#neurodivergent reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sharkboywrites · 11 months

Text

Wait, This Is a Date!?

Riddle, Idia, and Malleus with an autistic reader who didn't realize they were on a date

Male/gn reader, autistic reader, missed signals, Idia is implied to also be autistic

A/N: I've noticed that some people aren't very obvious when asking someone out or generally establishing their feelings. I actually realized that one of my ex-friends stopped being friends with me because I wasn't picking up on their signals, what's up with people lmao

One afternoon after you had finished all of your classes, your closest "friend" approached you looking rather nervous and asked you to accompany them later. Seeing this as just a request to hang out was friends, you accepted. When he suddenly thanks you for going on a date with him halfway through your activity your caught off guard.

"Wait, this is a date!?"

Riddle Rosehearts

Oh boy, be prepared to start apologizing because the once surprised look on his face at your sudden outburst melted to one of pure sadness. He was absolutely dejected

He took this as you rejecting him halfway through the date he put so much effort into

He even baked all the pastries for your little tea party date :(

He cleared his throat and straightened his posture. He put on a serious face despite clearly being on the verge of tears, and apologized for... making you uncomfortable? Wasting your time?

Well that wasn't what you wanted

In another quick outburst you cut him off and say that you didn't actually mean it in a negative way

You started doing the usual over-explaining hoping that he wouldn't get the wrong idea (more than he already had) and apologizing for not getting his signals

The relief he felt in that moment was something he doesn't think he can compare to anything else in his life

He actually started crying for the fact that "oh thank the sevens they're not rejecting me"

After he calmed down the two of you went back to your tea party date, although both of you aware aware that it was a date this time

bonus: Trey and Cater screaming internally after watching all of that from afar (They'd be there for Riddle's first date as emotional support you can't convince me otherwise)

Idia Shroud

Lord have mercy you're going to kill him

It took him so much to build up the courage Ortho blackmailing him to come over and play video games just for you to not know he was asking you on a date???

He played Stardew Valley with you what could be more romantic than that???

He kinda just sits there and stares at you

He's processing give him a minute

Literally the only response he gives you is just a "Uhh..yeah. Duh." (he's trying to not give away how disappointed he is)

And in you just respond with an "Oh."

Awkward level 100%

After sitting there for a few seconds rocking back and forth to make yourself a little more comfortable, you take a deep breath and lean your head on his shoulder

"Well I like this date."

He tries to hide his flustered face after that, but you can see the tips of his hair turn a soft pink in contrast to the usual blue

He really is bad at hiding his emotions

for the rest of the night the two of you keep playing video games together, and you eventually fall asleep on him, which he freaks out about but tries not to wake you up

Really just two autistics trying to figure out how to date and flirt

Malleus Draconia

So funny thing

He thought the two of you were a couple long before the two of you went on your "first date"

You know that thing on tiktok that's like "check with your autistic s/o that they know your dating because it turns out I've been dating someone for months and had no clue" Yeah that's the two of you

In his eyes it was established that the two of you had been dating. He probably confessed in his old poetic fae way of talking.

So he was just like "You are the sunrise to my day, the cool breeze on a summers day, the blood in my veins." and you were just like "Yep me and my good ol' pal Malleus. besties :)"

What do you mean friends don't give each other little trinkets they find pretty? What to you mean that's fae courting?

What do you mean friends aren't that affectionate? What do you mean friends don't hold hands, hug, and tell each other how much they appreciate them?

Honestly when you burst out with the question, he just laughs after a minute while you sit there flustered and confused

he has to sit you down and explain to you that you've both been dating for at least three months by this point. Lilia was even starting to ask him if he was going to ask you to marry him (he's impatient)

He does make sure that you're okay with this relationship and that you actually want to date him

After this you're relationship grows even stronger rather than growing weaker, he thinks it's endearing

He'll make sure to be more forward and literal with you from now on

if I'm being honest all three of them give me "autistic just not diagnosed yet" vibes. Ty for reading and have a nice day

1K notes · View notes

soapskneebrace · 5 months

Text

imprimatura

muses - part one - next

Pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish x f!Reader Word Count: 2.8k Rating: Mature (mostly Soap being Soap) Warnings: please see this post for notes about this reader character Also on Ao3.

An artist meets her muse, and a solider meets his.

He arrives early as you’re setting up for your students, in jeans and a tight t-shirt, and the first thing that crosses your mind when you lay eyes on him is Jesus, he’s fit.

You are no stranger to bodies. Hundreds of them have cycled through your studio, all shapes and sizes and colors; you think you may know every dip, every roll, every hard angle and soft curve that a human body is capable of holding. The mystique of defined muscle has long lost its novelty. Bodies are bodies, and each holds the same value as the next when subject to brush and canvas. It never matters, you teach your students, what a body looks like in the modeling chair. It only matters if they can reproduce it accurately.

Even so, when a body like this walks in, you really can’t help but take notice.

Decadent muscle, fed and worked well, round and full with hydration. It’s impossible to miss, even through his clothes; each group delineated clearly, gracefully, as if sculpted rather than built, and alive with soft, subcutaneous movement. It’s indulgent to look at, the comfortable breadth of his shoulders and chest down to that slight taper of his waist and bulk of his thick thighs. It’s a physique no hard-bodied gym rat could hope to achieve merely with extra time at the racks—a physique that is easily, harmoniously attractive in its makeup of muscle and healthy fat.

The man is also mohawked and suntanned, and his mouth rests at an angle that suggests he often smiles—as if he knows that Michelangelo would have swooned at the sight of him. He comes into your classroom, saunters over to you, and stops precisely two paces away from you.

“Sergeant John MacTavish,” he says, offering his hand. “I understand you’re the instructor?”

He has gorgeous, vivid blue eyes (pthalo and cremnitz, with a touch of hamsa). You blink several times. Fit is still rattling around your skull, and begins knocking against sergeant at the same rolling frequency as his warm Scottish brogue. You realize his hand is still outstretched and quickly take it to shake.

“Yes!” you say. His palm is tough, callused, and not soft in the slightest, but very warm. “Nice to meet you, sergeant.”

He gives a grimace. “John’s fine. Or Soap.”

“Soap?”

“Nickname, y’know.”

Neither of you have released from the handshake. Soap’s grip is firm, the kind of firm that suggests he can squeeze much, much tighter if he needs to. And if the grip isn’t any indication, the broad forearms, dusted soft with dark brown hair, certainly are.

Black lines, a sword and helmet framed in laurels, catch your notice. The ink has the soft edges of having lain in the skin for a few years. You turn his arm to see it more fully. “Oh. Nice tattoo.”

He looks at the ink as if it is entirely new to him, and then gives an easy grin. “Thanks. I’ve got a few more too. Hope they aren’t hard to draw.”

When you loosen your grip on his hand, he releases you immediately. You still feel the squeeze in your bones even as you drop your hand to your side.

“So, then, Soap,” you say, “have you ever modeled before?”

He shakes his head, tucking his hands into the front pockets of his low-slung jeans. It tugs the waistband just a bit, revealing a sliver of warm, tan skin (raw sienna, flesh ochre, naples yellow). “Should have, honestly, with how much it pays.”

“It gets very boring, very fast,” you say. “What do you plan to wear for the breaks?”

“Was I supposed to bring that m’self?”

You are unable to suppress a laugh. “Yes, unfortunately.”

“Oh,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck and going a little sheepish—as if expecting a reprimand. You suppose it’s a valid expectation to have, in his world. You aren’t terribly familiar with the military, but you do know it’s one hell of a stickler for rules.

You also can’t help but admire the appealing pull and stretch of his bicep and deltoid, the flex of his pectoral as he lowers his arm.

“Why don’t you wait here, and I’ll go see if I can find something for you?” you suggest kindly, letting him off the hook.

“Sorry,” he says, pretty blue eyes filled with genuine apology. “I’ll remember nex’ time. Thanks.”

The expression is so hangdog that you almost want to pat his head and noise at him reassuringly, like an actual dog. You press your lips together to hide a smile, and leave the studio.

