#autistic!fem!reader

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Wanda Maximoff x autistic!reader headcannons

Authors note: These are all my headcannons of autistic!reader, which are in turn based on me. This is rather self-indulgent, but when writing for autistic!reader I only have my own experiences as an autistic person to work with.

-Wanda is so very sweet when you become overstimulated.

-She makes sure you have what you need to avoid a meltdown.

-When you're having a same-food she'll buy it for you no matter what it is. Whether it's frozen TV dinners, McDonald's, and something from a restaurant. If it's the one thing she can get you to eat she'll make sure you have it.

-She turns her office into a sensory room for you. She still has her computer in there, but she hangs up fairy lights, a sensory swing, a projector of space for the ceiling, and a tent bed you could hide away in when you needed it

-When you get overstimulated she stays close, but doesn't touch unless you initiate it.

-She always carries extra of everything on her clothes, food, drinks, headphones, stim toys, meds...you get the idea.

-She helps get you communication cards and a pride pals lanyard with all the pin plaques you picked out. Of course you grabbed all the autistic and ADHD pins

-She loves listening to you when it comes to your special interests. She engages with it no matter what it is, even if she doesn't understand she'll ask all of the questions to learn more and to hear you talk.

-Wanda always makes sure if you aren't comfortable talking then she'll talk for both of you. She will check in with you to make sure you're okay.

-The two of you have special signs to each other so the other knows if the other is okay or if you need to exit stage left.

-With your love language being gift giving you're constantly finding things that remind you of Wanda and you'll get it without thinking (Wanda gave up on trying to tell you not to do this)

-Wanda learned early on in the relationship that due to childhood trauma due to being autistic you regress at times. She loves taking care of her little girl.

[mim16s]

Survival in Game

Cho Hyun-ju x Autistic!Fem!Reader

This is part two of Survival in Game. In this chapter, I wanted to explore more of Hyunju and the reader's relationship in a softer, more emotional way. I hope you enjoy it! In the next chapter, we'll dive into the second game of the season.

_____

Part 1

You held the lunchbox in your hands and, as you walked back to your bed, you saw the woman who had helped you in the last game. Your heart raced a little. You wanted to thank her and also stay close to her. You didn’t fully understand why, but something about her radiated safety. In such an unpredictable place, that was exactly what you needed.

Social interactions had always been challenging for you. Words often got tangled, and people’s expressions didn’t always make sense. But with her, it was different. Something about her seemed calm and welcoming.

Stopping in front of her, gripping your food tightly, you tried to organize your thoughts. She, already eating, paused her meal and looked up at you. There was something comforting in that look of recognition, but now that you were so close, the words vanished from your mind, as they often did in moments of anxiety.

— Do you need something? — she asked kindly, as you looked down at the floor, trying to muster courage.

— I wanted to thank you... for protecting me in the game — you said quickly, bowing in gratitude. Formality helped you organize your speech. When you looked back at her, you noticed a shy smile on her face. It was a soft smile, free of judgment. She looked so beautiful smiling that it made your cheeks flush, something you couldn’t hide very well.

— Don’t worry, you didn’t need to thank me — she replied calmly. You took a deep breath, trying to prepare for what you wanted to say. The anxiety made your head spin.

— I’d like to ask you something — you finally said, seeing curiosity spark in her eyes. — Can I join you? — The question seemed to surprise her, her eyes widening slightly. She was silent for a moment before smiling again, this time more broadly. It had been a long time since anyone sought her company. Since her transition, people preferred to keep their distance. The fact that you had approached her touched her deeply.

— Of course, sit here — she said, moving aside to make room next to her. You sat beside her, still nervous but relieved that you had managed to speak. As you stared at your lunchbox, she broke the silence. — What’s your name? — she asked curiously.

— My name is Y/N. And yours?

— I'm Hyunju — she replied, with another smile that made your mind feel at ease. Unfortunately, the calm was interrupted by shouting. When you looked, you saw three men fighting violently. Your body stiffened immediately, and fear consumed you. Instinctively, you moved closer to Hyunju, seeking the sense of security she exuded. She noticed the fight but made no effort to push you away, letting you stay close.

You had always hated fights. They scared you deeply, bringing back painful memories from your childhood. You remembered when your mother started dating. At first, he seemed like a good person, but he soon revealed his true nature. He not only abused your mother physically but also diminished her emotionally. You watched helplessly, just a child, unable to do anything as she suffered. She tried to shield you, but you always heard the sounds of violence and shouting from your room.

