Autistic reader who’s a part of the avengers and always wears sunglasses to fights and everyone just assumes it so they look bad ass (which is a plus) but it’s really just because of how bright it is outside and they get overwhelmed easily
They also are always blasting music and when people try to reach them through the coms nobody can reach them and everyone thinks they do it to annoy everyone, but they just can’t think clearly without it in high stress scenarios
Summary: Peter gets home and finds you in an autistic meltdown
Warnings: meltdown (what I PERSONALLY would consider milder ish), stimming, brief hitting stim, overstimulation (not the good type the 'tism type)
A/N: I am autistic, but autism is a large spectrum. Every autistic person has different symptoms, stims, etc. Meltdowns look different for every autistic person, and can look different situationally.
Words: 756
Peter fiddling with the keys to the apartment, struggling to unlock the door when his arms full.
"Hey babe! Sorry I'm late, training went long! But I picked up Chinese!" Peter calls, kicking the door shut behind him and setting the bars of takeout down on the kitchen table.
No response. That's odd, you're usually doing homework at the table or reading on the couch when he gets home. He hears a faint creaking from the bedroom.
"Baby, you in here?" peter asks, pushing the door open.
You're sitting on the bed, sitting with your legs crossed and back to him, with your noise canceling headphones on. Peter leans against the doorframe, watching as you rock back and forth on the bed. You're rotating between flapping them in the air at your side and using to rock harder on the bed. You have a pillow in front of you for went you rock forward.
Peter considers if he should try to get your attention. He knows something's you just need to stim like this after a long day. Peter doesn't have autism like you, but with his high end senses, he definitely understands how overstimulating the outside world can be and often stims along with you at home.
This connection had made your relationship extra sweet. The nights you spent curled up together, stimming and info dumping about your mutual special interest are some of Peter's favorites.
Peter's body stiffens as you make a distressed sound and start hitting the side of your head. He's behind you on the bed in a flash, holding your arms away from your head not not restricting your rocking.
"Noooo," you whine, flapping your hands in his strong gasps.
Peters nudges one side of your headphones what so you can hear him.
"I know, angel, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Peter soothes, "Squeeze my hands, luvie. Hard as you can,"
Peter settles in behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder and wrapping him arms around you so your arms are crossed on your chest. He uses his strength to provide the deep pressure that you need to regulate, squeezing you. He starts rocking back and forth with you, supporting you need to stim while keeping you from hurting yourself.
You start hum and squeeze his hands tightly. Your nails dig into his palm, but he doesn't care. He just holds you as you continue rock back and forth on the bed.
Peter realizes you're humming the tune to "Just Keep Swimming" over and over again. In the last, you shared that you often did this during meltdowns, replacing "swimming" with "stimming" in your head to help regulate youself.
Once you stop squeezing his hands, he releases your. You start flapping your hands again as he moves one arm diagonal across your chest to you shoulder, and the other around your waist so he can give you more spread out pressure.
Peter watches carefully as your stimming looses it's distressed edge and shifts to little nervous stims. Your hummings gets softer until it fizzles out.
"You're home," you finally croak.
"Hi babygirl," Peter smiles, pecking your neck, "You wanna talk about it?"
You're quiet for a moment, your rocking slowing to a stop. You turn around in his arms, wrapping your arms and legs around him and clinging to him like a koala.
"Not yet. Keep going,"
Peter nuzzles his cheek against your head, moving one hands up to cup the back of your head as he starts rocking again for the both of you.
After a while, your vice grip on him loosens and you pull away. You pull off your headphones and let them fall around your neck.
"Baby, I'm sorry I grabbed your hands like that. I just didn't want you to hurt yourself," Peter whispers, cupping your cheek.
"it's okay, I'm sorry, I-"
"Don't apologize. Never apologize for your sensory needs,"
Your heart melts at his words.
"I had to ride the subway home today. It was so loud and people-y and my shoes got sticky on the floor and I got home and my whole body was itchy and I...yeah. you saw,"
"I understand, baby. The subway is so overstimulating. You wanna brainstorm alternatives to it and ways we could make it easier for you over dinner?"
You nods earnestly, leaning forward and kissing Peter before climbing off the bed.
The two of you enjoy the best cold Chinese food you've ever had, hand in hand, with no judgment and full understanding for each other.
A/N: came up with this idea last night when I had a similar meltdown but not this support. In this house, we don't get depressed, we get inspired (to write silly little fanfics)
It is generally not recommended to restrain someone when they are stimming. It can often do more harm than good and escalate the situation.