When you get back from the models’ changing room, you find Soap with one hip against the counter where you’d been organizing your supplies, one knee loose and shoulders set at a relaxed angle. You want to laugh at his easy contrapposto. He’s going to be an excellent model. You can feel it.

It looks as if he’s moving around the sticks of vine charcoal with one outstretched finger; he pulls his hand guiltily away when you reenter the studio, crossing his arms over his chest as if to hide the evidence of his snooping. It makes his pectorals bunch and round out, gathers the thickness of his biceps up into chiseled, full definition.

You lift one brow at him as you walk over.

“Never could keep my hands to m’self,” he admits, still sheepish.

“It’s alright,” you allow, smiling back. “Do you draw?”

“Used to,” he says. He looks back at the charcoal. “No time, now.”

“Are you deployed often?” you ask, taking the opportunity to look at his face.

Beauty is cheap in art, but you notice it all the same—appreciate the strong brows, the hard angle of his jaw, the dark stubble of a beard you suspect he can’t keep shaved down, and the long scar that cuts through it across his chin. The light brown of his complexion is speckled with sun exposure, and there are the faintest of creases at the corners of his eyes, which you expect will deepen into genuine, gorgeous crow’s feet as he ages.

He’s not all rugged, though. There is a soft, thick curl to his lashes, which are as dark as strong coffee or expensive chocolate, and an equal decadence to the pink, plush little swell of his bottom lip—which, in the very middle, has the smallest of divots, as if he regularly spends time biting it.

They’re traits that are far too sweet to belong on an otherwise masculine face, and their effect is such that they turn an objectively average set of features into a shockingly attractive portrait—that suddenly has something fluttering, just a bit, in the roof of your stomach.

He looks at you, and catches your survey. You can see him realize you’d been watching, the knowledge of it blooming in ocean blue eyes like ink dropped onto linen.

“More often than no’,” he answers, showing teeth in a crooked, interested grin. And now he’s looking at you—attention flitting across your face, dropping down your body and jumping back up to meet your gaze. The creases deepen at the corners of his eyes.

The fluttering intensifies. The sudden role reversal has you feeling at once flustered and unmoored. You are never the subject of any perusal—always comfortably the observer.

“Well—” you try, and you’re embarrassed at the low tone of your voice. You clear your throat. “Well, let’s make use of the time we have you, then.”

His smile remains, cocksure and easy. “Let’s.”

He knows the effect he’s had.

“Anyway,” you say, blinking several times and proffering the sheet you’d retrieved, “none of the other models are your size, so I’m afraid this will have to do.”

He takes it in his hands, which are sun-dark and striking against the clean white linen. “So it’s a toga, then?” he asks.

“Whatever you like. Let’s go over the basics, and then you can undress.”

“Oh, already, aye? Y’move fast, hen,” he drawls, still grinning. “I like it.”

Heat rushes to your face, but you don’t feel embarrassed enough not to laugh. You busy yourself with tapping your charcoal sticks back in place, putting them back in an even row ascending in order of length, and saving yourself from having to look him in the eye. “Ha! We don’t do a lot of foreplay in this studio, I’m afraid.”

“No?” Soap hums, and he steps closer. He’s very warm, enough that you can feel it even with the space between you. You do have to look at him then. His eyes are half-lidded, lashes casting pretty shadows on his cheekbones as he gazes down at you. “That’s a shame. I’m right partial to it.”

Your brows lift, and you will your pulse to remain steady even as you inhale, catching a thread of—cologne? Aftershave? Just plain deodorant?—coming off of him. The scent caresses you, almost beckoning you to lean forward. You swear you can see the thrum of his heartbeat, there in the soft hollows by his Adam’s apple.

You blink. He is your model. “Well—I’ll try to set you up as best I can, anyway. Follow me, please.”

And you turn your back on him, because this is your workplace, and you are at work, and if you don’t get on with things you might do something stupid like actually flirt back.

Soap hadn’t been sure what to expect when he arrived at the art studio. He’s never been to one before, much less one housed in a university—which he has also never been to—and hell, he only ever took one art class in high school.

If pressed, he’d have imagined old brick walls covered in diagram posters, shelves of supplies in all colors, the smell of paint hanging permanently in the air. What he finds instead is modern, clean, and impersonal. Stage lights hang from fixtures in the ceiling, pointing at a platform in the back center of the room. A tight line of easels, all folded up, stand pressed into a far corner, next to a tower of stacked chairs, and waist-high cabinets line half the room against the bare, painted cinder block wall. The linoleum floor looks new.

None of this, however, has any opportunity to disappoint him. His final unmet expectation, standing across the room and organizing a tray of art supplies, is a very welcome surprise.

You’re bonnie. Like, every point on his wishlist bonnie. Christ, he must’ve done something really good lately, because he can’t imagine just lucking into this. There’s not a hard angle to you, all sweet and soft, but when you meet his gaze during introductions there’s a sharpness to you that skewers him through the chest. You are much smarter than him, he can tell immediately.

He’s always had a thing for smart women. Soft ones, too. And if that weren’t enough, you let him flirt shamelessly with you, while checking him out the whole time.

Steaming Jesus.

You direct him to get onto the platform and sit down, still clothed, in an armchair draped in another pristine white sheet. The stage lights are bright overhead, and they highlight free-floating wisps of your hair in gold.

“You want to ensure that you don’t rest your weight on only one or two points,” you explain. You have a nice voice. Steady, confident—this is your territory, your studio, and in it you are clearly the master. “The main danger is that your arms or legs might fall asleep, and you won’t realize it until you get up, in which case you’ll fall. We can’t touch you, so we can’t save you from that.”

“Y’canna touch me?” Soap repeats.

“Not without your explicit consent,” you say.

He smiles at you, the kind of smile he saves for bright nights at the pub over platoons of shot glasses. “I explicitly consent to you touching me.”

The corners of your mouth tug upward, just a bit, and you look away, clearly bashful. Something in Soap’s chest starts beating a drum. He knows already he’ll ask you to drinks after the class ends tonight.

“I doubt I’d be able to do much,” you say, “you’re a bit more substantial than the usual models.” Your eyes flick down his torso and back up.

“Guess I’ll have to follow your advice, then,” he says.

“You should,” you say, and he looks at your thigh shamelessly as you pat it—even beneath your jeans, he can see the ripple of the impact. “One of the worst-case scenarios is nerve damage.”

“So you have done this before!”

He can’t help it—Soap’s imagination runs wild. Titanic, draw-me-like-one-of-your-French-girls wild. It’s not exactly polite to imagine a teacher naked while she’s in the middle of giving him directions (and Jesus, what a concept, he might be half-mast already), but Soap has always found that people like it when he’s a little rude.

You drum your fingers. “I have.”

He finally hears the nerve damage part of your instruction. “How, uh—how bad can it get?”

The drumming stops. “For me? It just starts to twinge a bit if I sit on this side very long. So don’t rest your weight all on one hip, yeah?”

Concern assuaged that he had not ignored your genuine pain in order to objectify you, Soap grins. “Yeah.”

“Good,” you say. “Also—even if it doesn’t hurt, Soap, you can stop at any time, okay?”

That has him blinking. “Kinda defeats the purpose, doesnae?”

You shake your head. “It doesn’t matter. This is your first time modeling. You don’t know how you’ll feel, sitting here with your clothes off and everyone looking at you. If you need to stop, I want you to stop. I’ll make sure you’re paid anyway, so don’t worry about that.”

You are…so serious about this. The line of your brows is furrowed, imploring, like a little discomfort on his part is a violation of the highest order.

“Sure,” he says, a little dumbstruck and mostly lying. He’d be a rubbish soldier if he tapped out of a little thing like sitting down, but it’s nice that you care.

You purse your lips, nod, and then move onto the task at hand, stepping back and then down off the platform. When you begin to survey him—gaze flitting up and down his body, more pensive than appreciative—he has to resist the urge to flex.

