#autistic bucky

[rolandtowen]

Today we hit 100 kudos and 1,000 hits on my latest fic! Thank you all so much for following along with me forcing Bucky to learn about self-care.

[himbionn]

Welcome back to himbionn draws Clint consecutively because of their partner 🫡

Anyways uhhhh interpretation is up to you here 🧍‍♂️

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

Let The Rain Fall | Bucky Barnes x Autistic!Reader | Short Series - Part 1 of 4 - 2.6k

Bucky finds your file and is shocked to learn you're not in the field, despite your excellent test scores. Although Steve advises him to let it go, Bucky sets to work on convincing you instead.

Warnings: nothing yet really. Some reference to Bucky's time as the Winter Solider but it's very brief.

Masterlist | Let the Rain Fall Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

Bucky dropped another manila folder onto the desk and leant back in his office chair with a sigh. Across the table Steve looked up from his equally towering pile of agent folders and eyed his friend.  

“Tired?” He asked, closing the latest file and placing it carefully with the others he’d already assessed.  

“This is exhausting, there must be a hundred agents here.” Bucky kept his face covered by his hands, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes.  

“Sixty.”  

“What?”  

“There’s sixty, but some of them already have positions.”  

“Of all the automated shit in this century, this, this, is what we have to do by hand?” 

Steve didn’t look up again, “it’s to keep staff information safe after...well...after everything.  

Bucky tensed; he knew what Steve meant by everything. Flashes of that day still came back to him sometimes in his dreams and his nightmares. Moments of clarity in an otherwise hazy memory, explosions, jets falling from the sky and water, fear and freedom. 

“Well, we already found the best candidate, right at the top, her scores and rankings are incredible.” 

Bucky handed Steve the folder, the covering page turned back so he could see the smiling face of the agent in her profile.  

Steve did look up then, “not her, sorry.” He ducked back down, folding the cover back over and attempting to take the folder from Bucky.  

“Why not? She’s a crack shot, scored well in all the reasoning tests and has excellent recommendations from her tutors. She even has a sealed folder from Xavier’s School, but she must have done well to get the college course she wanted.”  

“I know, but she requested desk duty and we’re respecting that. So, not her. She might do some digital recon, if you ask nicely. But she oversees the mission records now.”  

“Steve, she has a sealed envelope, what if it’s a power? How can you leave her on desk duty.” Bucky insisted.  

It was Steve’s turn to sigh, pushing his hand through his blonde hair until it stuck up in tufts. “Remember when you wanted desk duty? Remember how you have a sealed envelope in your folder? I respected you; I respect her. She’s a great Agent, but she’s not going into the field. Drop it.”  

The two men eyed each other for a second before Bucky stood, grabbing his leather jacket from the back of his chair. “I’m going for a walk. I need a break.”  

Bucky stalked through the Avenger’s compound, allowing the door to the private offices to close with a bang. He’d intended to head towards the gym to work off his frustrations at the incredibly tedious task of picking new agents and the even more frustrating realisation that the only agent he’d shortlisted had voluntarily taken themselves out of the field.  

Before he knew it, he was scanning his pass card and weaving his way through the open plan office that sat opposite the Avenger’s private space. He knew a few people here, mostly from bumping into them on the way into work or at the coffee shop on the ground floor.  

Stopping by one of the assistant’s desks he asked for directions to Mission Records, only to be pointed to a set of small, two people sized, meeting rooms that sat at the edge of the otherwise open space.  

Cautiously he picked through the maze of desks and paused outside of the door. Inside he could hear the faint sound of humming and the swish of papers, after a few seconds there was a dull thud as if something had dropped onto a desk and bounced off quickly. Underlying this was the sound of rain, despite the fact it was a dry day. 

Taking a shaky breath to steady his nerves, Bucky knocked on the door.  

“Who is it?” The voice inside was high and lilting, definitely nervous.  

“Uhm - it’s Sergeant Barnes...” Bucky tried to sound authoritative but, honestly, he hadn’t been in charge of anyone or anything since he was Steve’s second in 1945 and now that he was trying, panic was rising inside of him like a tide.  

From behind the door, he heard another dull thump and the paper noise stopped, but the rain continued. 

“You can come in.”  

Bucky turned the handle slowly, ducking his head and wishing he’d at least taken a lap of the office to think of what he was going to say to you, and then he was inside.  

The small office space was considerably cooler than the main office, with the faint smell of fresh linen fabric softener. It wouldn’t normally be the kind of detail he’d notice, except that he liked it too and knew it wasn’t sold at the small grocery shop on the other side of the compound. You had to go all the way into town for anything other than Tony’s preferred fruit cocktail scent. He was lost in his thoughts when he looked up, and there you were.  

Your folder had boasted of your prowess with a gun, your efficiency with a knife, tenacity during physical training and, although there was a picture of you in your official agent’s uniform, he had not been prepared for meeting you in real life.  

He was, in fact, surprised to recognise you considering the wave of people that seemed to roam around the compound. He’d seen you eating alone on the grass outside, and reading in the atrium when it was raining after hours. It was odd to see you in your own office, you looked so different to the official image of you on file. 

“Good afternoon, Sergeant Barnes.” You said, politely but with that edge of nervousness still bubbling beneath the surface. 

He took you in. Your soft, pale blue cotton shirt over what was clearly a pair of sweatpants, despite the fact they were a dark blue. Although your trousers fit you, the shirt was too large, it didn’t quite fit correctly and the sleeves were so long that your hands were covered up to your knuckles by the cuffs. As his gaze travelled over you, you shifted, pulling your hands inside of the sleeves completely and then tucking your hands under your thighs.  

You looked small, in such a large chair, wider than his own with a comfortable, quilted back and seat, your legs crossed neatly under your desk as if you were sitting on the floor.  

The desk itself was home to an array of trinkets and toys, all lined up along the top edge and around the double screen of your computer. Bucky marvelled at your ability to keep up with such a thing, he found his own laptop screen quite enough brightness. But then your room was darker than his office with Steve and the blaring overhead light.  

You shifted again, looking at him pointedly.  

“Would you like to sit down?” You indicated a round armchair that took up most of the rest of the space and he sat down heavily, aware of his large black boots and wide frame in such a small space.  

“Thanks,” he hesitated. 

Awkwardly, you quickly gave your name, as if he hadn’t read your folder a hundred times.  

You allowed one of your hands to be freed from its confines under your leg, but only to chew the pad of your thumb while you gazed somewhere over Bucky’s left shoulder.  

Bucky’s stomach turned over and he angled his shoulder back self consciously. You snapped your eyes to his and then looked down at your thumb, “sorry,” before snatching one of the toys from your desk and beginning to push the little plastic bubbles in and out.  

“I wanted to talk to you about your scores at the academy.”  

“Oh?” You kept your eyes on the toy.  

“They’re very good.”  

“Yes, I’m very proud of them myself.”  

“And you graduated college?”  

You looked up again, “look I know it took me a little longer than everyone else but I -”  

Bucky held his hands up in surrender, “it wasn’t a comment on how or when, just that you had.”  

“Oh,” you nodded, “okay.”  

Pop, pop, pop.  

“Sorry, did you need something from me? It’s just best if you’re really clear and then I can answer.” You placed the little plastic toy back in its place on the desk.  

“I wanted you to join the Avengers Agents, we have three open spots and I’d like you to take one of them.”  

“No, thank you.” You smiled at him, it was a friendly but firm smile that reached your eyes enough to let him know you were at least flattered, but that this really was a no and for some reason it made him absolutely furious.  

“If you’re worried about the other agents then -” 

“No, it’s not that. I don’t want to.”  

“There’s lots of training and -”  

“No, thank you.”  

“It’s a great -”  

“I said, no.” You snapped and then plastered that smile back on the lower part of your face. “Thank you.”  

You turned to your computer and began typing and Bucky stood feeling smaller than he had in a long time.  

“Can I ask why?”  

Your typing stopped but you didn’t look at him.  