For years, that violence was a constant weight in your life until he tried to do the same to you. That was your mother’s breaking point. She finally realized she needed to protect you and ended the abusive relationship. However, the scars of that period remained. Those years left deep marks, and any sign of violence was enough to make you relive it all.

Now, with your emotions still raw from the game and the deaths you had witnessed, the fight in front of you felt like the last straw. The loud voices, the sudden movements—it was all too much. You covered your ears with your hands, closed your eyes, and began rocking gently, trying to calm yourself and push away the bad memories that kept flooding in.

Beside you, Hyunju noticed your reaction. Initially confused, she observed closely, trying to understand what was happening. Although she didn’t know exactly what to do, it was clear to her that you were scared, and she hesitated for a moment. Then, carefully, she placed a hand on your shoulder, saying nothing but showing she was there.

— Hey, it’s okay. They won’t hurt you — she said, trying to soothe you with her soft voice, but her attempt didn’t seem to help much. You were still caught in your internal storm, hands pressed to your ears, body trembling. Hyunju looked around, trying to think of what to do until an idea came to her.

— Look at me — she said, and you obeyed, your eyes finally meeting hers. — It’s okay, just breathe, alright?

She noticed a slight relief on your face when one of the players intervened and managed to stop the fight. With the commotion settling, she turned her full attention back to you. — It’s okay, repeat after me — she said, guiding you through breathing exercises. She took deep breaths, and you tried to mimic her, following the rhythm she set. Gradually, your body began to relax, but not enough to completely shake off the weight you felt. You instinctively hugged yourself, seeking comfort, which caught Hyunju’s attention.

— Do you need a hug? — she asked in a calm, careful tone. You hesitated for a moment but eventually nodded.

— May I hug you? — she asked again, waiting for your permission. Another affirmative nod. Carefully, Hyunju moved closer and wrapped her arms around you—firm yet gentle. Something about her size and the steadiness of her embrace made you feel safer, as though she could shield you from the world.

You nestled into her chest, breathing deeply as small tears slid down your face. The warmth and protection you felt there gave you the comfort you needed to begin recovering from the episode.

— It’s okay now — she whispered, holding you firmly but without pressure, giving you all the time you needed.

— I’m sorry — you murmured, voice muffled, trying to rein in your emotions.

— There’s nothing to apologize for. It’s okay — she replied softly, tightening the hug slightly, a silent reminder that she was there for you without rush or judgment.

— It’s just... so much has happened, and I couldn’t handle it — you said, sadness evident in every word. The weight of your emotions felt overwhelming, as though everything had built up all at once. Hyunju sighed softly, understanding the depth of the situation.

— I understand — she said gently, her voice calm and reassuring. — There’s so much pressure here. You’ve just seen so many difficult things, and now this fight... it’s completely understandable. You have nothing to apologize for.

Her words, filled with empathy, eased some of the tension you felt. She didn’t blame you for your reaction, and that gave you a little more freedom to process everything in your own time. Her embrace felt like a silent guarantee that she was there to support you—no rush, no judgment.

Later, when it was time to sleep, she lay down on the bed next to yours, her eyes discreetly watching your movements, a silent promise that she would be there for you if you needed her. Despite her exhaustion, Hyunju couldn’t ignore the strange feeling growing within her: an almost instinctive need to protect you.

As the silence of the night enveloped the room, she reflected on everything that had happened. Tomorrow would be another difficult day, another unpredictable game that would put your lives at risk. But one thing she was certain of: she would stay by your side, no matter what.

Part 3

[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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[smallestapplin]

Slithering good time

Commission from @r0-boat thank you QwQ

Warnings : first contact au but with snake cybertronians, consent is key, two cocks, oral fem receiving, mildy possessive Roddy, mostly human terms to describe parts, heat cycles.

🔞Adults only! No minors!🔞

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Rodimus is massive, you never thought you’d ever seen a large mechanical snake hybrid like him, much less get taken by one and kept like a pet. He kept you on his shoulders, or bring you to his den and place you in his coils, to look over you and try to give you affection.

You can barely understand him, you’ve picked up on his name, and a few basic words, but the language barrier doesn’t stop him from trying to show you he loves you. Bright blue eyes always looking at you with tender affection, the end of his large metalic tail wagging when you call his name.