If you have an autistic loved one, people discuss with them what to do in case of a loved one and if they start stimming in a harmful way
Main Masterlist
Chronically Ill/Disabled Reader Masterlist
Please send requests, especially if you have a chronic illness/disability 🩷
How I think the women of The Pitt would react when learning that their coworker and partner is autistic.
AGELESS BLOGS AND MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED
Author's Note: This is purely for entertainment purposes; the depictions of autism in this work are reflective of fictional and personal experiences and are not intended to represent the lives and experiences of all autistic individuals.
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Dana Evans
When you casually mention being autistic in conversation, Dana immediately interrupts you.
"Wait, wait, wait. You never said anything about bein' autistic."
"Dana...just last night I literally went nonverbal for an hour while watching aquarium videos in your bed."
"I don't know kid, I thought that was just a millenial thing."
"I'm...I'm not even a millennial."
Since then, whenever you spend the night at Dana's, you notice that the lights of her bedroom have been dimmed and her kitchen is always stocked with your safe foods.
One day, Dana shows up to work adorning a God awful t-shirt reading "I love my beautiful cute amazing funny unique autistic partner" complete with Clipart of a kitten wearing an autistic flag sweater. It takes about 3 minutes before you ask Robby if you can please take the day off before you die from embarrassment.
Cassie McKay
You're a little hesitant to talk to Cassie about being autistic because you're not quite sure how she'll react.
To your utter delight, she immediately does everything within her power to make things more accessible for you whenever you're around.
During lulls in her shift, Cassie asks Mel for advice and resources on how she can support you.
Cassie definitely misinterprets what you mean when you say you're sensitive to touch, always gently holding you as though you're about to break.
"Cassie i said I was autistic, not made of glass"
"I just don't want to make you uncomfortable. I know how touch can be overwhelming."
"I'd actually prefer if you just squeezed me like a lemon right now."
Now that you've given her the go ahead, Cassie acts as your personal weighted blanket whenever you need to unwind at the end of the day.
Cassie loves talking to you about your special interests, willing to sit and listen to you ramble for nearly an hour about something she doesn't quite understand but is overjoyed to be included in.
Trinity Santos
Trinity notices that you never really laugh at her nicknames and jokes about you. Of course, she thinks the issue must be that she isn't being funny enough, so she doubles down and tries twice as hard to make you giggle.
It isn't until the day that one of her jokes results in you looking at her with tears in your eyes that she realizes she fucked up.
"Do you not like me?" You ask her after about the fifth time today that she's called you a weirdo.
Trinity's heart immediately sinks to her stomach when she realizes that what she thought was flirting was actually her accidentally bullying you.
Since then, you've had a heart to heart with her about how being autistic means you can be hyper-sensitive. Now, wherever she makes a joke that might come off as a little too mean, she takes the time to reassure you and ask if what she said was okay.
This being said, if anyone else even comes close to making fun of you, she is ready to verbally and physically tear their throat out as soon as you leave the room.
"Babe I don't get why you had to yell at Dennis like that, you call me a weirdo all the time"
"That's because you're my weirdo."
Trinity loves to buy you little gifts that remind her of you. Whether it's a plush of your special interest, your favorite snacks, or a stim toy, you'll always find something sitting for you in your locker by the time your shift starts.
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Special thanks to danaevansashtray for giving me the idea of Dana being a boomer ally to her autistic partner. Comment if you'd like to see Baran, Samira, and Mel!
How do we feel about Jack Abbot x high functioning autistic reader?
I haven't seen anything so far. I imagine her masking very well but at some point she can't take it anymore, maybe because something triggering happened. Social cues , stress and everyone talking at once overwhelming her.
Jake would probably be shocked, specially since they are dating for a while and reader hasn't mentioned anything. I feel like Mel is the perfect person to help her, like getting her in a room where everything is nice and quiet, no big night and after a while Jack comes in and she confuses everything.
can you write a fan fic of samira x female reader wanting to have a baby, using ivf and picking a sperm donor, the reader is autistic and samira says she can carry so that reader doesn’t have sensory overload, reader surprises her by saying she wants to carry, even if she might shut down or have overloads, she knows she has samira by her side
My house of stone, your ivy grows and now I'm covered in you
Summary: Samira and you have been dating since she finished her year as an R3, so you’ve decided to start a new chapter in your lives and have a baby. Despite everything, she offers to carry the baby so you don’t get overwhelmed by the entire pregnancy process, but you really want to carry her child, no matter the complications, as long as you know she’ll be by your side
Warnings: mild mention of sensory overload, emotional overload; no reproduction fetish is being portrayed here—this is purely lighthearted. I’m not a doctor or anything close to one; I’m just a silly girl writing at 3:00 a.m., so please forgive me if this isn’t what you expected or isn’t accurate.
