometimes making the space smaller helped. You bent down to her height, careful to keep your distance and not to touch her.

“I’m Y/N,” you said. “What’s your name?”

The girl didn’t answer, shaking as she sobbed.

You nodded. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk right now. Do you feel like you can’t breathe or anything?”

The girl shook her head.

“Good. Then all this other stuff can wait, okay? I’m not gonna touch you. No needles, no thermometer, no heartbeat or anything until you feel a little calmer. We can wait.”

She seemed to calm down a bit when she realized you weren’t going to make her do anything, her sobs subsiding to the occasionally aggressive sniffle.

“Here,” you offered, pulling a tiny tech deck skateboard out of the pocket of your scrubs. “Sometimes when I’m scared or nervous, having something to do with my hands makes me feel better.” You rolled the skateboard toward her, and she started running it across the rails of the hospital bed, her breathing starting to calm.

“Better?” you asked.

She nodded.

You started taking her vitals and continued the conversation. “You think you can tell me your name now?”

“Maddy,” she whispered.

You smiled even as you read her temperature: 103.4. Pretty high. She was almost certainly dehydrated. “That’s a really cool name. Now, do you know why your mom brought you here?”

“I threw up,” she told you, lip quivering.

“Oh, man,” you commiserated. “That’s the worst. I hate throwing up.”

Maddy nodded.

“Did you throw up just one time or a lot of times?”

“A lot.”

You exchanged glances with the mom to make sure this information was accurate.

“She can’t keep anything down,” the mom worried, biting her nails.

“Okay. Well, that’s okay. We’re gonna help you feel better. First, we’re gonna get some fluids in you. Do you know what that means?”

She shook her head as you gathered the supplies and pulled on gloves.

“It means your tummy is so sick that when you drink water, it all just comes right back out. And that’s not good because your body needs water. Your heart and your lungs and all the things that make you healthy and strong, they need water. So since you can’t swallow it, we’re gonna put a little tube in your arm and send water through the tube. That way your body gets the water it needs. And we’ll send medicine and electrolytes and all kinds of other good stuff to fight the sickness, too. It’s like we’re sneaking weapons past the sick.”

This explanation seemed to cheer her up a bit. “Like a secret mission?” she asked.

You nodded conspiratorially. “Exactly like a secret mission. But to get all that good stuff in there, we’re gonna have to put a needle in your arm. Just for a second! It makes the path for the supplies to go in.”

Maddy seemed to think deeply about this, then nodded. You had her play with the skateboard while you placed the IV line, ensuring that she was comfortably positioned for a good hour or so of fluid intake.

“Thank you,” her mom mouthed to you, and you gave her a quick thumbs up before adding a few reminders to your chart–what to check in the next hour, etc.

Maddy, now calmer, took a good look at you for the first time, from your glasses to your fingers that twitched by your ears, to your stomach that protruded out past your waistline–you were six months pregnant.

“Why are you so fat?” Maddy blurted out.

“Madeline Grace!” her mom hissed.

“It’s okay,” you laughed. “My tummy looks like this because there’s a baby in there. But some tummies are just bigger than others, too, and that’s okay. All tummies are good tummies.”

“Where’s the daddy?” she asked, reaching out to brush her hand over your stomach.

“No daddy,” you explained. “This baby has two mommies. His other mommy works upstairs. On brains.”

“Brains!?” she squealed.

You nodded. “Yeah. She’s pretty cool.”

Just then, the relative calm of a midday ER was interrupted by a loud, brash voice, bursting through the doors, yelling at the nurses at the station.

“Where the fuck is my daughter!? Middle of the fucking work day. Unbelievable. Am I going too fast for you? Read my lips, sweetheart. Madeline. Y/L/N.”

You froze, any icy stream of panic running from the back of your neck all the way down to your heels. You’d know that voice anywhere. It was an angry voice, a coach’s voice, the voice that had yelled at you to “stay the fuck in the bleachers” when all you wanted was to sit in the car and breathe. The same voice that growled at you to stop “doing that shit with your hands, you look like a r*tard.” The same voice that told you over and over that you weren’t “stupid enough to be on the short bus,” but you were “too stupid to function in real life.”

You felt your brain start swirling, felt panic building in your chest. You knew he’d gotten remarried, of course you knew. But you didn’t talk to him, hadn’t talked to him in nearly a decade. You knew they’d had a kid, but you didn’t know it was this kid.

All the ER noises, the beeps of the machines, the buzzing of the overhead lights–were they getting brighter?–the clang of instruments being set down, wails, conversations, and above it all your dad’s voice. Your dad’s voice. It was too much. It was all way, way too much.

You felt your hands start to shake at your sides, your body swinging back and forth, and you had to stop. You had to stop. Your dad would kill you.

He threw back the curtain, and his jaw dropped when he saw you.

“You!?” he spat, looking down. “Are you pregnant!?”

Maddy seemed oblivious to the tension. “Daddy!” she called. “Her name is Y/N and she gave me this little skateboard and the water is fighting the sickness through my tubes and she has a baby in her tummy and the baby’s other mommy fixes brains.”

You tried so hard not to stim, but it was not working. 

“Don’t tell me you’re a nurse?! God, it’s a miracle you didn’t fucking stab her. You shouldn’t be holding any needles with those flappy arms. Probably shouldn’t be holding any babies either.” He shot out his hand and grabbed Teddy’s arm, which was wild to you. The audacity of the man to assume he had the authority to bother the trauma surgeon. “Yeah, honey, we need a different nurse over here. This one’s a r*tard.”