“I already documented that I’d ask you, so if you don’t want to, I  just need a reason.” He waved at the twin stacks of paper in your ‘in’ and ‘out’ trays. “You know what the paperwork is like here.”

“I don't like the uniform, it’s itchy and uncomfortable. Is that good enough?” You cocked your eyebrow at him and then turned, pointedly, back to your work.  

Bucky left with a nod, closing the door quietly behind him and pausing long enough to hear the shift of paper again.  

Your conversation with Sergeant Barnes had left you rattled, so as soon as he’d walked away you closed your computer down with a sigh and left the office for the day. You’d come in extra early tomorrow to make up for it, it’d be quieter in the morning anyway and you could hopefully get ahead by 10am and then enjoy a quiet coffee and some time curled up reading before the next round of debriefs were submitted.  

The office was empty at 7.30am, the lights still off and the scent of the cleaners all-purpose spray still lingering in the air. You’d only managed to settle in and grab a coffee before there was a sharp knock on the door and a familiar shadow looming through the frosted glass.  

“Come in.”  

Sergeant Barnes opened the door tentatively and peeked around the frosted glass, “morning.” 

He smiled awkwardly, hovering in the doorway with a large black garment bag before you beckoned him in and pointed towards the spare chair.  

“Morning,” you smiled back automatically, but before you could drop it a genuine flash of happiness passed over the Sergeant’s face and your smile moved from forced to genuine too. There weren’t many people who were actually happy to see you around the office, and yet here was Barnes, again, smiling at you.  

“I’m really sorry about yesterday.” He said, seriously, “I didn’t mean to push you, I was just worked up.”  

Whatever you’d been expecting when he’d knocked, it wasn’t this.  

“Oh, well.” You moved in your seat, pulling your hands inside your sleeves again, a navy-blue fleece lined sweater today, since the weather was unseasonably cold, the collar was turned over under your chin where you’d been fiddling with it. “I was short with you too, I can be a bit – sensitive, about – things. So, I’m sorry too.”  

“Then we’re even,” he smiled and settled into his chair more, looking around at your office.  

Suddenly you felt self-conscious, this was your space and it was hard won. You’d filled it with every soft thing that you needed to make it through your days in the office, cute mugs, fidget toys, blankets and even a teddy. While Sergeant Barnes was looking at your bookshelf you tried to move the little bear from his prominent position next to your monitor and into the open draw by your side, but he caught you and grinned instead.  

“Cute bear.”  

You snatched it up and squeezed its soft body between both your hands. “Thank you.”  

There was an awkward silence as the Sergeant seemed to think of what to say next and then he grabbed the garment bag again, as if he’d forgotten it as soon as he’d sat down.  

“Oh, yes, I was talking to Steve about what you said yesterday -” he looked up at your blank face, “Steve Rogers, you know ahh-” he rubbed his cheek as if he could remove the red smudge of embarrassment. 

“I guessed.”  

“Right, of course, I spoke to Steve, and he said that if that was what was holding you back then it was an easy fix and -” he pulled the zipper down on the bag revealing a black-on-black ensemble inside. Fitted combat trousers with pockets and an empty utility belt as well as a black, long-sleeved, shirt and flack vest. “It’s all made of a cotton blend with reinforced, lightweight, Kevlar. If you like it we can look at adding Vibranium for strength. It has a fleece lining, I noticed you had two fleece lined items in here and took a risk, so it should be soft on your skin. What do you think?”  

Bucky beamed at you from across your desk and your stomach twisted into knots, a yawning chasm of silence opening between you the longer you didn’t answer. You knew what you were supposed to say, you knew you were supposed to be excited and say yes and run off to be an Agent.   

“It smells like my fabric softener.” You blurted. 

“Yes, I figured you used the one from the store in town, I hope that wasn’t presumptuous?” 

For a moment you reached out to touch the sleeve, it was soft and it smelt lovely. But -

“Thank you, Sergeant Barnes, I can see you’ve gone to a lot of effort -”  

“But it’s still a no?”  

“It’s still a no.”  

“Okay.” He said, kindly, zipping the garment bag back up. You expected him to leave, taking it with him, but instead he hung it on an empty hook by your door. “I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry, and that you’re welcome to join us anytime. There’s a big budget, especially for talented agents, I’d hate for something like a uniform to hold you back.” 

“Thank you.”  

“There’s a simple recon next week, Steve and I are leading some of the other newly qualified agents and he said you sometimes do recon, there’s a seat open for you if you want, but there’ll be no hard feelings if you don’t come.” 

“Okay.” 

You weren’t sure if it was the awkwardness or his earnest smile, but you had the urge to hug him. You hadn’t hugged anyone since you’d moved to the compound and you missed the comforting feeling of it, he even smelt lovely and for the briefest moment you imagined him holding you close to him. He had a black cotton shirt on with a dark green and blue flannel over the top. It looked soft, and now your arms felt empty and heavy at your sides, with no one to hold but yourself.It felt strange, too, to be wanted. You’d mostly assumed your colleagues were glad to be rid of you. Instead of embracing him, you stood and offered your hand, allowing him to squeeze your palm before he left, and then spent the next three hours wondering about his request.  

Part 2 ->

[spacecowboyy0]

crumbling

summary: you and peter go to the avenger's tower on a field trip and you have a breakdown, then get comforted by buck and nat! angsty then fluffy

notes: autistic!little!reader, you and peter act like siblings and i envision them in their last year of highschool, peter’s field trip is a huge trope on Ao3 idk if tumblr people are aware of that 

tony stark isn’t in this because i hate him, he’ll never be in any of my fics, i don’t care!!!

1.6k words

When it was dark, you would sometimes show up at Peter’s window, and stay the night. The habit started in middle school, when things at home were too much to bear alone. After the first few times, the window remained unlocked and May told you that you were always welcome, even if no one was home. Peter knew how important it is that you could rely on him to be there during rough nights, so he felt bad when he started sleeping over at the Tower. Peter also knew how intimidating the Avengers are, but he was sure that you would get along with them. He would talk about you so much that the team kept asking when they could meet you. He knew that you would be welcome to stay over whenever, not only when you were in crisis mode. 

On a regular Wednesday after school, Happy picked the two of you up from school, and drove you to the Tower. That night, despite your intense anxiety, you had a wonderful time. You played card games and ate delicious food that Bruce cooked. It ended with Natasha telling you that if you ever needed help, you could call her. This was the beginning of unconditional love and support from people who could’ve never imagined getting close to. 

Out of everyone on the team (excluding Peter), you latched onto Bucky very quickly, with Natasha coming runner up. You know an autistic person when you saw one, and after one movie night with that man, you knew. Bucky became a huge father figure/big brother role in your life; you just seem to click. It’s Bucky who understands your aversion to certain foods, why you need things to be a certain way, why you can go to loud concerts but want to sob at the sound of chewing.

You can’t really explain why you’re so close to Natasha or when it started. Nat is secretly a huge softie, and you’re one of the lucky few who is shown her warm heart. She feels motherly, in a way that warms your bones and calms your mind. No one can give head scratches as well as she can, or braid your hair as perfectly.

~

You were sitting in Mr. Anderson’s class when the field trip to the Tower was announced. You whipped your head around, meeting eyes with Peter, who sat a few seats behind you. For you, it wasn’t that big of a deal, somewhat funny if anything, but you had a feeling that there would be some special appearances from the team during the trip. Fortunately for you, with the protection of Bucky and Natasha, you knew that whatever shenanigans were pulled during the trip, they’d be targeting Peter rather than you. Peter, judging by the grimace he sported, seemed entirely less enthused by the announcement. Shifting your eyes over to MJ’s (evil) smirk and Ned’s delighted grin, you knew those two were excited for different reasons. 

When school was let out, you followed Peter to Happy’s car, and drove to the Tower together. There, you handed the permission form to Nat, who had been forging your mother’s signature for a while now. You shoved the slip into your bag and forgot about the trip for the next two weeks.

