#he’s autistic. you can’t change my mind.

[goblinbabe666]

charlie is so autistic coded it isn’t even funny. obscure special interests. doesn’t understand social cues or norms. you can never tell if he’s joking or serious. just “gets” music to the point he’s a genius with it. has to have his own psychological trauma explained to him so he can realize it’s trauma. same outfit 4/7 days of the week. safe foods are weird and also all he wants to eat. big feelings that he can’t process without a meltdown. vocal and physical stims. pattern recognition. doesn’t like physical affection. has meltdowns when overstimulated. loves routine and gets upset when his schedule is changed. it’s all autism babey.

[thesmollestsnek]

I’ve seen a lot of fics n headcanons where Dick Grayson has adhd, and I see you. But also. Consider: Tim Drake having (undiagnosed) adhd. As a certified adhd bitch myself, I have A Lot to say about this, so more under the cut.

Before we get into it, just a quick disclaimer: pretty much all of my dc knowledge is from fandom osmosis, so. If you see something that’s ooc or contradicts canon no you didn’t. Now with that out of the way, on to the main event!

Okay, so! First of all, let’s start at the very beginning. That’s right, I’m talking about Tim Drake’s “night photography”! Now I’m not gonna say neurotypical kids don’t get up to some dumb ass shit when left unsupervised for long periods of time, because they absolutely do. But. The complete disregard for the many, many dangers a young child alone in Gotham at night would face is still notable. And he doesn’t just ignore danger - he runs straight at it. That shows an impressive lack of impulse control, and inability to factor future consequences into current decisions, both of which are hallmarks of adhd. Plus, hyperfixation kinda… changes? How you perceive things. So if Tim was hyperfixated on getting the perfect shot whenever a major crime/fight happened near him, he may not have processed that he was danger at all during the part most likely to scare a neurotypical child away.

Next, we have the coffee. Yes, I know the coffee thing is super overblown by the fandom and not really supported by canon but ssshshhhhhh my world my rules Tim drinks lots of coffee. Now, this one’s kinda obvious, but caffeine is a stimulant and surprise surprise so are most adhd meds. I have seen firsthand how ppl with undiagnosed adhd will mainline caffeine as a form of self medication, whether they’re aware of it or not. Some people use soda or energy drinks, but coffee’s also a really popular choice for this kinda thing. So not only is it completely plausible for someone with undiagnosed adhd to self medicate by drinking a shitton of coffee, it’s extremely common.

Next up! We have the insomnia. Which, again, I think might be played up a lot in fic? But this is my world and you’re reading in it, so. Tim’s an insomniac. This is one of the less well known symptoms of adhd, but again I speak from firsthand experience when I say it’s a big one. Insomnia is extremely common among ppl with adhd, for a couple reasons. One is time blindness, which I’ll come back to in the next point. But also? It’s just really hard to turn your brain off. And if a large portion of Tim’s brain space is being devoted to casework, guess what. That inability to turn one’s brain off will manifest as late night case solving blitzes. Not to mention that hyperfixation, again, changes the way you perceive things. When I hyperfixate on something I often lose hours at a time, and bodily needs like hunger, tiredness, the bathroom, etc aren’t just unimportant they straight up don’t register. With the number of times I’ve come out of a hyperfocus to realize that I have a dehydration headache that’s been brewing for at least an hour, or have completely skipped a major meal, or desperately need to pee, I can 100% believe Tim not noticing any sleep deprivation symptoms until he’s finished whatever he was working on. And I, again, speak from experience when I say that if you happen to hyperfixate at something at the wrong time of night you will be staying up way later than is reasonable. Which brings me to my next point of…

Time blindness! My most favoritist thing in the whole wide world! (/sarcasm) This shit can and absolutely will fuck up your ability to be a functioning human if you let it. Having no internal clock causes more problems than the obvious losing track of time. It means your appetite is sporadic at best and you could very easily forget to eat. It means your sleep schedule has a tendency to just disintegrate if you don’t keep on it. It means being completely dependent on external clocks to know how long things are/should be taking, even for stupid shit like cooking food or brushing your teeth. It means that if you don’t set an alarm for something there is a very real possibility that something isn’t happening no matter how much you want or need it to. In short, it completely fucks up your ability to care for yourself without a lot of external regimented support. Now, who does that remind you of? Which member of the batfamily is known for neglecting his own health? I may not read many comics but the sheer number of “Tim Drake subsists solely on coffee and spite” jokes on ao3 and tumblr is very telling.

His brains. Tim is very, very smart. Have you ever heard the phrase “twice exceptional?” It describes Tim Drake to a t. Plus, I’m living proof of how you can be both smart of brain and dumb of ass. This may be more of a “my family who just so happens to consist entirely of twice exceptional adhd dumbasses” thing than something most ppl with adhd experience, but. You can be really smart and incredible at putting together complex plans, both ahead of time and on the fly, and still have. No common sense whatsoever. Which seems to be a lot of Tim’s characterization: incredibly smart while simultaneously being a complete dumbass. So make of that what you will.

And most compellingly? I think it’s funny. This kid is brothers with Dick Grayson and best friends with Bart Allen and especially next to those two people would never expect Tim to be the one with the quote unquote “cant sit still disorder”. Yknow what? Let’s take this a step further. Let’s make Bart autistic. (I don’t know enough about the flash family to say how accurate this is but for the sake of the joke let’s say he is). People see Impulse standing next to Red Robin and they think they know which one is adhd and which is autistic and they are Wrong. Tim n Bart are Completely unaware of this but the rest of their team finds it hilarious. There’s probably at least one running joke about it.

[hoots-the-owl]

Leon S. Kennedy has autistic swag

[cipherinator]

Also

[bloodywonder1846]

I’m so glad I’m not the only one who’s thought of this.

Autism Acceptance Month: Autistic Headcanons - Sweeney Todd* (Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street)

“At last, my right arm is complete again!”

*shown here as played by Josh Groban

(📹: @bikinibottomdayz @theriddletrades)

(inspired by this post from @muma-kitty)

[vatelixx]

The enormity of my desire (disgusts me),

Very very early seasons (1 — start of 2) Spencer Reid x afab!BAU!reader

SMUT!! (and fluff, some angst in relation to Spencer’s past because it can never be too happy, we’re not allowed nice things here). first times & explorations of intimacy.

──── autistic spencer (it’s a central theme to the plot), reader is actually morally good (for once).

Warnings: sub spencer (what did u even expect?), heavy corruption kink, first time for Spencer (all i do is sit around and think about how i’d like to devirgin that genius), HEAAVY praise kink, very very inexperienced Spencer, slight? oral fixation, they’re both just rlly down bad (i told u i would write something light, i delivered), Reader is whipped, Spencer is sooo much worse. Biblical references, Religious imagery, i think i talk about math equations???? And random metaphors/complexes.

w.c: 4k

a/n: i rlly wanted to explore aspects of spencer that criminal minds swept under the rug (cough cough his undiagnosed autism, cough cough his social exclusion, cough cough his crippling fear of forever being alone). Next upload will prob be heavy angst/no smut post-prison spencer (god help me please, i must be a masochist for the way i make myself suffer)

───────────────

There’s a lot Spencer hasn’t done.

He knows he’s behind, that he never quite caught up when it came to the taboo of sex and intimacy. Everything, everything, he’s ever had has been centred around exclusion, alienation, he feels like he’s lived on pause. Frozen, never advancing, stuck on ‘go’. Touch isn’t easy for him, interpersonal relationships are worse. He’s different, god he’s heard that his entire life. ‘You’re not weird, you’re just… different’, but maybe he is weird. Maybe his whole existence is just one big cosmic fuck you, because he’s missed out on so much, so much that he can’t understand, comprehend, act out against. Falling behind; this is the only area of life where he continuously comes up short, inexperienced, naive, he’s not used to being incompetent.

He’s never experienced want the way others do. He could never just hook up, fall into the body of another, expose them to the vulnerable elements of his stature. Open himself up to scrutiny. He might be a genius, he might be intellectually advanced, accepted into a multitude of ivy leagues before he was old enough to vote, but there’s drawbacks to his success. Social awkwardness, an inability to blend, mould, be one of the crowd. Sometimes he wishes he was average, something grey and mundane, so far reduced from the person he is now— it would all be plainly simple.

But he’s not, he’s not. So, this is the weight he has to bare for the brain he never asked for.

Pyrrhic victory, he’ll always be renowned for his intelligence. ‘You’re going to change the world kid,’ maybe, but simultaneously, he’ll never get to experience said world. There’s a chance he’ll always be on the outside, watching normal people gravitate towards each other. Live dreary lives of domesticated simplicity. Stacked bills, arguments over money and parenting techniques. Going to bed angry, only to turn around, mid-night, and resolve it, to not sleep on bad blood. To take them off the couch, to settle into predestined sides of the mattress.

There’s not enough possessions in the world he’d sacrifice just to experience love.

Hedgehog dilemma, the challenges of human intimacy. The hedgehogs want to move closer, to preserve heat during cold. But, they are forced, biologically cursed to remain apart, in order to prevent themselves from harming each other. Spencer doesn’t want to be hurt, to hurt, it’s a morbid byproduct of his upbringing; all he ever endured was mockery.

He thought he’d never get to experience the physical, carnal aspects of existence. And sure, he made peace with the notion, accepted the consequences of being born atypical. Learnt to live without.

But then, oh then there was you. Pretty, intellectual you who quite literally tipped his world on it’s axis. Upheaved the most stable of routines. New to the BAU, he wanted you to last. To stay around, endure the worst of the job. If only for his selfish benefit of orbiting in your presence.

He remembers how it all started: Detroit, another case, more budget cuts, forced proximity that sent you spiralling into a shared bed for the night.

“You’re my favourite person in the team.” you admitted, “And I know that’s dumb, because we’ve spoken the least, but… you’re just, so you. That’s a good thing by the way, a really really good thing.”

He couldn’t quite believe you were talking about him. Spencer, who spilt coffee, and slipped into ceaseless tangents about obscure information. Spencer, who walked into walls when you were around, stumbling over his sentences before deftly, very astutely, giving up, walking away mid-conversation. He wore sweater-vests and colourful mismatched socks, it’s not like he was going to be crowned ‘white boy of the month’.

“Not dumb.” Spencer had responded, shifting closer to tangle further into the warm mess of this accidental situation. “That’s good. I like being me.” he mumbled. “Sometimes…. sometimes it sucks. But that’s okay. I think it’s okay?”

He moved to press his face into the crook of your neck, but you were faster, gathering him by tousled hair, forcing him to look you in the eye.

Oh.

“Please. Please.” he whispered, breaking apart, fracturing, “Please like me. And more than in a weird, ‘just friends or coworkers’ way.”

You did. You do. He should’ve kissed you then, but maybe he was scared, maybe he couldn’t quite discern his feelings, separate the logic from the emotional. So he waited, waited, waited until now. Your third date, you take him to an exhibition within a science centre: replica models of the solar system, filling rooms up, papier-mâché sculptures illuminated by light.