They had been through a lot as a couple—it was truly a journey they were proud to talk about in public. The way they could understand each other with just a glance or a light touch of their hands was enough to know how the other was feeling.
She, too, had a special knack for knowing when a situation was too much for you—a brightly lit room, a noisy crowd, clothes that were too rough—and she made it her mission to create a little haven of comfort and love inside your apartment.
So when you started talking seriously about starting a family, Samira was the first to jump in, volunteering to carry the baby.
“We know how overwhelming this can be and how tedious pregnancy and postpartum are,” she had said as they were curled up on the living room sofa, not really paying attention to the show playing in the background. “I won’t make you go through that stress when I can do it myself,” she emphasized, tightening her embrace to pull you close to her side.
Despite everything, you couldn’t stop thinking about how difficult it would also be for your beloved girlfriend, even though deep down you knew it was just a small excuse to mention that you wanted to carry her child.
The few times you visited her mother and her new boyfriend, he had insisted on showing you, for three hours straight, all the photos of little Samira in every possible situation—including the embarrassing ones.
You couldn’t stop daydreaming about holding a mini version of your girlfriend in your arms, with her beautiful eyes hidden behind thick black lashes; your heart ached just thinking about it.
Despite this, neither of you had much time to think about who would be the surrogate mother due to the multiple appointments and waiting lists at every possible clinic in Pittsburgh; that didn’t change much over the course of a few weeks.
But today, just today, you felt there was no turning back. You were getting ready for the first part of this terrifying journey. You were sitting on the edge of the bed you still shared, wrapped in the soft bathrobe they’d gotten so it wouldn’t scratch your skin. You just watched Samira getting ready in front of the mirror, not really knowing how to bring up the subject.
Despite your efforts to seem as normal as possible, Samira noticed your strange behavior as she watched you through the mirror.
“Is something wrong, honey?” she asked, sitting down next to you on the bed and planting tender kisses on your temple.
You turned to look into her eyes—those eyes you’d dreamed of seeing on the face of your unborn baby—and you couldn’t bear the thought of missing this chance.
“Samira, what would you say if I told you I want to carry the baby?” you said, lowering your gaze to your hands, still slightly damp, your face flushing with uncertainty and a hint of restrained excitement.
You lifted your gaze slightly to look at your girlfriend’s face at her lack of response, only to find the most radiant expression you had ever seen on her. She leaned in, tucking a few strands of damp hair behind your ears and giving you a long kiss on the forehead
“Sweetheart, that would be the most beautiful thing I could ever ask for.” She then covered your face with little kisses before pulling away to let you get ready. You sat there for a few seconds before starting to get dressed, a silly smile on your face.
You couldn’t wait for this.
The reception area of the office was quiet; the secretary was energetically typing in the information Samira was dictating to her while you sat on one of the plush sofas, reading a small brochure without much interest. Samira returned, sat down next to you, gently took your hand, and rested her head on your shoulder.
“Are you absolutely sure?” she asked again, making you laugh and causing you to snuggle up against her. You nodded vigorously, glancing up slightly every time a door in the hallway opened.
“Okay, okay, they said we’d be going in in five minutes.” You both let out a relieved sigh, knowing that from there on out, things would be an emotional roller coaster.
It had all been strange, as if you’d been in a little bubble during the first few months of the process. It was relatively easy compared to other couples, and in less than two months of treatment, the test had come back positive. The excitement hit both of you like a truck—you hadn’t even anticipated everything that came with it.
From one moment to the next, everything exploded—literally.
First came the nausea. You’d banished yourself from the kitchen during lunchtime because the smells made you sick, though of course, your girlfriend tried to cook things with neutral flavors and aromas you used to tolerate to avoid that sickening feeling in your stomach—despite your growing appetite. Despite her efforts, this didn’t save you from morning sickness.
You used to wake up very early just to stagger a little to the bathroom and end up throwing up everything you’d eaten the day before; even if you hadn’t eaten anything, she’d sit by your side, rubbing your back and holding your hair until the wave of nausea subsided.
She barely had the patience to stay by your side while you sobbed over how awful it was to be forced to vomit.
A small respite during the first two months was seeing the first images of your baby; you both cried a lot in the car.
By the fifth month, you found yourself lying down on any available surface more often than helping Samira with the nursery and the baby’s preparations; your back ached just from existing, and you couldn’t stand being on your feet for long stretches. on top of that, the growth and pain in your breasts were bothersome; regardless of your size, pregnancy had made them much more sensitive and heavy, though to be fair, Samira didn’t give you time to complain because she had already bought maternity bras to keep everything in place and always brought you a chair so you could sit near her while they prepared the baby’s room.