~

Now it’s the morning of the field trip, and you’re already tired of everything. You don’t want to talk. It’s not that you can’t talk, you just don’t have anything to say. You had such a high anxiety week, and now masking is too difficult to keep up, and you really want to feel small. You want to feel a nice fuzzy instead of the anxiety fog you have been feeling way too much of recently. Your brain is buzzing in a way that probably means that you’re very very close to crumbling. While you don’t want that to happen at the Tower in front of your classmates, you know Peter would handle it. You just hope that Bucky or Nat will be around to rescue you. 

~

Everything was going smoothly, you made it through the loud bus ride to the Tower, survived all the beeps at security, and now you’re onto your first activity after getting a tour of R&D. In a group of four, with Peter, MJ and Ned, your group is tasked with coming up with a small robot that would fulfill the two slips of criteria you randomly selected out of a bowl. You got “rainbow” and “do a flip.” As you fold the paper of your 3d prototype (something to keep your hands busy more than anything), you nick your finger on the edge of the sheet. You rip your hands away from the model on instinct, letting it drop onto the table in front of you. There’s a pause as you stare at the tiny bit of raised skin on your thumb. There’s no blood but your eyes well up with embarrassing tears. Peter, who is sitting beside you, stops scribbling for a moment when he sees you still out of the corner of his eye. 

“What’s going on?” To your hyper-sensitive mind, you’re convinced his whisper could be heard from across the room. It’s not helping. You turn to him, and you see his eyes widen when a tear slides down your face. It’s all crumbling down just like you had anticipated, and now there would be nothing stopping your dysregulated, tired mind from exposing your very not-neurotypical needs to anyone who asked. 

“Hey, what are the tears for, bug?” The whimper he got in response, caught the attention of Ned and MJ. While you love them to bits, more eyes on you is not what you need. You put both of your feet on your chair so that you can shove your face into your knees, and hope that it muffles your quiet sobs. Peter pulls out his phone, he had also anticipated this breakdown, so he sends a text to put his plan into action. 

With a nudge from Peter, and MJ’s arm around your shoulders, you walk towards Mr. Harrington where he’s talking to your tour guide. MJ leads you past where Peter stops to talk to your teacher, and into the hallway. Even in the hall with less people around, you’re so in your head that you’re mortified by your red face and the stimming you tried to suppress. After what feels like ages, Peter appears and replaces MJ’s grounding touch, and takes you to the nearest elevator. It’s only a short wait before you step into the elevator, and when the doors close behind you, you both let out a sigh of relief. Although yours is more of a shudder with how fast your breathing is. 

The ride is fast and soon you’re stepping into Bucky and Steve’s living room, where Bucky is waiting for you. Peter watches as you run into Bucky’s awaiting arms and collapse in his embrace. You sob without restraint and bury into his neck. Peter slips back into the elevator and heads up to your room, which is next to his own. Bucky walks around the room, rocking you in his arms as you wait for Peter to come with your stim basket. Peter returns with the basket, picking out a few he thinks you might need before going down to the floor where your class is. 

Now it’s just you and Buck, the sounds of crying and the noise of the city coming from the open windows. Reaching down for a moment, he picks up a squishy for your hands, and a chewy for your mouth that is gnawing on his shirt. He sits down on a couch, and creates a little bit of space between you to draw your attention to the toys. You take the squishy, but reject the chewy after a moment of contemplation. You return to your cozy spot pressed against him, but switch to chewing and sucking on your fingers. Bucky, now trapped with you on his lap and confused as to why you didn’t want the stim toy, signed to FRIDAY to get Nat’s help. 

After a few minutes, the elevator doors slide open silently and Nat walks over to the pair on the couch. Buck points to the basket on the side table, and finger spells “soother.” He suspects that you would have one, considering how much he catches you almost chewing on your fingers on a daily basis. Nat finds a light blue soother in a case near the bottom, takes it out, and hands it over. Buck gently removes the thumb in your mouth and slips in the soother before you realize what he had. He can feel your muscles relax and your heart slow to a natural rate. 

As you wait for Pete to return from his tour, Bucky puts on The Princess Bride, and the three of you enjoy the slow, quiet peace. You, drained from your emotional day, rests your head in Nat’s lap and your legs lie across Bucky’s lap. With your eyes closed, soothed by Nat’s fingers stroking your hair, you listen to the movie and savor the comfort of the moment.

Interrupted by the noise of footsteps, you lift your head to see Peter walking towards you. You smile softly, slip out your pacifier and greet him quietly. “Hi Petey.”

“Hi baby, how are you feeling?”

“I’m ok, mostly tired.” He stops in front of the couch, looking down at you. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a can of cherry Coke. “Stopppppp, thank you!” You smile and take it from his hands. 

“No problem, figured you could use a treat.” He looks at your water bottle and empty bowl on the coffee table. “You don’t need anything else? You’re good with just relaxing the rest of the day?”

“Yeah, this is perfect.”

this might turn into a series??? idk! i'd love to write more, gimme some prompts!

[logansgaar]

Autistic Bucky Barnes stims & other headcanons part 1/?

Likes the feeling of having a stubble, but can't stand being clean shaven or having facial hair that's too long. He particularly likes how the stubble feels when he scrunches his face up

Face scrunching and otherwise exaggerated expressions, this one's newer since he broke the Winter Soldier conditioning, he likes being expressive with his face now he doesn't have to be a stone mask

The sound of his hair over his metal hand, he'll sit just listening to his metal fingers swishing through his hair over and over. It's almost imperceivable to average hearing, but it's just the right volume to his enhanced hearing

Can't have things covering his lower face the way his old Winter Soldier mask used to, it makes him feel like he can't feel his face anymore/can't move it (related to the facial scrunching stim). He outright refused to wear something similar in Madripoor and it took some arguing with Zemo that he could convincingly be the Soldier without it

Hand flexing and palpating, includes shifting the plates around on his metal arm even when he doesn't need to calibrate it

He's the Too Much Eye-Contact type of autistic and knows it. He gets frustrated and overwhelmed when he's pestered about it too much because he really doesn't know what to do or what people expect him to do about it. Sometimes he feels like he's not even allowed to look at people since they seem to think he can't do that right, but he can't not look either because that's rude

Similar to the face scrunching, Bucky likes to fidget on purpose, not because he's restless. He likes to just move his body or posture as if to remember he can move and move whenever he likes, he's not frozen and he's not under commands to be still

Can't stand the feel of polystyrene or PVC and will reflexively smack his hand on something nearby whenever he feels them. He's broken a lot of things so he's trained himself to at least smack his vibranium arm and not breakable furniture or walls

Also hates fabric over his metal arm, if he can he prefers to have it exposed because the sound of different fabrics over the metal grates wrong

His strongest sense his is sense of smell, particular smells that calm him are gunpowder, pancake batter and woody, deep smells. His tolerance for people is slightly dependant on how agreeable he finds their natural scent and has a strong preference for rich earthy, grounded smells. Shuri, T'Challa and Peter in particular have the Best Scents but he can't really place why. People who smell more like space/not-of-Earth (like Wanda, Thor, Doctor Strange, the Guardians, Bruce, Carol etc) have unsettling Nope Scents, again he can't put into words what it is. The only Guardians he doesn't mind the scents of are Rocket and Groot.

[rolandtowen]

Chapter 5 is here and she is a CHONKER! (for me at least lol, over 3,000 words).

This chapter deals with Bucky's sensory issues. Read on Ao3 or under the cut!

warning: this chapter includes brief details and descriptions of pain-stimming using a fidget toy. this kind of stimming is NOT framed as self-harm, but proceed with caution if you believe you may find this triggering.

“Tell me about your week, Bucky.”

Bucky’s back in Brooklyn, in Carlos’ office. He hated leaving Louisiana in the winter, but he did still technically live here. Plus, he was occasionally still needed for Avenger’s related issues. New York is convenient, he tells himself. That’s why he hasn’t moved completely to Louisiana yet. Not because he’s too nervous to let Sam know how much he loves him, of course not – 

“You with me, Bucky?”