Best date ever. You listen, even when he’s rambling about planets, when he’s pointing out that yes, Jupiter’s density is less than water. That, technically, it would float in a bathtub, if one was built to accommodate its size. You don’t care that he’s not exactly the staple-piece for conventionally attractive males. That he’s nerdish, and awkward, and so so inexperienced when it comes to this.

In his apartment, later, much later, he looks at you, looks at you like you’re the one who just solved the fucking Riemann hypothesis.

“What do you want the most? Like,… if you could ask for one thing.” you say, and god, Spencer loves when you pose these deep, hypothetical questions. When you make him think, because you, you are the biggest challenge to his intellect yet.

You. He wants to say. But he settles for ‘Being remembered,’ instead. He works to untangle layers of fabric, your scarf, your jacket, letting out an exasperated laugh when he meets your amused gaze. “Right now though? I think I’d settle for kissing you.”

You cup his jaw, tracing your fingers along the sharp curve, and god he has perfect anatomy. “Settle huh? You should be more appreciative.”

He leans forward to press a chaste kiss against your lips. Drawing away for a moment, just to return because he’s never had this before. Because for the first time in his life, he gets it. He gets physical attraction, even if it took time. He’s kissed, been kissed, yes. But he could count those moments on one hand, and if you asked how many he truly enjoyed, he’d be left with no fingers raised.

“Believe me, i’m very appreciative…”

This isn’t like before, what he felt in the past; he expected something monotone, flighty, a brief fleeting moment of satisfaction. Means to an end. No, it’s actually the best thing he’s ever experienced, and he’s going to become so insufferable after this, because he’s just found out he is very very into kissing.

Correction: he’s very into kissing you.

In the moment between parting, and touching again, he assumes you to be divinity personified. Spencer has never been religious, but something of this magnitude should be canonised. He wants to ask you. Ask you when you became this beautiful. When you became the person he needs to kiss a second time, kiss a third time, kiss until his lips go numb.

A shaky inhale, a pause. “I hope… I hope that it was okay - I mean, it was good for me. Really, really good. Um—“ to be honest, he’s just glad he didn’t say thankyou.

“Yeah, Spence. That was… wow.” you draw your bottom lip between teeth, press into tissued flesh. Jesus Christ. “Wanna try again?”

Yes yes yes yes. He looks at you, pupils blown obscenely out of proportion. Part of him wants to say, ‘why didn’t we do this sooner?’ But that’s not fair; he’s only ready now. Now that he feels, now that he might be a little in love with you.

“Please,” is his answer, and then he’s catching your face in the palms of his hand, tugging your lips back to his, because admittedly, they have ached in the long, extensive period you were apart (53 seconds).

This time it deepens and Spencer sees stars. It’s an astronomical phenomenon, something interstellar— and god, he’s relating kissing to space. They should just tape the word ‘virgin’ to his back and call it a day.

There’s soft little breathy sighs escaping his mouth now, bleeding into yours. And yeah, spontaneous combustion might be a real threat. Actually no, it would hardly be spontaneous; there’s a clear, clear cause, and it just so happens to be your ruinous lips.

This is an entirely new facet of the human experience. The kiss is electric; he’s always been partial toward physics, and right now his veins carry an alternating current.

You know, he could probably write a thesis based on this.

You both stumble back back back until he’s hitting a wall, and yes, thankyou. He’s making all sorts of sounds he can’t justify, and it’s a supernova, an infinite black pool of— oh, he thinks he might die, ascend, transcend, when you press your thumb against his chin, hold your lips at just a little slant from his. Force him to wait there.

“Please,” he’s never been above begging. A worthy sacrifice, one he’ll certainly repeat again because you return to the kiss, and the world around him dissolves.

You’ve got one hand tangled in his hair. Tousled auburn, fingers sinking into strands, pushing all the way down to the root. The other is still cupping his face, keeping him close, keeping him selfishly close actually.

“Spence,” you murmur. And yes. Yes. He likes that. The way his name sounds rolling off your tongue, like it was destined to be there. Like he was destined to be yours.

His world is ending. So is yours. Fuck it, he presses himself against your thigh, and ohmygodohmygod. He’s being loud, he’s actually being so criminally loud right now because apparently he’s the most whorish virgin to ever exist.

“I lied, I lied,” he admits between messy kisses, “When you asked what I wanted the most? It’s not to be remembered, well it is, its on the list. But—“ he groans, kisses you again because talking interrupts matters that are more important. Like your lips.

“I wanna cum.”

Eloquent.

Spencer Reid being dirty? Oh, it’s hot, it’s so hot to reduce someone to such an obscene state. To reduce him, the boyish fumbling nerd (who just so happens to be the most beautiful person in existence) to such a degrading mess.

Still, there’s shock. Not because he said it (you greatly appreciate the indecent things falling from those pretty lips right now), but because—

“You’ve never? Haven’t even experienced it once? By yourself?”

He should be embarrassed, but his lips are red, his eyes are glassy, and the bulge in his pants is straining to be touched. “Never,” he sighs shakilly. “Never, and i’m— i’m starting to understand why it’s so popular.”

He whimpers, pushes himself against your thigh, because the friction, yes. “Is that weird? Please don’t think i’m weird. Because I’m really, really weird. Just maybe… not in that way?”

It’s never been enough. His body sometimes feels numb to the touch, and yet still so very overstimulated. Like he manually blocks himself from feeling, already prepared for the flinch. How does he explain that life hasn’t been kind to him? That he hates his body because of what people made it out to be when he was a child. Stripping him naked, tying him to a goalpost, always the underdog. The one to be targeted, tormented.

“It’s actually kinda hot,” you interrupt his thoughts, and just because you’re evil, corrupt, the worst, you press your thigh harder against his clothed cock, palm covering his mouth when a plethora of whiny sounds escape his mouth.

It’s performative, really. Alone in his apartment, there’s no need for noise control. So when your thumb slips between parted, swollen lips, he knows to suck. The average human hand has between 10,000 and 10 million bacteria, and Spencer does not actually give a fuck anymore.

“To think that you’ve never even felt what it’s like. That you’re gonna feel it with me for the first time. I get to see that shit— god, you’re going to look so fucking pretty for me.”

You draw your thumb out of his mouth, and he has the audacity to whine.

He’s never wanted anything more in his entire life. It’s all tertiary now. Only this matters.

“Please don’t praise me—“ he protests, “I’ll probably finish in my pants.”

“Praise kink, noted.”

You laugh, and he can only groan, curse existence for being this cruel to his overworked, undervalued body. “Don’t— don’t laugh. You’re not supposed to laugh, that can heighten performance anxiety. Increase insecurity, and…” he sighs, “You do not care. Sadistic tendencies, noted.”

“Shut up. Wanna see you.” you say, and he’s just muttering breathless mhm’s, too delirious to function; his body is betraying the last iota of self-control like the little whore it apparently is.

His sweater comes off first, then his top. Discarded fabric, his raised arms when you mutter a candid ‘up’, giving way to exposed skin. In response? Your pupils dilate. Spencer knows because he’s analysing, profiling. If you hate him like this, he’s fairly certain he’ll drag himself into a self-dug early grave. He wishes he was being melodramatic. That your approval didn’t have such a substantial impact on his carefully-constructed ego. But, oh, it does. It does.

Thin, with a long, defined torso, he blushes, rose blemished skin, when your hands drag across his stomach. He’d love to say he reacts sanely, suavely. Urbane to your touch. But that would be a total, discreditable lie. Instead, his back arches, seeking contact, following the path of your fingertips with pitiful desperation. He feels malleable, willing to bend and contort, if only to feel more.

“How can you not think you’re pretty, Spence?” His pants are gone next, then his stained boxers, fabric borderline sheer now, soaked through with pre-cum.

Spencer feels betrayed. His body never responds, not to his own hands, not to his own thoughts. And yet, the moment you’re on him, he’s a live-wire. It’s sick, heinous, double-crossing. Maybe it’s purposeful, done just to spite him. Figures.

“Holy shit, look at you. Look at how perfect you are.” Spencer wants to object, because he distinctly told you not to praise him. However,.. right now, the lights are on but nobody is home. Brain-death, he’s certainly in a vegetative state.

“Ohmygodohmygod,” he whimpers, because no amount of knowledge about human anatomy and physiology could prepare him for how he feels under your touch. No amount of education in the psychology of relationships could inform him of how viscerally wrong the way you look at him feels.

Because it’s not wrong, not all. It’s the most right he’s ever felt, and he’ll tell you that if you’ll just keep it up.

The sounds he’s making are phonographic, lewd, you’ve given up on trying to stifle them now. Where have you been hiding? Your eyes fall, and he wants to blush away from the exhibiting gaze, but he’s just…. too far gone; the thought of your touch outweighs any previous reticence. Then, oh then, you drop to your knees, and shit. He expected your thigh, maybe your hand if he was lucky, not—

This. Your mouth, your tongue, your pretty lips; god, god, is this a sin? Because if it is, he’ll take it.

“Please,” he whines, and he can’t look anymore because the sight alone is going to send him over the edge. He’s gripping the wall, scrambling scrambling for purchase, because he’s trying not to grip you, but how exactly does he keep this respectful?

He’s pretty sure they’re past that, considering your mouth is currently wrapped around his cock, and he’s debauched.

You want this, you want him, he feels like he’s transcended humanity, like he’s become someone, anyone and anything, that deserves the way you’re taking him apart, piece by piece. In the aftermath, he hopes you don’t leave a single ounce of him intact.

“Wanna kiss you. Oh— oh oh,” he’s sobbing now, “Come back here. Miss your mouth— even if it’s,” he looks down and that’s a mistake. “Please.”

Of course it would be Spencer to disrupt the best (and admittedly only) head of his life because he needs you closer.

You oblige, raising from your knees, and Spencer thinks it might be sacrilegious. But then again, he feels religion in your touch so it can’t be too profane. Maybe? He’s not sure, he’s not sure and it doesn’t matter. Ethics and morality have long since disintegrated, sins are engrained into humankind. He almost wants to thank Eve for tearing into the apple, because it’s allowed this irreverence to occur.

Spencer blindly follows you through the apartment, stumbling and muttering until he can collapse against the bed. Baring his pretty neck as his head hits the bedframe. Tangled in sheets, draped over his lap, his deft fingers run across your waist, mapping out the structure of your frame. If only to remember, recite this act of blasphemy.

“Spence,” you whisper, and then his lips are crashing into yours, stealing breath, stealing sanity. He whimpers, murmurs a protest when you draw back, and you can only laugh. “Lets get you off, yeah? You wanna feel an orgasm, pretty boy?”

“Yes, yes please. That would uh— yes.” he’s not even sure how he’s conscious right now. His body, god his body, has endured more pleasure in the last hour than it has for the majority of his life. Your hands scathe, and Spencer is willing to indefinitely burn, if just to feel them one more time.

You only stop to take off your clothes, and surely there needs to be prep? To reaffirm, he knows anatomy, the correct procedure, how the transgression is supposed to occur. And yet, that’s from a clinical, objective mindset. Do this, do that, etc etc. Nothing works out like that in practice.

You’re so wet, panties stained through, he spares a moment to run his fingers across your thighs, hand slipping beneath fabric to graze your clit. The moan that follows has him distracted, thumb tracing circlets, over and over until you’re pulling back to return the balance. The balance, which admittedly is skewed, tipped scales, you’re on top. He falls to the weight of your influence.

