#The two genres of autism | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

beneathashadytree · 2 months

Text

RESPONSIBLE DADS - LOVE AND DEEPSPACE MEN X READER

Warnings : autistic!Zayne with his autistic daughter, all of them are girl dads here (except for Xavier who has twins), cuteness-aggression bites, one mention of a gun (no one is harmed!), no mentions of pregnancy (their kids can be interpreted as biological or adopted), this isn’t proof-read, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : so much domestic fluff ☹️🫶🏽

Word count : 2.3K words (holy shit???)

Additional notes : This is a combination of two asks I’d received a month or two ago about the LNDS men as dads while their partner is away, and Zayne in particular struggling with his own autism vs his child’s autism. The brain rot was real in this one😭 To anyone else reading this, my requests are still closed!! These are just old requests I had in my inbox🫶🏽

Tip jar!

Masterlist

“She went down without much of a fuss,” Zayne said, slowly closing the bedroom door behind him as he set his phone on the dresser and got ready for bed over the video call, despite the time zone differences. He’d tried to convince them to just let themself rest instead of staying up past 3 AM, but they’d paid him no mind and insisted on seeing him last thing before bed.

They hummed, watching him slip out of his button up through their screen with a fond gaze. “She is really quiet compared to what I’ve heard about kids her age.”

In the midst of folding his shirt, he paused, a slight crease between his eyebrows. “A little too quiet.” At his concerned face, they straightened up in their seat and leaned in closer to their phone. “I think… she has difficulty connecting with me.”

Their expression was unsure at that. “I don’t know, Zayne. You know she loves you…”

“I do,” was his swift answer, pausing as he pulled his pyjama shirt over his head, then popping out with his hair adorably mussed. “But maybe she feels like I wouldn’t understand her.”

No matter how much he wanted to seem stoic and unaffected by the prospect, there was no hiding the conflicted emotions swimming in his eyes. With an almost sad smile, they asked him, “Even though anyone that sees you two says you have so much in common?”

With a slight flush (was it out of embarrassment as he noticed his messy hair, or was it a twinge of pride in being so connected to his daughter?) he began to apply his minimal skincare that he’d grown used to with them, scarred skin deftly being cared for after years of neglect.

“Autistic girls have different experiences than autistic boys, and their struggles are often overlooked because of these differences. Maybe she subconsciously feels that we can’t bridge that gap.”

Resting their head against their hand, keen eyes bore through him. Zayne would never go unheard as long as they were there. “Do you feel that gap?”

He shrugged, swallowing thickly as he wiped the excess off on his hand towel. “It’s not about me. Studies show that—”

Shaking their head, they sighed a little in affectionate exasperation. “It doesn’t matter what studies say. You’re overthinking it because you want things to be perfect. It’s sweet, just… not very realistic.”

“Mm. I know,” he softly conceded, combing through his hair with a distant glimmer in his eyes. It wasn’t so easy, navigating the emotions and ideas of a child that one already struggled with for decades.

They apologetically smiled at him, then added, “She trusts you with her life because she knows how hard you try to understand her, no matter how difficult that may be sometimes. You give her the space to be able to communicate her needs properly, and that’s why she loves you beyond measure, Zayne.”

He looked away for a few beats, but that was enough time for them to see the misty-eyed wonder in his eyes as he looked at the crooked drawing on his bedside table that she’d made of him holding her in his arms.

His sweet daughter who carried a piece of his heart everywhere she went.

“Then she’s just like you. Very open with her affections.” Huffing out an impossibly tender laugh, he picked up his phone once again and began to climb into bed, his shoulders sagging with relief; like he needed that reassurance to be able to nestle his body into the mattress, cold as it was without his lover. “Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve it from you both…”

“You’re gonna get sick like that, and guess who’ll be cleaning up that mess?” Rafayel frowned, grabbing his daughter by the scruff of her neck and carrying her off before she got her pretty dress drenched by the wave that came crashing down where she’d been standing.

“I can’t get sick from water, daddy, and you know it,” came the reply between giggles, her eyes closed as she relished in the spray of seawater.

With a grunt, he fumbled with his phone a little as he switched to carrying her against his hip with one arm, before turning back to the ongoing video call. “Holding down the fort?” they teasingly asked, arching their brow at their daughter’s windswept hair and inevitably sandy fists curled up against Rafayel’s chest.

“She likes to bully me.” He pouted as he saw two pairs of mischievous eyes looking at him. “No guesses as to where she picked that up from.”

“Are you sure that your six year old daughter—who, mind you, is as cute as a button—is bullying you?”

“Daddy’s just silly, Lemurians are fine with water,” his daughter tried to reason with what she felt was perfectly logical. “He just doesn’t want to wash my clothes again if I get them wet.”

“And why should I?” he indignantly huffed out at the grin that showed she was definitely up to no good. “They’ll get dirty ten seconds later anyways. It’s such a pain.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t leave paint buckets everywhere, then I wouldn’t be on my fourth dress of the day.” Her sassy mutter under her breath was the last straw, and then his instincts took over and—

Chomp!

His teeth nibbled on her round little cheeks, cuteness aggression washing away any possible annoyance (which he’d been feigning, anyways) at the prospect of having to do the laundry all over again. She cried out in protest, though her shreaks of laughter and tighter hold on him gave away the fact that—not unlike his partner—she loved every bit of it.