For such a large creature he is adorable, as is his fascination with you, always so curious about you and wanting you around. Maybe letting your guard down wasn’t something you should’ve done with a large snake hybrid several times your size, but man he’s making it hard to regret.

Even an alien snake man has a heat cycle, and he’s already looked at you as his tiny mate. Placed on top of his coils, sat pretty on the bright reds and yellows of his mechanical scales, with his hands caging you in and large head between your thighs, preventing you from closing them as he licks up your pussy. The sensation is unlike any you’ve felt before, so famailar but so different, the ridges of his tongue have your hips rocking against him.

“Fuck…Roddy.” You tilt your head back thumping it against hos scales.

The mech perks up, eyes bright as he smiles. You taste sooo good! His precious little thing made just for him, he can take care of you, just sit back and relax for him.

You cry out, your back snapping into an arch as Rodimus shoves his the tip of his tongue into your clenching hole, messily slurping up all your dripping slick as if he’s desperate, and in truth he is, he needs you, his spikes are leaking and aching so bad, he needs you! He trembles, his cheeks flushing blue from the energon coursing through him, his breathing coming out in short heaves.

He looks as wrecked as you are just from the taste of you.

You try to push against his face with your legs, your pussy feels so tender the closer you get to cumming, but he doesn’t budge, his tongue plunging more and more into your slick dripping hole. Rodimus flattens the remaining part of his tongue against your clit. Through your squeals and sobs of his name, you can faintly hear the sound of the end of his tail wagging across the ground.

You aren’t even sure he can understand what you’re saying, but certain he understands the pitch of your mewls. It’s so good, too good-!

“Roddy…mm! Oh…oohh M’gonna—!!” Your squeal echoes in the den as your juices coat his tongue.

His eyes flutter and roll back, drinking in your climax as if he’s thirsty. Failing limp in his coils you try to catch your breath while he lazily licks your pussy clean. He moves up tilting his head to the side and gently nudging you with his thumb, being careful not to disturb you too much.

He speaks but for the most part all you hear are whirls and mechanical clinking, though even in your haze you figure what he’s asking you, and you give him a thumbs up. He chuckles at the display, but takes that as his cue to continue.

Blinking away your dazed vision, you look up as he carefully grabs one of your legs and spreads you open once more, this time pulling you closer to him and setting you right against his two leaking cocks. Your eyes widen at the sight, unable to look away from them, they are huge! Those are not fitting, you can tell him that now.

But they are so pretty, tapered ends, biolights running along the shafts creating a beautiful display, and the tips are drooling what you’d consider his precum, though the color isn’t like anything human, but what did you expect from him?

You gasp, biting your lip to stifle a moan as Rodimus rolls his hips, grinding one of his cocks between your legs. He’s shaking, you can hear him ex-venting hard as your mech tries to show some restraint. But you know you won’t be able to take him without at least a months worth of prep, and stretching.

“Easy, please.” Your voice shaky, no matter how much you’d love to have his cocks inside you, you know it’s not possible right now.

He whines loudly, looking down at you with such a pitiful expression, such need, but that doesn’t stop his hips from moving. You tilt your head back, body trebling as your poor pussy is getting overstimulated. The length of his shaft rubbing against your slit, grinding against your pulsing nub with every needy movement.

Rodimus is losing his mind, your organic valve is just so warm wet and inviting, yet can’t even take him yet, he’ll train it don’t worry little mate, he’ll mark you, claim you, drown you in his scent for his pit to know you are his.

The thought has him moving faster, groans and whines slowly turning into static as they fall from his lips. Rodimus hunches over, leaning down to be as close to you as possible, despite the awkward angle for him he manages to kiss the top of your head as he mindlessly ruts his cocks against your wet slit.

His cute fleshie mate.

Primus, he’s so close. He can feel your valve pulsing, your moans and cries upping in frequency, so you must be close too! You feel his cocks twitching. You grab a hold of one of his fingers, clinging to him as you arch your back with a wail.

Only for your eyes to widen as Rodimus swiftly pulls back, quick to push the tip of one of his cocks into your needy hole, the stretch makes you cum, sobbing at the pleasure, only to choke on your sounds feeling his cum flood your cunt.

It’s too much! So much of it is spilling out from around him, and spilling from his neglected spike, but he doesn’t care, his brain module short circuiting at the slight feeling of your valve squeezing around his tip, trying to milk him of his transfluid.