And yeah, he’s more than fine with that. Jesus, you drag your panties down, down your thighs, your legs, then they’re reaching your ankles, pooling there for a moment before they’re being discarded, tossed somewhere on his floor — leaving behind a souvenir that yes, yes this happened.

“I can’t,” he says, burying his face into your shoulder when you take him. It’s slow, sinking onto his cock like every inch of warmth will destroy him. Maybe it will. Maybe he doesn’t care, because he deserves this. He deserves to feel after so much repression.

Or maybe, maybe he’s just become the biggest slut known to mankind. Likely.

Your body presses against his, and he thinks he’s going to disintegrate, because he feels so good. He understands now, he understands why people do this. Why it’s integral to the function of most. This is the best day of his life. This. Is. The. Best. Day. Of. His. Life.

There’s this noise, this pathetically loud whimper when you start to roll your hips— and oh your body is wet against him, and you’re so tight, and it’s perfect because he doesn’t have to do anything.

He can just sit here, look pretty, and cry.

He knows he’s a giver, that he’d bleed himself dry for you. It’s a curse, he supposes: so willing to bend backwards for the satisfaction of the people he trusts. But, this is foreign, and he wants to watch you, aimlessly stare, dumb and empty-headed as you wield his body like a weapon. Turn him into something perniciously yours.

Spencer has no reference for what an orgasm is supposed to feel like, and yeah, he’s really good at guessing in these type of situations. Because he’s rolling his thumb over your clit again, and he wants to draw it into his mouth, to see you laid out across bedsheets, writhing, unable to do anything but suffocate him with your thighs.

You clench around him, back arched, releasing a series of strained moans. With one hand tangled in his dishevelled hair, the other pressed against his chest, your face contorts, your body stiffens. There’s no way his incessant whimpering just got you off?

Okay. So you like him desperate. Point taken.

“Please— please, wanna cum. Wanna feel it so bad,” he’s slurring over his words, sentences punctured by devastating whimpers. And look at him, asking for permission, waiting even though his body has been teetering on the edge for so long now.

“Shh, shh..” you press your forehead against his, and he melts. Reoccurring theme. His hand grips your jaw, thumb pushed firmly against your chin, keeping you close. “You wanna cum for me, baby? Gonna give me your first?”

“Mhm— mhm…” is all he can say. When you pick up your pace, he has to burrow his face into the crook of your neck, whimpers messy and broken off, suppressed against your warm skin.

“Oh. Oh…” he repeats, again. Like there’s anything else he could utter, because this is earth-shattering.

It’s the sun, and all eight planets combined, and the universe collapsing in on itself, and he’s bucking, squirming, releasing into you, spilling deep.

He sobs. Breaks down. Because it’s so so good, and he can’t believe he ever deprived his body of this.

Neediest whore to ever exist, apparently.

It takes him a while to come back. Longer to regain motor function, to sink into present day. Life, and expectations, and everything, everything, your touch eradicated.

“Just… just stay like this?” he asks, collapsing against your body after he’s drawn out of you. There’s mess, evidence of your ministrations, but cleanliness seems futile when he’s blissed out, caught in a post-orgasmic haze that yes yes yes he needed so badly.

You card your hands through his hair, watch the way he stares up at you, large, widened eyes, chin resting against your chest. “Hi,” he mutters dumbly.

“Spence,” Spence, Spence, Spence. He could drown himself in that nickname.

“Yeah?” he breathes out.

“You we’re so good—“

He rolls away from you, finding a home for his face in the pillow. “Stop. Stop.” he groans, “Don’t do that. You’re going to destroy me. I’m not… equipped for this, for you. Someone should just sedate me, put me out of my misery, a coma sounds like—“

He tilts his head to the side, relinquishing, “Okay. Sorry. Meltdown over. Can we shower? Then maybe do this again? Which will make the shower inconsequential, I suppose. There’s a new documentary I want to watch, and oh, you still haven’t seen the third Star Wars—“

He’s happy, content, over the fucking moon, to be silenced with your lips. “Yeah,” he murmurs, hand interlocking with yours as you both fall back against the mattress, “Let’s do this again.”

[catsushinyakajima]

KLANCE FIC RECS FOR THE NEW YEARS RECAP PART ONE

2024 has come to an end! Here are all of my fav fav Voltron fics and authors that I've interacted with throughout the year. I'm trying to make this list as diverse as possible so everyone can find some tropes they like but I PROMISE all these fics are worth a read. Listed in no particular order, we have:

fear no more the heat o' the sun by taromi | 28k | Canon-Divergent

This fic is an ASTOUNDING depiction of Keith's perspective on life and how Lance changes things up. Every scene between them added not only to their dynamic, but also to our vision of Keith. We see how he is and how things unfold so beautifully. The prose is beautiful and the scenes carry both fluff/emotion so well.

Silver Bells by heavily_caffeinated/@heavilycaffeinatedsblog | 86.3k | Christmas AU

I'm not one for much holiday cheer/hallmark-esque tropes, but caf's writing still managed to draw me in so much. I applaud Caf sincerely for their incredible diligence to upload a chapter everyday (totaling to 86k words in 25 days!!), and their enthusiasm to include everyone in it's creation. This fic is a pure show of passion, in both it's story and the creation of the story. I encourage you all to check out their other fics too.

late night talking (can’t get you off my mind) by ShatterinSeconds/@shatterinseconds | 5.8k | Werewolf!Keith

This fic is SO GOOD for touch starved Keith. It's short and sweet and you get both perspectives of their pining and feelings together. It's a really cute one shot, and I had trouble picking between this fic and other fics by the author so check those out too! Also @shatterinseconds is the goat for not only commenting on all my fics, but somehow always being in the comment section of every fic I read.

Hearts Don'/t Break Around Here by klancekorner | 135.5k | Roommates/Childhood Best Friends

This fic is a classic in the KL fandom but I still don't hear it talked about enough!! I don't usually like childhood best friends trope that much but this fic made me LOVE it!!! It also portrays Lance's anxiety and Keith's avoidance so so well and shows them growing up beautifully.

Cores of Diamond by speaks/@speakswords | 25.6k | Friends with Benefits

One time I lost this fic in my bookmarks and spent a whole day trying to find it. It's such a good depiction of the way KL don't always see eye to eye due to a lack of proper communication and bridging that gap between them. Has NSFW scenes!

Where the water meets the sky by speaks/@speakswords | 106.3k | Mer!Keith

I NEEDED to rec another speaks fic, this one is unfinished but it ends on a conclusive note. There's themes of growing up, living with changes, reunions, and also lots and lots of feelings.

got got got it bad by kairiolette | 10.3k | Post-War | Pining Keith

This one is also pretty popular. It's so so funny. And so real. Keith goes through the five stages of grief as he realizes he loves Lance and like. Of course he would do that. Really sweet.

so kiss me (kiss me kiss me kiss me) and tuesday's sweetheart (sunday's lover) by hearttpoem | 10k | roommates AU | getting together

This author writes the BEST modern/roommates AU. I love the way KL lives together in their fics and I love the way you can see different love languages in the fics. I was going back and forth between which fic to rec and I chose both these fics cuz I read them all the time!!

Where the apple falls by europa_report/@jupiters-junipers | 130k+ | post-war | comatose

No fic rec list is complete without this fic. This fic is genuinely one of my favorite KL fics, its not finished but I believe the author will finish it. The prose is beautiful and it is an entire emotional rollercoaster. You guys should definitely check this fic out

I've Said Too Much (You Promise I Can't Ever Say Enough) by negativefouriq | 1.8k | Autistic!Lance | Est Relationship

This fic is short, sweet, and such a good depiction of having so many thoughts and wanting to share them all and the anxieties of it. Keith's perspective and his reactions to Lance are very healing to read.

baby, i'll rock your world by AsterikaMay/ @catsushinyakajima | 9.5k | Christmas AU | Gift giving

I am putting one of my fics here lol because I did enjoy writing this one a lot! I keep writing fics about gift giving and pining...this must say something about me ahahah

Part two here

[pinkolve]

A Spencer Reid Fic- The One Where He Reads Her Diary

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Summary: Spencer Reid gets pressured into reading your diary. How will things end after you find out...

Genre: Fluff, and a little angst

CW: Autistic coded!Fem!Reader, use of Y/N, a bit of dramatic? reader, sad Spencer :(, steamy kisses, slight artist!reader.

Word Count: 2,227

A/N: I'm not the best at writing in a reader's perspective!! I always write my fics with myself in mind, so y/n is usually very similar to myself. I hope you still enjoy this anyways, and let me know if you have any tips for writing x reader fics!! Thank you! <33

Y/N’s always been an honest person, she always tells people exactly what she thinks. She’s blunt, but still kind. Y/N believes that everyone deserves to know the truth, especially when specifically asking for it. But, she also has millions of secrets piled up. Some of them, people know. The others…No one knows, except her diary. 

Y/N had just turned twenty-two a few months ago. Some would argue she’s much too old for a diary, while others would say how beneficial it is for the mind. Like Spencer Reid, for example. He himself had a journal, he just hadn’t used it nearly as much as she did.

He used his journal to talk about important events or changes in his life, while Y/N used it for everything. She wrote everything she ever thought, and drew whatever came to mind. 

The one mistake she had made from the start was keeping her diary in her work bag…That she always left on her desk when she left for the bathroom. 

***

“Reid, man, come on. You need to tell her eventually.” Morgan bantered, standing right next to Spencer’s desk. 

“I’d rather not look like an idiot, Morgan.” Spencer slightly rolled his eyes, still focused on his paperwork. 

“You already do?” Morgan said, confused. Spencer looked up with a scowl. “I’m just messin’ with you Pretty Boy! Just ask her out for coffee, nothing wrong with coffee.” He shrugged. Spencer simply shook his head, staring back down at his files. Morgan shook his own head in disapproval before walking back to his own desk, passing Y/N’s in the process. 

As he passed by, his hip bumped the half-open bag on her desk, knocking it to the floor. Morgan immediately turned around and swore. He set his mug down on the desk and bent down to grab her bag. He took notice of a surprisingly thick notebook. He picked it up and reveled at how heavy it was. Morgan looked at the cover to read ‘Diary.’ His eyes immediately widened. 

A smirk took over his face as he placed the bag back on her desk and carried the journal back over to Reid’s desk. Once he was close enough, he threw the journal on the desk with a particularly loud ‘thud.’ Lucky for the two of them, the office was mostly empty so they were able to pull more shenanigans than usual. 

Spencer looked over at the cover and looked up at his friend with furrowed brows. 

“What is this?” 

“Y/L/N’s diary. Fell out of her bag.” He gestured behind him. Spencer’s face went white, his jaw dropping, and eyes almost bursting out of his head. 

“You cannot be serious! Put this back!” He jumped up from his desk, journal in hand, ready to bring it back to its rightful home. 

“Woah there, Pretty Boy!” Morgan put his palms against Reid’s chest, pushing him back in his desk chair. “You have a major advantage here. You read that, and you’ll probably know everything Y/N’s ever thought about you.” He wiggled his eyebrows. Spencer’s face was angry. “Look Reid, if Y/N finds out I’ll take all the blame. I’ll tell her I read it to you and you didn’t want anything to do with it.” Spencer looked down at the book in his hands, contemplating. 