“You got my face all dirty,” she whined, wiping her cheek against his silk shirt as he walked them back up to the house, much to his dismay.

A chuckle came from his screen, and he flushed under the sweet gaze and the grin he missed so much. “There goes another round in the washing machine. Y’know, Raf, it’s not the smartest move around to wear your favorite clothes around your kid.”

“No kidding,” he grumbled, though there was no bite behind his words. In fact, the tender look in his gem-like eyes only spoke volumes of the adoration he held inside. And maybe his little girl felt it, and decided it would be the perfect moment to press a kiss to where she could reach, right over his heart.

“I don’t mind the paint, daddy. You always make the prettiest things with it, pretty just like you,” she softly said, her tiny index finger toying with the pearlescent button on his blouse.

How much more did she want to squeeze his heart in his chest? He didn’t think he could possibly love her any more than he already did, and yet here she was, proving over and over again that she was the greatest gift he could ever be blessed with after all these years. Walking into their home with sandy feet and salty skin was no longer a dream, but a part of his quaint little life.

“Even if you did ruin my favorite dress and sandals.”

“Papa’s been asleep for three hours now,” she whined in a low voice, her bottom lip jutted out as she looked back at Xavier curled up in a ball in the middle of the unmade bed, legs tangled in the messy sheets. She then turned back to the videocall at hand. “Can’t you wake him up, please?”

Her twin brother popped up from behind her and patted her shoulders in what he hoped was a soothing manner. “He’s tired after he played with us. Let’s leave him for a bit.”

With a downcast gaze, she reluctantly nodded and walked out with him, the phone shaking as it was a little too big for her small hands.

Now out in the living room, they could finally raise their voices a little. “Papa cleaned up in the morning too. We probably shouldn’t have asked him to play with us.” He looked a little forlorn as he fiddled with his fingers. Painfully shy, it often showed when he was doubting himself. “We tried to help him after lunch, but—”

“That’s okay, what matters is that you both tried to lend him a hand,” they sweetly reassured them as they smiled through the screen. “And I’m sure if he was too tired to play with you guys, he wouldn’t have offered it in the first place.”

Their daughter gasped, eyes shining in awe at that. “How did you know that Papa was the one who came up with the game?”

“Because he waits for playtime every day, just to spend time with you guys. He’s always so excited, y’know?”

With matching grins (though one was more bashful than the other), the two seven year-olds looked significantly lighter than they had been when the call had first started. The precious moment was soon interrupted by a yawn from behind and a tuft of blonde hair taking up half the background.

“Did you two sneak off to have them all to yourself?” came Xavier’s sleep-addled voice, as he shuffled to pull them onto his lap and readjust the camera. “Cheeky, taking advantage of my nap.”

His daughter laughed, her hands going to loop around his neck. “We weren’t! Promise.”

Her brother reached up to pat down Xavier’s bedhead, gently combing through the soft locks. “You looked tired, Papa. We didn’t want to wake you up with our voices.”

At that, Xavier couldn’t help the upwards quirk of his lips, all the love one could contain threatening to burst through as he held his world between his fingertips—and the best part of him miles away but no further from the heart.

“You’re sweet, just like a certain someone we all miss,” he said, before kissing their foreheads and ruffling their hair, earning little grumbles of protest. Turning his attention back to the videocall, Xavier’s eyes softened. “How long until we can take naps together on the couch again?”

His partner sighed, glancing at the calender on the wall for a moment. “Should be three days. It’s hell without you guys. Maybe I’ve gotten used to waking you all up for an hour in the mornings.”

“Hey, it’s all because of Papa!”

“He does sleep in twice as long as us…”

“And it’s gotten even worse now that you’re gone.”

He chuckled at their sulking feeding off each other, and the collective agreement that things just weren’t the same when his lover wasn’t beside him where they belonged. “Then maybe this should be enough to convince them to hurry back to us so we can get up early every day, hmm?”

“Tell me why Luke and Kieran frantically called me up and told me stop you from endangering our one year old girl. Now.”

“Well, hello to you too, sweetie.” Sylus rolled his eyes at the clearly enthusiastic greeting. “I’ve missed you too. I’m doing good without you for two weeks. Thanks for asking.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t give me that crap. You’ll live.” Scoffing, they crossed their arms in front of their chest. “Less avoiding the topic, more explaining why your seconds in command are treating you like a ticking bomb.”

“They’re more like lackeys, you know.” A hint of irritation climbed up his spine. Luke and Kieran were more like lost puppies that would be a danger to themselves—and society—if they were left to their whims. That’s all that they were (or so he tried to convince himself).

They waved him off, knowing that his half-assed words weren’t to be taken seriously. “I beg to differ. Now, where is she and what happened?”

Silence settled for a few moments, but then he realized it wasn’t in his favor to not quickly come clean. “She was playing around with me in bed, then seemed fascinated by my left pocket. Said pocket… may or may not have had a gun.”

Leaning in close to the camera, they sighed heavily, and pinched the bridge of their nose. “And I’m assuming her magic little fingers found the trigger.”

“More or less yes,” he mumbled under his breath, swallowing thickly as he met their dead-eyed stare. “Had to whip it out and fling it across the room… which may or may not have caused it to slam into the new bookcase and send it toppling.”