You lay there in his coils limp, chest heaving trying to remember how to breathe. If this what humping him was like, what would it be like to finally take him?

You blearily look up to see his flushed metalic face, half grin on his face as he seems to ask if you’re okay, but you don’t have the energy, barely managing to nod before nuzzling your cheek into his tail.

Rodimus tries not to shriek, youre just so cute, he adores you! Loves you! Ooh, he needs to get you cleaned up but you look so tired, and look far too comfy where you are.

Maybe when you wake up frm your nap he’ll take you to the den’s pool further in, but for right now he wants you to rest.

[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]

Not really a request, at least not a super detailed one but, anything with Rosa Diaz x autistic reader would be amazing!!

Maybe R drops off some lunch or something for rosa and meets the rest of the squad or smth?

In general i am in love with your autistic!reader fics. Im currently in the process of being diagnosed with autism, and its just really rather comforting to see myself in a reader insert

-Ara

Hey, Ara! 🥰 So glad you enjoy the autistic!reader fics! They are some of my favorites to write. I was just diagnosed about a year ago, so it's still new-ish for me, but I also find a lot of comfort in the autistic reader inserts. Hope this is what you're looking for, and best of luck with your diagnosis process! Feel free to reach out if you need a fellow autistic pal to talk through stuff with! 💕 –illdowhatiwantthanks

A Little Lunch

Rosa Diaz x autistic!fem!reader Warnings: explicit language, overstimulation (the autism kind), established relationship (let me know if I missed anything!) Word count: 1.4k

Summary: People aren't your forte, but you told your girlfriend you'd have lunch with her at the precinct, and so you will. And it goes... surprisingly better than expected.

You took a few deep breaths outside the precinct door, sandwiches from Rosa’s favorite shop in hand. You’d never visited her at work before, never met her coworkers. People weren’t your strong suit. But Rosa had asked you. She didn’t ask you for much. She liked to keep her work life separate from her personal life, for the most part. And the fact that she wanted you to meet her squad? Well, you couldn’t let her down. You wouldn’t.

The overhead lights were bright, and the general office noise was overwhelming when you stepped inside. You lurked in a corner, trying to acclimate yourself, trying to survey the room and find Rosa and calm yourself down so you could have a nice, normal lunch with your girlfriend.

You jumped a bit as a woman in a rolling chair slid in front of you, hands pressed together over her waist.

“Is that my Panera?” she said, staring at the bag in your hands.

“Uh… no.”

The woman stared at you for a moment, and you shuffled uncomfortably under her gaze and felt the need to provide a reason for your presence.

“I’m, uh… I’m here to see Rosa. Diaz. She's a detective. Do you know where she is?”

The woman’s face lit up. “Ohhhh… interesting. Did she order Panera, too? Great minds.” She held out your hand for you to shake, so you did. “Gina Linetti,” she told you. “Dancer, secretary, genius.”

“Gina, stop tormenting my girlfriend!”

You’d know that voice anywhere. You visibly relaxed as Rosa walked into the squad room, placing a strong, protective hand at the small of your back.

Gina held up her hands, as if in defense. “Sorry, Rosa. I thought she was Panera.”

“She’s not Panera,” Rosa growled. “She’s my girlfriend, and we’re eating lunch, and you’re leaving us alone.”

Rosa took your hand and led you through the precinct, into a break room scattered with tables where, alone and away from prying eyes, she planted a gentle kiss on your cheek.

“You okay?” she asked softly.

You nodded and held up the bag of food. Rosa gestured toward the table and went to grab napkins and, for neither the first nor the last time, you were grateful that you often didn’t need words with Rosa. You were comfortable in one another’s silence and, for you, this was life-changing. Your words were one of the first things to go when you got overstimulated, but Rosa never seemed to mind. For this, and for many other reasons, you loved her.

But you’d barely started on your lunch before people started trickling into the break room: Jake, Amy, Charles. All ostensibly eating lunch, too, even if they’d already taken lunch, even if all they had was a bag of chips from the vending machine, as Jake did.

“So, Y/N,” Amy started. “How did you and Rosa meet?”

Rosa jumped in before you forced yourself to say anything. “Hey,” she spat at the group crowding the table next to yours. “When I told Y/N she could meet me for lunch, I meant me. Not me and half the squad. Scram, losers.”

You gave a little half wave as they slunk out of the room, smiling a little as Charles mouthed off to you behind Rosa’s back: “We’ll catch up later!”