Teddy looked flabbergasted and deeply offended, but also concerned, as you clenched your teeth, hugging yourself, twisting your body back and forth. “It’s doctor, sir, and that word is not welcome at Grey-Sloan. Y/N is a perfectly capable medical professional. In fact, she’s one of our best, especially with kids.”

“I don’t know if you know this, but I feel like it’s my responsibility to tell you,” your dad whispered loudly to Teddy. “She’s got autism. She shouldn’t be handling tools or people or anything.”

Teddy pressed her lips together in frustration. “As I said, sir,” she repeated more forcefully. “Y/N is a perfectly capable medical professional, and we’re lucky to have her. But I’ll get another nurse over here for you. Y/N?”

Teddy beckoned you over, careful not to touch you, and led you to a quieter corner of the room.

“Who the fuck is that guy?!” she asked.

“M-my dad,” you stuttered. Everything in the room–sounds, lights, smells, all of it–seemed to be crashing over you again and again. As if you’d been knocked over by a wave and couldn’t get back up again because they just kept coming.

“You want to hang out in one of the on-call rooms for a bit?” Teddy suggested.

You nodded.

“Should I page Amelia?”

You shook your head. “She’s in surgery.”

Teddy pulled out her tablet to look. “I mean, we could just check.”

“Don’t bother her,” you repeated. “She’s got work to do. I’ll be okay.”

You made your way to the elevator and up to an on-call room, breathing heavily when you shut the door against the rest of the hospital. You turned off the lights, curling into a corner of the bottom bunk and pulling your knees up to your chest–or as close to your chest as they could get with your baby bump in the way.

You rocked yourself back and forth, thoughts spiraling. The movement and the dark usually calmed you down, but you were having a hard time regulating today, and nothing seemed to be working. Your breath just got faster and faster. And the fact that you couldn’t get yourself out of your spiral only made you spiral more.

You knew you were a good nurse. You knew that. You knew because you’d done it. But you hadn’t ever been a mom before. What if he was right? What if the baby made you overstimulated and you yelled or lashed out? What if the baby went to school and you went to parent nights and he was embarrassed of you, of how you couldn’t make eye contact and didn’t start conversations right and didn’t get the jokes. What if being autistic made you a bad mom?

You had tears streaming down your face by the time you heard a light knock on the door. It creaked open and Amelia’s head popped in. When she saw it was you, she quickly let herself in and locked the door.

“Oh, babe,” she said, watching your body rock back and forth in huge, aggressive sweeps. “A bad one, huh?”

“Go away, Amelia,” you hiccuped.

“Hey,” she said, jokingly. Then when she got closer and saw the tear tracks on your face, she said it again, quieter, sitting next to you on the bed. “Hey.”

When you didn’t say anything, Amelia shrugged. “Teddy said your… dad was here?”

You nodded.

She let out a deep breath, running a hand through her hair. “Honey, will you let me hold you? Please?”

You nodded again.

“Alright,” she said, waiting for your body to line up with hers as you rocked, then quickly grabbing you up in her arms, like she was catching something midair. “Gotcha.” She rocked with you.

“What did he say?” she asked, her breath warm on the top of your head.

“That I shouldn’t hold medical tools or babies because I’m a fucking re– I don’t want to say it. I hate that word.”

You felt Amelia’s arms tighten around you, and her breath came out in huffs. She was very angry. “As you should,” she told you. “It’s a nasty word. And it’s a word that doesn’t describe you at all, you know that.”

“I don’t know, Amy,” you whispered into her chest. “What if he doesn’t like me?”

“Babe, I think that ship has sailed,” Amelia said, running her fingers through your hair.

“Not my dad,” you explained. “The baby.”

Amelia was quiet for a moment, then you felt her lips press against the top of your head.

“Oh, honey,” she said, her voice soft. “Of course he’ll like you. He’ll love you. You're his mom.”

“But what if I’m bad at it? What if autism makes me bad at it?”

“Y/N,” Amelia said, gently grabbing your face and positioning it so that you had to look in her general direction, if not in her eyes. “Look how good you are with the kids in the ER. You’re gonna be an incredible mom.”

“I’m just scared,” you admitted.

“I’m a little scared, too,” Amelia told you. “But you know what? I think we’re gonna be okay. Me and you together? I mean, surely, combined, we can be at least one whole good mom, right?”

You giggled.

Amelia grinned at you. “There she is.”

You were quiet for a moment, playing with Amelia’s finger, with the edges of her scrubs.

“You know what you are?” Amelia asked after a bit, kissing your forehead. “You are smart and kind and empathetic. You’re funny and brave and you work hard. You’re my favorite person in the whole world.”

You looked away.

“Hey,” she said, pulling your face back toward her again. “I don’t like people talking about my wife like that. Even you.”

You nodded, wrapping your arms around her waist and pressing your face to her chest.

“Are you going back down there?” Amelia asked.

You shrugged.

“Want me to check if your dad’s still here?”

“Would you?”

“Oh, yeah,” she said, standing and placing one more kiss on your cheek. “In fact, I’d really like to talk to him.”

“Don’t do anything that’ll get you fired, Amy,” you called after her.

She looked back at you and winked as she walked through the door. “Can’t make any promises.”