It didn’t matter how many people he’d managed to fearlessly face down; pinned underneath his partner’s disapproval, he found himself unable to move. “And that’s where they came in?”

Sylus hummed, flipping the camera and showing them the fractured remains on the floor. “Sorry about that, sweetie. Didn’t have the time to clean it up, what with feeding her and getting her ready for bed.”

“It’s fine, I can build another one.” Their quick dismissal was followed by the furrowing of their eyebrows. “What matters is that you prioritized her safety first.”

“Of course,” he was quick to reply, turning the camera back to himself, before he chuckled a little, sweetness seeping through his voice, “Though I do admit, seeing her have no self-preservation instincts really did make her strikingly similar to you in that regard.”

“Really flattering, hearing you praise her brashness and compare it to mine.” Their expression then grew more serious, and they worried their bottom lip between their teeth. “But… please. Don’t keep any weapons in the same room as her. She’s naturally curious.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he murmured, having had his dose of sheer panic at her tiny hands. He couldn’t remember a moment in his life when he’d been as terrified as he was earlier, his blood turning to ice at the thought of endangering her because of his own fast-paced life.

“I know you’ll be more careful. You’re so good to her—and me,” they quietly mused, a grateful look on their face as they admired him—tired ruby eyes, unruly silver hair, and all.

And Sylus had no control over his own lovesick stare, perfectly content with dancing in their palm for the rest of their lives. After all, he’d found the only two people in this world he could forfeit his life for. There was no shame in admitting it—and so he did, ever so softly. “I suppose you can take pride in knowing that you both have me wrapped around your fingers.”

Taglist: @angry-and-yandere @nxx-jordiepord @honestlyjustablog @dawnbreakersgaze @tartartagliaboo @lucis-noctiana @riinari-sa @flurrina @reika-desu @randomidk-123 @tikitsune @cofijelli @roll-of-royces @lemonsupernova @loveyoutodeep @belovedof @obiwanmcprobie @hawtlineblingz @kalatipunan @eurekazz @bifedebruxa @thescribeswife @mysticangel123 @xenasolos @jvnluvr @dann-acalle @rosariymchapter @rin-sv14 @yololesgo @an-ever-angry-bi @semi-orangeapple @lavanderbliss @myturnwhen @winterlvod @carsonology @deepzombieyouth @respitable @stellisangelicus-world @kvsqkiii @bitchynightmarepost @snoozeflare @spotted-salamander @cindywasneverhere @ladyparamount @sncrly0urs @huntersmoon1 @musiclover2119 @girl-who-lives-in-delusion @milktsukii @fromdeepspace-withlove @flavoredhappy @hrhmimieucliffe @icedunderwaterroom @ay-chuu @granddearduck @skriblobz @nadinefromwhere @thatbaepizzalover @imhere2dosomething @saerotonins (more in replies!)

860 notes · View notes

writerslittlelibrary · 4 months

Text

Can you dim the world...?

masterlist

summary: you go shopping with your mom but the store overwhelms you

pairing: Natasha x autistic daughter reader

warnings: autistic reader getting overstimulated at a grocery store

genre: fluff

words: 963

a/n: this is pretty much what I experience when I go to any big grocery store, and I wish I had Nat as my mom to help me :( (friendly reminder that this is how my autism works, so if it doesn’t relate to you then it doesn’t mean it’s inaccurate representation)

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work

|——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

When Natasha had asked you whether or not you wanted to join her in going to the store, you had excitedly told her yes, wanting to spend time with her. However, now that you were standing in the grocery store you regretted that decision big time.

The drive towards the store had been fun. You and Natasha had been singing along to the new album of Taylor Swift, and Natasha had promised to get ice cream after the shopping had been done.

Once you got to the store, things hadn’t been that bad. Sure, the lights were a bit bright, and the people were a bit loud, but it wasn’t terrible.

You had started to zone out at the cheese section, waiting at the cart while Natasha picked a pack of sliced cheese. She had to get the right brand, otherwise it would taste different than what you liked, and Natasha knew you hated when things tasted different than what you were used to.

Natasha had thrown the packet of cheese into the cart, and while doing so she had checked her grocery list, giving you an instruction to go grab something.

You hadn’t heard her, too focused on the store workers standing at the sliced meat isle where they talked and laughed while restocking everything.

“Are you okay…?” you suddenly heard your mom say, snapping you out of your daydreaming.

You blinked a few times before looking at Natasha, nodding.

She looked at you sceptically, knowing that when you were nodding you were indeed not okay. You going mute was always the first thing to happen when you were getting overstimulated.

“We just have to get a few more things, okay baby? We’ll be quick,” your mom reassured you, making sure not to touch you, wanting to prevent you from getting overstimulated faster.

Once you were getting overwhelmed with sounds, you would start zoning out, staring at people around you or focusing on a single spot. Then you would get overstimulated by all the people around you, fiding all your surroundings too busy. Then, usually following that you would completely break down at everything that was touching you.

Natasha knew all your signs, knew every step that your spiralling would take.

She was quick to grab all the stuff that you guys came for, leaving you at the cart, not giving you any instructions nor really talking to you.