“Sorry,” Rosa said a few minutes later. “I know they can be a bit much.”

You shook your head and squeezed her hand, able to find your voice again. “It’s okay. They seem nice.”

“If by nice, you mean fucking crazy, then yes.”

A knock on the doorframe. At first, Rosa seemed annoyed by the interruption, but when she saw that it was Captain Holt she looked almost… proud?

“Captain,” she said, rising from her seat and nodding at him. She gestured toward you. “This is my girlfriend, Y/N. Y/N, Captain Holt.”

You moved to stand and shake his hand, but Holt stopped you. “Oh, no, please.” He sat down next to you, and Rosa seemed comfortable with him, so you decided that Captain Holt was someone you would like. “It’s lovely to meet you,” he said.

“You too,” you replied, trying not to let your voice shake too much. You tried to think of something to say, tried to think of a topic of conversation, but you were floundering. Your voice was hard for you on a regular day, even sometimes with people you loved, like Rosa. You just couldn’t manage to force anything out. You felt your cheeks growing red. You hoped you weren’t embarrassing Rosa.

You couldn’t have said all this to Rosa even if you’d wanted to, but Rosa always seemed to get it anyway.

“Y/N, Captain Holt and his husband are going to the symphony tonight. I told him that was one of your favorites, too.”

You lit up. Thank you, thank you, thank you, Rosa, you thought. You loved the symphony. She was right; it was one of your favorites. Despite Rosa’s general indifference toward classical music, she’d gotten you both season passes for your birthday. She didn’t love the music, but she loved the way your eyes shone when you listened, the way you perched on the edge of your seat like a child. She loved that when she held your hand during the performances, she could tell when you were particularly moved because you’d get goosebumps and the hair on your skin would stand up.

“Oh, it’s John William Weischselbraun tonight, right? Bach’s Oboe Sonata? That should be excellent!”

Holt looked about as excited as Rosa had ever seen him.

“You’re a fan of the oboe, are you?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“Oh, yes, sir.” You nodded enthusiastically. “I played oboe in my high school orchestra. It’s a severely underrated instrument.”

Rosa beamed at you as Holt reached out to shake your hand. “Diaz....” he said, shaking a finger at her. “She’s a keeper.”

“Yes, sir,” Rosa nodded.

He stared at her reproachfully. “I hope you take this fine lady to the symphony and not just to your rock concerts.”

“She does, sir,” you assured him. “We even have season passes.” And then you had what you thought was maybe one of your more brilliant ideas. “Maybe we could all go together, sometime? Me and Rosa and you and your husband?”

Rosa and Captain Holt stared at each other for a moment, and you were afraid you’d misread the situation terribly. You’d always thought that Rosa liked Captain Holt, at least from the way she talked about him. You thought they were friendly with one another. Maybe you’d been wrong.

You tried to backtrack. “Or maybe not,” you blurted. “Just a thought.”

You couldn’t help but smile at how quickly both Rosa and Captain Holt jumped to reassure you. So quickly that their voices overlapped.

“That’d be great, babe.”

“Now, doesn’t that sound nice?”

Gina rolled in front of the door to the break room. “Captain, you have a phone call,” she yelled out as her chair rolled by.

“Excuse me,” Holt said, standing. He stood, pressed his hand over yours and said, “Truly nice to meet you, Y/N. I look forward to our mutual date.”

When he’d gone, Rosa stared at you. She was smiling. Really smiling.

“What?” you asked, your face reddening.

She leaned forward and kissed you quickly, her hand gently grasping your chin.

“What was that for?”

She tucked your hair behind your ear. “You did really good today,” she whispered. “I know you were nervous. Thanks for lunch.”

You turned an even deeper shade of red. “Anytime. Or, well, sometimes.”

She smirked and kissed you one more time, pulling away quickly as Jake wolf-whistled from the doorway.

“Shut your mouth, Peralta, or I’ll shut it for you,” she growled.

It was always so funny to you to see Rosa with others. So rough, so intimidating. When she turned back to you, she was soft. She was always soft with you.

“I’ll see you tonight?” she asked, squeezing your hand.

You nodded, as you stood to leave, perching on tiptoes to kiss her on the cheek. Your voice had slipped back inside of you for the time being, so you simply squeezed her hand back and let her walk you out of the precinct.

