#autistic hurt comfort

[smoft-demons]

MC needs some extra love

_______

You’re having an off day. Your demons have asked to make sure nothing’s actually wrong, just to be safe, but they’ve seen you like this a few times before. They understand. You’re just feeling down for no particular reason. Just sad and low energy. Extra tired.

Nothing happened, no one hurt you, nothing’s wrong… you just woke up in a low mood. Because it simply be like that sometimes. You just… need some extra affection today. No reason. It’s okay, they’re not judging. They’ll do what they can to cheer you up a little—they love you, you know. They want to see you smile at least once today.

_______

Lucifer:

When Lucifer notices your mood, he softens towards you a lot. He asks if anything is wrong first of course—they all do—but once he learns that there’s nothing he needs to correct and no one he needs to punish on your behalf, he just softens. He treats you more gently than usual.

He expects you’ll get fed up entertaining all his brothers, with their endless chaotic energy. So he invites you to hide out with him in his office. You are invited to just sit with him and read, or put on some music, or play a game on your DDD, or just rest… or whatever it is that will help.

He’ll even let you curl up in his lap and cuddle with him if that’s what you want. That cheers him up too.

He quietly redistributes the most taxing of your chores for today amongst the seven of them, to give you time to recharge.

You’ll find Levi and Beel doing the dishes for you when it’s your turn, or if you’re supposed to make dinner you’ll find that Mammon and Asmo have already ordered everyone takeout, and they’re already in the middle of setting it all out on the table. You won’t have to do a thing! If you were supposed to clean up a common space in the house, it’ll already be done by some of your assorted pact partners. You might even find sticky notes placed amongst your homework in Lucifer’s, Satan’s, and Belphie’s handwriting, suggesting edits and books titles to check for better information, and pointing out any parts in your work that are particularly well done.

When you check your DDD later, you see that Lucifer had instructed his brothers to take on what they can from you to make your life easier today. He was not planning on letting you know that, clearly—because he sent that in the brothers group chat. You only know because Karasu’s spy feature showed you.

His support is shown in all these soft, quiet details. Peaceful moments. Simple, but unmistakable reminders of how loved you are. It’s okay if you don’t smile today, even though he would like you too. He will verbally remind you that loves you anyway.

_______

Mammon:

Mammon’s first instinct, of course, is retail therapy. He offers to take you shopping. He’ll even pay for your stuff! He doesn’t mind if it makes you happy!

You appreciate that very much—and maybe you’d be happy to take him up on that if you were sad for a reason, but… you just have no spare energy. Just thinking about going out exhausts you more. You’d have to deal with looking at things! And forming opinions, and deciding on stuff to buy! There’s crowds and cashiers and bright lights and just… stuff outside! You can’t, you just can’t. You have no energy and you can’t.

The first time Mammon sees you like this, he’s confused. You don’t wanna go out? You don’t want any new stuff?? He sure hasn’t felt like that before!

He puts effort into figuring out what will actually help cheer you up instead. He’s considerate that way.

He tries taking you for a long drive. He tries taking tasks off your to-do list. He tries trailing after you all day to keep you company, holding your hand, chattering all day so you can’t hear your thoughts, staying quiet so you don’t get overstimulated. He cycles through every possible approach over the months, on every random day you happen to wake up like this.

It’s all greatly appreciated—and hey, some of his ideas work better than the rest! You feel loved and cared for regardless. It’s impossible to miss how much he adores you.

Eventually though, he strikes gold!

That particular day, he had been telling you a stupid joke every time he ran into you, in an attempt to make you smile. He gets a weak grin for his troubles just about halfway through the day. He beams at you triumphantly at that, impulsively scooping you up for a hug and repeatedly kissing the top of your head, and—aha! THERE’S the smile he was looking for!

From that point on, he knows what to do!

The next time you wake up in this mood, he takes the first opportunity to give you a playfully over the top show of affection. Over the course of the day, he keeps doing it!

He runs into you in the hallway between classes, he (gently) aggressively ruffles your hair as he passes you. He finds you aimlessly walking through the house, you immediately get snatched into his arms for a nice long squeeze. You sit with him as he’s scrolling through devilgram, he sets it aside for a moment to squish your cheeks between his hands and cover your forehead and nose with loud, playful kisses. You go up to him and request attention? You get kiss attacked, and he won’t let up until you crack a smile!

Your brain hurts, he says, echoing your very first explanation. It’s okay though, he says. He’ll kiss it better, he says.

He is MORE than happy to completely discard the tsundere façade to lean into this… over-the-top affectionate silliness, as long as it continues to make you laugh and smile like that.

He won’t admit it, but… this is more honest. This is much closer to who he is at heart than his usual behaviour is. Try as he might, he can’t hide how much he cares to save his life.

The realest aspect of Mammon is not the dumbass, not the money-grubber, not the uncaring cool guy that he pretends to be… no, it’s the goofy dork who loves you SO much that he’d go to any amount of effort to cheer you up.

He’s damn good at it too! HE was put in charge of your well-being for a reason! He’s the best big brother/guardian/friend/pact partner ever, and you’re his to take care of. He’s not letting HIS human go without smiling once for a whole day! You’re the sole member of his family he can openly dote on, and dammit, he will!