Once everything was paid for Natasha took the cart from you, loading everything up into the car while you went and sat down in it. She brought the cart back before sitting next to you, waiting a moment with starting the car.

“Would you like it to be quiet for a moment?” Natasha asked you, waiting patiently on your nod or head shake.

Once you nodded Natasha leaned back into her chair, turning slightly to grab something from the backseat. When she turned back she handed you your favourite drink and your comfort snack, allowing you two to sit in silence for a while.

After about 10 minutes, when you finished your snack and were slowly sipping your drink, you reached for the buttons in the car, pressing play on the song you were listening to before you two entered the store. Natasha smiled as she started the car, knowing you were calming down. She knew you were probably not going to speak for another couple of minutes, sometimes even hours, but she knew you weren’t getting overstimulated by your surroundings anymore.

“Would you still like to get ice cream, or do it tonight or tomorrow?” Natasha asked you, knowing that giving you the reassurance of getting the ice cream, no matter when, would allow you to choose whatever you were comfortable with.

You shook your head ‘no,’ letting Natasha know that you didn’t want to get ice cream right now.

She nodded and focused on the road again, taking a detour, knowing you would calm down from the driving in the car while listening to music. Natasha learned that very early on when she found out it was the only way to calm you down when you were throwing a tantrum as a kid. She now knew you never threw a tantrum to be annoying. You merely did it because you didn’t know how to express yourself and handle your own feelings.

Natasha glanced at you, sighing. She wished so deeply that she was able to understand you earlier in life. You had been such a difficult child, and it turned out that was only because no one understood you.

After driving for about an hour, Natasha pulled the car into the driveway, letting you sit in the car to process everything while she went and got all the groceries inside.

Once she returned, you had already opened your car door and you were now sitting with your legs outside of the car, zoned out. Your mom walked up to you, crouching down in front of you and placing her hand on your knee.

“I’ve already, put the water on, and I figured we could have some tea or hot chocolate and maybe draw for a bit?” Natasha asked you, waiting patiently for your nod. She knew you would never say no to that.

You two went inside where you found the drawing supplies already on the table. Natasha must have placed them on there while you were still in the car.

You two spent a nice, quiet evening. You hadn’t talked much, and neither had Natasha. You simply sat in silence, enjoying each other's comfort. You knew the world would most likely always be too much for you to handle, but you also knew that as long as your mama was around, she would always make the world a bit more bearable.

(I’m so sorry I suck at endings)

Hello lovelies. As you may have noticed I haven’t been posting as often as I usually do. I’ve been overwhelmed, tired with life and basically just downright depressed. At the moment I just feel like dying, so if you noticed the lack of fics you now know the reason. I will try to stay active, but I probably won’t post as often (or maybe I will, idk, I’m a very unpredictable person and my mood swings are insane)

Permanent tags: @marvelnatasha12346 @lesbionion @nova-kyle @darkstar225 @saraaahsstuff @marvelwomenarehot0 @screechcat @iheartjohansson @tia-thesimp @swaqcenix @karmasgxrl @marvel-lous3000 @hor1zond1ar1es @lorsstar1st @superlegend216 @ravensinthedaylight

#black widow #marvel #natasha x reader #mcu #natasha romanoff #marvel reader insert #natasha x daughter #avengers #natasha x reader platonic #natasha #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff x daughter #natasha romanoff x reader platonic #natasha romanoff x reader #mom!natasha romanoff #mom!natasha #natasha romanoff x teen reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x female

243 notes · View notes

pissditching · 1 year

Text

the two main genres of gerard image are a) the most beautiful girl you've ever seen in your life who would have been regarded as a high ranking priestess of the harvest 3000 years ago and b) cat with autism

#mcr #gerard way

698 notes · View notes

baby-yongbok · 1 year

Text

Meltdown

Boyfriend!Bang Chan x Autistic!Fem!Reader

❗Genre: Angst

❗Warnings: Heavy themes of autistic meltdown, Very detailed explanation of a meltdown, Heavy themes of Anxiety?, self-harm (no blood), Mentions of not being able to breathe, Chris is an asshole but not for long. Again, this is very detailed. + Bang Chan is referred to as Chris.

❗A/N: I'm very nervous to post this, but I want to put out content for neurodivergent community. As an autistic individual, I rarely see content with an autistic reader. It may exist, but I've never really come across it. So, here I am. This work is purely based on my experience with autism and is based on my own meltdowns. This is not meant to reflect how every person with autism has meltdowns. I hope that you enjoy!

✨️Masterlist✨️

“You always do this, you always do the same shit and then try to play it off as an accident. How many times are you going to make the same mistake?” Chris yelled in your direction, putting air quotes around the last word of his sentence. You let out a shaky breath, trying your best to keep yourself stable.

“It is a mistake and I thought that I was doing a good job at avoiding it, I don’t perceive any of my behavior tonight as suggestive. I thought that I was being friendly.” Your speech is steady and smooth, a calculated response designed in your head to avoid conflict. That was your goal, avoiding conflict, but it seems that Chris’ temper has other plans tonight.

“Friendly? Are you fucking kidding me? You were practically saying your vows with all the compliments you were dishing out tonight. Laughing at every single word that your so-called friend said. I’m surprised you weren’t sitting in his fucking lap with the way your conversation was going.” Your eyes dart around the room before landing on the bright numbers of the digital clock to your right. You focus your eyes on the bright outline, trying your best to keep yourself calm.