Although everything had been controlled and managed, there was something inevitable: the delivery came earlier than expected, long before you could have prepared yourself for everything it entailed. That little corner of your own world had exploded in an instant— the fluorescent lights of the hospital, the beeping of machines, the collective murmur of other patients outside—you ended up sobbing next to Samira, trying to block out all the noise in your head.
Time seemed to fade from your mind; you tried to focus solely on Samira’s voice whispering instructions in your ear during the C-section. You felt sweat running down your body and swore that at any moment you would fall apart piece by piece on that stretcher.
In the end, what brought you back to the world of the living was a small, sharp, and loud cry. You immediately opened your eyes, focusing right away on the tiny creature they were bringing to your chest. You sobbed chokingly as you looked at the little one and then at Samira—your precious angel had finally arrived and was already with you.
You spent a few nights in the hospital making sure that both you and your newborn son were doing well; it had been a difficult delivery, but after a few nights in the incubator, he was ready to come home with you.
Your family and friends were over the moon with the little one and showered both of you with countless gifts and attention; despite all the affection, the only thing you wanted was to be together, as a family.
Samira took care of both of you with incredible dedication; even on the days she was on shift, she managed to make sure you were both okay. At the end of a long day, the three of you would lie down together on the sofa, sharing warmth with each other and admiring the little being you had brought into the world together.
Even after everything—the sleepless nights, the crying, the discomfort, and the pain—you didn’t regret it, not when you had the two most important people in the world in your arms.
cw: SFW, fluff, reader can be read as any gender, sensory seeking
One of the most helpful things in your life was the fact that you had a boyfriend that took your autism in stride. It's not that you never thought you'd be able to date because of your autism, you just know from experience that for some people, dating an autistic person can be a challenge. Miscommunication was common and it could be hard in general for people who aren't willing to learn and adapt to living with an autistic person in their life. It wasn't for everyone.
But Jason took it all in stride. He actually loved learning about all the things that came with knowing you; what textures you couldn't stand, what foods you couldn't eat, what methods you used to regulate, and self soothe when you were overstimulated or overwhelmed. He loved hearing about whatever you were so hyper fixated on at any given time and he actually took the time to learn about those things you liked in his own free time, too. Jason just…he tried. And he tried way more than any other person you've dated before.
He knew you, inside and out. All the parts of you other people didn't really understand, he did. And he loved all of it. Most days he was good at being able to tell when you were getting overwhelmed or nearing a burnout phase before even you could tell. So, when he came home, kicking the door shut with his food as he tossed his keys on the small table by the front door, the first thing that left your mouth wasn't too surprising.
“Please crush me.”
Jason's lips twitch into a small smile. He'd seen this coming and could tell from your scattered texts during the day that today had been a lot for you. You'd worked today and that was always exhausting, paired with the fact that he knew the rain today hadn't helped much; you hated when your hair got wet and stuck to your face on your walk home from work. And he knew you hated the way your socks would be damp by the time you got home. Paired with a whole day of masking for the public at work and…well, Jason just knew you'd ask for this the second he got home.
“You sure?” He shrugs off his jacket and hangs it up by the door, pausing to push his shoes off as he glances over at you.
You've made a comfortable nest on the couch; a few pillows and your favorite blankets tucked around you. The room was lit by the soft fairy lights he'd strung up months ago when he realized how harsh his main living room light felt to you. It looks comfortable, the same sort of comfortable little nest you always make when you want to be warm and not locked up in the bedroom.
You're wearing one of his t-shirts and your favorite pair of sweats. You're comfortable, with the noise canceling headphones he bought for you pushed down to rest around your neck as you sit up on the couch to look at him, nodding.
“Yeah,” you reply, taking a breath and letting it out slowly. “Need the compression.”
He smiles softly and walks over to the couch, gently reaching out to carefully remove the headphones from your neck. He sets them down on the coffee table and then reaches out a hand towards your face, pausing to shoot you a questioning look. Waiting for permission to touch.
You nod and the second his large hand cups your cheek you melt a bit into the touch with a soft sigh. He's warm. Familiar. “Long day.”
“I know, babe,” Jason assures softly, his thumb stroking along your cheek for a moment before he pulls his hand away. He gestures for you to lay back down. “Come on, get comfortable. Crushin’ time for my poor baby.”
You offer him a smile that's both amused and relieved, moving aside some of the pillows and blankets so you can lay back down properly. Jason watches, his own amused smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watches you squirm around to get comfortable. When you're ready, you hold your arms out with a firm nod, “Do it.”
Crushing you is actually more like…Jason just laying his entire body on top of you. It's the pressure you like. The way it makes you feel so much more aware of your body and makes you feel more grounded in the moment.