Rosa watched you go, swinging your arms a bit as you walked down the sidewalk, and her heart ached. She loved you so much. Your quiet voice, that was always a gift to hear. Your swinging, fidgety arms. The fact that you loved her so much, so purely. She only hoped she could show you just as much love in return.

[thirtyratsinasuit]

𝚜𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚎 - 𝚜.𝚛.

ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ | ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ

𝙨𝙮𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨; 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭 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

[babylacedream]

you asked why I crossed the line

i always find myself back to you જ part 1 of ?

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10

pairing: soft yandere!bucky barnes x f! autistic reader

warning: ableism, overprotective!bucky, yandere themes, anxiety, misogyny, sexist, implied lovemaking, abandonment, bittersweet, angsty

summary: you and bucky are childhood friends. after bucky returned from the army as a sergeant, he wanted to tell you something over milkshakes before he leaves you yet again.

notes: what can i say? i like a man in uniform.

inspired by pinkpantheress unreleased song called y2k, I recommend listening. have to support my girly!

please remember i am autistic, so i will be writing my personal experience with my autism. thanks!

"Freak!"

You were pushed into a corner, harshly against the hard concrete wall, a slight pain on your wrist as the impact caused you to slam onto your left arm. Your coworker, Charles, loved picking on you, especially since finding out you were different from the rest.

"To think that someone like you is working alongside us men." He grabbed your collar, pulling you to him and tightening his grip.

You tried removing his hand from your collar, overloading your senses, but he wouldn't budge. You breathed in and out and chuckled before provoking him, "And to think I have to work with a bunch of males who struggle with such fragile masculinity."

Charles fumingly lifted his hand; it would only mean one thing, that being the usual stinging ache on your cheek, you would feel again. You closed your eyes, awaiting a smack, but it never came.

"Hey!" Someone shouted from behind, catching his arm and pulling him away from you as he stumbled. The towering uniformed sergeant stood in front of you, his back facing you as he kept you from a safe distance from your abuser.

"Pick on someone your own size." The sergeant sauntered menacingly to the now scared Charles. Charles thought he could overpower a sergeant but he only received a punch to the face and a kick to his butt making him scram.

While the sergeant cleared the coast, you were occupied brushing the dirt off your blouse. You didn't even realize he got close to you, grabbing your bruised wrist and examining it.

"Hey, that hurts..." You winced, "Bucky!"

James Buchanan Barnes is your most precious childhood friend. The person who protected you and the only one who didn't discriminate against you. He was back from the recent war, you wondered why he came here...

"It wouldn't hurt if you were smart, dollface." Bucky playfully expressed this before taking out a bandage and wrapping your wrist gently.

"Hmph, why are you here?" You expressed yourself back at him.

Bucky chuckled, finally compressing your wrist. He looked proud of his own work. You pulled your wrist to get his attention. Bucky's attention from your wrist went to your skeptical expression.

"You want a milkshake?"

A diner, you and Bucky shared lots of endearing moments that gave you nostalgia. The jukebox playing in the background, the murmur of customers, and the overall atmosphere in this diner felt just right for you.

Bucky pulled out the chair for you to sit down. "You know I can pull my own chair, right?"

"I know you're capable of doing so. I just wanted to spoil you a bit today."

You sipped your milkshake. It's surprising he even remembered the specific way you like your milkshakes. Vanilla with extra whipped cream, rainbow sprinkles, and one cherry on top. You thought he forgot all about you...

"Dollface," he called out as he studied you purposefully, "I wanted to confess something to you."

"Mm?" You uttered, your attention on the straw in your mouth as you bit it.

"I wanted to apologize. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have crossed the line that night."

You released your teeth around the straw and questioned him, "You say cross the line, but what line are you referring to? The line of you embracing me... or the line of you not telling me you were leaving for the army that night?"

You knew all men were expected to enlist, but the thing that ticked you off was the fact he never mentioned he was leaving a few hours after that. You wouldn't have been so angry if he told you.

"Leaving you."

In fact, he had his reasons for embracing you that specific night. He wanted to be your first; he didn't want some scrawny man to have his way with you. It was certainly cruel, but he wanted to make sure if he died, he would be your first.

You sensed the regret in his voice and the occasion, rubbing his leg against your knee under the table.

"Do you know how I felt after waking up to an empty bed? I thought that you possibly didn't enjoy it with me..."

Bucky clenched his fist. "Are you kidding? That night was the best..." He stopped himself; he didn't want to cause a scene in your favorite diner that you enjoyed coming to.