“Chris, I really didn’t mean -” You’re cut off by his yelling, the sudden sound making you jump a bit, shifting your focus.

“I don’t want to hear that fucking excuse. You didn’t mean it? Yeah, sure, you always say that. And why the fuck do you let him call you all of those names? Honey, sweetheart, and anything else that slips off of his tongue, right?” He moves from his spot across from you, circling the couch and stalking towards where you're sitting quickly, only stopping when there’s about a foot between you. “Are you fucking him or something? Do the two of you have history? Because I can’t think of another reason for you to be so goddamn disrespectful.”

“Wha- no, I- I never did anything with him.” Your eyes dart up to his face but your gaze quickly falls, you blink a couple of times trying your best to hold back your tears. “I thought.. I thought I was being friendly I was watching -”

“Why are you trying to play innocent?” He squats down in front of you, his piercing gaze trying to find yours. Tears start to run down your cheeks and you start to rock your body back and forth. You wipe your tears away with open hands before starting to pick at your nails. “Look at me. If you’re not lying then look at me.”

“Chris I- I can’t right now. I’m r-really overwhelmed, I’m sorry.” He sucks his teeth at you, leaning closer into your space. “Please.. Back up.”

“Look at me.” He hisses and you can feel the tingling in your hands and feet starting as your thoughts start to spiral out of control. “Do you really think that you were just being friendly? Tell me, I’m fucking listening.”

His tone picks up towards the completion of his sentence, ending in a shout. You jump again, crossing your arms over your chest in an attempt to comfort yourself. The thoughts in your head get louder as the seconds go by and you start to lose the ability to understand them. Every time that you try to pin point one of them it gets pulled away from you. You start to bounce your leg, fast and harsh. The bouncing of your leg paired with the rocking of your upper body seemed to have caught Chris’ attention. The real Chris, not the one that was standing in front of you seconds ago allowing his jealousy to spiral out of control in a fit of anger.

“Hey..hey” He lowers himself onto his knees, his eyes that were angry seconds ago now glazed with worry. “I’m.. I’m sorry I lost it, I know I shouldn’t have, I just..”

He reaches his hand out to touch you, a soft attempt at comforting you but it was the last thing that he should’ve done. You jump at the contact, a small whine falling from your lips. He moves his hand quickly, muttering a small apology. You bring your hands up to cover your ears, attempting to shut out the heavy buzzing of your thoughts. You start to rock your body quicker as you lean forward, shrinking into yourself.

“Fuck.” Chris hisses under his breath, his hands helplessly resting on his lap. He knows that you didn’t mean it, he knows that you have trouble interacting with your friends due to your autism. And he knew better than anyone what could happen when you got overwhelmed. He could usually see it coming and nurse you back to a more stable headspace but this time he couldn’t. This time it was him that caused the meltdown, the fault was at his feet and there was nothing he could do to fix it. All he could do was wait and watch as you went through the motions.

It was the screaming that pulled him out of his thoughts. The piercing sound of you wailing, the verbal expression of the pain you felt as you tried your best to understand what was happening in your head. His eyes fixed on you immediately, he took you in slowly, maybe too slow. Your hands were laced in your hair pulling harshly at the roots as you sobbed, you were mumbling something through your sobbing. At first he couldn’t understand but eventually he caught on and his heart shattered in his chest as he reached for your hands in an attempt to loosen your grip on your hair.

“Stop making mistakes, stop making mistakes, stop making mistakes.” You mumbled as your tears fell. Your grip on your hair tightened just as Chris made contact with you, he tried desperately to gently pry your fingers from your curls.

“Baby, you can’t do that.” He nearly whispered, his voice was easily drowned out by your screams as you tried to get as far away from his touch as possible. “Baby, please.”

“Stop making mistakes, Stop making mistakes.” Once Chris was able to loosen your grip you balled your hands into fists. Your body tensed and your breath caught in your chest. Chris watched you with wide eyes, he slowly tried to move a bit closer to you, preparing himself to stop you from hurting yourself if needed.

“You have to breathe.” The panic in his tone was evident, you could hear it but you couldn’t react. There was too much going on, too much to process. “ Babygirl, please please breathe.”

You bang your fists against your thighs, trying to get your brain to slow down, trying to coordinate breathing with thinking, moving, anything. Why couldn’t you breathe? Why couldn’t you just stop holding your breath? Why? The more you thought about it the more frustrated you got. You could feel a burning in your chest as you looked up at Chris, eyes wide with panic.

“Babygirl, look, follow me. Do what I do, yeah?” His voice is soft yet strong as he tries to mollify the panic rising in his chest. He attempts to instruct you, using his hands to guide you into making your chest rise and fall as it should. You watch his hands, trying to concentrate, Trying to ignore the ringing in your ears and the harsh buzzing of your thoughts. The longer you focus on the movements of his hand the more that you can feel your chest start to move. You take in a sudden breath, gasping a bit and choking for a second. You follow with another quick breath, gasping again and the pattern continues until the burning subsides and an intense dizziness hits you.

“You did it, you did so well, baby.” Chris whispers, his eyes wide and glossy. “You got it.”