Instead he watches you as you look at him. He especially likes, he decides, the slope of your nose and the smart, serious press of your mouth. You could get him all turned around, he thinks, if you gave it half a try.

Your tits are also great, but that’s by the by.

“Try resting your elbow up a little higher, and twist at the hips a bit,” you instruct, and Soap obeys. “Hm. How would you feel about crossing your ankles?”

You continue like this—nudging him in directions he doesn’t think make all that much of a difference, standing in different positions around the room to check the angles. He half-wishes he could step out of his body and join you, curious as he is about what you’re seeing, what your students will see. He’s not sure he has any clear expectations for how the class will go, but if you’re any indication, it’ll be more fun than he expects.

“Not sure if I’ll remember how to get back into this,” he says, partly to be helpful and partly to get you to talk to him again.

“I’ll help you, don’t worry,” you say. “Okay, I think that’s a good one, you can move now—I’m going to start setting up, the students should be here any minute.”

He stands, and you turn away to collect your supplies, so Soap figures this means it’s time for him to strip. He pulls off his shirt and drapes it over the chair’s arm, unbuttons his pants and shoves them down to his knees.

“Soap!”

He freezes. Then he looks at you. You’re blushing again, deep and saturated, mouth parted in surprise and hand pressed to your chest. He does not miss the quick flick of your gaze down his body; he’s probably violated some rule or another of the studio, but he can’t help but grin.

You’re adorable.

“Gotta happen eventually, right?” he says.

You cover your face with your palm. “I was going to leave the room first!”

“First time someone’s wanted to run away when I’m takin’ my clothes off, I won’t lie—”

“You just come get me when you’re done!” you say hastily as you beeline for the door. “I’ll be right outside!”

Soap chuckles a little when you’re gone, the door slamming mortified behind you, and folds his clothes up behind the armchair he’ll be sitting in. You’re so cute. He can’t wait to sit naked for you for the next three hours.

And he’s definitely asking you out for drinks.

Author's Note: THE PROMISED FIC. I really hope y'all enjoy this one, I've been teasing it since March and I have so many plans. This fic has a special place in my heart because it's drawing heavily from my college days--my bachelor's degree is in fine arts, and I have a lot of fond memories of many hours in the studio both as a student and as a model.

I expect this series will also have a looser timeline than my Neighbors series, so I'm open to suggestion in terms of scene ideas! I already have plenty, but if I know my mutuals, y'all might have some good ones as well. No promises I'll write them, but you never know.

Thanks everyone for your patience, and I hope you'll look forward to where this fic goes!!

890 notes · View notes

dreamerinthemoonlight · 5 months

Text

Genshin Guys with an S/O Dealing with Sensory Overload (Wriothesley, Diluc, Alhaitham, Neuvillette)

Please note that this is all from my experience. Obviously not everyone is going to experience it like this. Basically this is me shamelessly self-inserting again. I mean, what's new?

I'm going to format this as kind of scenarios in bullet point form, rather than my usual

CW: hurt/comfort, neurodivergent reader

Wriothesly x gn!reader, Diluc x gn!reader, Alhaitham x gn!reader, Neuvillette x gn!reader

Requests and Ask Box is OPEN

Wriothesley

Sensory overload isn't really that uncommon around Wriothesly

And it's not because he's loud or anything, but the Fortress of Meropide isn't a quiet place. I imagine there's always a lot of little sounds even at night. Stuff like dripping pipes, hissing steam, little things

And even if you're not hanging out at Fortress, the city isn't even much quieter

Thankfully he's the perceptive, people-smart type so there's no way in hell sensory overload is getting past him

Tight fists, pinched eyebrows, flinching at loud noises, yeah, he ain't missin' that shit

When he notices you doing that he's quick to finish whatever conversation he's in and bringing you to a quieter location

He's either soundproofed his room or set aside some space in the fortress where you can be alone in the quiet. If you need music to avoid complete and total quiet he has some soft records for you to listen to

Diluc

Diluc has an easier time dealing with the sensory overload

When the day has left you worn out, overloaded, and on edge, wincing at even soft noises, you seek out Diluc

Of course, if you're helping/hanging out at the Angel's Share, chances are he's already at least noticed your reactions to the ambient chaos

If he can't get away from the bar, he hands you the keys to his room and tells you to go rest, that he'll be up when he's free

At the Winery, he's left instructions that even if he's not there, you should be brought to a quiet out of the way room (ehem, his room) and given whatever you need

In either location, as soon as he's free he's coming to make sure you're alright. He usually has something for your headache, knowing that you've probably got one

If you let him, he'll want to hold you, rubbing circles into your shoulder. But if you need space, he'll leave you be once

More than anything he's intent on making any of his spaces safe and comfortable for you

Alhaitham

Alhaitham is an asshole and doesn't people, but when it comes to sensory overload he's 100% sympathetic

I honestly wouldn't be surprised if it's something he deals with on the regular

It's also not something you can hide from him (in fact you might go to him because he's a quiet person who has no issues telling anyone who would bother you to go sit on it)

The first thing he does is kick whoever he's talking to out of the room. Unlike Wrio, he doesn't bother wrapping up the conversation, he just tells them to leave

If you're at his house, Kaveh gets told to find a different room to occupy and Kaveh actually listens (I mean, Kaveh is a nice guy who isn't going to be mean to you just to give his roommate the metaphorical middle finger. Really, neither of them are.)

Once he's gotten rid of any annoyances, he's handing over his headphones

He also helps darken the room your in (modifications Kaveh helped with--I feel like both of them are far more willing to accommodate you than each other, even if it means working together)

After that, he just leaves you alone. If you have a headache, he'll find something to help, but he just goes to read

If you're in a place where he can't just shoo people away and remove any offending sensations, he goes out of his way to comfort you (which took him forever to figure out how to do, but he likes you so it's worth the effort). Even if it's just lending you headphones while he takes you by the hand and leads you through the city

Neuvillette

Honestly, it takes Neuvie a while to get used to a S/O who is prone to Sensory Overload

He's not human and is very much accustomed to the chaos of the Opera Epiclese, Palais Mermonia, and Fontaine City in general

So when Sedene lets you in to Neuvie's office (he's left instructions that unless he's in a conversation you can't be privy to, you're just to be let in) and you're nearly in tears, he's very concerned

Anything he's doing is immediately set to the side so he can figure out what's wrong

When he figures out that your brain just can't process any more input without feeling like it's about to spontaneously combust, he's a little confused, but he focuses more on how to help you

First things first, he has you hydrate while he tells Sedene to not let anyone in unless it's an emergency and finishes up whatever he's doing. If you're not feeling well, he wants to be able to focus his attention on you

Then he takes you somewhere quieter and darker

Eventually, much like Diluc and Wrio, he sets aside a place for you to go. He makes sure you can keep it as dark and quiet as you want, while making sure any sensory things you gravitate to are easily accessed

On days where you decide to take a nap, it's not uncommon to see him wrapped around you, letting his naturally cool temperature soothe you

511 notes · View notes

ytsunodabrainrotbaybee · 10 months

Text

Violet!

-> Violet! by Waterparks

Oscar Piastri x an accident prone neurodivergent reader

Essentially the three-ish times that Oscar starts fussing over you, and the one time he got it right.

Groceries, unloading groceries.

Picking up a case of bottled water was enough to have Oscar hovering. Asking if you needed him to take it from you, as he tucked a carton of milk under his arm.

Not that he didn’t try taking the water first. You shoo’d him away from the trunk of your car before he had a chance.

“You really don’t know how this works,” you stated.

“I know that last time you dislocated something it was after you got your finger stuck in a mop bucket,” he opened your apartment door for you to walk in and drop the case of water onto your counter.

“And I had no idea because you don’t express pain.”

You rolled your eyes as he took the couple of steps towards you he needed to be able to rest his hands on your waist. You stared up at his eyes, watching him blink as he stared down at you. He watched your eyes shift from one of his to the other.

“What’re you thinking about?” He asked.

You didn’t answer, just wishing he could read your mind. Though some days it felt like he could, he could never understand the simple phrases that circled your mind when you couldn’t dream to force them out.