“Oh, yes. Sorry. This week’s been weird.”

“How so?”

“I feel like I’ve been doing all the things you say will help with the trauma – eating well, making time for my hobbies, listening to my body, all that shit – and I still feel like I’m sliding backwards sometimes.”

“Did something specific happen this week?”

Bucky nods. “Sam came by for a few days, and he took me out to this coffee shop. Apparently he really wanted to try their chicory coffee, whatever that means – anyway, we got our coffee like normal folks do, and then…”

“Then?” Carlos prompts gently. 

“This kiddo, couldn’t have been more than a toddler, started wailing. I don’t know why, but it – I got almost angry ”, Bucky whispers the word like it’s something shameful. “At this little kid I didn’t know. Sam didn’t even react, so that’s how I knew it was something about me. I was wrong.”

Carlos nods in understanding. “And what did that anger feel like in your body?”

Bucky thinks for a moment. “My heart rate went up, and all I wanted to do was leave, run. I just wanted the noise to stop.” He shudders, thinking about the intrusive thoughts that had raced through his mind when the kid was crying. 

“What happened then?”

“Sam noticed I was, shaking, I guess? He got our coffees to go. And I felt a lot better when we had our coffee in the park, but I was still – scared. And frustrated.”

“Why did you feel like that?” Carlos asks. 

"It's just - it's so frustrating because I feel like I'm getting better, you know? I'm putting in the work to deal with my trauma and then it gets undone by a crying baby." 

Carlos pauses his writing. "You are doing really good work, Bucky. I don't want to minimize that. But I also want to explore another avenue for why you reacted so strongly in the coffee shop." He takes a sip of water, then asks: "I know from the files that the serum heightened your physical capabilities. Do you think that also applies to your senses? Touch, hearing, sight, that sort of thing." 

"I'm…not sure," Bucky admits. 

"For example, do you find yourself hearing things others can't?" 

Bucky's face falls. "Doc, I'm not crazy." 

"I'm not saying you are," Carlos assures him. "But, if you pause and listen to this room, what can you hear?" 

Bucky takes a deep breath, then starts listing off what he can hear: "My breathing, the traffic outside, when you write things down, I can hear that lamp flickering – do you have a mini fridge behind your desk?" 

Carlos' lips quirk up. "How did you know?" 

"The fridge in my apartment - it makes the same kind of sound." 

"Describe it to me." 

"It's like a buzzing? Not the same sound as a light bulb, but close. A little bit of a lower frequency. Wait, can – can you not hear it?" 

Carlos shakes his head. "Based on what you're describing, I'd say you have a very strong sense of hearing. Most people cannot hear things like fridges or light bulbs. Some people have sensory processing issues because of other conditions, like autism and ADHD, but I suspect the main cause for you is the serum enhancement." 

"It makes sense," Bucky says. "I already had decent senses before the war, that's why they made me a sniper. And the serum..." He trails off. 

"Amplifies everything," Carlos finishes. 

Bucky sighs. "I'm guessing you don't have any advice on bringing my senses back down to a normal level?" 

"I'm afraid neuroscience is not my expertise," Carlos picks up his pen again. "But, I can give you advice on how to accommodate your senses. Would you like to start with that?" 

Bucky nods, and Carlos gives him a list of things to try, which he dutifully writes down in his notebook. "Since we're trying to lessen how much sensory input you're getting, I think you should try out a pair of noise canceling headphones." Bucky raises an eyebrow. "Not for when you're in the field. But when you're just out and about. They don't block out everything, so you should still feel like you can be alert." Bucky nods, satisfied with that. 

"You should also get a white noise machine to turn on at night to help you sleep. I know you kinda used the TV for that, but I think you're liking not having the news on all the time, yeah?" Bucky chuckles at that. "And if that's not enough to soundproof your apartment, we can talk about some other options." 

"So my homework for this week is to invest in the 21st century, huh?" 

Carlos laughs. "We've certainly come a long way in providing accommodations since the 1940s. So yes, try these things out, and keep a note of if they help. Also, I want you to make notes this week whenever you notice a sensation that you either strongly like or strongly dislike. So, a crying baby would be a strong dislike." 

"Definitely," Bucky agrees. 

"Next time we meet we can use your likes and dislikes to determine what's working and where you might need some more support." 

A few months ago, Bucky would have balked at the idea of "support" and "accommodations". But now he just reaches to shake Carlos' hand. "See you next week, doc."

On his way home from therapy, Bucky texts the most tech-savvy person he knows: Shuri. 

B: working on some sensory stuff in therapy. doc says I should get some noise canceling headphones, you got any advice? And a white noise machine, not quite sure what that is.  

Despite the time difference between Brooklyn and Wakanda, his text is read almost immediately and he sees the three dots pop up that mean Shuri's typing. 

S: I'm sending you some options. Expect a delivery tomorrow. 

Bucky rolls his eyes. 

B: I could've bought them myself, princess. 

S: and miss the opportunity to spoil my favorite white boy? of course not 

True to her word, several boxes show up to Bucky's apartment the next morning. One of them is marked as CAUTION: Heavy Load, which Bucky lifts easily. Poor delivery guys. He drags everything into his apartment before texting Shuri. 

B: I hope you paid those delivery guys well. One of these boxes is pretty heavy 

S: oh good, it’s meant to be

S: and yes, I paid them well. unbox everything and call or text me if you have questions

Bucky puts his phone down and sets about opening each box. One is full of several types of headphones and one small box he thinks must be a white noise machine; the heavy box has one item in it, a large blanket. Bucky hefts it out of the box and estimates it must weigh over thirty pounds. He puts it on his lap while he opens the last box, which is full of an assortment of colorful, plastic items. These, he thinks, he definitely has questions about. 

First though, he tests out the headphones. The fit of each pair is a little different, and he finally settles on a silver pair. The padding fits nicely around his ears but it’s not overly snug. He follows the little instruction manual to get them turned on and connected to his phone. When he turns the noise canceling on, a calm rushes over him. 

The fridge, the lights, the AC, the traffic noise – the headphones make it all barely audible. My God, Bucky thinks. This is what everyone else hears? Experimentally, he brings his right hand up next to his ear and snaps his fingers. Just like Carlos said, he can still hear noises close to him, but on a scale of intensity, all of the sound has been brought down from a ten to a three. He can even hear his breathing a bit better, which should be good for grounding. 

He slides the headphones off and braces himself against the rush of noise. It’s not as unpleasant as the cafe had been, but it’s still a noticeable difference. He goes ahead and sets up the white noise machine too, flipping through the different programmed sounds. The fan noises feel a little too reminiscent of his time in cryostasis, and the fire noise is the exact opposite of relaxing. He decides on one that sounds like the ocean – he likes the rhythm of it, and it reminds him a bit of Delacroix. He sets it on the floor of his bedroom to turn on at night, then turns his attention back to the last few items. He unlocks his phone and shoots off another text. 

B: why is the blanket…heavy?

S: weighted blankets are commonly used by people with anxiety and sensory issues. They’re supposed to be 10% of a person’s body weight, and last time I checked in Wakanda, you weighed almost 300 pounds

S: do you like it? It’s okay if you don’t 

Bucky sits down on the couch and drags the blanket across him. He does like it. It’s heavy enough that he can feel the pressure, but not so heavy that he feels restrained. The blanket also spreads the pressure evenly across his body, so he doesn’t feel like he’s tied up or anything. 

B: it’s nice

B: what’s with the box of plastic?

S: fidget toys. Good for keeping your hands busy or adding some extra stimulus discreetly. 

He idly picks up one of the “fidget toys”, a plastic cylinder covered with rounded spikes. His grip tightens a bit, and for some reason his body relaxes at the nearly-painful feedback. Shuri really knows what she’s talking about. 

B: how do you know so much about this?

S: I didn’t become the lead scientist of the most advanced nation in the world as a teenager by being neurotypical, james. 

Bucky laughs at that. 

B: touche

B: seriously, thank you

S: of course

That night, Bucky updates his lists in his journal. 