Bucky took out a ten-dollar bill, placed it on the diner table, grabbed your right hand, and led you outside.

"Bucky, please don't hurt me... I don't think I can put up with it once again."

You knew he would return again to the army. The uniform said it all. He became a sergeant. You placed your hands on his chest and fixed his collar. "Congratulations on becoming a sergeant."

Bucky grabbed your right hand, removing it from his chest, gently wrapping it with his own, and placing a kiss on it.

"Doll, am I selfish for asking you to wait for me?"

"Yes, you are selfish." Bucky chuckled at your quick response. Bucky leaned in to place a kiss on your cheek.

"Indeed, I am."

"If you pinky swear to come back to me. Perhaps I will wait for you."

Bucky grinned when you lifted your pinky finger, waiting for him to do the honors. It made him reminiscence. The times you would swear if he didn't pinky swear with you, he would surely end up with the flu.

Bucky lifted his pinkie finger, linking it around yours.

"I pinky swear."

[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.

[mim16s]

Survival in Game

Cho Hyun-ju x Autistic!Fem!Reader

•I'm not autistic, but I have a brother and a cousin who are, so I used my experience living with them to write this character. English is not my first language, but I tried my best to write this without spelling errors. This is my first story on this app, so I hope it is good.

This wasn’t what you wanted for your life. Honestly, you didn’t even understand how you had gotten to this point. All you wanted was to take care of your mother, to repay all the effort she had put into you. And you knew how hard it had been for her.

She got pregnant young and raised you on her own, with no support system. Your father? Well, you never knew him. He disappeared as soon as he found out about the pregnancy. Your grandparents, embarrassed that she had gotten pregnant so young and without even getting married, abandoned her too. That’s how your mother faced the world alone, with you in her arms.

And things got even harder. You knew that being autistic made everything more challenging for her. As a child, you didn’t speak, and your first words came only after many therapy sessions, which were expensive. But she never gave up. You remembered seeing her come home, exhausted after a long day of work, but always with a smile.

— Mom is fine. You’re everything I need to have strength, — she would say, trying to hide her exhaustion.

But you knew the truth. You knew how much she fought, how she struggled to meet all your needs, to make sure you never lacked anything. Everything fell apart when she got sick. You were 19. The illness took all her strength, and she could no longer work. That’s when the weight of the world fell on you. You had to find a job, but no matter how hard you tried, no one wanted to give you a chance. When they saw you weren’t neurotypical, they wouldn’t give you a chance.

Life became a daily struggle. You survived doing small jobs here and there, while some kind neighbors helped with food baskets. But the money was never enough, and the debts started piling up. Your mother’s treatments were expensive, and with each unpaid bill, the despair grew.Then he appeared. The man in the suit.He appeared out of nowhere, as if fate had sent him. With a piercing look, holding a briefcase in his hand. He stopped in front of you while you were resting in one of the subway chairs, with a smile that made you just as uncomfortable as it did curious.

— Looks like you need an opportunity, don’t you?—You hesitated, unsure of what to respond. He seemed to know exactly who you were and what you were going through.

— I want to propose something to you.

And that’s when you got a card with geometric symbols and a phone number. You stared at it, your heart racing without fully understanding it.

---

And now, here you were: in a strange hall, surrounded by people you didn’t know, in a place you had never seen before, wearing clothes you didn’t even remember putting on, and the fabric itched. You weren’t the only one confused. Perplexed looks crossed the room, and nervous whispers filled the air.

Then they appeared: masked soldiers, wearing uniforms that seemed more threatening than functional. You couldn’t help but shrink back, a heavy feeling that something was terribly wrong.They began to speak, explaining what was happening.

— Excuse me! — A voice echoed. Your eyes followed the sound until they landed on a beautiful woman, who seemed just as indignant as she was confident. — They said it would just be some games, but you kidnapped us. And you still want me to believe this?

— We apologize, — one of the masked soldiers replied, the voice distorted by some sort of modifier. — It was a necessary measure to ensure the confidentiality of the games we are organizing.

Questions started popping up from all sides, but the answers provided no comfort, only more tension. You wanted to understand better, but it was hard to follow. The questions, the sounds around you, the smell of sweat and fear in the hall, everything was pulling you in different directions. You began to rock back and forth slightly, trying to focus. It was something that always helped. But the discomfort persisted.