“I love you too,” he said, resting his forehead against yours for a moment before turning to start putting your things away.

~~~~

Oscar didn’t hover 24/7.

That would be unrealistic.

it was just when he got back to you after weeks, sometimes months, on the road for work.

He’d wake you up as early as he made it back and hide himself in your apartment until he felt like a normal person again. You’d go on with your life like you had been until he pulled himself up and out of your room like a bear from hibernation.

With an insatiable thirst from well over 24 hours of sleep to combat the jet lag, he started the day watching you cook breakfast.

Not a measuring cup to be seen, you’d drift from one spot in the kitchen to another with the steady destruction of a tornado. Always producing the best waffles and coffee and parfait he’d ever have. Always better than the last, despite your unwavering commitment to your recipe.

You’d reach for your favorite kitchen knife, and he’d make his way over. Your fingers held onto the fruit you cut in an unsettling fashion. He’d offer to cut the fruit for you every once in a while.

Too much of a deviation in your routine. So he settled for watching close as you shifted your hands uncomfortably to account for the knife and it’s ever shrinking victim.

~~~~

In theory, race weekends should be a sensory nightmare.

People rushed around you, stood in the garage next to some mechanics you were probably introduced to more than once. The adrenaline radiating from everyone around you, the yelling back and forth as the countdown to lights out drug on.

Weekends in the garage were the best.

you watched intently the way people dodged each other, racing back and forth to get any loose ends tied up.

As time went on, Oscar and Lando began making their own appearances in the garage as well. The former being sure to make eye contact whenever he could, seeking out a quick shaka to say “right on” and let him know you’re fine.

At that point your headphones hung around your neck. You sat in the busy noise, listening and watching with an intense focus that by the end of the event would make you more tired than anything. It’s fine. It’s more than fine.