Your body starts to relax a bit as you work to regulate your breathing. You slowly unclench your fist, resting your hands in your lap and scratching at the fabric of your jeans. Your movements start to slow and you sit up straight gradually, every move hurts a bit, the aching in your muscles already starting to set in. Your crying continues as you pant softly, you mumble the same statement to yourself a couple of times before you direct your words towards Chris.

“I’m s-sorry. I thought I-I was doing it right I t-thought…” Your sentence trails off into a pained sob as you bring your hands up to cover your eyes. The guilt of your reaction came flooding through instantly. First you make your boyfriend mad and then you have a fucking meltdown about it? You just can’t win, huh.

“Please don’t apologize, I should be the one apologizing. I should be begging for forgiveness right now. I had no right to get that angry, I was jealous and it was stupid. I was insecure, I’ve been insecure about you hanging out with him for months and I let all of that pent up emotion out and I hurt you. I’m so so sorry, I understand if you don’t forgive me, I wouldn’t either. I know that you struggle and I still fucked everything up.” He moved a bit closer to you, a mere inch separating the two of you.

You shook your head acknowledging that you could hear him. Your brain was slowing down just a bit and you didn’t want to add anything to the whirlwind to disrupt it.

“I’ll get your meltdown kit, and I’ll pick out your safe clothes. You need to take a hot shower to try and soothe your muscles… you’re going to be sore in the morning, okay?” You shake your head, glancing up at Chris for just a second before you close your eyes and take a deep breath. Your chest feels tight but you try not to let it bother you. The aftermath of a meltdown was something that you’ve grown used to after all.

“Please believe me when I say that none of this was your fault. I’m so so fucking sorry, this will never happen again…ever.” He nearly whispers the last word before he stands from his position in front of you, rushing off to get your meltdown kit equipped with sensory aids of all types along with a pair of noise canceling headphones and a pair of tinted glasses in case the light is too much for you to take in.

You keep your eyes closed as you wait for him to return, the pitter patter of his feet across the hardwood is louder than usual as he makes his way back over to you. He leaves you with the kit before rushing to start your shower and pick out your clothes. You always tell him that after you have a meltdown you just want to be left alone, you need space to come down completely. He watches from afar as you put on the headphones and open your favorite calming candle to smell. He makes sure to stay just far enough for you to have your space but close enough to be there if you need him. Once you go to the bathroom for your shower he sits outside of the door, listening for any signs of a follow up meltdown. He takes a deep breath and before he can stop it a tear falls, trailing down his cheek and leaving a path for the rest to follow. He squeezes his eyes shut as it all replays in his head. He yelled at you, he caused your meltdown, you could’ve passed out or ended up more hurt than you already are. God forbid you had a shutdown, he’d never be able to live with himself if he caused that but he could honestly barely stand himself now. He took out his phone, typing a text to Minho, hoping for someone to help calm him down before he sees you again. He’ll only allow himself to fall apart behind the scenes, he doesn’t want to add to your distress any more than he already has. A couple seconds go by after he’s sent the text before his phone is vibrating in his hands. He swipes the green button and brings his phone up to his ear. He takes in a shaky breath before he lets the words leave his lips.

“I fucked up…”

841 notes · View notes

defectivegembrain · 23 days

Text

The thing worse than tiktoks and such simplifying autism and treating it like a trend, is the people using that as an excuse to dismiss every autistic person they see online. You bring up your autism in a conversation about something it genuinely affects and people will say it's just a made up excuse. You talk about it in relation to general ableism and people will very aggressively say they didn't mean people like you. All it takes is a brief comment or two and suddenly autistic people are "taking over" the conversation. People will drop the descriptor "autistic" into posts about some supposed genre of person they find annoying, cobbled together from instagram posts and that person on the street who was vaguely rude that time. And the word "autistic" in this is just treated like window dressing, like it doesn't mean anything. Anyone who objects is treated like they brought it up to begin with.

Oh sometimes they'll try to save face with "oh but I don't mean high support needs people", but truthfully they probably never thought about their existence or their presence online anyway. It's the same old false dichotomy of people they think are too autistic to have an opinion versus people they think aren't autistic enough for their opinion to matter. Except it used to be relatively niche communities of autistic people and "autism moms" and such arguing. Now every asshole with a semi-large following and a practiced disdain for fandom thinks we're no more than a rhetorical device.

#actuallyautistic #ableism

132 notes · View notes

adventuringblind · 1 year

Note

(●’◡’●)ﾉ, I'm in loove with your Oscar Piastri x autistic!reader series, it gives really beautiful perspective on navigating relationships while being neurodivergent. I was wondering if you do a imagine/headcannon for Oscar and reader and how they navigate sexual intimacy in particular, like do's and donts, emotions during it stuff like that. If ur not comfortable writing that then it's ok, I just thought it would be interesting ♡

Bedroom Procedures

Oscar Jack Piastri x Reader

Genre: spicy things ahead but not smut

Request: the way I ran to write this... send me more ideas like this please they are my favorite to write!

Summary: Oscar and Reader navigate through intimacy

Warnings: again... spicy things. However there is no real depiction of anything happening!

Notes: aight, so this is again how I navigate because that's what I know. This is not a depiction of how every autistic person is when it comes to being intimate. Remember that autism is a spectrum and everyone is different.