Jason's careful as he lays himself on top of you, he always is. He's a big guy, after all, and heavier than you with all the muscle on him. When he lowers himself onto you, he takes his time. Slowly lowering himself down until you let out a loud sigh of relief at the way his weight gently presses down against you.
The first few times you asked for this, he'd been worried he'd actually crush you. You had to explain to him that no, he wouldn't hurt you, and yes, you did really enjoy having the weight of his body against yours. While it had been hard to explain, he seemed to understand when he saw how easily it helped you finally relax when you needed that sensory input.
“Better?” Jason murmurs softly, his lips by your ear as his chin rests on your shoulder.
You give a small nod, taking a breath and letting it out slowly. “Mhm. Thank you.”
“Don't have to thank me,” he chuckles softly and one of his hands finds one of your hips, rubbing gently. Easy enough to be felt but not enough to add to any other sensory discomfort you were having right now. “Sorry you had a rough day.”
You shake your head, “Happens. Better now.”
He hums softly in agreement. Better now that he could make sure you were okay. Better now that he could help you in whatever way you needed. “You eat yet?”
You make a bit of a face and then shrug as best as you can with his weight pressing down on you. “Had a banana when I got home. And water.”
You can almost feel the frown on his face. He scoffs softly. “A real five star meal, huh?”
You laugh softly. “Yeah. Nothing else sounded good.”
He considers that for a moment, no doubt running through all the usual options when food feels particularly hard for you. He lifts up enough to look at you, an eyebrow raised as he gives you a small, playful looking smile. “Well, we got three options, babe. One; I can whip up some mac and cheese if you're still liking that. Two; I can cut you up another banana and maybe get you some crackers and that juice you like. Or three; we can scroll on my delivery app and see if anything there sounds good.”
You consider the options, running them all through your head. He doesn't move from his spot on top of you, patient as ever. You hum softly in thought and then look at him again. “Secret fourth option; mac and cheese and a banana.”
Jason snorts softly and shakes his head. “Alright, I think we can manage that. Need me to stay here a bit longer first?”
You nod a bit, your arms wrapping around him, hands fisting gently in the back of his shirt. “Just a few more minutes. Please.”
“Alright,” He relents, laying back down on you properly, gently nuzzling his face into your neck. “Just a few more minutes and then we’re getting food into you before you get all cranky because you’re hungry.”
You can’t even really argue with that; you would get cranky when your body finally realized how hungry it was. For now, just for a few more minutes, you were content to relax under the pressure of his body against yours as it chases away the stress and overwhelm from the day.
divider by: @/anitalenia
reader was written with my own autistic experience in mind; every autistic person experiences things differently and has different support needs. Please do not repost or copy my works anywhere else.
currently re-watching the entire Marvel cinematic universe and all I’m saying is people better start writing 2019 era marvel fics again and they better be on my desk in 2 to 3 business days
Like yes, I grew up in Hydra
yes I got injured and now Bruce is patching me up in the lab
yes Bucky just moved into the tower and he’s shy and has a crush on me
Summary: Steve helps you slow down your morning when you wake up with increased joint instability and pain
Warnings: fluff, chronic pain, mention of joint dislocation, orthotic braces (knee and AFO braces), brief sexual innuendoes, mention of spanking, joking about illness/disability
A/N: this specific character has hEDS, POTS, mobility issues, and uses AFOS, knee braces, and mobility aids. But everyone with EDS is different and requires different tools.
Word count: 962
Ehlers Danlos Sydrome- a group of genetic, connective tissue disorders that cause the body's "glue" (collagen) to be faulty, leading to loose joints, stretchy skin, and fragile tissue throughout the body.
You wake with your whole body aching. Your muscles are sore and pain shoots through your joints as you roll over.
“Morning, darlin’,” Steve smiles, looking wide awake next to you.
How long has he been awake? Was he just watching you sleep?
“Morning,” you respond sleepily, snuggling into his arms.
Steve rubs firm, warm circles on the spot between your shoulder blades that feels like it was ripped apart in your sleep. How did he know?
“Okay, let’s go,” you groan, trying to sit up.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Steve laughs, pulling you back down in bed.
“Patrol, Steven!” You giggle.
“I switched with Bucky,”
“What? Why would you do that?”
“Love,” Steve starts gently, “You were tossin’ and turnin’ all night. I could hear your joints clickin’ and popping,”
“It’s fine,” you groan.
“We’re having a slow morning,” Steve says firmly.
“But-”
Steve interrupts you with his lips.
“Slow,” he mumbles against your lips, kissing you leisurely.
You melt into the kissing, allowing him to slowly explore your lips before pulling away.