“I can’t believe I’m letting you convince me into doing this.” Spencer sighed, shaking his head to himself. He hated the idea of invading his best friend’s privacy but he was also still a man. A man with a terrible crush on said best friend. How could he hold her very diary in his own two hands and not read a single word? “One page, that’s it!” Spencer groaned while Morgan ‘woo-hooed.’

Spencer took notice of just how thick the journal was before opening to the newest page. He held the book open gently, praying he wouldn’t break it since it was falling apart already. He looked at the left page, two messy sketches were drawn there in pen. They both were of him, the specific view Y/N had of him from her own desk. These are actually pretty good…He thought to himself. 

“Holy shit, Reid. Is that you?” Morgan practically gasped. 

“Yeah.” He whispered, too entranced by the book. The right page had an entry. 

11/10/24 Sunday, 6:22 pm

Dear Diary, 

Today hasn’t been very eventful. I came into work to try and finish some of my paperwork. Morgan and Spencer apparently had the same idea. I’ve been feeling so weird around Spencer lately. I can’t quite put my finger on why. Usually I feel fine around him, he is my best friend after all. I think it may have something to do with the wet dream I had about him last night…I can’t quite shake it from-

“Okay! That’s enough!” Spencer shut the book harshly, his face beet red. Morgan looked at him with a wide grin. 

“Why wouldn’t you keep reading? It was just gettin’ good!” He chuckled. Spencer glared at him. “Well, now we know she likes you.” Morgan smirked. 

“This doesn’t prove anything! People have wet dreams about other people when they don’t even like them, all the time!” Spencer almost screamed. Just then, Y/N came in through the large glass doors, letting out a loud sigh and stretching. She took one look at her desk and groaned. 

“Derek Morgan, I told you to stop leaving your coffee on my desk!” She complained, grabbing it angrily. She looked over at the two, their faces covered in guilt. “What happened to you guys?” She questioned. 

“Nothing. Nothing at all!” Spencer yelled, awkwardly covering the journal with both his arms. Y/N walked towards them while chuckling. 

“Come on guys, you look totally guilty. What’d you do?” She smiles at Morgan then looks over at Spencer, taking notice of the large lump under his arms. “What’s that? Did you accidentally buy erotica again?” She shook her head. She reached over to pry his arms away from the object. “I told you to stop-” Y/N cut herself off, staring at her own journal. Her face drained of any color and every feature on her face practically melted. 

“Y/N/N, I’m so-” Spencer started.

“Shut up.” She spit out. She tore her journal from him and slammed Morgan’s coffee on his desk, causing it to spill everywhere. She practically ran back to her own desk and packed her things. 

“Y/L/N, it wasn’t his fault. I’m the one who-” Morgan tried to reason. 

“I said shut the fuck up!” She screeched, her face red with anger and embarrassment. “I never thought you would do something like this to me. I trusted you with everything I had and you broke it like it was nothing.” She was crying now, looking between the two men. But all of them knew she was only really talking to Spencer. 

“Y/N, please-” 

“Don’t ever talk to me again you fucking asshole!” She sobbed out before running to the elevator and making a fast exit. Morgan looked over at Spencer and his heart nearly broke. Spencer looked like a wounded puppy, his eyes were wide and filled with unshed tears. He looked frozen in place, he couldn’t move a single inch. He begged any and every deity he could think of to make Y/N come back so he could explain. They hadn’t listened to any of his pleas. 

***

Y/N lay in her living room on her large corner sofa. The TV was on, playing ‘Gilmore Girls’ very loudly. She hoped to drown out any thought she had with the noise. So far, it wasn’t working. 

She hadn’t been to work in nearly a week, it was currently Saturday and no one had heard from her. She only called Hotch to tell him she wouldn’t be in for a while, sick with the flu. She sure as hell couldn’t admit that the real reason was because her crush read her diary. It felt stupid enough in middle school, she wasn’t about to say it aloud to her own boss. 

Everyone on the team was very worried, getting barely any information and zero replies from Y/N. Penny, Emily, Morgan and J.J had all come to her apartment on different occasions, begging to see her. She never let them in. The only thing she cared about was seeing Spencer, but at the same time, she never wanted to see him again. Funnily enough, Spencer was the only one who hadn’t come over. Y/N was partially glad for this because she knew if he was at her door, she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from opening it. 

Spencer had of course sent about fifty-three text messages and made twenty-four phone calls to her. Once again, all of them were ignored. Spencer was the kind of person who liked to talk in person, apologize in person. All his text messages were him begging to talk to Y/N, to let him explain. None of them actually contained any excuses or apologies. She was clearly clueless on any reasoning he had, or how much he had read, because he didn’t want to say any of it in a meaningless text. He had been waiting since Wednesday for the weekend to come rolling around. He planned to show up and explain everything, but he needed to make sure they had plenty of time to talk, hence the weekend. 

Everyone on the team knew of his plan so they all refrained from going over themselves. They just hoped the two would figure everything out. 

*** 

Y/N had just gotten out of the shower when she heard a knock on her door. She rolled her eyes to herself and sighed, looking at the time. 

“Which one of them has the brilliant idea to come over at eight in the morning?!” She yelled to herself. She softly and slowly walked against the hardwood floor, careful not to make a single noise and alert whoever was behind the door. She wouldn’t answer it but she at least wanted to know who it was this time. 

“Y/N…It’s me.” Spencer’s voice rang out and she froze. “I know you’re angry but I really need to talk to you. Please let me in.” His voice was pathetic and sad, cracking occasionally. Within seconds the door opened in front of him. There stood the girl he’s been dreaming of seeing all week. Her hair was soaking wet and so were her shoulders and arms. A towel was wrapped around her body tightly, showing off her figure. Spencer watched a single droplet of water pass down between the valley of her breasts. 

“H-Hey.” Spencer choked out. 

“Hi.” Y/N greeted shyly. 

“I need to talk to you.”

“So I heard.” She nodded a little. “What about?” 

“You know what about…” 

“Okay, fine. What specific part of that interaction would you like to discuss? What, did you just come over to make fun of me? To ridicule me for the way I feel? Did you come over here just to humiliate me even more?!” Y/N’s voice raised the more she spoke. 

“No!” Spencer yelled, cutting her off. “I don’t want to do any of that!” He sighed to himself. “I…I never should have read your diary. Morgan convinced me, and I know I should have reacted better, and not listened to him. He just kept telling me how…Convinient it would be. I’ve been scared to tell you how I really feel for the last two years. He told me that reading your diary would be the perfect way to see how you feel about me before I confessed and made an idiot of myself. I just…I had a weak moment and I hate that I hurt you in the process.” A couple tears fell from the corners of his eyes. “I’m so…So sorry, Y/N/N.” 

She looked up at him with an expressionless face. Spencer looked back into her eyes with the saddest look on his face. He was about to ask her what she was thinking when she told him instead. 

“Do you like me? Romantically?” She asked, voice monotone. 

“Of course I do. I genuinely thought it was obvious, I can never stop how flustered I get around you. All I’ve dreamed about since we became friends is spending my life with you. Whether we spend it as best friends or more, I couldn’t care less. I just want you with me every step of the way” Spencer spoke honestly. 

“Kiss me.” Y/N blurted out. Spencer’s eyes went wide. 

“W-What?” He stuttered. 

“Please.” She breathed out. “Kiss me.” Her eyes were heavy and clouded. Spencer was quick to reach down and grab the sides of her face in his hands, pushing their lips together roughly. Y/N whimpered the minute his lips touched her own. Just as fast as the kiss happened it turned sloppy. Spencer’s hands travelled down to her waist, gripping tightly. She had wrapped her arms around his neck, her breasts pushing up against his chest. Their tongues collided and twirled against each other. 

“I love you, Spencer.” She whispered against his lips. 

“I love you more, Y/N.” He sighed.

[loganhowlettshousewife]

logan howlett x autistic!reader

series masterlist - my masterlist

logan understands you better than anyone else. his senses are enhanced from his mutation, every noise hitting him at a higher intensity than it does anyone else, every scent reaching his olfactory receptors no matter how faint. it doesn’t often bother him, it’s something he’s had to deal with his whole life, but there are certainly times when the world around him can become overwhelming in its intensity.

and so he understands you, when things get to be too much for you. he understands, though not in the same way, how it feels when there are too many separate sounds hitting your ear drums, when certain textures make your skin crawl, when the bright fluorescent lights that most places use make you want to collapse to the ground and cry. he doesn’t blame you for being overwhelmed, doesn’t judge you or treat you as if you’re lesser for it.

it’s impossible to truly understand the feelings of autistic overstimulation without being autistic, but logan’s understanding of it comes as close as possible, and you’re forever grateful for his silent support.

you often wonder how you ended up so lucky, to have someone who understands you the way he does, who never complains when he has to cut a date short for reasons that wouldn’t affect anyone else, who removes you from situations he knows will be difficult for you to deal with.

he’s become a safe haven for you. you don’t need to mask when you’re alone with logan. he told you once that he can tell when you’re masking, that there are hints in your scent that betray your true emotions, and every time you find yourself slipping into that persona he pulls you out of it with a gruff “stop that”.

he helps you take off the clothes that feel scratchy against your skin, redressing you in fabrics that he knows will soothe the angry corners of your mind, the ones that scream in a loud cacophony that even you can’t understand, crying out for relief from something. he turns off the lights in the room, sits with you in the dark, doesn’t speak unless you request his voice. he lays down on top of you - a newer development, since he used to vehemently refuse, worried he’d crush you under the weight of his adamantium skeleton - letting the pressure of his body against yours ground you to the present.

and he’ll never utter the words out loud, never speak them into existence under any circumstance, but it helps him too.

it’s been a long time since he’s been allowed to exist in silence like this, and he realises that he likes it when the world isn’t a jarring mess of noises and sights and scents around him. it’s nice to be able to focus on a single feeling rather than continuously compartmentalise the myriad of sensory information being thrown at him. you’ve helped him realise that it’s okay to take time for himself when his brain starts to feel fuzzy and raw and wrong, when the world becomes too much to handle.

he’s not good at being vulnerable, not good at being gentle. he’s rough and gruff and violent, a man born of blood and loss. but the more time he spends with you, the more he realises that perhaps his temper isn’t an inherent facet of his personality the way he’d always assumed, but rather a response to how uncomfortable he always feels, a response to the overstimulation constantly brimming inside him, an outlet for the buzzing under his skin.

he has words now for things he never understood before, concepts floating around in his brain. you’ve changed his life, taught him new things about himself at the old age of 200, when he thought he was surely stuck in his ways, broken beyond repair, an unfortunate mistake.

he’s far from perfect, knows it as surely as he knows his own name. but this, taking care of you, making sure no one bothers you while you come down, overstimulation going from a twenty to a ten to a five, until you can breath again without feeling like your chest is collapsing on itself? this is something he can do.

this, he will always do.

diversity december taglist: @raeinyourdreams @meetmypointlessaddiction @chubbyhedgehog @yxtkiwiyxt @isepod @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes

autistic!reader taglist: @thegothempress

[so-i-did-this-thing]

Hey so, maybe an odd question, but did you feel like a different person when you started T? I’m a trans guy and am trying to figure out weather I want to do hormones. A lot of the physical effects sound really great, but I’m kind of scared of what it might do to me mentally. A friend of mine has to take it for medical purposes and he absolutely HATES it. He feels like it turns him into an entirely different person that he hates being and completely destroys his capacity for creativity or emotions of any kind. This can’t be everybody’s experience right?