_______

Levi:

Levi’s go-to is, of course, distracting you with media. He tries games first, but if you’re too low-energy for that, he gets it. He tries anime, movies, shows, videos, manga, whatever you seem to respond best to.

You’ll notice a theme of letting others help, confiding in friends, opening up to people. There are repeated instances of characters asking for support from the rest of the cast and then being helped and taken care of. Lots of power of friendship stories, lots of hurt/comfort and “it’s rotten work” “not to me, not if it’s you” and team-as-family.

Maybe, just maaaybe, he’s trying to tell you something!

He relaxes when you explain that you just woke up like this, sometimes this just happens and it’s no one’s fault, there’s no problem, he doesn’t have to worry about you. He gets that! Sometimes he wakes up like that too. It does happen!

But… you’re his player two! He wants to worry about you!

So he takes care of you the way he wishes someone would take care of him when he gets like that. Gives you the extra love he knows first-hand that you need right now. He lets you choose the entertainment, he holds your hand, and mirrors what you do to self-soothe.

If you wanna lie on the floor and stare at his jellyfish decorations, he’s right next to you. If you wanna tell Henry how you’re feeling, he’s right there with you doing the same so you don’t have to feel self-conscious. If you’re stimming, he will too. That one makes him happy as well! If you wanna burrow into a pile of blankets and plushies like a hognose snake, he totally gets it and will also do that. He does that anyway sometimes, just because it’s comfy.

There’s not a hint of judgement from Levi. Ever. He gets it.

When you guys HAVE to leave his room, like for meals and such, he lends you his headphones. So you don’t get overstimulated from all the noise his brothers make. He never goes far from you, either. He always stays close enough that you can reach for him if you want to.

After dinner, when you’re tired and done with trying to act normal (not that even one of your demons is fooled), Levi brings you back to his room. He asks if you have any requests, anything you want to do, anything he can do to help you. If you know what you need, he’ll just do it. If you don’t, he’ll offer comfort in some form that makes sense to him. He understands that all you really need is some extra love when you’re like this, so he’s not at a loss. He gets it, he feels the same way sometimes, he can do that!

You end up curled up in his lap, hiding your face in his shoulder as he watches an anime you’ve both seen before at a low volume. Familiar and comforting. He’s happy to just sit and chill with you until you feel like you’ve recharged enough. He knows you’d do the same for him.

_______

Satan:

Satan’s instinct, once he learns what’s going on, is to bring you to the quiet spot outside where the stray cats he has befriended gather and then plonk the chillest one in your lap.

Cats are perfect fluffy little warm purring bundles of free therapy, after all. How could you not be recharged by this?

He’s not wrong, the cat definitely helps. It is in fact a perfect creature.

But… well, you don’t bother to spend the energy on saying so, but being outside isn’t really helping. You cringe at every loud noise. The wind ruffling your clothes every so often is annoying you. You’re sitting on concrete and it’s making you cold. The streetlights feel particularly aggressive to your eyes today. Very stabby. There are smells outside! No one wants that!

You love the cats, but Satan is giving them all his attention and you’re getting just a little bit jealous. You as well are giving the cat in your lap all your attention, and—as stupid as you feel about it—you’re getting a little bit jealous about that too. You want attention too! All the cat has to do is be cute and soft and it can have all the petting and cuddling it wants! As it deserves, yes, but… don’t you as well, though..?

You try to push that feeling away and just pet the cat. The cat did nothing wrong, you still love it, you’re supposed to be feeling MORE recharged from this! Not… whatever it is you do feel. At the end of the day you still enjoy petting the cat and you don’t want it to leave. That’s still true and that’s what matters, you tell yourself.

Eventually the cat decides it’s had enough petting for now, and gets up. Satan checks on you, fully expecting you to be thoroughly cheered up! Instead he sees you staring forlornly at your hands, mostly zoned out. Confused, he asks if you’re okay.

You nod once, giving him a hollow smile.

Now he’s concerned. He takes a minute to finish petting the cats surrounding him—noting the hint of jealousy in your eyes as you observe him—then comes to sit on the concrete stair next to you.

He gently points out that he knows you well enough to detect a lie. Especially an unconvincing lie like that. You give a noncommittal hum in reply. That’s all you have the energy for.

He wraps an arm around your shoulders, letting you slump against his side. Your head leans against his shoulder. His other arm comes up to stroke your head for a moment, then drops down again to take your hand.

In a small, tired voice, you thank him. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze in reply.

Eventually he adjusts you so he can hold you more comfortably. Every so often he kisses the top of your head, or rubs your shoulder, or squeezes your hand, or says something quietly to you. Pointing out a interesting leaf shape, telling you something inconsequential about his day, prompting you to look when one of the cats does something cute, reminding you that he loves you and it’s okay to feel like this. That he enjoys your company no matter what mood you’re in.

This helps a lot more. Eventually you have enough energy to reply to him in full sentences! He’s visibly relieved at that. Still, he continues to hold you.

It’s after this point that a different cat comes up to you. It sniffs your shoelace then rubs itself against your leg. It flops over your shoe, stretching adorably with its little paws reaching up. It looks up at you all wide-eyed and cute, and finally you give a short puff of a laugh. Satan feels it more than hears it, but still!! He feels successful!