Steve slowly sits you up, giving your body time to adjust before moving from behind you. He moves onto his knees at the side of the bed, gently pulling you so your aching legs hang off the bed.
You wince as he starts slowly stretching out one of your legs, holding the kneecap firmly in place as he does so to prevent dislocation.
“That hurt?” He asks.
“It’s sore,” you admit.
“You did too much walking yesterday,” he grumbles, moving to massaging the sore muscles.
“Less than half of what you did!” you huff. Steve looks at you with a wry look.
“Which of us is a super soldier and which of us has a connective tissue disease?”
“Slander!” You say with mock outrage, leaning back on your hands.
Steve moves onto the other leg, following the same steps of rotating between stretching and massaging.
He takes his time rolling your compression socks on before. He pulls out your orthotic knee braces, strapping them on for you before gently gripping your feet.
“How are your ankles today, sweetheart?” He asks.
You open your mouth to lie, but your face scrunches up as he slowly flexes your foot. Steve hums, picking up your AFOs and strapping them on.
“You’re no fun,” you whine as he zips your orthotic shoes on.
“Keeping your joints in place is very fun,” Steve chuckles, kissing your cheek, “Now, what kinda day is it? Crutches or walker? Or wheelchair?”
“Walker,”
“Don’t move,” Steve orders, getting up and moving into the bathroom.
Steve returns pushing your walker with a stack of clothes on the seat.
“Ummm, that’s actually for you, old man,” you joke.
“Hey, careful who you’re calling old!” Steve laughs.
“Yeah, I think it was actually your joints you heard popping all night. I hear it happens with old age,”
Steve presses you back on the bed, careful of your joints as he hovers over you.
“I’d spank you ass for that if you weren’t already hurting,” he purrs, voice dripping with amusement.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” you smirk.
“Oh, what am I gonna do with you?” Steve laughs as he sits you up.
Steve hands you the stack of clothes and watches as you tug off your sleep shirt and start dressing. His eyes are amused, slightly heated, but mostly observant.
“Hopefully something involving food,”
You pull the skirt on as much as you can sitting down. Steve leans down, slipping his hands under your ass before slowly standing you up. He uses his grip on your ass to support your weight as your head spins, your nails digging into his arms.
“Take your time,” he whispers in your ears, “I’m enjoying your ass in my hands,”
“Steve!” You laugh, moving to tug the skirt up over his hands.
“Yeah, I think I’ll just hold this all day. Make sure it doesn’t go anywhere,”
“You perv,”
“Your perv,” He corrects, slowly loosening his grip so more weight is eased onto your legs. You burrow your face into his neck, biting your lips as your knees shake under you weight.
“Let me know if you’re gonna pass out on me, darlin’,”
“Nah, I’ve got better things to do today. But I’ll let you know if I get bored later and wanna have a medical episode,”
You brace one hand on his shoulder, using the other to grab your walker. Steve takes a step back as you get your balance with the walker, taking slow steps with its support. Pain shoots through your shoulders as you rely on the walker for more support.
Steve walks carefully behind you as you walk to the kitchen. Wanda is sitting at the table, Natasha on the couch.
“You see this?” You call, “This old man is stalking me! He won’t leave me alone! He’s making me take care of myself,”
“Terrible, want me to beat him up?” Natasha asks.
“Always,” you smile.
“Hey!” Steve gasps, “I thought we were friends!"
“I don’t know, Steve, I think we’d all take you down for your girl,” Wanda responds jokingly.
“Told you,” you stick your tongue out at him. You grumble as Steve makes you sit down as he makes breakfast.
“Here you go, love,” Steve smiles, kissing the top of your head as he sets a plate and a small cup of meds down in front of you.
“Thank you,”
You swallow the meds down with a sip of water. The two of you stay mostly silent as you eat your breakfast, making small talk with Natasha and Wanda occasionally.
Your eyes keep straying back to Steve, fighting a smile. He’s so caring, so gentle with your body and your heart. So perfect.
Pairing: Dr. Jack Abbot x resident!reader
Warnings: fluff, exhaustion, brief dissociation, non sexual body weight/pressure.
Pairing: When the exhaustion turns into dissociation, Jack learns how to pull you back to earth: just the grounding weight of him holding you down until the world stops spinning.
The lights in the apartment feel like physical needles against your eyes. You don't even bother taking off your clothes. You simply collapse onto the duvet, your limbs feeling like lead weights.
Seventeen hours.
You aren’t just tired.
You’re vibrating pure exhaustion.
Jack is there. He’s already softened his movements, sensing the fog that usually blankets you after a long shift.
"Hey," he murmurs, his voice low. He sits on the edge of the mattress, the dip in the bed making you roll slightly toward him. "How was it? Do you need water? Food?"