Heya! Answering this on public for folks to chime in with their own personal anecdotes. (Including bad emotional effects - let's be respectful that not everyone has a great HRT experience. I'd imagine each of us struggles with something we don't like about T.)

Testosterone took the edges off my negative emotions. I stopped frustration crying nearly overnight and got a lot less irritable. My explosive temper went down to a low simmer. I suddenly felt like I had patience for the first time in my life. I don't have as many autistic meltdowns now, and when they do happen, it's more me pacing in circles than breaking something.

I still feel emotions like sadness, but it's harder to physically cry. I haven't noticed any changes to my creativity. I feel happier, but that has more to do with not being closeted anymore.

I'm definitely hornier on T, and that sometimes converts into irritability, something I can control with mindful behavior.

What can shock some trans folks is that HRT won't solve all your mental problems. Testosterone has not helped my Depression that's unrelated to gender dysphoria, so I still battle with cycles of wretched ennui. It also hasn't helped my ADHD, and I sometimes wonder if it's even made me a bit more forgetful. That said, HRT removed a ton of background radiation in my life to where I am now better equipped to deal with my mental illnesses.

Even though my experience has been overwhelmingly positive, I have had a few trans masc folks tell me that they felt like T deadened their emotions in an unpleasant way. The odds are in your favor, but it sucks if you're the one who gets bad results. But I would imagine that your emotions would recalibrate once you'd stop HRT.

But overall, I felt like I was trapped in teenage-level emotional turmoil well into my 30s (when I transitioned), and T makes me feel like an even-keeled adult. I am the same person as before, but a better version of that person.

I hope that helps. When considering HRT, it's important to remember that you can just try it out and stop if you don't like it. There will be tradeoffs, both permanent and reversible, so learning about those will definitely help in your decision here. But you have a lot of control here, especially when you jump in aware.

If you go for it, keep a mood journal and make it a topic to discuss with a therapist or other trans folks. Wishing you all the best!

[diamonds-of-the-first-water]

I Have Evolving Thoughts on Fran’s Sexuality

(god hannah dodd is so pretty)

First of all let’s thank GOD francesca is the queer sister and not…that other one.

Anyways upon my initial viewing of part 2 I definitely read Fran as bisexual and if you continue to read her as such I think that’s fine but my mind has changed on the matter.

I believe that Fran is actually a lesbian suffering from comphet.

The reason this actually started to seem likely to me is because of her wedding scene with John. The whole season I thought they seemed so taken with one another and I enjoyed their quiet dynamic. They were more than comfortable sitting in silence with one another and seemed to grow closer in that way.

I like many others assumed this meant their love was romantic, but that kiss

Would a woman who is attracted to men make this face after kissing the man she loves? I don’t think so. Some people seem to think it’s because she’s shy but it doesn’t seem like she’s even thinking about her family here. It seems like she has retreated into her own thoughts. It seems like she was disappointed. And after spending the whole season feeling nothing for any of the men she meets why wouldn’t she be. She met a man she loved and she kissed him and she didn’t feel those sparks.

Now Fran is also autistic coded so this initially affected the way I viewed her relationships as well, but all of that changes when you take into account Michaela.

Francesca immediately starts to stutter and is flustered when she sees Michaela. We have never seen Fran act this way with a man, even her husband. It wasn’t for no reason that Violet describes how she felt the first time she fell in love with Edmund and then almost immediately after Fran reacts the same way to Michaela. The butterflies, not being able to string a sentence together. This was foreshadowing.

Some people were upset because they said it erased everything Fran said about having a quiet love and that is somewhat true, but I disagree with people saying that it erases slowly built love when Polin’s whole story is about love not striking you like a bolt of lightning.

None of this is to say she can’t love John, I believe she does I just feel it is platonic, and the loss of John would hit hard even if he was her best friend. John is one of the great loves of her life but who is to say that love is romantic? Friendships are the foundation of our lives and they are equally as important as any romantic relationship. Fran met someone who understands her and is like her, that doesn’t mean she has to have romantic attraction for him.

Some of this is affected by personal bias as I am a late-blooming lesbian, but holy shit the way I relate to Fran wanting to get married just because it would mean she wouldn’t have to pursue any other relationships with men and the way she was willing to accept whoever the Queen deemed fit because she didn’t have any criteria except “is kind to me”. Fran does not seem to be searching for love as she has not felt it before. The closest she comes is with John because the two of them are so similar and I believe she thought that because she liked him so much that she must be in love with him which is just so…lesbian coded I don’t know how to explain it.

This isn’t to say bisexuality isn’t real or is “just a phase”. Ew. Gross. No. This is just the way I am interpreting the character with the information we have now. If it comes out definitely that she is bisexual then I will accept that, sapphic rep is so needed.

All in all they look so good and I can’t wait to see these queers kiss and have a romance.

Also I think that Michaela still could have fallen first. Fran just realized she was a dyke at that exact moment and her brain stopped working which is valid. But did you see the way Michaela looked at her. I KNOW A LESBIAN FALLING IN LOVE WHEN I SEE ONE.

[winchesterwild78]

Unspoken Words pt 2

Master List

Characters: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Reader’s daughter, other characters

Warnings: Fluffy goodness, and Jensen being such a sweetheart.

A/N: Another collab story with @cheekygirl2309. This one is about a single mother with a nonverbal autistic daughter who loves Supernatural. The reader is going to a Supernatural Convention with her daughter and things unfold from there. The daughter character is near and dear to my heart. I have someone very close to me who is nonverbal, but he’s such an amazing kid. 

This is a work of fiction and does not depict real life. Jensen is single in this story. 

All work is my own and @cheekygirl2309, don’t take it or use it as your own. Reblogs and likes are appreciated. 

Minors DNI 18+

Lily woke up not long after the text exchange. She seemed more relaxed. Lily began looking around when she woke up. I noticed she started to get upset. 

“Lily, what’s wrong baby?” She grunted. “Dean, Jensen.” She said with sadness. “Oh baby, he said he’d be back, he had to go, but he’ll be back soon.”

“Go?” She asked, her eyes wide. “Yes baby, he had to go meet other people.” She crossed her arms and pouted. Sarah and I chuckled. 

A few minutes later Jensen returned with our photos in hand. Lily saw him and immediately jumped off the couch and ran to him. 

She landed against him with a thud. Knocking the wind out of him. He laughed, “It’s good to see you again too, Lily. You look rested.” He smiled at me and then down at Lily. 

“I have the pictures. I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to autograph them or not, but I’d be happy to.” He handed them to me and they were perfect. Well, the one with Lily and Jensen, mine not so much. I always hated having my picture taken. 

I sighed a little, but didn’t think Jensen heard. “Everything okay, sweetheart?” “What? Oh yeah. You two look great in these.” Jensen looked over my shoulder, “You look beautiful in that one too.” My cheeks burned red. “You’re just being nice, but thank you.” 

Jensen turned me to face him, “No, Y/N. Don’t do that. You’re stunning and anyone would be lucky to be with you.” I bit my lip as he pushed my hair behind my ear. 

My heart pounded in my chest. Everyone else in the room disappeared. “Jensen, back!” Lily squealed, breaking our eye contact. 

I showed her the pictures and she took the one with her and Jensen and sat down with it. She was giggling. 

“So what are you guys doing later, after the convention ends tonight?” “Well, I’ll probably take Sarah home and then take Lily home. She’s going to be overstimulated for sure and I want to make sure she’s okay for tomorrow.”

“Oh okay, I get it.” Jensen sounded and looked a little disappointed. Sarah stepped up to us, “Why? What are you doing tonight, Jensen?” “Sarah! That’s not our business.” I shot back at her. 

Jensen chuckled, “It’s only fair, I asked you first. Sarah, I was planning on grabbing something to eat and maybe drink before heading home. I was going to see if y’all wanted to join me, but I completely understand. Lily definitely needs to decompress.” “Well, I don’t have to go home. I can stay with Lily if Y/N wants to go out with you.”

I shot Sarah a look and she smirked, shrugging her shoulders. Jensen smirked at Sarah and then looked over at me, “Well, what do you say? I can pick you up at about 8.”  

I looked over at Sarah and then back at him, “Um, sure. If you want to.” Jensen stepped closer, “More than you know.” I nodded and blushed. 

The rest of the afternoon went by quickly. Lily was reaching her limit so we decided to leave. I sent Jensen a text to let him know. 

Me: Hey. Lily is at her limit. We are heading home. If you change your mind about later I totally understand. Thanks for an amazing day and we will see you tomorrow. 

Jensen looked at his phone and smiled. 

Jensen: I understand. I haven’t changed my mind about tonight. 8 can’t get here fast enough. I’m looking forward to seeing you tonight. 

Me: Me too. Dress code? 

Jensen: Something comfortable. I’m taking you to my favorite BBQ place in Austin. 😉

Me: Oh I’m intrigued. I’ll see you later. Have a great afternoon. 

Jensen: You too, sweetheart. 

My heart fluttered in my chest and I couldn’t stop smiling. Sarah looked at me and chuckled, “Seems like Lily isn’t the only one enamored with Jensen.”

I laughed, “Well it’s your fault, you offered to babysit so he could take me out. What was that about?!” 

“Hey, not only am I the best aunt in the world, and the most amazing friend, I’m an incredible wingman too. Besides I saw how he looked at you and you looked at him.” 

I smiled, “Yeah. He’s incredible and Lily loves him.” 

I drove us back to the house and Lily kept a grip on her picture. I knew I needed to frame it before it got messed up. I just had to figure out how to get it from her long enough to do it. 

Once inside the house Lily went to play in her room, her picture went with her of course. I sighed. “I need to get the picture away so I can frame it. Any ideas?” I asked Sarah. 

“We can take the frame to her and tell her we need to protect it and have her put it in the frame.” I nodded. The idea was great. I just hoped it would work. 

“Hey, Lily baby. I have this frame for your picture. We need to keep it safe so it lasts forever. Want to help me?” 

Lily looked at the picture and then the frame. But she didn’t move. I took a deep breath. 

“I promise baby you can have it right back.” 

She took the frame and I helped her lift the locking tabs. She slid the picture in, but held onto the frame. I put the back on and locked the tabs. 

I helped her turn the frame over and she smiled. “Jensen” she said looking at it. I nodded, “Yes baby. Jensen and Lily.” 

She pointed to the picture, “Jensen, Lily. Stay”. 

The “stay” part confused me. I didn’t respond because I wasn’t sure what to say. 

Sarah came into the room, “Okay, girl it’s 6:30. You need to get ready.” I took a shaky breath. I was so nervous. 