Like: 

Sarah’s cooking

Hugs from the boys

Touch from Sam 

Water sounds

Weighted blanket

Headphones from Shuri

Warm baths

Dislike: 

Loud noises 

Crowds

Strangers touching me

He switches on the white noise machine and drifts off to sleep.

He learns that his likes and dislikes are often paired together. A package deal. For instance, he likes having a cup of hot tea when he’s reading, but dislikes the shrieking noise the kettle makes when it comes to temperature. He also learns that remembering to use his accommodations is half the battle. Eventually he stops setting the headphones down every time he takes them off and just leaves them around his neck. 

Two days after therapy, he feels bold enough to venture outside with his headphones on. The noise of the street, while not completely overwhelming, is still something he finds unpleasant. Especially when there’s a loud honk or a car backfiring. With the headphones on, he easily makes his way to the coffee shop without flinching once. He wants to send Sam a bag of their coffee to make up for him having to cut their date short. The door swings open, and Bucky can tell that the coffee shop is bustling with customers, though the volume of sound doesn’t increase much. 

He makes his way to the register and removes his headphones before he talks to the cashier, because that feels most polite. The noise comes back tenfold, but he grips the spiky fidget he’d attached to his key ring, and he’s able to focus enough to get his order in. As soon as he can, he slips his headphones back on and waits for his order to be called. 

“Latte for James?” A redheaded barista calls out. Bucky takes the cup from her and whispers a “thank you”. He slips the coffee grounds he bought Sam into his backpack, and beelines for the park. There, he sips his coffee and updates his notebook. 

Like: spiky fidget

He vaguely wonders if there'd be a way for him to order without needing to take off his headphones. Sure, he could write his order down and give it to the cashier, but he'd still have to pay, and it seems like every store nowadays has some set up where you have to wait for a cue from the cashier to swipe your card yourself. Maybe…

Bucky whips out his phone and searches the internet for the coffee shop's website. He clicks on it and scrolls, his eyes lighting up when he sees a button labeled “online order”. He could order his coffee and pay for it online, and then just pop into the store for thirty seconds to pick it up. 

Fine. The 21st century is pretty cool. 

He finishes his coffee and begins his walk back to his apartment. November in New York is a bitter thing, biting at any of his exposed skin. He wears gloves most of the time anyway to hide his metal arm, but other than that, he rarely pays attention to how he's dressing. 

Sam likes to mother hen him, telling him to put on a jacket or add a scarf. In the past, he's insisted that he's used to it, that he runs hot, or he's just fallen back on I'm the Winter Soldier, dammit . But as he ducks his head against the wind and turns the collar of his coat up, he knows that Sam has been right all along. Just because he was made to withstand freezing temperatures doesn't mean he has to. 

When he gets back to his apartment, he updates his list yet again. 

Dislike: cold

“So, how did this week go for you?” Carlos asks, notepad at the ready. 

“I feel like I learned a lot. I kept track of what you said.” 

“Do you want to share some of what you learned?”

Bucky nods. “I already knew I liked some stuff, like Sarah's food, hanging out with the boys, and touch from Sam. And Sam, uh, got me hooked on bath bombs the other week, so I like that too.” Carlos nods in understanding. “As for the tech you recommended, my friend Shuri sent me some stuff.” He gestures to the silver headphones around his neck. “These - these have been a lifesaver. I like the white noise too, but I think these are the best invention of the century.” 

“I'm glad the accommodations are helping,” Carlos smiles warmly as he makes a note. “We talked extensively last time about sensations you don't like, and now you've identified sensations that you do like.” Bucky nods. “So your task for this next week is to actively incorporate those pleasurable sensations. Sensory self-care means avoiding triggers, yes, but we should also focus on the glimmers too.”

“Glimmers?” Bucky asks. Dr. Raynor had never used that term with him. 

“You're familiar with triggers, yes?”

Bucky shrugs. “Trigger means something very specific for me, like the trigger words.” 

“Ah.” Understanding crosses Carlos’ face. “Yes, you do have quite a unique experience with triggers. But generally speaking, triggers are things which activate your stress responses, like fight or flight,” Carlos explains while Bucky nods. “Your triggers you identified this week were loud noises, crowds, touch from strangers, and cold. A glimmer is the opposite of a trigger – it calms your nervous system.” 

“Like a warm bath, or a cup of tea?” 

“Absolutely,” Carlos beams at him. “So keep using your accommodations, but every day, try and notice at least one glimmer. You may have to seek them out, or they could come naturally. Just make sure to notice and write down at least one a day. Make sense?” 

Bucky nods, already formulating a plan in his mind.

Bucky goes to therapy on Fridays, so that if he has a hard session, he has the weekend to recover before going back to saving the world. He slips his headphones on before stepping out into the street and finding his flow in the evening rush of people walking home. In a few taps, he's ordered a tea for pickup from the coffee shop he went to with Sam. He slips in and out without having to take off his headphones, and breathes a sigh of relief. Next stop: Prospect Park. 

Manhattan may have Central Park, but Bucky? Bucky has always had Prospect. He finds his way to the lakeshore and scopes out a bench. The park is less busy in December, so he has no problems finding a good spot. He pulls his scarf closer to him as he sits – one that Sarah made for him last Christmas – and he sips his tea. 

It’s a mint tea, sweetened with three sugar packets. God, Bucky thinks. Even that is strange to him. And not just because HYDRA deprived him of these little luxuries, putting him on a feeding tube for seventy years – even before HYDRA, Bucky had to ration things like sugar, spices, coffee. Most folks he talks to today know about the rations of sugar and other foodstuffs. They don’t seem to understand how pervasive rationing was, especially coming out of the Depression. Not only did they stuff newspaper in Steve’s shoes, trying to make his dad’s pairs fit his slim frame, but Bucky had to learn how to sew, to darn socks, to grow a few meager vegetables and herbs – and now he’s able to pick up sugar packets whenever he damn well pleases, with no one checking his stamps. 

It wasn’t just HYDRA that messed with his ability to care for himself – his whole damn life, Bucky Barnes has been controlled , by himself or others. He ate less so Steve could eat more; he went to war, not because he enlisted, but because he was drafted; he fell into the clutches of HYDRA, and was forced to do unspeakable things, things that haunt him at night; he had a little peace in Wakanda, but he was still there under T’Challa and Shuri’s control to undo his brainwashing. And after all of that, after all the pain and suffering he’s gone through over the course of his long life, he submits to the control of the US government, of Dr. Raynor, and even John Walker for a brief spell. 

God, Bucky is so tired of being controlled. 

He sips at his tea, which has cooled to the perfect temperature, and relishes the sweetness. He desperately wants to enjoy being alive, not just tolerate it, not just go and do whatever he’s ordered. So Bucky makes a plan, based off of his “like” list from this past week. 

To Do: 

Read one book this week

Have something warm every day (bath, tea, blanket, etc)

Cook one new recipe

Journal every day

Damn you, HYDRA. Damn you, Depression. Damn you, war and brainwashing and bureaucracy. Bucky’s in control now – and he’s out for revenge.

[beecanons]

better yet Loki or Bucky (marvel) with autism reader :3333

loki and bucky with an autistic reader!

loki~

doesnt fully understand it at first but once you explain a little about neurodivergences he catches on and will probably make a comparison to something from asgard

does all the research on it, learns what midgard knows about this and gets frustrated with the history of mistreatment and such.

has no shame in admitting he's learning about it just for you. but will ask you dont go around telling people about this side of him, especially dont mention it to thor or he'll never hear the end of it.

very observant of your behaviours, stims, sensitivities and preferences.

"dont pick that one, love, it has a texture you dislike" "..i warned you"

he will do whatever he can to help you with a meltdown, he has outlets for his own anger so hes more than ready to help you find outlets to avoid hurting yourself.

you spend hours talking, especially about interests. he's happy to have someone to talk with and listen to him and is more than happy to listen to you rant and ramble about your special interests

will summon a stim or texture object for you to fidget with if you need.

need to sit in a quiet place and de-stim? he'll find a dimly lt corner and sit with you, maybe read to you if you'd like.

extremely respectful of boundaries, listens when you struggle and does what he can to help be it communication or otherwise

pays attention to your ques when you need or cant stand physical touch.

if anything makes you insecure he'll compliment you on it or avoid comments on it if you prefer.