You pet this cat as it stands up and sniffs at your free hand. You look at it with a little smile. There’s a bit more soul in this smile, to Satan’s relief.

Later, as the two of you are leaving, he slips the cat a treat and whispers a thank you to it. Then he takes your hand again and leads you back home.

(He makes a mental note to himself for next time: pet the sad human first!! Then go see the cats!)

_______

Asmo:

Asmo notices that you’re having one of those days today, and he rushes to spoil you. Like Mammon, his first instinct is to take you shopping—but specifically for clothes and makeup and skincare products. Stuff that would cheer him up.

But you’re tired, and he understands that. It’s okay, he still knows what to do!

Asmo brings you into his room. You curl up in a sad, tired lump on his bed. He lets you chill there while he gathers up the stuff he wants.

He returns to you with his arms full of stuff! Nail polish, face masks, a hairbrush, moisturizer and hair oil, etc etc. Stuff for taking care of you.

He makes a point of only doing stuff that doesn’t sting at all. No plucking eyebrows or messing with your cuticles or anything like that. Just the stuff that feels nice.

Asmo quietly chatters about people he knows and stuff he’s used and whatever the latest gossip he’s heard is. Not even really to inform you this time, because he knows you’re probably not gonna remember much when you’re like this, but more to provide you with a constant, grounding backdrop of his familiar voice.

He speaks softly to you as he wipes your face with cleanser and then proceeds with his skincare process. He gently brushes your hair, spending twice as long as necessary just because it feels nice. He insists you don’t bother to move as he sits next to you and paints your nails.

At some point he runs out of stuff to do, so he ends up just brushing over your face with a clean makeup brush. No product on it at all, he’s just doing it to make you relax, because it’s soft and it feels nice. It’s meditative, honestly. For both of you.

He spends a good long while doing that.

He finishes up and lies down next to you. He pulls you into a cuddle. You offer to return the favour for him. Do his skincare and hair and nails and stuff for him, spoil him back—because he deserves the best.

For the first time ever, he declines. He shushes you and holds you tighter. This is the only situation in which he would ever refuse that!

He says you’re more than welcome to return the favour tomorrow if you like, but for now he just wants you to rest. He did all that for you to get you in this relaxed state you’re in right now, don’t get up and un-relax yourself so fast! Keep your brain turned off! It’s good for you sometimes!

… yes, Asmo is surprised by his own selflessness too—more surprised than you are by now, knowing him. He’s always been selfless for your sake since you first became his friend. It still surprises him though.

_______

Beel:

Beel is your best guy for validation. For quiet, thoughtful, unwavering support. He’s a lot more insightful than he’s often given credit for. He’s one of the best people in this family in terms of emotional intelligence, no question about it.

He knows just what to do. He observes you as the day goes on, taking the first opportunity to pull you aside and check on you without any others around. Just to make absolutely sure there’s nothing else going on.

His voice is soft, his hands are gentle, and he puts effort into understanding you. You’re family, he loves you so much! So of course he would.

He’ll share his food with you of course—both because he wants you to know that he loves you that much, and because he’s trying to remove a task from your to-do list. You don’t have to think about getting food and preparing it and any of that if he just. Does it for you. You can spend your very limited energy elsewhere.

He’ll take you with him on his routine walk, just so you can have a change of scenery and an opportunity to chat uninterrupted.

He listens to you complain about being outside with his characteristic placid sympathy—a combination that would be a bit contradictory if it came from anyone else, but somehow makes perfect sense for Beel. It’s soothing. Reassuring, somehow. He helps a lot, just by being himself.

When you inevitably run out of energy—much quicker than you usually do, but you expected that—he offers to carry you. Or rather, he automatically goes to do it on muscle memory, because that’s just what he does with tired loved ones (Belphie usually). He catches himself and realizes he should ask first in this case. Just to make sure. He’s considerate like that.

You are very tired… and you want contact. So of course you accept the offer. How could you refuse when he offers so earnestly?

He walks in measured, consistent steps as he carries you. The sway of his movement is deliberately relaxing. He’s trying to lull you into a meditative haze, or maybe put you to sleep. Either is good, he thinks.

The warmth of him makes the… everything about being outside when you’re feeling this way a lot more tolerable. The sounds of his footsteps, his breaths, his heartbeat… all of that drowns out the background noise just enough. Your face is pressed into his jacket, so the streetlights don’t stab your eyes and all the distressingly inconsistent outside smells are entirely covered by the spices-aromatics-soap scent of Beel. It’s a smell you know very well, and the familiarity of it is grounding.

Everything about him is grounding, really. He really did know exactly what to do.

At the end of the day… it’s okay if you don’t smile. He would like you to, of course, but he will meet you where you’re at. Anyway, it’s more important to him that you feel like it’s safe to show however it is you actually feel around him. He understands the amount of trust that takes, and he’s honoured by it. Nothing is more important to him than that trust.

So, you don’t have to smile. It’s okay.

Don’t be strong, he tells you. There’s no need, for now. Just let him. Rest, lean on his strength—he’s got more than enough for both of you. He’s got you. He’s not going anywhere.

_______

Belphie:

Oh, you’re tired? A bit sad, a bit grouchy? Damn. Looks like even HE has more energy than you today. That’s not something he sees often! Well, that’s fine. He knows what to do.