I was ready by 7:30, but kept checking myself in the mirror. “You look beautiful, Y/N. He’s not gonna know what hit him.” “Thanks, Sarah. I’m so nervous.” 

She smiled, took my hand and told me to breathe. “You’ve got this sweetie. Think of him as a regular guy.” 

The doorbell rang about 10 till 8. Sarah smiled at me and I nodded for her to answer the door. He stepped in the house and damn was he gorgeous. Dark jeans, a buttoned down shirt, and his boots. 

“Wow, look at you, darlin’.” He said as he saw me. I blushed, “You look great, Jensen.” Lily heard his voice and came running in the room. “Jensen” she squealed as she threw her arms around him. “Hey Lily. I got something for you sweetie.” He handed her a bag and she took it to the couch.

“Jensen, you didn’t have to get her anything.” “Of course I did. She’s letting me take her mama on a date.” My eyes went wide. A date? Did he say date? My breath hitched. 

She opened the bag and pulled out a stuffed squirrel and moose. I chuckled. She held them both tight. “That was so sweet of you, Jensen.” “It was Clif’s idea. I wanted to bring her something and he said he saw her looking at them.” 

“I’ll be sure to thank him when I see him.” He nodded, “Shall we go?” I nodded and gave Lily a hug and kiss goodbye, “You be good for Auntie Sarah, I’ll be back later.” 

As Jensen walked towards the door Sarah stopped him, “You take care of our girl or I’ll kick your butt.” He chuckled and I turned red. “Sarah!” Jensen looked at her and smiled, “Yes ma’am. I plan on treating her the way she deserves.” “You better!” She laughed. 

I was so embarrassed. Jensen and I walked towards his car. His hand on the small of my back. “I’m sorry about Sarah. She’s always been so protective of me.” “Don’t be sorry. It’s great to have friends that are protective. It means they really care about you.” 

He opened the car door and I got in. My heart was pounding in my chest. Jensen climbed in the driver’s seat and looked over at me and smiled, “Ready?” I nodded and smiled. 

We headed toward the restaurant and I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. He’d glance over at me and then back at the road. “I really appreciate you taking me out tonight. Sorry Sarah and Lily couldn’t come. I just knew Lily wouldn’t be able to handle going out after being out all day.” 

“It’s okay. We’ll have to figure out something next time. I’m sure I can find some sensory friendly places we can take her.” 

I turned and looked at him. A smile stretched across my face, “Jensen that’s really sweet of you, but you don’t have to.” “I know, Y/N. I want to. Sorry, but Lily and I are like besties now. You two are stuck with me.” He winked and I laughed. 

“Oh besties, huh? Well excuse me. I had no idea.” He laughed, “Yeah, we bonded over her love for Dean, and me of course.” “Oh of course.” We laughed and as he parked he looked over at me and took my hand.

“I love hearing you laugh. I’m sure it’s really hard being a single mom, but Lily is a great kid and you are so great with her.” 

“Thank you, Jensen. That means a lot. I love her so much and wouldn’t trade my life for anything.” 

“Are you ready to go in?” He nodded towards the restaurant. “Yeah, I’m starving.” He took my hand in his as we walked in. The place was busy, but Jensen led me towards a back room. “This is my buddy’s place. He lets me have this room when I’m here. I called ahead.” I smiled, “Wow, color me impressed, you know the owner and you have a secret room.” 

He laughed, “Yeah, it’s great for being alone and hiding bodies if I need to.” “I knew it. That must be why the BBQ is so great here.” Jensen’s head fell back and he laughed loudly. That famous laugh you see him do when he’s really enjoying himself. 

“Come on darlin’, let’s sit.” Jensen pulled out my chair and we sat down. The food Jensen ordered for us came and as we ate we talked about any and everything. The night wore on and Jensen talked about Radio Company and how he was excited and the upcoming shows. 

He paid the bill, even though I offered to pay for my half. “Now what kind of date would this be if I had you pay? Nope, this is my treat.” 

We headed towards the car and before we got in we stood outside for a minute. “Jensen, I had a really great time tonight. Thank you.” He stepped closer, I could smell his cologne and whiskey on his breath. He licked his lips and I licked mine and swallowed hard. 

His face inches from mine, our lips ghosting against each other. My heart is beating loudly in my ears. “Can I kiss you?” Jensen asked softly. I nodded, not trusting my voice.

Jensen leaned in and his lips pressed softly against mine. The kiss was soft and gentle. He pulled away and looked in my eyes. His hands slipped behind my neck and into my hair, pulling me close to him and he deepened the kiss. 

His tongue licked my lip and I opened my mouth. His tongue found mine and they began dancing and fighting for dominance. I moaned into his mouth which spurred him on. His body pushed mine against the car and he kissed deeper. My hands on his biceps trying to ground myself. 

My lungs screamed for air but at that moment Jensen’s lips were giving me all the oxygen I needed. Then the shrill sound of my phone pulled us back to reality. 

Jensen let go and I grabbed my phone, panting. “Sarah, is everything okay?” I could hear Lily in the background crying. “Y/N, I am so sorry. I can’t get her to calm down. She’s been crying for over half an hour.” “Did she get hurt? Do you know what set her off?” 

“No, she had the stuffies Jensen bought her and her picture. All she said was “Jensen” and started crying.” I looked up at Jensen and he opened the door for me. 

He ran to his side and we took off towards the house. “Okay, I’m on my way Sarah.” I hung up and looked at Jensen.

“Is Lily okay?” He asked with concern in his voice. “Yeah I think so. She’s having a meltdown and Sarah can’t get her calmed down. She’s apparently asking for you.” 

He smirked, “Sorry.” “No, don’t be. She doesn’t understand you’re not here forever. She’s going to have to get used to the idea that meeting you was just meeting you. You aren’t staying in our lives forever.” 

I noticed his body language shift when I said that. “Jensen, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant you’re a celebrity and we’re not family, so the likelihood of you coming by on weekends and special events are very slim.” 

“No I get it, you don’t have to explain anything to me.” My heart broke at his tone. I didn’t mean to upset him. 

I reached out and touched his arm, “Jensen, please. I’m sorry.” Tears pricked my eyes and I tried to hold them back, but they fell. I turned and looked out the window. I slid as close to the door as I could. 

What the hell did I just do? Everything was going great, and I just screwed it up. Lily deserves better than this. Now he definitely won’t stick around. 

“Did you say something sweetheart?” I whipped my head and looked at Jensen. He saw the tears falling. “Hey, shh. Don’t cry. It’s okay. You didn’t screw anything up, and I’m not going anywhere if you don’t want me to.” 

I blinked at him, trying to get the tears to stop. “Jensen, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to say that out loud. I just need to protect Lily, and myself.” 

He took my hand, “I get it. I want to be in your lives.” I nodded, “I’d like that very much.” 

“Good, because after we help Lily I’m picking up where we left off. Damn that kiss was amazing.” I smiled, “Yeah it was. Better than I’d ever imagined.” He laughed.

We pulled up at the house and I leaped out of the car and ran inside. Lily was sitting on the floor crying, holding the stuffies and picture. “Lily baby, mama’s back. It’s okay sweetie. I’m here.” 

I tried all our calm down techniques and they didn’t work. Jensen took off his boots and got on the floor beside her and placed his hand on her back, “Lily, I’m here too baby girl.” She looked at him and instantly stopped crying. 

I gasped softly. I’d never seen her stop in a meltdown so abruptly. His green eyes flicked up and met mine. I mouthed, “thank you” to him and he nodded. 

She grabbed her stuffies and climbed in his lap. I was in awe. He held her for a few minutes then she wiggled out of his arms and went to her room. 

“Jensen, that was incredible. I’ve never seen her do that before. Please tell me your secret.” I chuckled a little, but was a little serious too. 

“Must be the Dean charm.” He laughed and I playfully hit his arm. 

Lily returned with her storybook. She handed it to Jensen. “Do you want me to read this to you, Lily?” “Read,” she said to him. 

“Jensen, she’s said more to you today than she has in the past 7 years. I am in shock. 

She grabbed his hand and started pulling him towards her bedroom. She climbed in bed and he sat beside her. I sat in the chair in her room and watched them interact. He read her the story, doing different voices for the characters. She’d occasionally giggle and kept one hand on his arm and the other wrapped around her new stuffies from him. 

Her eyes started to get heavy as he continued reading the story. By the time he was finished I heard soft snores coming from her mouth. He smiled at her, pulled the blanket up and kissed her head softly. 

We tiptoed out of the room and went back to the living room. “Wow, Jensen, that was amazing.” Sarah said from the couch. “Yeah, I’ve never seen her act like that with someone new.” 

He blushed a little, “What can I say, I’m great with kids.” I placed a hand on his arm, “Jensen that was more than you being great with kids. You really bonded with her.” Tears filled my eyes again, “Jensen, she’s never spoken as much as she has today. Today was the first time she’d ever called me “mama”. That was huge. I’ve waited so long to hear her call me that. Thank you. For whatever you did to get my little girl to open up more.” The tears fell hard and fast.

He wrapped his arms around me and held me tight. “Shh. It’s okay baby. Thank you for letting me be part of her world and trusting me enough.” I pulled back a little and he wiped the tears away, then he kissed my lips softly. 

Sarah smiled, “Well. I’m going to head home. Good night you two, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” She chuckled as she started to leave. 

I stepped on the porch with her, “Sarah, thank you for everything today. Are you still coming tomorrow with us?” “Of course I am, and I want details later about that date.” I nodded and smiled, “Just know he kisses better than I thought. Good night.” I smiled and waved. 

She squealed in delight as she walked towards her car. 

I went back in to find Jensen sitting on the couch. I sat down beside him and he pulled me close to his side. His arm slung around my shoulders and my head rested on his chest. 

“Do you think Lily will sleep okay tonight?” Jensen asked almost in a whisper. “Yeah, she should be good the rest of the night. You know I don’t want to keep you. I know you need to get home.” “I’m good if you’re good. I don’t mind. Besides, I’m perfectly happy sitting right here with you.” 

“Me too. Just give me a minute. I’m going to change if that’s okay.” He nodded, “I’ll be here waiting.” 

He pulled me in for a soft kiss before I got up and I walked to my room. Every part of me screamed to invite him into my room, but the logical part of me told me I should wait. This was too fast, but damn I wouldn’t mind. 

I shook the thoughts out of my head and changed into my comfortable pajamas. Just an old band shirt and some sleep pants. I walked back into the living room and found Jensen had removed his button down shirt and hung it on the back of the chair. “I hope you don’t mind, I was being choked by the buttons.” He laughed. “Nope don’t mind at all.” The shirt he was wearing was tight across his chest and showed the perfect definition of his toned body. 

“So, where were we, sweetheart?” He asked as he pulled me down beside him. We spent the rest of the night kissing, making out and talking. At some point we both fell asleep. 

Around 7am his phone went off with an alarm. We were startled awake. “Oh my goodness, Jensen. We fell asleep.” He laughed, “Well we can say our first sleepover was a success.” I smiled, “Yeah. I’d say.” 

“Well darlin’ I hate to run, but I need to get home and get ready for the convention.” He stood up and went to grab his shirt but it was gone. We looked at each other puzzled. 