You could always sleep better after days in the garage anyways.

~~~~

The end of the day could be a bit harder

Oscar would take extra care after race days, especially when you’ve spent the whole weekend in the garage. He’d tell you to quit overextending yourself, you’d tell him you want to see him drive.

Your head drifted downwards as you stared up over your sunglasses frames. Your AirPods tucked under your headphones blasting a playlist of the day. Both tale-tale signs of being checked out.

Oscar sat himself next to you as soon as his time in the media pen was done. He reached for your hand, which you offered without a second thought. He squeezed twice, his own signal to you asking if you’re ready.

You nodded and the two of you stood. Maybe a little quick, as you stumbled into his side. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders as the two of you made your way out and to wherever he had his car parked.

He chattered on to you about the race, and whatever drama it was that happened between Carlos and Pierre during the post race interviews. You nodded along, asking questions that would take him into a different area of whatever he could be excited about.

The path the two of you walked was pavement, for the most part it was very even. Not even a rock out of place. Staring down into the pavement as you walked and listened was an experience. The grey concrete shined in the sun overhead.

You let Oscar pull you to the side, away from the edge of the sidewalk. Your foot nearly slipping into the grass beside it, had your boyfriend not urged you away.

“wow I could almost feel that one,” you looked back to the edge of the sidewalk you had been walking on.

Oscar only laughed, squeezing your shoulder as the two of you continued your walk, “that’s what I’m here for, hm?”

#oscar piastri #op81 #oscar piastri x reader #f1 x reader #oscar piastri x you #I am now a McLaren girlie #thank you #yes I am procrastinating why do you ask?#Am I projecting? Absolutely #neurodivergent reader #maybe a touch of the tism baby

416 notes · View notes

reveseke · 4 months

Text

Imagine Reid just reminding you to do something as simple as to eat or drink water, and asks you if you've gotten enough sleep. Either you two have been talking about it in small talk, or Reid picked up on you neglecting your needs. Also reminding Reid to do the same when he forgets to take care of himself properly.

ND to ND communication.

303 notes · View notes

oll13v3r · 4 months

Text

How I Think the Demon Brother's would Comfort You (Part one)

Just some quick and most likely grammatically incorrect headcanons about how I personally view the demon brothers comforting you with getting overwhelmed or overstimulated. (I haven't played nightbringer, so this is for just the og game)

Lucifer:

He'd probably see you getting extremely overwhelmed and take you out of whatever situation you were getting panicked in. He'd probably be really gentle with you and go out of his way to not raise his voice to make it worse. He may not be great at it, but he's trying his best. He'd being you to his office where he could quietly get some work done while you just enjoy the quiet of the room, or ramble to him about what's going on. If you ask, he'd also let you sit in his lap.

Mammon:

This cutie patootie would have absolutely zero clue of what to do. He'd probably attempt to remove you from the situation to try and calm you down, but might unintentionally make it worse. If, however, you're getting particularly upset by a specific person? Well, he is definitely going to threaten them in some way to quiet the fuck down or leave you alone. He can't have someone hurting HIS treasure, can he?

Levi:

He has definitely been in the same boat. his social battery frequently runs out, so he has a lot of stuff to deal with over stimulation with him on the go, although most off which being gaming supplies. He'd probably hesitate, but let you use his expensive noise cancelling headphones "just this once." (Don't worry, he's a fucking liar. You can use them as much as you need)

Satan:

I donno, but something about this sweet man just screams comfort. He'd let you barge into his room either unannounced,or after texting him for some much needed comfort. His room is usually pretty quiet, but visually chaotic. So I wouldn't recommend going to him if you get overstimulated from lots of stuff going on visually. But he'd let you come in, and he'd offer to hold you while listening to him read to you. If you are okay with that, he'd hold you in his lap and quietly read whatever book he's working on out loud to you while gently rubbing your back.

I'll write for asmo, beel, and belphie another time. I need to go to sleep now. Enjoy silly neurodivergent mc headcanons.

#obey me #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me shall we date #obey me fluff #obey me headcanons #Obey me x reader #neurodivergent reader #Silly demon boys I adore

297 notes · View notes

moonysreid · 7 months

Text

three drink rule (melissa schemmenti x reader)

warnings: adhd/neurodivergent reader, not proofread (i wrote this like a year ago istg)

disclaimers: adapted from wattpad, gn!reader, it makes no sense because my brain is like mush

i needed to explain the neurodivergent issues i’m having and i’ve got the flu

"love, do you want a coffee?" you asked mel as you made your way towards the coffee machine, ready to replace the empty pot

"i'm alright, hun" she hummed as she slid her glasses back on, trying to read through her lesson plans

as the coffee was brewing you ventured towards the vending machine, which, of course, caught the eyes of jacob- his gaze followed you across the room

when the redhead went to lift her head she could see jacob’s furrowed brows “why does your face look like that?”, the look in her eyes screaming ‘unimpressed’ with his staring

“why are they getting another drink when they’re making themselves coffee?”

you stood at the vending machine, humming the harry potter theme tune, completely unaware of the way that your girlfriend was probably about the throw her stapler at jacob

“it's the three drink rule" she deadpanned as she pushed her glasses to rest on top of her head, her lack of explanation confusing jacob further

after some awkward silence janine took lead and decided to find the answer from the source, "hey, y/n"

the sudden mention of your name caused you to jump slightly from being so lost in the steam rising from the coffee, a small buzz going up your spine from the abrupt interruption

"what's the 'three drink rule?"

“oh” you beamed, kind of excited to explain the concept because people usually rather kept to judging than actually asking you

you start explaining as you absentmindedly pass an unfazed melissa your freshly made coffee “well, water is the clean, neutral drink and the fizzy can is something with a different texture and finally the coffee is the warm drink - even though i probably shouldn’t have the caffeine”

your girlfriend perked up again at the mention of you and caffeine, quickly digging through her bag and pulling out a hot chocolate sachet, “i brought some of these because i knew that you’d need something warm”

“oo, can i have some hot chocolate?”

“no, jacob”

#abbott elementary #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x you #janine teagues #adhd things #adhd stuff #lisa ann walter #jacob hill #adhd reader #neurodivergent #neurodivergent reader

159 notes · View notes

jamiewintons · 8 months

Text

Okay, does anyone have any headcanons for Sanji in a relationship with a neurodivergent reader who has sensory issues with food? Because I’m autistic/ADHD and have trouble with "fancy" food (like the kind of stuff that Sanji would cook) and I just wonder how he’d react to someone like that 😆

#mari speaks #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #black leg sanji x reader #opla sanji x reader #opla x reader #autistic reader #adhd reader #neurodivergent reader #feel free to send any headcanons you have into my ask box #I’m only tagging so much because I don’t have many one piece followers (yet) and I’m trying to make friends haha #I’ve only seen the live action tho!!

180 notes · View notes

untitled-writer-013 · 1 year

Note

hii! if this req is too complicated dw ab not doing it but if it’s not il req billy/stu (poly or not , any is okay !) with fem!s/o who is autistic?

tysm!

Billy Loomis x Fem!Autistic!Reader x Stu Macher

warning(s): toxic ex, reader feels neglected, can be read as hurt/comfort, mentions of murder

(Y/n) used to be in a pretty negative relationship. Her ex would judge her if she stimmed, and would ignore her anytime she tried to talk about a special interest. It eventually led to the point of her sitting on her hands, not wanting to stim in public. And if anyone asked her about her hobbies, she would just quietly shake her head, not wanting to annoy anyone. Fortunately, (Y/n) broke up with him, her entire life seemed to improve afterwards. Her best friends, Billy and Stu, took notice of this.

The two of them would spoil their darling with attention, not wanting her to feel ignored ever again. They would invite her to have movie nights at Stu’s house, that way she didn’t have to deal with other people at the theater. If Billy or Stu noticed that she was reading a book or playing a game, they would ask her to tell them more. And if (Y/n) ever needed to stim, but forgot to bring something, they would always bring something for her.

Stu would get her some fidget toys, while Billy would wear rings, that way if she needed to, she could fiddle with them while they were out. Plus, if anyone made fun of (Y/n), all Billy had to do was punch them while wearing his rings. That usually got them to quickly leave her alone.

All in all, the both of them would protect their darling, and would embrace this trait of hers instead of excluding her for it. If they ever found out how her ex had treated her, her ex would quickly be added to the list of Woodsboro murders.

~fin~

author’s note: Billy and Stu would never let your ex get away with mistreating you, so you’ll never have to worry about seeing them ever again. <33

#poly ghostface #billy x reader x stu #billy loomis x reader x stu macher #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #autistic reader #neurodivergent reader #original writing #taking requests

776 notes · View notes

thefrogdalorian · 3 months

Text

All The Nice Things in Life

Din Djarin x Neurodivergent GN!Reader

Word Count: 2569 Rating: General Summary: During your usual weekly trip to your favourite Market on Nevarro, you get a little overwhelmed by all the crowds and noise. Fortunately, you have an exceptionally caring and attentive Mandalorian for a partner, who manages to calm you down and make you see that you are not a burden to him, despite your worries. Content Warnings: Mentions of anxiety/panic attacks and description of sensory overload. Author's Note: Finally got round to moving this fic to tumblr! It's the first I wrote in my Din Djarin x Neurodivergent Reader series and I really hope it brings you some comfort should you ever need it.

Read on AO3

My Masterlist