---

You were led to a large open field, surrounded by high fences and cameras that seemed to record every movement. It was announced that the first game would begin soon. When a desperate man screamed that, if anyone was eliminated, they would die, a chill ran down your spine. It couldn’t be true... right? But when the game began, the illusion of safety shattered. The sharp sound of a gunshot cut through the air. Your eyes widened, shock paralyzing you. That sound — loud, deafening to your sensitive hearing — seemed to hammer in your head. You instinctively wanted to cover your ears to block out that deafening noise, but you felt someone hold your hands firmly, preventing any sudden movements.

— Don’t move, it’s dangerous. — The voice came from behind. It was the beautiful woman from before. There was something in the firmness of her tone that managed to cut through your panic, bringing some calm.

— My ears hurt, — you murmured, your voice trembling.

— I know. But you have to hold on. Just a little longer.

Chaos spread around you. People were screaming, some running in desperation, while others were falling to the sound of new gunshots. You felt terror take hold, a heavy knot in your throat. Your legs felt like stone.

— If you don't cross the line in time, they'll still kill you! Look at the doll's eyes! They're cameras that scan for motion! But it's not able to detect you if you're behind something! — screamed one of the players, his voice desperate. — So if you short, line up behind someone who's taller than you!

Your body wouldn’t respond. You were frozen, the noise and the fear trapping you in place.The beautiful woman stopped in front of you, blocking your view of the rest of the field.

— Keep going. — Her voice was urgent, yet gentle. — You need to keep going. Don’t worry, I’ll stay in front of you. Just follow me, okay?

You couldn’t verbalize, but when the music started again, you followed her. Each step behind her felt like an eternity, but she kept her promise, protecting you as you moved forward.

After the game ended, everyone was taken back to the room. The atmosphere was heavy, filled with fear and despair. Lost looks, uncertain steps — everyone seemed terrified, and you were no different.Sitting on one of the beds, you rocked back and forth, an automatic motion, a desperate attempt to find comfort. But it didn’t help. Your breathing was uneven, the sounds around you seemed amplified, and all you wanted was to leave. Your mind raced in circles, always returning to the same question: Why me? You just wanted to help your mother. Everything you did was for her, and now you were trapped here, too scared to do anything.Then the voice of the masked soldiers echoed through the room, imposing order, the man from before who said he had already participated in this game proposed the vote.At first, the idea of voting seemed like an escape. A chance to get out of that terrible situation.

But then they revealed the amount of money accumulated by the people who had died. The sum gleamed in a giant safe suspended in the room. The shine of the money seemed to hypnotize some. Murmurs started to arise. Many were considering staying. You felt a tightness in your chest.

When the vote began, the sound of buttons being pressed was like a constant drum in your ears. You watched the people go to the ballot box, one by one, pressing their votes. Some hesitated, others went with determination.When it was your turn, your hands trembled as you walked up to the ballot box. The panel blinked in front of you: a circle to stay and an “X” to leave. You could barely see properly, your vision blurred by the tears at the corners of your eyes.Your finger pressed the “X.” You wanted to leave, go home. You needed your mother as much as she needed you. But when the final vote was recorded and the numbers were revealed, your heart sank.The majority had chosen to stay.Panic took over you again. Your fingers began to tremble uncontrollably, and you went back to your bed, feeling your whole body tighten. Your mind was in chaos. The rocking movement returned, but this time even more intense, as if your body was trying to compensate for the avalanche of emotions.You felt helpless. You wanted to scream, to cry, but all you could do was try to hold onto the little control you still had.

The terror was greater than anything you had ever felt before. And, even worse, it was just the beginning

Part 2

[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.”

_____

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[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.

[punkeropercyjackson]

The wrongest thing Rick Riordan ever got about Percy Jackson was making her a man.Sir you literally wrote Percy with 1425254 tropes far more applicated to female characters for BEING WOMEN than any male ones and had her go on an egg quest for Artemis' pack of wild manhating trans woman loving lesbians to prove she's not like men despite being amab.She's not Seaweed Brain,she's Ocean Girl.Persephone 'Percy' 'Cookie' Amelia Jackson,you have ALWAYS been famous and you would love Blue Hair by Tv Girl and Cotton Candy Bang and them plushies of cats in shark costumes and earthy black girl subculture and video game streaming in cat ear headphones and mermaid themed sports bras and waterproof glitter makeup

[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 :)