It’s straight to baby jail with you!

In his arms, that is. In bed, surrounded by his best pillows, covered by the least warm heavy blanket he has, so you won’t overheat but will still feel nice and covered.

He positions you so you’re facing each other, with your head tucked under his chin. So you have room to comfortably breathe and talk, but your face is still as covered as possible so you won’t be bothered by any lights.

Emotional intelligence may not be Belphie’s strong suit, but he is observant and he understands exhaustion. This may not exactly be the usual kind of exhaustion, but still! There’s no demon better equipped to understand what’s going on with you right now, just by nature.

He’s totally fine with cuddling you in silence if you don’t feel like talking. That really works for him, actually, because it allows him to nap.

Not that he doesn’t WANT to listen to you. He does. He’d be happy to. But he gets it if you don’t wanna bother with that. It’s okay.

He will, however, delay taking a nap until you doze off first. He just wants to make sure you’re okay. He’s not about to just fall asleep and abandon you if you still need attention.

If you’re not falling asleep very fast, he will help. Not with magic, surprisingly. He’s being more… gentle, he supposes, than that in this situation.

He talks quietly about nothing important. The soft drone of his voice, kept consistent and deliberately soporific, melts into your brain like butter, slowing it way down. Blocking everything else out. Gradually turning it off. One hand rubs your back slowly, almost as if to match the rhythm of his voice.

It’s so relaxing. You feel like you could stay like this forever and never want to move, you’re that comfortable.

Belphie knows what he’s doing.

It works really well! He makes sure you feel loved and cared for, then makes sure you get some extra rest. Mental and physical recharging.

Of course, you wake up feeling a lot better. Maybe not entirely back to your normal self yet, but definitely better. How could you not?

You’re a lot less tired after you’ve slept, and less sad too… so he’s succeeded—but you’re still not smiling!

He can fix that, right?

He lets you get up and stretch first, of course. He does the same. Before you leave the room though, he wraps you up in another hug.

He pulls back to examine your face after a minute or two.

Hmm… you look comfy, but still no smile! He can’t have that! So he hugs you tightly again, but this time his fingers start to lightly poke and brush over your sides. He’s trying to force you to smile by tickling you. He’s not gonna do too much, he’s not trying to overwhelm you. He stops as soon as you crack a smile.

There we go, he says as he gives you one last gentle squeeze. That was all he wanted, he tells you.

He doesn’t let go of you for long, over the rest of the day. Always holding your hand, giving you random hugs, draping himself over your shoulders—but without making you take all his weight for once, because he knows you’re still kinda tired. Enough of it to be soothing, but no more. Just so you don’t get lonely. He doesn’t want you to get all sad again.

If you do get sad again though, it’s okay. He will squish the sadness out of you all over again, as many times as you need. He doesn’t mind.

_______

#obey me #obey me! shall we date? #obey me headcanons #obey me platonic headcanons #obey me found family #obey me & reader #obey me x reader #obey me requests #obey me scenarios #obey me fic #obey me brothers #obey me hurt/comfort #obey me fluff #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #my writing #gender neutral mc #autistic mc #(implied) (because OP is autistic)

[mediumgayitalian]

“What are your parameters for loving me?”

Careful to keep her head locked forward, Naomi glances over at her son. Will’s picked-bloody fingernails scrabble at the worn bandage around his wrist, twisting until his knuckles turn white. The car shakes with his violently bouncing leg, out of time with the shuddering engine and rumbling dust roads under the wheels.

“There aren’t any.”

“There have to be — some.” The bandage is longer than she thought, unspooled in his lap. He winds it back up again quickly, hands blurring; darting around his wrist, tapping on his knees, flexing and locking, flexing and locking. “I mean, what if I became a misogynist?”

She snorts. “I think you’re good, honey.”

“No, Mom, what if? Think about it for real. You’d stop loving me, right?”

“I might knock you around a bit, but it’d pretty hard to stop loving you completely,” she teases. She pinches the stubbornly-clinging baby fat of his cheeks between her knuckles, ruffling his hair when he ducks away.

“Seriously, Mama.”

“I dunno, Will. I’d send you to work for your Auntie Di for a while, probably. Reckon she’d straighten you out good.”

“Okay.” He nods, twice to himself, chewing on his lip. The bandage is wrapped around his elbow, now, pulled tight enough that she can hear the groan of his joints. “Okay. What if I killed someone?”

“Be a pretty hefty secret for the two of us.”

“An innocent person. Cold blood, just because I wanted to.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I could, Mom. People are — unpredictable.” He picks at a hole in his shorts until it’s wide enough to slide three fingers through, pulling the bandage in after them. It looks yellowed next to the green of the fabric, worn. “Sometimes you think you know someone but you don’t.”

“I know you.”

She pushes on her turn signal, slowing to a near stop. Will’s twitching fingers unconsciously synch up, cri-tap, cri-tap, cri-tap. The rusted rims groan as her tires amble around the bend, quieting as she lurches forward. They both duck as she hits a pothole, narrowly avoiding the warped ceiling.

“Cold blood, Mama.”