Despite your best efforts to keep the panic that had been threatening to overwhelm you since you had set out that morning inside you, and not let Din see… things had gotten too much for you to handle and you had finally lost your composure. Fortunately, you were back in the sanctuary of the Cabin on Nevarro you shared with Din and Grogu before you fully lost control of yourself. You had tried your best not to give the impression that you were struggling, you hadn’t wanted to worry Din – the man was too attentive to your every need. You hadn’t wanted to ruin your day out but you had just about managed to make it back to the cabin before you exploded.

It had started off just like any other way you spent this particular day – heading into Nevarro’s town centre to explore the weekly Market. Since Din had asked you to move in, it was part of the routine you had enjoyed together. You hadn’t slept particularly well the previous night, nightmares had plagued you, so you already felt slightly on edge. But you hadn’t wanted to let Din down, you knew it was something that he always looked forward to each week. On this particular day, a variety of vendors came to the planet to show off their latest wares that they had accumulated throughout the galaxy. You weren’t always sure how legitimate some of the characters were, given the astonishingly cheap prices, but you had experienced enough in this life to know better than to ask questions. Grogu enjoyed going almost as much as his father did, the little womp rat loved nothing more than running you and Din ragged between stalls, begging for food with his big pleading brown eyes. The number of times you had scolded him for using the Force to try to steal things behind your back was bordering on ridiculous. But you loved the mischievous little boy and you couldn’t help but find a way each week to convince Din to give him a treat of some description.

You hadn’t wanted to give any hint that you felt off that morning when you woke up.

Due to your nightmares, you were awake and out of bed before Din. You had used the fresher first, when you came out you had gone straight to Grogu’s room, not having the heart to face him – fearing that he would sense that something was off. You had heard Din pottering around the cabin, having a shower in the fresher and eventually padding to the kitchen to brew the caf - as was your daily routine. You brought Grogu in and as the three of you sat down at the table to eat a simple breakfast, it almost felt normal. An idyllic family scene against the chaos and discomfort that raged inside of you.

After breakfast, as Din packed some bags up of things he wanted to bargain with or sell to vendors at the Market and carefully polished his beskar’gam, you knew you didn’t have the heart to tell Din that you weren’t feeling well. You knew that if you gave even the slightest hint of discomfort, that he would have soon forgotten about his own desire to go to the Market and put everything into worrying about your well being instead. It was amazing how caring he was, but you felt like a burden to have someone care for you that deeply. The guilt of feeling like you were somehow ruining his life was too much sometimes. You wondered if he ever yearned for the simpler life he had when it had just been himself and Grogu here.

But you had successfully managed to push those feelings down somewhere deep inside of you and put on a brave face. Things had been going well and you had managed to get over your initial apprehension about going to the Market. A ride on the back of Din’s speeder – with Grogu perched in his little bag – had certainly helped. Any time you got to hold the man you loved so much around the waist and feel the warmth from his body beneath the beskar was bound to settle your nerves.

You had arrived at the Market just before the afternoon rush and when the heat was at its highest. Things had been fine, your earlier apprehension seemed to have been forgotten. Grogu had been a little mischievous, whining for food and looking admiringly at a Loth-cat plush that you had eventually managed to persuade Din to give into his reservations and buy for him. The kid had enough toys, but truly the thought of seeing Grogu cuddling a little Loth-cat was doing wonders for your mental state. The way his little face lit up as you placed it into his chubby green claws and he squeezed it – like Din had once told you he had squeezed and Anzellan droidsmith – did, in fact, soothe your nerves. The sight was one of the cutest things you had ever seen.

You had spent a comfortable hour or so walking up and down the various Market stalls, Din by your side. Occasionally, when you got to more crowded areas, he would place a protective hand on the small of your back. It always made you feel so loved, feeling what good care he took of you and how unashamed he was to show his affection for you in public. You knew how many heads Din always turned, curious glances that were sent the way of you and your shiny Mandalorian.

But at a certain point – without much warning – things began to feel too much for you to bear. Suddenly, everything felt overwhelming and you wanted to curl into a ball and cry. Not being able to see Din’s face wasn’t helping – those kind, gentle brown eyes that you loved so much. Perhaps it was the heat and brightness of the sun; or the overpowering noise of the conversations of hundreds of people fighting against the yells from the vendors; or the crowds that did not seem to thin no matter which way you turned, making you feel as though you were trapped; or the way everyone seemed to be staring at Din. Your rational brain knew that they were just intrigued seeing a Mandalorian back on Nevarro, but the more irrational parts of yourself felt paranoid that everyone was staring at you – judging you. You felt your head beginning to buzz loudly; every noise felt agonising and every step you took felt heavier and heavier until you could not take another. You had to get out of here.

“Din, I need to get back to the speeder.” You mumbled shakily, before running off back through the crowds towards where you had come from. Your body felt as though it was on autopilot and you were back in a flash. Somehow you had managed to part the crowds and fight your way back.

Mercifully, Din had quickly found his way back to the speeder and you did not have to wait long until you saw him. You noticed how his chest was heaving, he must have sprinted after you. He immediately noticed the way you were trembling and moved to place his arm around your shoulder.

“Is there anything I can do here to make you feel better?” Din asked, his modulated voice full of concern.

You shook your head.

“Do you want to go home?”

You nodded slowly, grateful that he was asking questions that could be answered with a nod or shake of the head. He was so attentive in that way.

“Okay, it’s fine, cyare.” Din soothed. “Get your goggles on and let’s go.”

You clung so tightly that you feared you might suffocate him, but of course you were a trembling mess; even at your strongest you would be no match for the tough mandalorian warrior that you loved so much.

When you made it back to the cabin – mercifully it was a relatively short ride – Din took Grogu to his room for a nap, while you paced in the living area, wringing your hands. Finally, when Grogu was settled, Din made his way into the room. Mercifully, he had removed his helmet and changed into some more comfortable clothes. You respected he had to wear his helmet and armour when you were out and about, but you appreciated just being able to see the man beneath the armour when it was just the two of you here.

“Do you want to discuss what caused it? Din asked, seeing that you were clearly still distressed.

You just shook your head and quickly headed towards the comfortable couch in the main living area. You plopped down there, covering your eyes with your hands.

“Can I hold you?” Din asked, his deep voice never failing to surprise you in how soft it could be.

You nodded, feeling the tears you had been holding in being suddenly violently ripped out of you as Din’s arms snaked their way around your body. With him you always felt safe, you felt a certainty that things were going to be alright that you had been chasing for so long.

“Hey, hey… please take a deep breath.” Din asked, “Match my breathing.”

Din placed your hand on his chest between the two of you, so you could feel the deep breaths he was taking and try your best to match your own to them. But it was hopeless, though you had tried your best to fight it since the moment you had woken up, your anxiety had won the day.

“This is so stupid, I'm so stupid.” You choked out as you sobbed inconsolably.

Din’s heart ached to see you this upset, he wished you could see yourself the way he saw you. The love he held for you and Grogu was more than he had ever hoped to find in his life. Din had spent so much of his life alone and now having experienced the honour of loving another made him wonder how he had ever dealt with life alone.

“You are not stupid.” Din whispered. “You are the furthest thing from stupid.”

“I’m so weak and pathetic, Din. I ruined your day… I know how much you wanted to look at the stalls with the plants for the garden here and we couldn’t even make it that far before I ruined everything, just like I always do!” You said as you shook violently.

“Look at me.” Din said, releasing his strong hold on you but keeping a protective arm around the small of your back as he tilted up your chin to meet his kind brown eyes that were filled with so much concern for you. “You are one of the strongest people I know.”

His words brought your tears out in fresh floods, but they were no longer the violently distressed sobs that had wracked your entire body. You were moved by his emotions towards you.

“You’ve been through so much and yet you’re still here.” Din soothed. “I admire your strength. I wish you weren’t so hard on yourself, cyar’ika. If someone spoke about you the way you spoke about yourself… I would hunt them down and make them pay for daring to speak about the person who holds my heart like that. But it’s you… so I can’t. It breaks my heart to hear you talk about yourself in this way.”

Din released your chin – not before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead – and pulled you back into a tight hug.

“Please tell me what I can do for you.” Din said into your hair, softly.

“Just hold me, Din.” You asked.

Din stroked his thumbs against your shoulders gently and you felt yourself relaxing into his touch. Sometimes when you got overwhelmed, the thought of being held was disgusting to you… but with Din, he always seemed to know exactly what you needed. You knew if things ever felt too overwhelming, though, that Din would take no offence to you asking him not to touch you.

Once you had calmed down enough, you were filled with an overwhelming need to apologise again:

“I’m so sorry.” You said quietly, struggling to meet Din’s gaze. “We were supposed to have a good time at the Market. I wanted to get an ice cream with Grogu at the end.”

“Will you stop apologising please?” Din said calmly. “Grogu had a wonderful time, we spoiled him with that Loth-cat plush, which he’s currently cuddling as he naps. He had more than enough to eat!”

“I’m sorry… dank ferrik! I’m sorry for saying sorry again!” you laughed

“What am I going to do with you?” Din rolled his eyes lovingly and pulled you back towards him, planting a soft kiss on your forehead again. “Apart from spending the rest of my life loving you?”