I walked towards Lily’s room, he followed. There she was in her bed, clinging to the moose and squirrel stuffies, and she was wrapped in his button down shirt. 

“Jensen, I’m so sorry. Let me wake her up and get it for you.” He touched my arm, “No, let her sleep. I’ll be back later today and I can get it then.” I nodded and we walked towards the front door.

“I had a great time last night, Y/N. I can’t wait to do it again.” “Me too, Jensen. It was incredible, you were incredible with Lily.” He cupped my face and with his thumb moved a fallen strand of hair. “So beautiful.” He placed a soft kiss on my lips and pulled back. “I’ll see you later, Y/N.” “Yeah, I’ll see you later, Jensen.” One last kiss goodbye and he left. Leaving me feeling like I was in a dream I never wanted to wake up from.

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[hotluncheddie]

high masking autistic steve snippet - a follow on from this and this

wc: 2.5k | rated: T | cw: none | tags: autistic steve harrington (and eddie but again this is about steve), hurt/comfort, established relationship, stimming

ao3

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Steve is spending the evening doing one of his new things. Where he takes time to just be. It’s recovering, or Stevie time, or whatever Eddie and Robin have decided it should be called. 

He’s alone basically, and it’s nice, because he’s letting it be nice. Letting it be restful. 

It’s for when he’s had a meltdown. Or can feel one coming on, because now he’s starting to recognise what overstimulation feels like on his skin. How it prickles at the back of his neck if his breaks cut short, makes his vision vignette if something too unexpected happens. 

Learned that after something like that he’ll need to rest. Needs time. 

And it’s not lazy. It’s not. (Sometimes it still feels like it is.) (Weak…that word always plays in the deep, scathing tone of his father’s voice…and selfish.)  

He’s on the couch, it’s dark, he actually feels really comfortable, and he’s watching The Breakfast Club. Watching it again. It’s his favourite, it feels like his. But he doesn’t like watching it with other people because they might notice how much he likes it and he doesn’t want that. Can’t be seen like that.. Embarrassing. 

So he watches it alone, when he gets home from work. He pauses whenever he wants, rewinds, pauses. Takes a deep breath, rewinds, pauses, stares into space. 

He also pauses to eat the snack he brought in. Actually tasting the food bc it’s the only thing he has to focus on. No lights, no sounds. He forgot how much he likes oranges when they’re ripe. Harder to taste if he has to listen at the same time. So, on a day like today, he lets himself do stuff one step at a time. 

It’ll probably take him double the normal run time to get all the way to the end. But who cares? It’s his time. 

The weird girl’s parents driving off; that feels like him. The jock’s Dad letting him off easy; that doesn’t feel like him. ‘No schools gonna give a scholarship to a discipline case.’ Maybe that does feel like him. Before through. A long time ago now. 

He claps sometimes. Keening high in his throat, a little happy hum that he only lets himself do when he’s alone like this. He does it after he whistles the same tune they do. And during the scene of them running around the corridors. It’s exiting. Makes his lips stretch wide and his feet flap around. He claps. Once. Twice. It feels good. 

He laughs at the characters. How they merge together with bits of his friends. He feels that swell of happy sad emotion looking at the jock when he first comes in, acting above the others, only seeing Molly Ringwald. He lives through a couple flashbacks of himself. Resigns to actually watch them, sit in them, begins to process who he was. Who he’s becoming now. Something like forgiveness tasting sweet on his tongue. He cries a little; that swelling and shifting as buried emotion finally passes. It overcomes him sometimes when he lets his mind relax.. He rewinds, and he laughs. 

“Stevie?”

Steve starts, fingers tangle in the blanket in his lap. Brain slow to process the change, the information. Eddie slipping through the door and coming over to him. Eddie dipping to look at Steve’s face, trying to catch Steve’s eye. Eddie smelling like cigarettes and crisp autumn air, it’s nice, but, it’s a lot. Panic sits bubbling somewhere in him. He wasn’t expecting this. 

“…Eddie?”

“Hey sweetheart. I know you had a shitty day, but Wayne’s at home with a headache and he needs to sleep it off. Wouldn’t’ve been able to stay quiet enough for him.”

Steve breaths in and out a little quickly. Eyes wide. 

Maybe it’s okay. Eddie knows he had a bad day. Maybe it’s okay.

“I’ll sit in the kitchen, work on my campaign, just forget I’m here.” Eddie speaks quietly, almost a whisper. 

He stares at his hand in his lap. “..You won’t, listen?” Steve feels small. Knows he’s not, his frame broad and strong. But, he needs small. Wants his world small tonight, slow. Wants to stay hidden. Him and the couch and the film and nothing else. 

Eddie just shakes his walkman and smiles (in that pointy way that makes Steve’s toes curl). 

“Kay” Steve whispers, still wary, off kilter. But accepts the kiss Eddie drops on his head, tangling their fingers together for a breath. Steve leans forward for a kiss on the lips. It’s deep, and lovely. Steve can smell Eddie’s cologne. Feels where the chill bit at Eddie’s nose. He shivers.

“No cooking.” Steve mumbles while their lips are still close. Small smile pulling at his face, eyes sharp, waiting for Eddie to get it. 

Eddie groans quietly in embarrassment but his eyes are soft and molten and Steve’s toes curl up again. “Course not baby, not again. Once you’re hungry just come through, yeah? Make us something nice.”

And the light of the kitchen doesn’t reach the couch. And Eddie listens to his walkman loud. And Steve’s safe. It’s Eddie. He’s not listening. Steve’s safe. 

His favourite scene; Bender and Claire in the stock cupboard. The way he looks so shocked, the way she bites her lip. ‘Why’d you do that?’ ‘Because I knew you wouldn’t.’ Steve whispers as they do. Claps. It’s such a good scene. He’s exited. He claps again. Rewinds to just watch her face. Rewinds to just watch his. Rewinds and watches the whole scene again. Wraps his arms around his middle and squeezes. Pauses on the kiss. He rubs his fingers agains his mouth. Giddy excitement bubbles in his belly. He hums high and happy again. He loves this movie. 

The weird girl gets a makeover, the jock really likes it. He feels like the weird girl sometimes, maybe Eddie can be his jock. Maybe he should get a makeover. Maybe keep growing out his hair. Maybe Eddie would like that. 

The credits roll. Bender’s fist in the air. Steve drifts on the couch, eyes closed. He breaths deep, his stomach growls. 

He pads through to Eddie. Squinting. Too bright. “D’you mind?” He motions to the lights, his eyes too adjusted to the dark and he doesn’t even wanna try and adjust them back. 

‘‘Cause. What we making?” 

Steve hums, goes into the pantry to see what’s easy. Eddie slips in behind him, hand on his waist. “Pasta?” Steve asks but Eddie doesn’t reply, just turns him gently. Nudging him to step back into the corner. 

Eddie looks at him, dips forward to place a slow kiss on his neck. “Why’d you do tha..’ Steve’s words dry up in his throat. 

“Because I knew you wouldn’t” and Eddie’s eyes are sparking with glee.

Eddie heard him.

He listened.

Steve’s feels himself flush hot, embarrassed and ashamed. “Ah, I, uh.” He can’t explain it, why he had to watch it so many times, why it makes him so exited. He crosses his arms over his chest. Turns back to the shelves of food and picks a can at random. Shoving out of the room. 

“Steve?”

Eddie said he wouldn’t. He listened in on him. He said he wouldn’t. He’s making fun of him. Steve knew he should’ve told Eddie to go home. 

“Stevie? What’s wrong?” But Steve doesn’t want to talk to him. He’s so angry, So ashamed, of himself. What if Eddie heard him clap too, heard him make that high noise, like a fucking baby, like some freak. 

He puts the can on the counter with way too much force, corn, not what he fucking wanted. His hands are shaking. He stares at them, wills his tears to stay behind his lash line. He got too comfortable, he can’t do that. Why is it so hard to pretend now, when it used to be so easy. 

“Steve, tell me what I did, please.” 

“‘M fine” Steve’s insides feel too big, pushing against his skin, itchy all over. He squeezes himself around his middle again, digging his fingers in hard. 

“Don’t do that, you know I hate when you bullshit like that.” Half lovely, half scathing.

The word stinks, a stab to the gut. But Steve gets it, he does, they talked about it. He bites his lip, hard. 

Its old habits or whatever. Because Steve, he loved fine. Liked sinking his teeth into it; toxic waste green coating his mouth and lungs. Thick and delicious. Because fine gets you out of it. Fine gives you translucency. Controlled balance. Everything appearing a none issue, the perfect in-between. Steve was perfect at coming off as something to not worry about, someone to be ignored. It used to work in all situations; can’t get told off if you’re fine, cant do anything wrong, teachers didn’t look twice, his parents wouldn't shout. By staying half alive, never letting anyone too close, never filling your lungs up all the way. That was the fine Steve adored. 

“You were literally just watching a movie. I dunno what the big deal is.” and there’s frustration, confusion, in Eddie, Steve thinks. He feels himself tense up, glance over.

Eddie must see something on his face. See that scared little animal prowling around within him. Because Eddie softens, his voice gentle. “Steve.. it’s nothing I hadn’t heard before.’ And Steve’s teeth clamp together with a click. He’s done that, his clap and his high hum, in front of Eddie before? Steve tries to swallow, he can’t, a lump too big and sticky in his throat.

He can’t look him in the face, angry tears still threatening to spill “You said you wouldn’t listen.” He’s mumbling. He sounds even more like a kid. Stupid. Grow up.

“I heard a little but I was just flipping the tape over, I wasn’t trying to snoop on you Stevie… You just, you sounded happy.” 

Steve huffs. Glances at Eddie. That soft underbelly of his whining, because with Eddie, Steve yearns. Yearns for close. Yearns to be seen, and understood.

“You didn’t mean to?” 

“No, it was just when I was turning the tape.” 

Steve forces a deep breath. 

“You think I’m weird. You hate me.” He whispers it like it’s true. A big part of him believes it, his tears welling up. Feels rejected. Knows that feeling too well. Hates it. 

“Always like you Steve. Always.”

Steve grunts, a tear slips out, rolls down his cheek.

“‘M embarrassed” comes out like an ugly sob. Steve scrubs his palms on his cheeks, feeling how red hot they are. Glaring at the countertop. “I’m embarrassed!” But it’s just Eddie. It was just Eddie.

Eddie comes over, slowly draping himself over Steve’s back. “Nothin' to be embarrassed about, love.” And Eddie leaves soft kisses on Steve’s neck, squeezes his waist. “You looked cute on the couch like that. Like it when you’re happy.” Steve tries taking another deep breath but it shudders. 

Embarrassed, angry, sad. Embarrassed, confused, angry. Frustrated, embarrassed. Tired. 

Emotions wash over him. He’s learning to try and just feel them, name them, pick them apart. Some bubble back up to the surface, some only needed to be seen once. 

Steve turns to bury his face in Eddie’s neck. He sighs, rubs his face into Eddie’s warm skin. shaking his head, likes how his lips feel moving against edie’s soft parts. 

Tired, hungry, embarrassed, hungry. 

“’M tired. I dunno what to eat.” He whispers, and then because he said it it’s like there’s space in his brain. “Want pasta.” 