“I’d — it would scare me, I guess.” The next few potholes are smaller — she can avoid them with some manoeuvring. A mouse darts out onto the road, rushing out from the surrounding cornfields, and she slams on the break, thrusting her arm out to the passenger side. Will’s hands come to cup over her forearm as he slams into it, grunting softly. The mouse sprints across the rest of the road, tail swishing behind it, disappearing into the stalks. She settles back into her seat, brushing across Will’s seatbelt as she does, and presses the gas again. “More for you than of you. For what would happen if someone came knocking.”

“You wouldn’t report it?”

“No I wouldn’t report it, Will, Jesus.”

“But I — but I did something evil.”

“This is a hypothetical, baby.”

“And in the hypothetical. You’re —” He scrubs his hand down his face, eyes squeezing shut. “You’re a good person. You have — morals.”

“I’m a person, Will.” The GPS beeps at her — twenty-five miles to the Tennessee border. “And I’m a mother before that.”

“So if I — you would just — just like that? You’d — forgive me?”

“I’d love you,” she corrects.

“But you wouldn’t forgive me.”

She shrugs. “Honestly? I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it.”

“So how do you know you’d still love me?”

“Because there’s nothing you could do, baby. I mean it.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“Not even if I was a bully? Or a landlord? Or if I — liked boys?”

He says it quickly, or tries to, but he stumbles over his words, tripping over the syllables. Naomi sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, biting it hard.

“You would still love me, if I — if I —”

Keeping her movements steady, she removes her boot from the gas. Will glances, fast, at her tightening knuckles on the steering wheel, looking quickly away. She guides the car to the shoulder of the road, pulling into park, and kills the engine, unclipping her seatbelt and turning ninety degrees to face her son. Will crowds into the corner of the seat, hunching in on himself, shoulders tense and curling, hair failing over her lowered head.

“Oh, Will.”

His body shakes as she pulls him into her, hands trembling so bad they spasm, twitching out of the fists he makes. She shifts until both of her arms wrap tightly around her torso, ignoring the burn of the trench, tucking his forehead into her collarbone, dropping her lips to press against his temples, his cheeks, the crown of his head.

“It’s okay, baby.”

“It’s — not. I’m still, I can still —”

“Sh.” His tears drip onto her shirt, her skin. He chokes back a sob and she tightens, reflexively, pulling his whole body even closer to her, somehow, making space for his too-long legs, knees hitting his chest, feet dangling off the seat, gearshift shoved into his thigh. His chest heaves with the effort of keeping his cries locked up in his throat, hidden behind clenched teeth, squeezed shut eyes. His fingers cling onto her shirt, twisting the fabric so hard it warps. Her own fingers clutch desperately at the ridges of his spine, the inside of his elbow; squeezing, holding, bruising. His voice is rough as raw grit and reedy as pond scum, barely above a whisper.

“I like boys, Mama.”

“I heard you.” She rests her forehead on his shoulder, her own breaths shuddering. “I heard you, sweetheart.”

“I like — a boy.”

“Okay.”

“For a long time.”

Her swallow constricts her throat, shoving the air back in her lungs. How long, she cannot bring herself to ask — when was it, exactly, that he decided he could not trust her with this? When did she lose that privilege? Was it when he started protecting her from the pain in his life, or before? When he lost everyone close to him at once, or when he broke down and told her about it? When was she no longer the person he ran to when he was scared, nervous, afraid?

He used to come to her for everything.

“I love you,” she whispers, voice wet as it slides against the lump in her throat. She squeezes him again, and this time, he squeezes back, pressing his face into her skin. “Will Solace, you are what keeps me going, do you understand that? Come up here, baby, look at me.”

His eyes aren’t hers. He takes after his father, really; after his older brother once upon a time. But he speaks like she does and smiles like she does and stands like she does, and when he cries he gets that same look, like the ocean has emptied itself inside of him. She cradles both palms to his wet cheeks, thumbs pressing under his eyes, kissing his forehead, his cheekbones, wiping the tears away.

“Fifteen years long you’ve been the light of my life. I need you to understand that, Will. I have never loved anything like I love you and there will never be anyone who comes even close. There is no hypothetical, no situation, no anything that could change that. There are no parameters. None. You understand me?”

“Everything stops,” he croaks. “Everything has a limit.”

“Not me,” she says firmly. “You ain’t a baby no more, baby, but you’re gonna have to pretend for a moment that I know everything again. I am telling you that there is no boundary. And I am not giving you the option to disagree. You are my son and my sun and that’s final, Will. That’s final.”

His face crumples. She pulls him close again, sighing, letting him curl up in his lap like he’s ten years younger than he should be, instead of the ten years older he acts. She runs a hand through his knotted hair and another down his back and presses her lips to his temples, holding him every place she can reach, and rocks them, even though there’s no room to do it, humming slow and low under her breath.

“We’ll get there,” she promises, tapping a beat on his shoulders, pressing a kiss to his hair. “Okay?”

He nods into her neck. “Okay.” His voice is small but not cowering, thankfully; small like he’s hiding in her instead of from her. She fights the urge to sag into him, to burst into tears of her own.

“I love you, Will. No matter what and forever.”

“I love you too, Mama.”