“I don’t deserve you, Din.” You said, blushing.

“Of course you do… I would be lost without you. I was lost until you and Grogu came into my life.” Din said solemnly, brown eyes momentarily flickering with the pain that life as a solitary bounty hunter had caused him. “But now you’re here… I’m not letting you go without a fight. Even if I have to fight you for being mean to yourself sometimes. Okay?”

“Okay.” You replied, his words were exactly what your frayed nerves needed to hear.

“We’ll get through this.” Din reassured you. “We always do… you always do.”

Later on – after you had woken up from the nap that Din insisted you take after the exhausting toll getting into such a state had taken on your body – you smiled as you the smell of your favourite dish drifted down the hall and into the bedroom from the kitchen. Din was still learning how to cook properly but he always made an effort for you, despite his inexperience and general clumsiness in the kitchen.

You walked towards the kitchen, thanking the Force for the day it made you cross paths with Din Djarin, wondering what you would do without him. Din’s face immediately lit up when he saw you walk through the door and – as you sat down to eat with your boys – your heart felt lighter already as you looked at the pair of them. The meal was delicious and clearly prepared with a lot of love, even if it did not look all that appetising… you knew that Din had tried his best.

After you had finished eating – complimenting Din’s efforts throughout – your favourite Mandalorian insisted that he had a surprise for you. As he pulled the treat out of the freezer section of the conservator, you realised exactly what it was – the ice cream from your favourite Vendor at the market. Somehow he had gotten hold of it; it must have been when you were taking your nap.

As you sat there at the table, indulging in your favourite sweet, creamy treat that the man you loved so much had gone to such trouble to source for you – after realising how upset you had been to miss out on it at the Market before – you realised that this was exactly what you deserved in life.

You were not a burden, you knew Din would never view you as a burden. You deserved all the nice things in life.

#my fics #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fluff #din djarin fanfic #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #neurodivergent reader #neurodivergent representation #so happy to finally have this one on tumblr... it means a lot to me <3

92 notes · View notes

alluringlight · 10 months

Text

Alhaitham x Reader

Warnings: NOT pre-established relationship, can be read platonically, Alhaitham is overstimulated and very heavily implied to be neurodivergent, reader is also implied to be ND at the end, fluff or kind of hurt/comfort? it's just haitham getting overstimulated by everyone at the Akademiya and reader stepping in to give him a reprieve, also no (Y/N) or [Name] used you're just referred to as 'you' so it is gender neutral

WC: 1191

Anyone could tell that the Acting Grand Sage was uncomfortable. Or at least, that was your reasoning as to why you stepped in. You didn’t know Alhaitham that well, having only dealt with him through paperwork and never actually having met him face to face before, so you were a bit nervous about being presumptuous…but with how uncomfortable he seemed, you put aside your pride and told yourself you were simply helping out a regular colleague.

As for his part, Alhaitham was having a disastrous day. His soundproof earpieces were broken, courtesy of a drunken squabble with his roommate the previous night, and everyone in the Akademiya was getting on his nerves. The voices of hopeful scholars and researchers seeking funding had been drilling into his brain since early in the morning, and he had a pounding headache, not to mention how bad his ears hurt since everything was so loud. He had forgotten just how sensitive they were, having taken his peaceful existence with his earpieces for granted. Once more, he had been stopped by a researcher, on his way back to his office, so now he stood in the hall, pretending he had any interest in the person in front of him. Internally, he just wanted to bang his head into the wall; he knew he was being irrational, which made him feel even worse since logic and rationale were his own slice of divinity.

“Excuse me, so sorry to interrupt,” You sidled up to the two, immediately capturing the attention of the researcher that you cut off, you gave him an apologetic look as you continued speaking. “I’m going to have to steal the Acting Grand Sage from you; we’ve got an emergency meeting that you’re going to make him late for.”

“What?! We’re having an important conversation, I’m sure you can wait just a few minutes. You can’t just demand his presence.” The researcher was getting on your nerves, sure you were lying, but he didn’t know that, yet he was still being so rude to you.

“Look, I know and I apologize, but this meeting was tabled last week due to scheduling conflicts and today’s the only day this week we’ve managed to squeeze in the time.” You tried to give the guy an apologetic smile, but he was getting on your nerves enough that it was a bit hard to muster up.

The guy scoffed, “Surely, since this meeting was tabled in the first place it can wait a few minutes.”

Your smile dropped and you eyed him, giving him an unimpressed look. “I didn’t want to do this, but I will pull rank so to speak if you won’t let this go. As most situations are, this one has only gotten worse as it’s been put off, so I’d appreciate it if you let it go. I’m sure if you write up your request and send it through the proper channels it’ll get to the Acting Grand Sage all the same, if you want you can put the request in my office’s mailbox and I’ll deliver it to him myself.”

The researcher seemed to shrink in on himself a bit, and you knew you assumed correctly, he was needling Alhaitham now since whatever request he had couldn’t go through the regular channels, or it had already been shot down. As he stuttered over himself apologizing for delaying your meeting, you gave him another easy smile.

Alhaitham watched the exchange patiently, he didn’t want to interfere as he didn’t want to talk and in general he didn’t know you that well, but he knew you had worked with the matra before on a couple of plagiarism cases; he distinctly remembered Cyno mentioning you in relation to a recent case. Since the General Mahamatra himself trusted you, Alhaitham followed you, although begrudgingly as he really just wanted to make an excuse to leave early. In all honesty, he had no idea what meeting you were talking about, but he could care less if it at least got him away from that incessant guy.

You easily detached the Sage from the researcher, once again waving at him in apology as you tried to look like you were rushing off to do something important. You didn’t say anything at all to Alhaitham as the two of you quickly walked to your own office. It was cozy, with a small two-seater couch in addition to the large desk that was laden with your work. You said nothing as you closed the door and then made quick work of shutting the curtains and turning on the small desk lamp, leaving the small sofa in semi darkness.

“Uh…I should have some…?” You spoke mostly to yourself, as you were slightly nervous at having the Acting Grand Sage in your office, but you dutifully dug around in your desk until you came upon your own ear defenders. “Here, they’re probably not as comfortable as your earpieces, and they aren’t completely soundproof, but they should work. No one will bother you in here and you’re welcome to lay down if you want. I’m just going to be working on paperwork, but if you need background noise you’re welcome to root through my spin crystals to find one to play.” You didn’t give it much else thought, and settled into your desk chair, easily finding a rhythm as you started scribbling through your work.

Alhaitham stood there for a long second before he snapped himself out of his stupor, sliding the headphones on and settling onto the couch, propping his head up with an arm and closing his eyes to give them a rest.

His immediate thought was that you wanted something from him, and consequently wanted him in your debt, but as he glanced at you through squinted eyes, he discarded this notion. The fact that you weren’t paying any attention to him gave him relief, you weren’t analyzing him to make sure he was grateful, and he was finally getting his first reprieve of the day. Although he was very much caught off guard by your kindness, it was much appreciated.

Alhaitham couldn’t help by briefly think of why this kindness was unusual to him; as a child growing up, acting more adult than boy, not being able to stand loud conversations, not being able to tolerate eating soups or bread that was soggy, he was called a difficult child by those who looked after him - his teacher, his neighbor, but never his grandmother. She always retained a kindness, simply saying his brain worked in a different way than her own, so of course he had different ways of acting and different ways of thinking.

Alhaitham couldn’t help but also come to the hypothesis that you too were different like him; how else would you have spotted him shutting down whereas everyone else saw his normal, stoic exterior? How else would you have been able to help? Or give him peace and quiet for once when everyone seemed to clamor for his approval today? It made him appreciate your quiet presence, diligently scanning through papers and signing as needed, all the more.

#genshin x reader #alhaitham #genshin impact #alhaitham x reader #gender neutral reader #fluff #hurt/comfort?#nothing too serious though I promise #neurodivergent alhathaim #neurodivergent reader #it's implied but not explicitly said #the researcher is unnamed because i don't like him and wasn't willing to condemn a named character to be that role #kaveh accidentally breaking his earpieces is funny to me though #part 1?#i might continue this storyline at some point cause i think they're cute

206 notes · View notes

risquefanfics457 · 4 months

Note

Could you maybe do a stardust crusaders imagine but with a reader who starts having a sensory meltdown? i'm neurodivergent, and I sometimes get those overloads?

i put a link to what a sensory overload is. you dont have to answer, but i enjoy your wrting

https://www.health.qld.gov.au/newsroom/features/sensory-overload-is-real-and-can-affect-any-combination-of-the-bodys-five-senses-learn-ways-to-deal-with-it#:~:text=Sensory%20overload%20is%20when%20your,%2C%20flight%2C%20or%20freeze%20mode.

I hear you. Sensory overloads can be hell. Neurodiverents unite!

You didn't specify if it was romantic or platonic so I'm going to keep it platonic.

Anyway, ENJOY!

JOSEPH

Joseph has gotten used to handling situations that are overwhelming. He’s grown to be more quiet overtime, but let’s be honest here, it’s still Joseph. He’s going to worry. When you begin to look uncomfortable, he’s going to ask what’s up. Don’t lie to him, he can tell something is wrong, the man is a father, and he learned the tell tale signs of discomfort with his own little family.

When he asks and you don’t respond immediately, he’s going to pause and pull you aside to make sure you heard him.