Bucky~

a little slow with wrapping his head around it, came from a time where there was a lot of stigma around high support needs autistic folk so he might have some things to unlearn and a lot of new stuff to learn.

tries his best to memorise your sensitivities and preferences but will mix a few things up.

off handedly remembers a lot of details you dont expect him to catch onto, especially when it comes to how you communicate.

will come up with nicknames based on comparing your behaviours he finds cute with certain animals who have the same behaviours.

if you like organizing things hes a mess and never remembers where you put things and has to ask every time because hes used to chaotic order.

picks up on your stims and even starts doing a few himself without realizing.

"hey, fruit bat, where'd the keys go?" "...obviously by the door, right"

loves going to the movies with you but makes sure you get a good seat in the back not too close to the speakers or too close/far from the screen so you arent over stimulated.

stops wearing cologne because youre sensitive to scents and he doesnt want to give you a headache

need something cold/smooth to calm down/relax? you can hold onto his metal arm

isnt sure how to handle your meltdowns but does what he can to help you, breaths with you if you need it maybe even has you rest your head on his chest to help you calm down when its over.

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

Let the Rain Fall | Bucky Barnes x Autistic!Reader | 10k

Bucky and Steve are looking for some new agents to join their team and your CV is incredible, so why are you holed away in the office? Your need for quiet and peace feels shocking in the always busy compound, but Bucky finds himself seeking you out more and more.

Series Warnings: some language, reader with a power, angst, depection of an autistic meltdown, workplace bullying, mental health whump, but also fluff, kissing and cosiness. Rated S for Bucky is supportive and A for advocating for yourself.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4 - to be posted 5th Feb

A/N: I've been really nervous to post this because, although I always put something of myself into reader characters, this is a paticularly vulnerable side of me.

I started writing this after I got a new job, began my journey to being diagnosed as autistic and while I was fighting for accomodations at work. It should be clear, but I want to say it too, that this really is my experience of being autistic and doesn't (and isn't meant to) represent everyone's experience. It would be impossible to capture everyone's experiences and, like all kinds of disability, every person will think and feel differently about their needs, abilities and limitations.

I hope you like this fic and even if you can relate to some of the negative aspects of the story, hopefully you can eenjoy the fluff too. There'll always be people who wilfully misunderstand and mistreat us, but equally there'll always be those who love us for who we are and help us thrive.

[zuyzu]

Through the Noise

Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x Autistic!Fem!Reader

Warnings: social anxiety, overwhelm, autism, power dynamics MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

WC: 1.4k

a/n: this is my first time writing a fanfic in English, this is my third language so please be patient with me and I hope you enjoy the fanfic

Chapter summary: At a Manhattan gala celebrating the launch of a noise-cancellation headset, CEO Bucky Barnes meets Plum, the innovative engineer behind the idea. Initially nervous, Plum warms up as Bucky shows genuine admiration for her work. As they bond over shared passions, the evening hints at a deeper connection between them.

Chapter 1 - A New Frequency

The luxurious Manhattan ballroom glimmered under a cascade of crystal chandeliers. Guests clad in sleek suits and elegant gowns mingled, champagne flutes in hand, their laughter and chatter blending into a cacophony that could easily overwhelm someone unprepared for it.

It was a grand evening for Barnes Technology, a celebration of their latest groundbreaking invention: a headset with selective noise cancellation. Designed to revolutionize the lives of those with hearing sensitivity, the headset was a marvel of technology, a testament to the company's innovation—and the vision of its CEO, Bucky Barnes.

Bucky stood by the bar, his sharp navy-blue suit fitting him perfectly. He exuded confidence, but his steel-blue eyes held a flicker of something more—an ever-present intensity that made him as intimidating as he was magnetic. A tumbler of whiskey rested in his hand, untouched, as he observed the room with quiet detachment. These parties were a necessity for someone in his position, but the glittering facades of wealth and charm rarely interested him.

Tonight, though, was different. Tonight, he was here to meet her.

Plum.

The name rolled through his mind like a melody. He hadn’t met her yet, but he’d read everything about her—a brilliant engineer and creative mind who had sold the idea for the headset to his company. The concept had been revolutionary, and it hadn’t taken long for Barnes Technology to bring it to life. Her work had been meticulous, her vision clear, and her understanding of the challenges faced by people with disabilities deeply personal.

She was here somewhere, a guest of honor at the party, though she had insisted on keeping her identity discreet.

Across the room, Plum stood near the edge of the crowd, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her dress. The soft plum-colored fabric—a nod to her nickname—flowed around her in gentle waves, and her hair was swept back in a way that framed her expressive face.

She had always been wary of events like this—crowded, noisy, unpredictable. But this invention was personal to her, a reflection of her own struggles as an autistic woman navigating a world that often felt too loud, too overwhelming.

When Barnes Technology had reached out to purchase her concept, she’d been hesitant. The idea had been her lifeline, something she’d worked on to make her own life easier. But when she’d read about the company and its CEO, she’d been intrigued. Bucky Barnes was known not just for his business acumen but for his commitment to creating technology that empowered people.

She hadn’t expected an invitation to the launch party, and she certainly hadn’t expected Bucky himself to request her presence.

Taking a deep breath, Plum scanned the room. She knew she should introduce herself to him—after all, it was his team that had brought her idea to life—but the thought of approaching the enigmatic CEO was daunting. She was no stranger to imposter syndrome, and being surrounded by some of the brightest minds in the industry only amplified it.

“Champagne?” A waiter appeared at her side, breaking her train of thought.

“No, thank you,” she replied softly, her voice almost drowned out by the ambient noise.

“You don’t drink either?”

The voice was smooth, warm, and surprisingly close. Plum turned her head to find herself face-to-face with Bucky Barnes.

Her breath hitched. He was taller than she’d expected, his presence commanding without being overbearing. Up close, his eyes were even more striking, like shards of ice tempered by fire.

“I, uh… no,” she stammered, her cheeks flushing. “Not really my thing.”

“Same here.” He offered her a small smile, setting his untouched whiskey on a nearby table. “Too many things can go wrong when you’re not fully in control.”

Plum nodded, unsure of what to say. She hadn’t expected him to approach her, let alone strike up a conversation.

“I’m Bucky Barnes,” he said, extending a hand.

“I know,” she replied, shaking his hand. His grip was firm but not overwhelming, his metal fingers cool against her skin. “I’m Plum.”

“I know,” he echoed, his smile widening.

She blinked, taken aback. “You… you do?”

“Of course. You’re the reason we’re all here tonight. Your idea was brilliant.”

Plum’s heart fluttered at the compliment, though she wasn’t sure if it was his words or the way he said them that affected her more.

“It wasn’t just me,” she said quickly, glancing down. “Your team did all the hard work.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” he countered. “Without your vision, none of this would exist.”

Plum met his gaze, and for a moment, the noise of the party seemed to fade into the background. There was something about the way he looked at her—steady, sincere, as if she were the only person in the room.

“So, what do you think of the final product?” he asked, gesturing toward the display where the headset was showcased.

“It’s incredible,” she said, her eyes lighting up. “You stayed true to the concept, but the execution… it’s better than I ever imagined.”

Bucky’s expression softened at her enthusiasm. “I’m glad you think so. Your feedback was invaluable during development.”

Plum’s brow furrowed. “But I didn’t…” She trailed off, realization dawning on her. “The emails. You read them.”

“Every single one,” he confirmed. “You didn’t think I’d let those insights go to waste, did you?”

She laughed softly, a sound that made Bucky’s chest tighten in an unfamiliar way.

“I didn’t think the CEO of a multimillion-dollar company would have the time,” she admitted.