You don’t move. You don't even open your eyes. And the ceiling fan feels like a white sound.
"Jack," you croak out.
"Yeah, doll?"
"Just... lay on me."
There’s a brief silence. "You want me to... what?"
"Lay on top of me," you mutter gesturing vaguely at your body. "All of you. Your whole weight."
He chuckles but he doesn't argue. Jack knows you well enough to know when you've reached the point of sensory overload where only something physical can pull you back down to earth.
He moves carefully, hovering over you for a second before slowly lowering himself. He’s careful to distribute his weight, but you huff out a breath of protest. "No, handsome. Don't do polite weight. Just lay down."
He finally settles, his heavy frame covering yours. The effect is instantaneous. The pressure of him acts like a weighted blanket, twitching nerves in your legs and pinning your racing thoughts to the bed. It’s a heavy safety. You can feel the thrum of his heart against your chest and the warmth of his body through his shirt.
The dissociation starts to bleed away, replaced by the physical reality of him. You’re no longer floating somewhere; you’re right here, in your bedroom, being held into the mattress by the person you love most.
"Better?" he whispers, his breath warm against your ear.
"Mhm," you sigh, your muscles finally turning to liquid under him. "Don't move."
"Okay," he says. "I'm not going anywhere."
The crushing pressure of him is exactly what you needed, a physical feeling to keep you from drifting away into the memory of monitors and hospital's lights.
As the silence of the room settles, Jack begins to shift just a fraction, his lips finding your clavicle and neck. The kisses are soft and slow. Each one feels like a small reminder that the shift is over and you can relax now.
He works his way up toward your jaw, his stubble grazing your skin in a way that would usually be ticklish but right now just feels like a tether. You feel tension finally drain out of your body, your eyelids growing too heavy to keep even halfway open.
The world is narrowing down to the rhythmic thud of his heart against your body and the soft and repetitive press of his lips.
"Jack," you mumble, your voice thick with the first real wave of sleep.
"I know," he whispers, pressing one more lingering kiss just below your ear, feeling your breath become heavy. Gently, he hooked his arms under your form. "Come here, honey," he whispers.
He rolls onto his back, bringing you with him so you’re draped over his chest. He settles you between his arms, your head tucked perfectly into the hollow of his shoulder. The change in position doesn't wake you.
He begins a slow stroke down your back, his hand moving from your shoulder blades to your waist and back again. It’s a hypnotic motion that mutes the last of the hospital noise in your brain.
"Thank you... for this." You don't hear his answer, but you feel the way he settles even deeper against you, his arms wrapping around your sides to pull you closer into him. Before he can even tuck the blanket over both of your shoulders, you’ve drifted off.
"I love you," he mumbles, his chin resting on the top of your head.
The last thing you feel is him holding you tight against his body as the rest of the world finally fades.
it’s not specified what disorder the reader has but it’s based off of my experience with HEDS
Being a nurse was arguably hard now being a nurse whose body’s feels like it’s falling apart makes it a little harder
Bending over to take the little girls temperature I feel the sharp twinge in my joints after taking the vitals of the little girl
I turn towards the door spotting Robby grabbing hand sanitizer. But before leaving I turn towards the concerned, mother hand on her daughter’s back and shoot her what I hope is a comforting smile and not one that shows the pain Im forced to work through.
Making sure the door doesn’t slam behind me I make my way towards Robby and smile back at him “walk with me” without having to think about it my feet start moving in the direction he’s going “how are you feeling.” Like my KT tape started peeling three hours ago. I respond. well in that case how does a bath with Epson salt sound after work sound hm?
audibly growning I respond “Like heaven”
It’s about two hours past the time your shift was supposed to be over when you’re walking out the sliding doors with Robby holding your hand “that’s got to be a record” no way! a man came in two weeks ago complaining about stomach pain princess did a little bit of digging and found out that he ate three whole pizzas on a dare. Turning my head towards him we both break into gigantic smiles.