“Y/N, are you alright?”

“…”

“Are you feeling unwell? Sick?”

You shrug

“Okay, let’s sit down.” He puts his hand on your arm and you flinch at the contact, which makes the overstimulation flare. When you yank your arm away from him, he’s going to be suspicious that maybe there’s a much bigger issue at play but he’s going to lead you away from the crowd and get you to sit.

“Can you tell me what’s the matter?”

A panic attack seizes in your throat and he can see it, “Can you talk to me?”

Your palms sweat and shake your head with shame.

“Okay, well, can you point to anything that you need?”

You shake your head again, closing your eyes, trying to avoid the harsh light.

“Okay…” Joseph tries to problem solve, “Can you point to what is bothering you?”

You manage to your ears

“Your ears hurt?”

You shake your head

“Is something in your ear?”

You shake your head again, this time covering your ears.

“It’s too loud.” He realizes. He thinks for a moment. “Hold on.”

You notice he pulls something from his pocket, earbuds. Connected to them is a Walkman, he unplugs them and holds the cord out to you, “you can put them in, it’s not much, but they’ll make it a bit quieter until I can find some earplugs.”

It’s a few minutes before Joseph comes back and puts a pair of earplugs beside you and a pair of headphones, “Use either. They’re the highest quality, so don’t worry.”

JOTARO

Jotaro can’t lose it. He’s got too much riding on him. If things go sideways, he would never forgive himself for the consequences, that is if he made it out alive. Because of this, Jotaro isn’t very in touch with his own emotions and prefers to keep them tamped down and if not in danger, he might actively ignore some signs of a sensory overload. He just doesn’t have the mental capacity to deal with it. Don’t mistake this for a lack of empathy or effort, he’s just way out of his depth here. That being said, if things really escalate, he might snap at you, thinking he can get you to act ‘reasonable’ if you take notice of how you’re feeling and pull yourself out of it on your own.

“Hey, quit muttering! It’s damn annoying.”

When you cover your ears and whimper, he feels something in his chest ache.

He made it worse. He gets up from his hotel bed, huffs and goes to sit a bit closer to you but not too close, he gets wanting personal space, “I didn’t think you’d be that sensitive.” He pulls his hat over his eyes.

When things stay quiet, and he doesn’t really know what to say, he might ask you if you need anything. He’s frustrated. He gets when the world is just too full of pointless talking and noise, but watching you suffer, well, it was a new perspective. Jotaro wants to understand, but now he doesn’t know if it’s even his business. He’d leave you alone, but stand users lurk around every corner, and he’d be damned if he was leaving you alone in this state.

Fuck. What do you even do in this kind of situation. People don’t really cry or breakdown in front of him, not unless they were babies. You weren’t a baby. But that was the closest thing he had to what was going on. Babies get upset if they’re overwhelmed and need a nap…

Jotaro drapes the sheets of the hotel bed over you and closes the curtains, “I’ll be on the patio.” He grabs a book. He doesn’t expect an answer. If you need him, you know where he’ll be.

POLNAREFF

Polnareff is pretty clueless. He means well, promise, He just hasn’t been a person people look up to for guidance and support for a while. Polnareff is a funny and flirty guy a lot of the time. He understands sorrow and grief, but he also knows when he should distance himself from things if they get in the way of the objective. Well, he’s better at it now. He’s been on a long journey of suffering to get closure because of his sister’s death. This all means he’s all too familiar with personal meltdowns, but not somebody else’s. Polnareff will first start picking up on your sensory overstimulation when you start to lag behind everybody else.

“Hey, Y/N, pick up the pace. You’re going to still be in Aswan by the time we’re in Cairo.”

You didn’t reply. He notices this and hangs back while the rest of the crusaders keep moving but will slow a bit so they don’t get out of eyesight. They tell Polnareff to be quick, because they need to keep moving.

“You’re going a bit slow, mon ami.” He remarks

You hide your face.

“Oh? Too hot? I get it, I’ve been wearing this rag. I found it at a market. When we get to Luxor, maybe you should get one for yourself.” He points at the cooling towel on his head and shoulders. You don’t respond and just try to stay quiet and breathe.

“Man, you aren’t this quiet most of the time. I mean, you talk a fair amount, but you’re acting like a recluse.” He says without much understanding.

Your shoulders haunch with shame. He doesn’t get it.

“Maybe you’re hungry, or thirsty.” He guesses, “Mr. Joestar has a canteen, but you’ll have to pick up the pace to get it.”

Still, no sign you’d even heard him.

“Y/N, are you even listening to me?”

It was then he noticed you shaking, “Hey, Y/N, are you hurt?” When you don’t say anything, but shake your head, he yells out to the group, “Hold up! Y/N might be hurt!”

You bury your face in your hands, his yelling setting you off even more. This becomes a back and forth movement to counter the overstimulation. He notices the rocking and checks you for injuries, “Where is it? Who was it? Was this the work of an enemy stand?”

You shake your head vigorously.

“What?” His concerned look mixes with confusion, “I don’t get it, what’s going on then?”

Your hands shake as you crouch down and try to hide.

“Polnareff, what’s going on back there?” You can hear Joseph’s gruff voice.

Avdol ends up coming and looking you over, “Stress.” He says plainly, “Or something along those lines.”

“Stress? Stress can manifest like this?” Polnareff asks

Avdol nodded, “It can even overwhelm the senses.”

“Okay, which senses are bothering you?” The silver haired man asks.

You clench your eyes closed and point to them and your ears. “Sound and sight.” He says, “What about touch?

Your answer is a hand moving side to side, ‘a bit’.

“What if we stopped for an hour or so, just find a place that’s cool and quiet?” He asks.

You nodded. “Okay, can you stand?” He asks. You sign back ‘a bit’ again.

He nods, “Can I take your arm and lead you?”

You nod.

“Alright, we’re going to take care of you, Y/N, don’t you worry.” He says gently.

AVDOL

Avdol picks up on this SO fast. This man is a reader, not just the book type, but he reads people as a living. He might even notice something is off before you do. Like the amount of people bustling about, the crowds and the people who accidentally bump into you. He’ll talk to Joseph and you and advise a quieter route. Unfortunately, this is the fastest way to get through. A detour would cost the group precious time. Avdol will instead hang at the back of the group with you and ask you what you need. Avdol is also much faster in places like markets because he’s grown up around them. In this case, if he’s sure you’ll be okay for a few minutes, he’ll haggle and find you something that might help.

“Where’s Avdol gone off to?” Polnareff asks Joseph

“He’s picking up a few necessities.” Joseph replies, he’ll meet back up with us in a few minutes, if he doesn’t we’ll assume he’s in danger and move quickly to a quieter location in case there’s a stand user in this crowd. I don’t want civilians involved in anything harmful.” He says gruffly

You walked behind Jotaro, his tall stature making people stare and move around him, maybe in respect or trepidation. You got bumped into less this way. “I’m back, Mr. Joestar.” Avdol seamlessly weaves his way back to the front of the group.

“Welcome back. Y/N is in the back behind Jotaro, maybe he’s good at blocking out the sun.” He grins playfully

Avdol nods in good humour and squeezes onto the back of the group. He walks beside you, giving you a foot of room on one side to ensure nobody brushes against you when you’re already overwhelmed. He holds out a small box, inside there are wax earplugs. And in one of his deep pockets he produces a beaded bracelet, “These are to cancel the noise, and if you need to keep your hands moving, you can rotate the beads in your hand.” You take the gift and look at him with surprise. “I don’t mind.” He says with a smile, “I can see that you’re struggling. We need to build each other up on this journey, so if there’s anything else you’re in need of, just communicate in anyway you find comfortable.” Your smile of gratitude is all he needs. He’ll hang back with you for as long as you need it.

KAKYOIN

Does this guy get neurodivergence or what? Kakyoin spent a lot of time alone. He didn’t have a lot of friends growing up. He learned to communicate in lots of ways. Verbal wasn’t always his strong suit anyway. If there is anybody who understands isolating one’s self because you are different, it’s him. Jotaro isolates, not because he’s entirely socially awkward, it’s also because he just doesn’t want to. Kakyoin wants people to know who he is, more than that, he knows being a bit different comes with its own experiences and self-honed skills. He’s going to pick up on you retreating back into yourself in the beginning, not as fast as Avdol. He’s not a people reader after all, that being said, he is a people watcher. For years, Kakyoin watched people from afar, this helped him understand other people’s friendships and relationships. He’s also learned a lot. When you’re on your own, you don’t exactly get distracted by other people asking you to join them in things. So he’s read quite a bit, even on neurodivergence. He can spot the overload in a few minutes and get into action. He gets up from the seat on the train he’s in and sits next to you.

“Are you okay, Y/N?”

No answer. “Is it stress, or maybe are you just overwhelmed?”

You looked up at him, not expecting him to understand.

“Overwhelmed?”

You nod and stare at the ground.

“Is there anything I can do?”

You have a moment to think, but you’ve gone nonverbal at this point, and realize you can’t really act out what you need because it’s a bit complex.

“Hmm…” Kakyoin thinks for a monent and then pulls out a notepad from his uniform

You look at him quizzically.

“I’m a student, I always have this on me to take notes.”

You smile up at him.

“Here.” He hands it to you, along with a pen.

You jot some things down.

“Too bright, too many sounds, chairs bad texture.”

“Yeah, I bet there’s years worth of dust in these.” He chuckles, “I have a scarf, maybe we can put that around your eyes? Or your ears like earmuffs?”

You nod and jot something else down, “Is the scarf soft?”

“Yes, it is. My mom bought it for me when we travelled to Egypt the first time.” He smiles and goes to get the scarf.

He comes back and sits next to you, “If you need anything else, write it down for me, and I’ll be happy to get it.” He relaxes in the seat next to you, “Promise.”

#jojo headcanons #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojos bizarre adventure #jojo's bizarre adventure #joseph joestar x reader #jean pierre polnareff x reader #polnareff x reader #oldseph #oldseph x reader #jotaro x reader #kakyoin #avdol x reader #avdol headcanons #kakyoin x reader #neurodivergent reader #neurodivergent representation #platonic #headcanons

72 notes · View notes