“I make time for what matters,” he said simply, his tone making it clear that she was included in that category.

Plum’s cheeks grew warmer, and she looked away, unsure of how to respond.

“Would you like to see the prototypes up close?” Bucky asked, sensing her discomfort and wanting to put her at ease.

“I’d love to,” she said, grateful for the change in topic.

He led her toward a quieter corner of the room where the headsets were displayed. As they walked, Plum couldn’t help but notice the way people stepped aside for him, their expressions a mix of respect and awe.

“You have quite the presence,” she remarked.

He glanced at her, amused. “Is that a polite way of saying I’m intimidating?”

“Maybe,” she said, her lips curving into a small smile.

He chuckled, a low, rich sound that sent a shiver down her spine.

When they reached the display, Bucky picked up one of the headsets and handed it to her. “Go ahead, try it out.”

Plum hesitated, then slipped the sleek device over her ears. She adjusted the settings using the touch controls, marveling at how intuitive they were.

Within seconds, the noise of the party faded, replaced by a gentle hum that was far more manageable. Her shoulders relaxed, and she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

“It’s perfect,” she said, her voice tinged with awe.

Bucky watched her, captivated by the way her entire demeanor shifted. “It looks like it was made for you,” he said softly.

Plum glanced up at him, her heart skipping a beat at the intensity in his gaze. For a moment, she forgot about the party, the noise, and the crowd. It was just the two of them, standing in a bubble of quiet understanding.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“For what?” he asked.

“For seeing the value in this. For believing in me.”

Bucky’s expression softened, and he took a step closer. “Plum, you deserve to be believed in. Don’t ever doubt that.”

The sincerity in his words took her breath away, and for the first time that evening, she felt like she truly belonged.

As the night wore on, they continued to talk, their conversation flowing effortlessly. They discussed everything from technology to their favorite books, discovering shared interests and mutual respect.

By the end of the evening, Plum realized that Bucky Barnes wasn’t just the brilliant CEO she had admired from afar. He was kind, thoughtful, and—much to her surprise—deeply interested in her.

And as Bucky watched Plum leave the party, her plum-colored dress disappearing into the night, he couldn’t help but feel that his life had just shifted in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

For the first time in a long time, he found himself looking forward to what came next.

a/n: I really hope you liked it and I will soon create a masterlist for the fanfic 😊

[spacecowboyy0]

autistic reader upset over their clothes and trying to explain to bucky and nat but their words they are trying to say arent coming out so they just start sobbing hoping they understand

summary: autistic reader has a breakdown then has a nice bath and falls asleep nice and cozy!

notes: since anon didn't mention age reg. i didn't include it but made it general enough that it could be viewed as little!reader, obviously angsty, mentions of scratching arms and pulling hair while in distress

550 words

You drop to the floor, landing painfully on your knees, but you're so distressed it doesn't faze you. You're aware of Bucky beside you, and you think you can hear Natasha rushing towards the two of you.

You pull at your clothes and then switch to pulling your hair and scratching your arms. Everything is a blur. You don't hear your heavy sobs, nor the worried discussion between your caregivers.

"Hey bug, how can we help you, hm?"

You can't speak, your overstimulated mind can't form coherent words, only groans and miserable whines leave your mouth. You tug at your clothes more, hoping they get the message. It seems that it works.

"Ok I'm going to pull off your shirt, love." Hands take your shirt over your head. "Next I'm going to take your pants off." You shriek as your pants scrape against your legs as they come off, and your hands find themselves in your hair.

Your breathing is fast and inconsistent, but your tears stop and your mind slows down. You stay on the floor curled into yourself, trying to come down from the rush of emotions. You recognize the presence of Bucky and Nat nearby, they're silent but you know they're there.

"Mama?"

"Hey baby, I'm here. Papa's beside me too." You release a pained whine, instead of what you had hoped to be something intelligible. Maybe you're not totally recovered.

They don't speak until you sit up, not looking at them but at the floor.

"Bath?" A nice warm bath seemed nice, you’re starting to get cold without your clothes and without the adrenaline.

"Yeah sweetheart, we can do that." Bucky responds to you. He'd normally ask you who you wanted to help you bathe, but he knows that questions are too hard for you in this headspace. "How about Mama helps you with the bath and I'll warm up some food, okay?"

You nod, and look towards Natasha, not meeting her eyes but checking to see that she's there. She holds her hand out to you, and you accept it. Your legs are shaky as you get up, taking your time to stand.

You walk slowly to the bathroom and wait as Nat fills up the tub and gets your towel and cozy clothes. When there's enough water, Nat helps you step into the bath, and then she sits on the floor beside the tub, reading a book.

You lean into the water, submerging yourself until only your face is dry. You take deep breaths, relaxing your muscles into the soothing warmth. You realize how tired and hungry you are. Crying that much, and experiencing emotions that intense took a lot out of you.

~

When you get out of the bath, Nat dresses you in fuzzy pyjamas and cozy socks. She carries you into the living room where Bucky has set up food on the coffee table and put on a comforting show. He wraps you in a blanket when Nat sets you down on the couch.

You're silent as he feeds you, glazed eyes watching the tv. You start to nod off after 20 minutes and Bucky carries you to bed. They tuck you in, and your stuffie is placed in your arms. After two kisses on your forehead, you doze off almost immediately.

[salted-snailz]

Marvel Masterlist

Characters: Logan Howlett, Bucky Barnes, Loki Odinson, Stephen Strange, Peter Parker, Charles Xavier, Tony Stark

Genres: fluff, comfort, NSFW

Logan Howlett

His and His Only | gn!Reader 🔞

Summary: Drabble where Logan marks you so everyone knows you’re his. -Request? Nope

psstt, heads up! everything past this point is kinda old and not super well written IMO, do with that what you will

Bucky Barnes

His Caretaker | f!Reader

Summary: Bucky being insecure about his scars/injuries and you helping take care of them -Request? Yep!

Brown-Haired Rapunzel | f!Reader

Summary: Bucky’s been starting to grow his hair out a lot longer than usual, but never really says why. It’s not like you mind though, you love playing with his hair. -Request? Yep!

Stimming With Bucky | gn!Reader

Summary: Bucky with an autistic significant other who uses his metal arm as a stim toy. -Request? Nope

Grocery Shopping With Bucky | gn!Reader

Summary: Silly headcanons of going grocery shopping with Bucky. -Request? Nope

Dating Bucky Barnes | f!Reader

Summary: Headcanons of dating Bucky as a Hard of Hearing person. -Request? Yep!

Loki Odinson

Thunderstorms With Loki | gn!Reader

Summary: Loki comforting an autistic reader during a thunderstorm. -Request? Yep!

Having Tics Around Loki | gn!Reader

Summary: Dating Loki as an autistic person and seeing how he reacts to you having a tic attack. -Request? Yep!

Fear Of Bugs With Loki | gn!Reader

Summary: Loki comforting an autistic reader who has a huge fear of bugs. -Request? Yep!

Head Pats | f!Reader

Summary: Loki having an autistic girlfriend who likes her hair played with. -Request? Yep!

NSFW Alphabet | implied afab!Reader 🔞

Summary: Letters A, D, F, I, K, M, W, X of the NSFW alphabet. -Request? Yep!

Peter Parker

Dating Peter Parker | f!Reader

Summary: Headcanons of what I think it would be like to date Peter Parker. -Request? Nope

Stephen Strange

Meeting Stephen Strange | gn!Reader

Summary: Meeting Stephen Strange for the first time as an autistic person. -Request? Nope

Charles Xavier

Migraines And Mind Palaces | f!mutant!Reader

Summary: Charles helps reader with her migraine. -Request? Nope

Tony Stark

Tony Stark With An Autistic Kid | gn!kid!Reader

Summary: Tony Stark having an autistic kid with a special interest in marine biology. -Request? Yep!

all graphics are made by @saradika-graphics <3

[timbit-robin-art]

good sir and master of goobers can we get the official top ten timbit robin comic book headcanons (not clickbait) (gone wrong) (shocking)

Baha, I sure hope this isn’t a “gone wrong” ask. That would be terrible. I’m also not sure how I would rank these, so they’re in no particular order. Sorry if I misunderstood the ask.