Masterlist

Being intimate with each other actually took a long time

At least longer than what is probably average

And that's in opinion

She wants to have sex with Oscar

It's just that it's difficultt and there are so many different feelings that is gets overwhelming quickly

It doesn't help she's trying to dive straight in whenever they try it

Oscar pays attention however

Her body language is how he can understand her feelings

So he knows exactly what he's doing even if she doesn't get it yet

The next time things get a little heated, Oscar slows them both down

"Why are you stopping? Did I do something wrong?"

"Absolutely not, just thought we would try something different."

In her head, different is strange because there is usually an order to these things, and it should become routine eventually

Oscar has other plans

He starts taking their intimate moments incredibly slow

Introducing her to different sensations and letting her tell him what she likes and doesn't

Soon, he has a comprehensive list of dos and don'ts

Like how sometimes she prefers to keep on a loose shirt because otherwise the skin on skin is to much

Not all the time

He always asks before they do anything if she would like to wear one of his shirts

Or how her biting him is usually a good sign because it means she's happy

(Something she does even when they aren't having sex)

Oral is a grey area for her

Sometimes, she'll suck him off for hours, and others, she gets overwhelmed just thinking about it

Oscar doesn't care, though, because he loves her no matter what she's feeling up to

One thing he was not expecting was for her to be relatively kinky

Experimenting is everything

Hard yes and no things but down to try before deciding

Oscar got a bit experimental after he got a general idea and their bedroom communication was good

Again... communication is a key point

He's always asking questions and reading her body just as she is with him

The fact that it's a vulnerable state and both of them are connecting in a way with emotions that even sex itself can't give is incredibly intimate

They don't even make it there sometimes because the emotional ties are just so deep that they simply spend time memorizing each other

Another thing is vocals

Oscar is usually composed and level-headed

Sex however is completely different

It's where he is able to express himself in ways he couldn't before

Also, listening to his voice is something that helps her know if she's doing okay

She also experiments with her voice

Vocal stimming during sex happens often, and it happens when she is on the edge

Her parroting is endearing ad well

Sometimes Oscar will moan or hum in a way and she will copy

A non-verbal agreement to keep going

Can go for maybe two rounds maximum

Maybe three or four but that's on a good day

Follows a routine of how things go down and there is definitely communication beforehand

Even if both parties are in the heat of the moment, he will not start anything without giving an idea of what will happen

It's like an unwritten rule so that she isn't trying to read the situation and get frustrated with herself if she can't understand what's happening

Clear cut yes and no

There is no maybe

All communication is cut and dry, and there is no beating around the bush

Because of her willingness to touch, but only from those she's allowed, Oscar is a teeny tiny bit possessive

If anyone touches her who she's not comfortable with he won't hesitate to bite her in reciprocation

She bites him, he bites her, it's a pattern they keep going because he knows its her love language

Also, it creates some fun on other places

Really the two are very good at setting boundaries and communicating

It makes things fun for both of them and there is never any feelings hurt

394 notes · View notes

sageluvsjoel · 7 days

Text

A Different Kind of Miracle

jackson!joel miller x reader x autistic!daughter

Requested HERE

masterlist

summary: Joel faces challenges understanding his daughter’s differences, but learns how to connect with her in meaningful ways.

genre: fluff, slight hurt to comfort, post outbreak

wc: 1.5k

likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

i do not authorize plagiarism or copying of my work!

Jackson was the kind of place that made Joel uneasy. The sense of safety, the quiet that settled over the town at night, it was almost unnatural. He had grown too accustomed to danger lurking in every corner, too used to living with his guard up, waiting for the next threat. But here, in this community, there was peace—a foreign concept after two decades of nothing but violence, death, and loss.

At first, he didn’t know what to do with it. He wasn’t sure if he deserved it, honestly. But then, you came along. And with you, came the greatest miracle of his life—a little girl, his daughter.

Joel had never imagined being a father again. Hell, he hadn’t even wanted to be. Losing Sarah had gutted him, left him a shell of a man who had given up on the idea of family, of love. But then you’d walked into his life, unexpected and undeniable, and before he knew it, the two of you had a daughter. It was like the world had found a way to give him a second chance, something he never thought he’d get.

At first, Joel was terrified. He was older now, more worn down by the world, but you’d reassured him. Together, you’d raise her. Together, you’d be the family he thought he’d lost forever.

She was his little miracle. But lately, Joel found himself… confused. Worried, even. She wasn’t like other kids. At first, he didn’t think much of it—every kid was different, after all. But as she got older, there were little things he couldn’t ignore anymore. She rarely looked him in the eye, didn’t babble like Ellie or the other kids her age. Sometimes, she’d play alone for hours, completely immersed in whatever world she’d created for herself, but if he tried to change her routine, she’d fall apart. Meltdowns that he didn’t understand would follow—her little body shaking as she screamed, inconsolable.

He hated it. Not her, never her, but the helplessness he felt every time it happened. He was used to fixing things, solving problems with his hands, with action. But this? He didn’t even know what it was, let alone how to fix it.

It was a cold morning when you first brought it up, sitting on the porch outside your little house in Jackson, your daughter playing quietly in the yard. She was lining up her toy blocks in neat, perfect rows, just as she always did. Joel watched her, sipping from his coffee mug, his face set in that familiar frown.