#naomi solace love of my life #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #will solace #will solace angst #naomi solace #naomi solace & will solace #hurt/comfort #autistic will solace #coming out #my writing #fic #longpost

[bee-writes-n-spins]

the mask goes on the minute other people look.

make eye contact. too much, look away. now smile and nod. stop bouncing your leg. make them like you.

those are his thoughts. because too many people have called him weird. too many people have pointed and laughed. too many people made fun of him for just being himself.

oh, but you..

you remind him it's okay to unmask. you smile, listening to him ramble about his interests. you could listen for hours and never get bored.

when you notice his discomfort in a crowd. when you help him communicate when he's too overwhelmed to talk.

with you, the ribbon that holds the mask together comes undone. with you, his mask falls to the ground.

POE, RANPO, dazai, GIYUU, kenma, l lawliet, near, WANDERER, AL HATHIAM, kaveh, LYNEY, and any of your autistic favorites!

#poe x reader #bsd poe #bungo stray dogs x reader #ranpo x reader #autistic poe #autistic ranpo #hurt/comfort #dazai x reader #bsd ranpo #bsd dazai #kny giyuu #giyuu tomioka #giyuu x reader #kny x reader #l lawliet #l death note #l x reader #death note near #near x reader #genshin x reader #death note x reader #wanderer #wanderer x reader #al haitham #alhaitham #al haitam x reader #kaveh #kaveh x reader #lyney #lyney x reader

[phantomstatistician]

Fandom: The Addams Family

Tag: Wednesday Addams/Enid Sinclair

Sample Size: 5,701 stories

Source: AO3

#wednesday addams #enid sinclair #wenclair #fluff #wednesday addams is soft for enid sinclair #lesbian enid sinclair #lesbian wednesday addams #angst #hurt/comfort #wednesday addams is bad at feelings #not beta read #protective wednesday addams #autistic wednesday addams #wednesday #the addams family #fanfiction #ao3 #statistics #phantom statistician #wednesday x enid #enid x wednesday

[autisticlancemcclain]

Lance knows he talks way too fucking much.

He started talking at seven months old. He never stopped. It was his older brother Marco, he thinks, who first called him Motormouth, but honestly he doesn’t remember. He’s been called that and Lancito Lorito longer than he can remember.

He loved the nickname, when he was little. His brothers or sisters or cousins or parents would groan, playfully, when they saw the look in his eyes, but always indulged his constant lectures and ideas and rambling. Motormouth meant you talk a lot but I like to listen. Motormouth meant I know you enough to have a trait I associate with you. Motormouth meant fondness and teasing and care. He loved that name.

When he was seven years old, one of his friends tugged her older sister over to where Lance was colouring with sidewalk chalk on the pavement.

“Look,” she’d said, gesturing to Lance but not talking to him. Lance had looked up from his chalk and smiled at her, opening his mouth to say hello but was interrupted by the subtle elbow she’s jammed into her sister’s side, and her muttered, “Watch this.”

“Hey, Motormouth,” she’d said, and Lance grinned, feeling something warm bloom in his stomach at her use of the nickname, oblivious to the choked-back laughter of the sister. “What was that thing you were talking about earlier? About the comet?”

If at all possible, Lance had brightened further, dropping the chalk and dusting off his hands as he’d launched into an explanation about the comet he’d been tracking with his dad. It was supposed to be visible for the first time in thousands of years that month, and he’d been buzzing with excitement about it. He talked about it to everyone who even appeared like they were maybe going to ask him about it. He’s rambled about it to the cashier at the grocery store the evening before.

“Just look at him,” his friend’s sister had said, something almost like awe in her voice, but not quite. Lance faltered, trailing off mid-sentence. “You were right. He’s like a wind-up toy.”

“Mo-tor-mouth,” his friend had said, in a distinct, sing-songy voice. “I told you I could make him do it on command.”

The girls burst into giggles. Lance had looked around, hesitantly, and found a number of his classmates giggling to themselves, at him or not he didn’t know, but he did know that he felt, distinctly, like he was in a zoo, and his friend was not his friend but a keeper who’d brought spectators to observe him and his freakish oddness.

Motormouth had felt, for the first time, like the insult he didn’t know it had always been. He felt trapped.

He’s grown since then. He’s no longer seven years old and oblivious to the fact that some people are quietly cruel. He knows the warning signs, now, of when someone is mocking him, of when he’s being treated like a pet, like an amusing little weirdo to cart around and show off. He knows the difference now between amusement and endearment.

But that feeling, that realization. The brick-to-the-face understanding that he was wrong about how other people cared about him the whole time he loved them.

He has never been able to un-know that.

———

He and Keith have a system. Lance starts work earlier, and is home earlier too, so he makes dinner for them. Keith cleans up after, crawling into bed next to a half-asleep Lance if they eat late enough. Sometimes, though, Keith gets home early, finished a repair faster than he’d anticipated, and decides he wants to make them supper for a change. Today Lance sits on the counter, kicking his legs and eating half the vegetables Keith has cut, grinning every time Keith lets him get away with it.

“…And there was this one woman who came on the trails today, babe, I swear to God, she’s the same nightmare lady you had to deal with a couple months ago. You remember that?”

Keith hums, hiking up one shoulder.

“The cooking oil lady. Who threw her baby’s rattle at your head because you told her you couldn’t put canola oil in her engine to make things cheaper.”