I’m picking at the edges of the tape, peeling at my knees. my head shoots up as Robby walks into the bathroom doorway. “you know if you just agreed to move in with me you wouldn’t have to deal with this ridiculously small bathtub.” oh but moving means taking time off from work and you and I both don’t know how to set Work life boundaries. Leaning over to kiss my forehead, he mutters “touché come on let’s get you dried off and go to bed”
Laying in bed, I lean over to turn off the lamp and then turn towards Robby as he’s putting away his book on the nightstand I grabbed my heating pad and make sure it’s on promise me “you’ll come find me at work if the pain is ever too much right?” looking into his soft eyes I know he’s not just saying it he means it “promise”
Written based off my experience with heds but it’s not specified what disorder they have
You’ve been with Jack and Robby for almost two months and it’s starting to become very apparent to them that you are avoiding staying the night why they have no idea why
They decide to bring it up at dinner the warm light cascade over restaurant as Robby finished up talking about some work He got done on his motorcycle when Jack cleared his throat. “Honey after dinner do you wanna come over and watch a movie?” Pretending to consider it as you feel the ache in your knees and your hip after long shift At the ED. Oh! I would love to but I really have to feed the cats your voice is cut off by Robby’s calm, but stern voice “that’s no problem you can drive you by your house on the way there”
You end up, making up some excuse about plans with your parents in the morning
At the end of the night after they had dropped you off the radio turned down low with the faint sound of your favorite song you insisted on playing in the car the boys turn to each other with a knowing looks that it just happened again
It’s a couple weeks after your last date And You’re standing leaning against the charting cart when Robbie walks up to you and Rubbing your back “Stay over tonight”. His voice final. You start to argue about how you can’t. Robbie shifting his weight from foot to foot. Lets you finish and then turns around starts walking towards the exit and then shouts. “ you can explain to me why you’ve been avoiding staying the night on the car ride over come on.”
You slammed the door and then turn to look at Robby “Talk to me kid”
There’s a long pause before you mutter “all my stuff is at my house” what? he says turning
towards you at my house I have my heating pad and I have a special pillow for my knees and my back so my spine stays aligned and I need to take a shower which means I have to stand up and then I feel like going to pass out so I have a shower chair And if I don’t have all my stuff the pain will keep me up all night and then I won’t be able to sleep and I have to go to work tomorrow.
Putting the car in drive and pulling out of the parking lot and turning turning to the side he says let’s go get your stuff. “ it’s too much to bring from house to house.” Shaking his head “honey Jack has half of that stuff and the other half well buy doubles of”
Robbys sitting on the couch when Jack, walked through the door one hand on his backpack one hand holding a bouquet of flowers “hey brother I got your text.” Where is she?” Robby glances up from his book “taking a shower.”
This is my second fic I’ve ever written and I’m pretty proud of it. Thanks for reading!
this is baby’s first fic so please be kind because I think it’s awful but at least it’s not AI :,)) I originally was gonna write an autistic reader but it got lost in the plot
Trinity santos x autistic!femreader
angst miscommunication Ish
Deep down, you knew she wasn’t avoiding you on purpose she’s a second year resident for God sakes.
But at the end of the day, you couldn’t ignore the feeling of loneliness from the schedule not lining up dates missed and late nights at the hospital to finish up charting. deciding that enough was enough. You sent the text Yes, it took hours of overthinking. Yes you ended up deleting the whole paragraph and just sent “we need to talk”. Cliché yes but you’re in a committed relationship and you’re having problems. And that’s what people say, right?
While Waiting for her to respond which could be hours because she’s at the ED you find yourself drifting in thoughts, trying to figure out where this all started. in the beginning, it was great cute dates in a low light restaurant Trinity has spent hours researching the perfect one to take you to. Text messages in between patients. Asking how your day was going.
Trinity’s birthday dinner at the karaoke bar introducing you to all of her coworkers.
Things started to go south. After your first big fight as a couple. Why didn’t you text me first? Trying to keep your voice down. Standing in the guest bedroom. Trinity sighed and put her hand on her forehead. “I didn’t think you would mind” well then you weren’t thinking at all were you? You shout at her.
Listen, he needed a place to stay and we have an empty guest bedroom that’s not the problem. The problem is that you didn’t think to even call me and ask before telling him he could stay here “ you’ve met Whitaker before” yes I know, but that doesn’t mean I want the man living in our house.
A couple days after the argument everything had settled down Whitaker wasn’t a bother. And he was hardly home. Trin explained something about a widow with a baby on a farm. And plus it was nice to have someone else to hang out with When your girlfriend was at work. You and Dennis bonded over many nights of playing Candyland your favorite game that Trinity refused to play with you and watching reality TV.
And things went back to being great between you and her after that
But then Fourth of July rolled around, and ever since every time, she’s comes home, she’s exhausted, and complaining about charting. Or her colleagues that she doesn’t like. You try to be there for her of course and support her in any way she needs. But it’s emotionally draining
And Exhausting because you have Needs to and how are you supposed to complain about your day and come to her to for advice when her job is hell on earth.
Hearing a ping, breaking you from your train of thought you look down at your phone and read the notification.
Babe 👍
if this is absolutely awful please tell me I’ll get better with practice I swear thanks for making it to the end though!! This was originally supposed to be x autistic reader but it kinda got lost halfway through 😭
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