“Joel,” you said softly, your voice careful. “Have you… noticed anything with her? I mean, I know you have, but I mean… more than just being quiet?”

He grunted, not taking his eyes off your daughter. “She’s just a kid. They’re all different. She’ll grow out of it.”

You sighed, placing your hand on his. “I don’t think she will. I’ve been reading about… autism. I think that might be what’s going on.”

Joel’s brow furrowed, and he turned to look at you, his expression hard to read. “Autism? What the hell’s that got to do with her? She’s fine. She’s just—she’s just young. All kids act weird.”

You shook your head, your eyes gentle but firm. “It’s more than that, Joel. The meltdowns, the way she lines things up, how she doesn’t respond to her name half the time. I think she’s struggling, and we need to help her. But first, we need to understand what’s going on.”

He pulled his hand away, rubbing his face in frustration. “I don’t know, alright? I’ve been through a lot of shit, but I don’t know anything about this. This is… I don’t know what to do with this, alright? I can’t fix it.”

You reached for his hand again, and this time, he didn’t pull away. “Joel, she doesn’t need fixing. She’s perfect just the way she is. But she does need us to see her, to understand her. And you know what? We’ll figure it out together. We don’t have to do it alone.”

Joel let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping. He wasn’t used to feeling like this, like there was something he couldn’t control. He hated it. But he couldn’t argue with you either. He trusted you, more than anyone in this world, and if you thought something was going on, then maybe… maybe you were right.

That night, Joel lay awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling, your soft breathing beside him the only sound in the room. His mind raced, thoughts swirling around his daughter, around the word you’d said—autism. It wasn’t something he understood. Hell, he hadn’t even heard of it before the outbreak, and back then, his world had been so small, revolving around work and raising Sarah. He hadn’t thought much about things like that.

But now, it was different. He had to understand, because this was his little girl, his miracle, and he’d be damned if he let her struggle without doing everything in his power to help her.

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

The days turned into weeks, and Joel found himself paying more attention to the things he hadn’t noticed before. He saw the way she flinched at loud noises, the way she covered her ears when there were too many people around. He saw the way she fixated on certain toys or routines, how any deviation sent her spiraling into a meltdown that left her exhausted and him feeling helpless.

But he also saw the little things. The way she smiled, just for a moment, when she was lost in her own world. The way her tiny hands carefully placed each block in a perfect line, her focus so intense it almost made him laugh. She was so different from anyone he’d ever known, but she was also so her—beautiful, smart, and his.

One evening, after a particularly rough day of trying to get her to wear a new pair of shoes, Joel sat on the porch, his head in his hands. The frustration had gotten the better of him, and for a moment, he’d snapped, raising his voice in a way that made her cry. He hated himself for it, hated the look of fear in her eyes, the way she’d flinched when he yelled.

“I don’t know what to do,” he muttered as you sat down beside him, rubbing his back gently. “I don’t know how to help her.”

You rested your head on his shoulder, your voice soft and understanding. “It’s okay, Joel. It’s hard. But you’re doing your best, and that’s what matters. She knows you love her. We’ll figure it out, one step at a time.”

Joel closed his eyes, the weight of everything pressing down on him. But then, from inside the house, he heard a small voice.

“Daddy?”

It was soft, almost hesitant, but it was there. His heart leapt into his throat, and he stood up, walking into the living room where his daughter stood, her blocks in her hands. She looked up at him, her big brown eyes full of uncertainty, but there was something else there, too—something he hadn’t seen before.

“What is it, baby girl?” he asked, his voice as gentle as he could manage.

She didn’t answer right away, but she held out a block, offering it to him. It was such a small gesture, but to Joel, it felt like the world shifted. She was reaching out to him, in her own way, trying to connect.

He knelt down, taking the block from her hand. “Thank you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “That’s a good one.”

For a moment, she smiled, just a little, before turning back to her toys. Joel stayed there, on the floor, watching her, his heart swelling with a mix of love and pain. She was different, yes. But she was also perfect.

That night, as he lay in bed beside you, he whispered into the quiet, “I’ll learn. I’ll figure out how to be the dad she needs.”

You smiled in the darkness, your hand finding his. “You already are.”

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

The weeks and months that followed weren’t easy. There were still moments of frustration, of helplessness, but Joel found himself changing. He learned to meet his daughter where she was, to understand her needs instead of trying to fit her into a mold she didn’t belong in. He learned to listen, not just with his ears, but with his heart. And slowly, bit by bit, he saw her blossom.

One day, as the two of them sat together on the porch, Joel handed her one of her favorite toys, a small wooden horse. She took it, studying it carefully before turning to him with a small, soft smile.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

And just like that, everything was worth it. Every struggle, every moment of doubt—it all faded away in the face of that simple, precious moment.

Joel Miller had spent his whole life fighting, surviving. But now, with his little girl in his arms, he realized that this—this was what he had been fighting for all along.

A different kind of miracle.

to be added to my tag list click HERE and comment

#the last of us #joel miller #joel tlou #joel x reader #the last of us 2 #joel miller x reader #autism #neurodivergent #ellie williams #tlou2

56 notes · View notes