Some of these might not make sense to you guys, and that’s okay. You can probably tell I’m heavily projecting with a lot of these. If I have a problem, so do my favorite characters. It’s our problem now, fellas.

Tim Drake has the flavor of autism that makes him like rhythm games. When it’s a slow night at the cave, he’ll sometimes play a couple of songs with the sound off (and all Bruce can hear is the aggressive tapping of Tim’s thumbs; he is very confused).

Gambit isn’t a huge fan of dogs. I can see him being chased or bit by one or when he was younger, making him wary of them ever since. He also just doesn’t like how high energy they are. Or the oils their coats have (hint of autistic Gambit?).

Dick Grayson is very good at spotting neurodivergent people. I love headcanons like autistic Bruce and Wally with ADHD, so Dick hanging around them gifted him the Neurodivergent Radar(TM). He definitely knew Tim was autistic the moment they met. I’d also like to think Kori has some autistic and ADHD characteristics (as in if she was an earthling, she would 100% be diagnosed with autism/ADHD), so it’s funny to think that Dick is surrounded by autism and ADHD on all sides.

Bucky Barnes has SM (selective mutism). People used to give him grief for it when he was younger, but now that he’s the Winter Soldier, he gets away with it easier. Many people think it’s just a quirk he has post-conditioning.

Louis Lane is dyslexic (this is actually inspired by every time she’s misspelt something in her articles). I don’t think she would be diagnosed, but everyone around her 100% knows. Clark and Jimmy have been trying to find nice ways to bring it up to her.

You’ve heard of autistic Scott Summers, now get ready for ADHD Jean Grey. I’d like to think being a telepath is already a very ADHD thing to be, but Jean definitely had it before her mutation began to show. This made her telekinesis a nightmare to train, and even to this day, she’ll accidentally pick up random objects and have them float behind her while she’s trying to complete tasks around the Institute.

Jaime Reyes fidgets with everything. He has a habit of accidentally touching things without asking permission, and everyone around him has learned to watch Jaime very carefully when they’re dealing with things that shouldn’t be touched. Tim has been startled on many occasions by Jaime fiddling with his cape. But Tim has learned to adjust to it, as long as Jaime doesn’t tug or anything. Edward gave him his very first fidget cube.

Storm’s major hyper-fixation is plants. She knows everything about botany and has to keep her excitement contained whenever someone asks a plant-related question. I think people like Jean and Gambit have picked up on this, so they decide to prompt some botany discussions with her because they like how happy she looks when she subconsciously unmasks to talk about plants.

Hal Jordan can’t sit through meetings at all. Everyone initially thought he was trying to be difficult on purpose (it especially annoyed Bruce), but when Barry (someone who also has trouble with meetings) admits he has ADHD, they all kind of connected the dots with Hal. I don’t see him having it nearly as bad as Barry or Kyle, but it’s definitely there.

Peter Parker likes film cameras with the film advance lever. He likes the clicks and how the tension feels when he cranks it back. And then the click of the shutter button is a nice bonus. It’s like a fidget toy to him. He’s kind of worried he’ll one day break a camera from how often he does it, but he still catches himself doing it a lot.

So… yeah. 10 Timbit Robin headcanons for you. I’m sorry these all turned out with some sort of autism or ADHD thing, that’s just how I connect with characters. My headcanons are always either “this character listens to (band)” or “this character has (insert problem here).” I hope someone out there can see my vision.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Autistic Steve Rogers my beloved 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

Steve who just thought he was different. He didn’t really care too much, too worried about the fact that his body was constantly failing, the money that wasn’t there that needed to be there, the fact that his Momma was gettin’ sicker by the day. Who cares that he can’t understand most of the other kids at school.

Then, he wakes up. His baby’s gone, his life is gone. And for some reason, he still ain’t got a clue how to talk to people. He sorta thought Erskine would fix that, but… maybe be don’t need fixing?

Sometimes he hates being this way. When he does press conferences and has to wear special contacts that Tony designed so that the lights don’t get to him so much, and the earplugs (also Tony) that make it so he processes noise better. During said press conferences, he has to have Nat next to him to basically translate. He feels like he’s crazy some days. A lot of days. 

Other times, he wants to cry over the stupidest things. Why do the tags on my clothes feel like claws? Why does the taste of a certain food make him want to crawl out of his skin? Why can’t he be normal?!

Bucky comes back, and Steve clings to him. Bucky knows, Bucky understands. Bucky knows that sometimes physical touch drives him up the wall, and that sometimes he craves being hugged until it feels like he’s being crushed. Bucky doesn’t judge him when he can’t make eye contact, when he has to hole up under piles of covers because the world is too much. Instead, Bucky just makes him his favorite food, gives him his big headphones and weighted blanket, and holds him tight if he feels up to it.

Steve Rogers, who shows little kids like him that it does get better, and that they’ll be okay. 

No, but there really is something about Steve that makes so much sense when compared to the signs and experience of autism!!

(Also, generally, that's something I love so bad about Steve's arc and character. You can apply so many lenses to him and see his story as an allegory for so many different things. Queerness especially.)

"Steve who just thought he was different. He didn’t really care too much, too worried about the fact that his body was constantly failing, the money that wasn’t there that needed to be there, the fact that his Momma was gettin’ sicker by the day. Who cares that he can’t understand most of the other kids at school."

YES

I agree wholeheartedly that he doesn't need fixing. However, when he first wakes to the future, he probably just brushes it off because it's been so many years. Of course, he can't talk to people! There's nothing going on with him. It's an excuse to bury the tugging feeling of being different that he sometimes hates so much 🙃

Ooh, and that's so interesting--the contacts and earplugs. I'm always so intrigued to think about Steve's hyperattuned senses and those being affected by his autism, too, would, I can only be imagine, make shit like press conferences practically agonizing. Sandpaper against his skin. Special contacts and covert earplugs would probably do him a lot of good!

Speaking of Steve's superhero responsibilities interacting with his autism in layers, I bet those sensory overload/texture issues/clothing sensitivities get so much worse post-mission when he's adrenaline crashing. And now I'm picturing him crying and twisting violently around to rip himself out of his cap suit, and I just hurt my own feelings. Oof.

But Bucky being back, yes!

Bucky understands, and it's enough for Steve. And, maybe, if you're thinking that Steve has no idea why he works the way he does since he probably wouldn't've been diagnosed in the 20s, he could encourage him to seek a diagnosis. I enjoy the headcanons that Bucky, being a science nerd, would adapt to modern technology faster, so maybe he finds online others' experiences with autism or whatnot? And I get that being diagnosed is controversial within neurodivergent communities, but I do imagine having a formal one, as a national icon, would have profound ripple affects on Americans and Steve might seek it out, if not for understanding himself, then for the greater good and lessening of stigma. Exactly what you wrote-!

"Steve Rogers, who shows little kids like him that it does get better, and that they’ll be okay."

I hadn't read that yet when I wrote about him being an example, lol, but great minds think alike.

Anyway, yes! Thank you very much for the thoughts <3

P.S. I think you'd like these @turtle-steverogers posts about autistic Steve Rogers here and here

[goldrshr]

me at any social event ever

[logansgaar]

I don't know if other autistic people do this but if I feel a texture I don't like I can't stop myself smacking my hand on a nearby hard surface, like I'm trying to smack the feeling off me and I can't control it. I got thinking about characters with super strength like Peter and Bucky doing the same

they break a fucking wall or furniture because they touched a Bad Texture and reflexively smacked the nearest hard surface. the confusion if it's the first time too, maybe after Peter gets his powers or the first time Bucky ever feels clothes made from PVC. getting asked why the fuck they did that and they don't know, it just happened because that texture was Absolutely Not Okay.

[parasiterileymoon]

Someone PLEASE send me a story request my inbox is dry as a desert