Keith snorts. “Oh, that nightmare.”

“Yeah!” Lance says, muffled by the four slices of bell pepper he’s shoved in his mouth at once. Keith stares flatly at him and smacks his hand, but the corner of his mouth twitches, and he walks over to the fridge to grab a new pepper without a word of admonishment. Loser.

Lance doesn’t say anything for a moment, following a new, bell-pepper related thought, and startled slightly when Keith clears his throat slightly and prompts, “You met cooking oil lady?”

“Oh yeah! On the trails today. We had to shut down one of them because Selena — remember the red wolf I told you about? The one who sings the loudest in her pack and has the reddest fur? I named her Selena after the singer, yeah, you remember — had her cubs the other day! So she’s super duper extra protective of the whole area, basically, and so is the rest of the pack, so humans going near their area is going to freak them out and that’s not fair to anybody. Hey, did you know red wolves are monogamous? Most wolf species are but red wolves especially show a really strong family unit. It’s really cute, actually, Selena her mate always go on wolf dates and stuff and terrorize the park-goers —”

“Trail,” Keith redirects gently, turning off the burner and scooping their food into two plates. He grabs them both, flicking Lance’s hand away, and sets them at the kitchen island, arranging the plates so they’re sat next to each other instead of across.

“Right, trail,” Lance says. As soon as he sits down and starts to eat, one of Keith’s hands comes to rest on his thigh, palm curving around the inner flesh and fingertips resting gently on the ankle tucked under it. He moves his thumb back and forth slowly, not to instigate, just to touch. Lance leans against him without even thinking about it.

“So. Trial closed. Not even that busy of a trail, honestly. One of the least popular ones. But this lady shows up, stroller in camo and packed to the nines like a fuckin, tactical mom, or something, and starts just hauling ass down the trail, breezing past the closed sign. And I’m like.” He points his fork in Keith’s direction, so he can Get The Vibe. His boyfriend smiles into his stir fry. “I mean, I didn’t want to be the one to handle her. But no one else did, either, and let me tell you she was hauling fucking ass down that trail, and I didn’t want her to actually disturb Selena or anything, so I had be like ma’am. Please. The sign very clearly says closed. And she ignored me, so I just stopped in front of her, and then she started screaming at me! All about how she has been to this trail all the time and she’s a loyal park-goer and it’s a public park, as if that means anything. I seriously thought she was never going to stop.”

He hears the irony as soon as he says it. I thought she was never going to stop. He’s like a wind-up toy. He manages to stop himself from tensing, barely, diverting into something like a twitch. He’s aware suddenly that he has been talking nonstop from essentially the second he walked in the front door and was delighted to find Keith’s boots already at the door, hear the quiet clanking of him in the kitchen. He can’t even remember if he’d bothered saying hello, or if he’d just launched right into whatever word salad was on his mind. God, did he even start with a full sentence? He does that sometimes, he just starts from the middle of his own thoughts like anyone would have any idea what he’s talking about, he’s honestly just kind of obsessed with the sound of his own voice, he thinks, he must be, because he just never stops, does he —

“I hope I die first.”

Lance blinks. He looks over at his boyfriend, wondering if he spaced out long enough that his brain just made something the fuck up to get him back on track (wouldn’t be the first time).

“…Pardon?”

Keith continues to eat, unbothered, casual. He’s not even feigning casualness, either — he tends to half-lid his eyes when he’s pretending something doesn’t bother him. He’s completely at ease, right now, hand still warm and heavy on Lance’s thigh.

“Sometimes I just think about how there’s a possibility that you’ll die before me, I guess.” He turns to Lance, finally, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry. That was emo. I just…you go silent, sometimes, and I’m worried I’ll have to miss every time you spoke.”

Lance doesn’t know what to say. For once, his revving engines are completely silent. He sits there, frozen, staring almost blankly at his plate. Keith is humming quietly to himself, something ridiculous and made-up. They’re still in each other’s spaces, the two of them, and so Lance knows Keith feels it when he shudders, slightly, as a lump grows in his throat, as he desperately blinks away the tears in his eyes.

Keith turns his head slightly to press a kiss to Lance’s hair. He holds his face there, lips pressed to Lance’s skin, soft exhales blowing strands of Lance’s curls.

“What’s wrong, Motormouth?” Keith murmurs. The concern is evident in his voice, and maybe some panic, too, like he’s worried he’s the reason Lance is upset.

Lance smiles. A tear escapes from the corner of his eye an burns a trail down his cheek. He wipes it, quickly, swiping a hand across his face before resting it on the hand that Keith still holds on his leg. Keith flips his hand palm-side up so he can interlock their fingers together. If he feels the wetness of the wiped tears, he doesn’t say anything, only their squeezes their hands together three times in quick succession.

There is no mistaking the fondness bleeding from Keith’s voice. There is no mistaking amusement for endearment, here.

Lance can be annoying. He knows he can. And he no doubt has moments where he annoys Keith, even. But he’s not seven, anymore. He knows to watch for the signs. And for whatever he can’t catch — he’ll just have to trust.

“Nothing,” he whispers, turning his head to catch Keith’s mouth against his. “It’s just nice to…know, I guess, that you love me.”