“Pasta it is then. And then we can sleep, yeah?” Eddie rocks them gently side to side, kisses the side of his head and slips away. Goes to get the box from the pantry, puts the corn back. Steve gets a pot out of the cupboard. 

Staring into the water, the tips of his fingers prickle. Steve fizzes with energy and emotion. All pent up and annoying him. Needs it out. He clicks the flame on.  

He starts pacing around the kitchen island. In big striding, stomping steps. “Ugh! You think I’m weird. Some weird guy who acts weird and does weird shit.” Steve grumbles. Annoyed. He smacks his palm quick and hard against the counter top. Keeps stomping. 

Eddie comes back and starts following. Stomping and prancing like some court jester. “I like that you’re weird! You know, I have one episode of the Twilight Zone taped. It’s my third one. I watched the other two so much the tapes broke.’ Steve lets a little shout slip from him “Ha!” bubbly and forceful. Dislodging something within him. Like when a tooth finally falls out. 

Feels good. 

“I only like one brand of spaghetti hoops. Wayne once bought me a multipack for Christmas. Best fucking gift I ever got.” and Steve’s laughing now. Giggling and manic and still stomping around the island.

“I like how it feels to brush my teeth. I’ve never had a filling. I fucking love brushing my teeth, Eddie.” and that makes Eddie laugh now too. Two freaks stomping around the kitchen. A king and his jester, lit up by moonlight. 

Steve turns the corner and stops short, still giggling. Eddies bent at one knee, presenting the box of pasta to him. “My liege.” 

Steve claps, hums, high and keening. The waters boiling. 

-

“How’d you feel now?’ Eddie asks around a mouthful of cheesy pasta. 

Steve curls up tighter into the corner of couch, wraps both hands around the warm bowl. Glances at Eddie across from him. “Still kinda embarrassed.”

Eddie looks so soft, so kind, across from him. “I’m embarrassed too, to be honest. You love that movie, I thought you’d like me doing that. Kinda like when we, when we kissed upside-down, like I was Spider-man” Eddies sentence get quieter towards the end, mumbly, spoked into his bowl, cheeks dusted pink.

Steve strains to hear him. Smiles once he puts the words together. 

He shovels pasta in his mouth. Eyes closed. “You are so annoying Eddie Munson. Why’d you even come here tonight, you coulda gone anywhere.” Steve sinks further into the couch, it’s really good pasta.

“Missed you.” Eddie says it like it’s simple, easy, and warmth drips over Steve’s skin. 

Eddie clears his throat, Steve feels him fidget. “Wanna maybe.. You think we could live together one day? Want you to be able to do whatever you want with me around Steve. Breakfast Club on all the time at our place, kay?” And Steve’s throat constricts, that’s a big change, living with someone, moving out. But maybe with Eddie it could be okay, if they did it together, slow. 

“Yeah, kay. One day.” Softly, bit by bit. Little bits. Steve can get there. Let Eddie in, let Eddie see. “But no to Breakfast Club on all the time.” Because some times, some days, some things, are just for him. Steve needs it that way. And that’s okay. 

He stretches out further on the couch, feeling syrupy and nice, easy smile playing at his lips. “I like it when you kiss my neck though, you can do that again.” And that makes Eddie grin all pointy, put their bowls to the side and crawl over him. 

Steve’s toes curl and he hums, high and happy. 

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

tagging those who asked mwah! @2jug2head @lil-gremlin-things

but also people who i think might be interested (sorry if ur not lmk and i won't again) @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @pearynice @steventhusiast @sugarcookiesteve @spectrum-spectre @irethsune

[sadembryhours]

can please you write about an autistic readerx Peter Parker or Gilbert Blythe? (if you could do romantic that’s would be nice but you do whatever you want✨) I think they would be PERFECT for this!!! Thank you! ❤️❤️❤️

burning candles! ♥︎ tasm!peter parker

synopsis : autistic!reader waits for peter to find someone better. [that time never comes]

cw ; comfort , not all autistic people are the same, this is just how it is for me! , lowercase intended , [name] used in place of y/n

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

there’s a puzzle in front of you, half-done as the steaming mug beside you warms the air. there are headphones on your ears, playing the video you’d been thinking about all day.

placing the last blue-colored piece, you take a small break to stretch your limbs. after looking at the full size picture, you decide yellow will be the chosen color next. you blink, eyes tired and back aching but your mind refusing to let you rest until the puzzle is done.

a small, hesitant tap hits your left shoulder. you jump slightly, head turning slowly to see beat up converse falling off of mismatched socks. you sigh, “hi, peter.”

“hey, lovey.” he smiles — you can’t see it with your back to him, but you can hear the grin he holds. a soft brush to your back before he sits on the chair behind you. “wanna join me up here for a bit?”

you do, placing your headphones on the table and grabbing your drink. you allow peter to grab you, maneuvering your body until you’re sideways on his lap. he sighs happily, “missed you today.”

you smile, eyes still on your favorite mug. “missed you, too. your cologne smells nice.���

“it’s new!” peter grins again. his nose hits your temple, lips popping onto your cheekbone, trailing down to your cheek slowly. “glad you like it. thought you would.”

the room grows quiet as peter scrolls through his phone, his left hand rubbing your back. you take a peek at his feed, dimming a bit at how fun it looked. pool parties ; clubbing ; long drives that lead to a road trip — you felt like you made him miss out on it all.

“will you get bored of me?”

peter pauses, his thumb hovering over his phone. you stiffen, nails grinding against the ceramic in your hands. “why would you ask that?”

you shrug and try to divert him — try to change the subject. it’s too late, though, as peter sets his phone down and focuses on you. “[name]. why would i get bored of you?”

“im not very fun,” you admit. you glance at him fleetingly, seeing how sincere and warm his eyes were. “i stay in and do boring things like puzzles. you might want to do more and i won’t let you.”

“you don’t force me here against my will.” peter’s tone is aghast — offended almost as he speaks. his hold tightens momentarily as he scoots you closer. “i like watching you do things you enjoy. even if you think they’re boring.”

your gaze falls again as you adjust his phone to sit the way you want it to. your fingers curl at the habit, pulling your hand away from it slowly. “even when i do things like that?”

“yeah,” he lets out a breathy laugh. “it makes you feel better. that’s all i care about — your comfort.”

your eyebrows furrow, nose scrunching. “that’s weird. you should care for yourself more.”

peter laughs again, his nose poking your temple as he kisses the side of your ear. “that’s what you’re for, hm?”

——♥︎——

you didn’t specify which peter this was for, so i hope this is okay ♥︎ thank you for your request!!

sadembryhours © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know.

[biceratops7]

Victor nikiforov and empathy:

Following my fifth (?) rewatch I found yet another reason to be completely in love with Yuri on Ice, and that is Victor being a wonderfully accurate and non-demonized example of someone with low empathy. Seriously as someone who’s autistic and can’t relate to the influx of “actually we’re all super in tune to other’s feelings and have the MOST empathy!”, watch these scenes because this is what it’s like.

This line at first seems to be Yakov thinking that Victor is arrogant, but Yakov knows him extremely well. He knows that Victor has a hard time viscerally placing himself in another’s shoes, and that’s a major obstacle as a coach.

Victor has trouble understanding what to do in situations that are highly emotional for Yuuri. Instead of being able to directly consider things through Yuuri’s perspective, we see him rely pretty often on environment cues, behavioral cause and affect, or straightforward commands.

He gets his habit of scolding yuri after a routine from Yakov because that’s what he’s familiar with. It’s not something Yuuri responds to particularly well, but it’s only when Victor pays attention to how others react when Yuuri finishes skating that he changes tactic. Victor sees how the crowd is going wild at the (Japan nationals) and it’s only then it occurs to him that Yuuri’s confidence may be jeopardized if he chooses that moment to criticize his performance. This is something he likely would’ve realized much sooner if he could share Yuuri’s stress easier instead of merely observing that it’s happening.

Then later on in episode 7, we get to the scene that actually inspired this post.

At first Victor approached the situation almost like an experiment, trying out cause and effect to disastrous results. When you have a much lower threshold for being able to experience another’s feelings second hand, it’s difficult not to think of other’s negative emotions simply as problems that need to be solved. Problem: Yuuri won’t perform well because he’s too anxious, he will only be MORE upset if he loses, and Victor has already tried to reduce his anxiety to no avail. Idea for solution: raise the stakes and see if increased pressure can replace his nerves with resolve, causing a good performance. Afterward, Yuuri will be proud of himself and happy again. Execute plan, observe results, adjust accordingly. When comfort doesn’t come naturally, this tends to be kind of the default. From experience it comes from a genuine place of caring even when it backfires (and it actually doesn’t at times), basically trying to actually fix the thing upsetting your loved one instead of play acting feelings you don’t get.

… however Yuuri was COMPLETELY within his rights yelling at Victor because regardless of intent he picked the worst thing on planet earth to say in that exact moment. I mean I’ve had my fair share of “oh crap someone is upset and it’s my responsibility” fails but my fuck-

He’s shown to be pretty shit at comforting Yuri/ detached emotionally from the situation, but he is neither coldly unbothered nor strategically hiding it. It may appear callous to bluntly say “I don’t know how to help you” to a loved one who’s crying, but as someone who’s been there, that’s an insanely vulnerable thing to admit. “I don’t feel your pain, I don’t get it. But I love you, and just because I’m not feeling it myself doesn’t mean I don’t care that you’re hurting.”

When Yuri finally just straight up tells Victor what to do, he is relieved and simply does it. Things are different between them after this episode because Yuuri finds the power to communicate his needs clearly and effectively. Victor doesn’t speak “subtlety” well. Yakov and Yurio both speak their mind to him directly regardless of if it’s polite, Which is quite telling because they’re the two characters he has the longest history with. It shows us the kind of communication style Victor is accustomed to and needs to navigate interpersonal relationships.

I’m not making a statement that Victor is autistic or even disordered per say. I feel his unusual circumstances provide enough explanation, but I really do see that he consistently struggles with empathy in the same way I do. He’s probably the only character I’ve been able to see that aspect of myself in with scenes that aren’t played for jokes.

[moronkyne]

This fandom has a huge problem with taking jabs at people when they say their favorites ngl

If someone likes a character… you can’t change their mind. There’s really nothing you can say or do about it.

“Laskos just so whin—” then don’t listen to his audios. “Ollie isn’t my t—” then don’t listen to his audios. “Morgan talks too mu—” then don’t. Listen. To. His. Audios.

We are all grown here 😭 or at least half yall act it…sometimes.

My point? If someone likes a character let them like them. Saying things will start unnecessary drama. The whole reason I’m saying this is bc me and a few of my friends are kinda bugged by how some people are so quick to talk shit about the character we like but then don’t even bother to acknowledge the fact that everyone has their own opinions ‼️

Another thing is how people react when I say I like people playlists/storylines.

I don’t like Blake, not really—but his storyline and the way he was written? Perfection. I’ve never seen character lore that thralls that part of my autistic brain more…but people always like to judge me because they are so quick to assume and not listen to what I have to say

Please tell me I’m not the only one who’s kinda tired of these supposedly sensible people and the way they just love to start shit for no reason 😭