Keith hums, kissing back, reaching his free hand up to curl around Lance’s cheek, holding him gently. “Good. Don’t forget.”

———

based on this post

#i love this universe #this is before the one in keith’s pov btw this is a lead up moment #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #keith #keith kogane #klance #established klance #autistic lance #bullying #quiet bullying #angst #langst #hurt comfort #hurt/comfort #soft keith #soft klance #whipped keith #keith just loves lance so much man #my writing #fic #longpost #the applebees universe #i like when keith doesn’t say much tbh #god i could talk a million years about the way keith loves it’s about the showing!!!!!! #but sometimes lance needs to hear it and that is more important to keith!!!!!!! #god

[sodoshame]

hello, could you please write an overwhelmed and exhausted autistic reader x Sodo? I've been having a really hard week and I could use some Sodo content 🥺

Thank you 🖤

Hi anon! I hope you’re doing okay and can relax a bit this weekend. Hopefully this is what you’re after! <3

Sorry it took a little while and it’s short, but I hope you enjoy it though!

_

Let Me Hold You.

Autistic!Reader x Sodo Ghoul.

Warnings: Description of being overwhelmed, exhaustion.

Shakily, you stand up from the sofa in common room, your hands covering your ears. Swiss and Cirrus had been yelling back and forth at each other for a while now, it was getting way too much for you; you could gradually feel yourself getting more and more overwhelmed. You run out of the door, heading straight for your room. Suddenly, you run into something, almost sending you tumbling to the ground.

“Hey, woah. What’s the rush, Y/N?”

You look up to see Sodo, his face displaying a look of concern. You feel him place his hand softly on your shoulder, seemingly worried about you. His gentle touch just sent you over the edge and you feel tears you’ve been holding back spill over, as you let out a sob. At first, Sodo seems confused, but wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a tight hug. Burying your face into his shoulder, you start sobbing, unable to control it anymore.

“Talk to me, doll. I’m right here, I’ve got you.” He murmurs, his voice soft.

You shake your head as you let out another sob, burying yourself further into his embrace.

“Okay, alright. I’ve got you. You’re okay.” He reassures, soothingly rubbing your back as he holds you close to him. It doesn’t take too long for you to calm down, and when you do, you look up at him with tears still in your eyes. Sodo gently brings his hands up to your face, wiping your tears softly with his thumbs.

“You want to go lay down, doll? You look exhausted.” He asks, looking at you with sweet eyes.

You nod in response, sniffling slightly. He smiles, taking his arms from around you and holding out his hand. You look at him, a small smile on your face as you take his hand, as he begins to walk you to his room.

“Sodo… I’m sorry…” You mumble, squeezing his hand as you walk.

“Hey, you don’t need to apologise. You did nothing wrong, okay?” He reassures you, finally arriving at his door.

The fire ghoul looks down at you with a smile as he opens the door, letting you in first.

Walking in, you go and sit down on his bed, looking at him with wide eyes. He closes the door and moves to the other side of the bed and lays down, holding his arms out to you. Warily, you lay down next to him, shuffling closer as you rest his head on his chest.

“That’s it, c’mere.” He mumbles as he wraps his arms around you, planting a soft kiss against your forehead. You feel yourself grow warmer as you cuddle into him; something you know he’s doing to comfort you. Sodo starts gently running his fingers through your hair, humming quietly to soothe you.

You let out a small yawn and nuzzle closer to him, bringing your hand up to rest on his chest as you start playing with the ends of his long hair. He looks down at you, a comforting smile on his face.

“You can fall asleep, doll. I’ll be here when you wake up, okay?” He says, continuing to run his fingers through your hair. You look up at him, your eyes half-lidded and sleepy.

“Promise you’ll be here?” You mumble, still playing with his hair.

“I promise, doll.” Sodo smiles, pulling you in closer to him.

You snuggle back closer to him, nuzzling your face into his neck as you let out another yawn. Chuckling quietly, he starts tracing shapes on your hip as he keeps you close. It’s not much longer before you fall asleep, letting out sweet, quiet snores.

#ghost #nameless ghouls #dewdrop ghoul #the band ghost #dew ghoul #sodo ghoul #sodo #sodo x reader #dew x reader #dewdrop x reader #dew ghoul x reader #dewdrop ghoul x reader #x autistic reader #nameless ghoul x reader #ghost comfort/hurt

[phoenixs-fandoms-and-writings]

Being Around You Makes Me Feel Better

Fandom: Harry Potter - Marauders Era

Pairing: James Potter/Reader

Character: James Potter

Summary: You have a bad day, where you hate yourself and the way you look. You sneak into James’ bed in his dorm and thats where he finds you and spends time trying to make you feel a bit better or at the very least forget for now.

Reader is autistic and so am I.

Notes: I don’t own Harry Potter or its characters. I also don’t believe JKR’s beliefs. This account is safe place for all.

I do not give permission to anyone to repost or translate any of my stories. I also do not give anyone permission to feed my stories through AI or to be posted to any third party website or app. If anyone sees any of my work posted anywhere but here or my AO3 (simplyreflected), then it has been posted without permission.

Posted on AO3 here.

You couldn’t help it. When everyone left for classes, you crept into the Marauders dorm and climbed into James’ bed. You stayed there all day. You felt safe surrounded by his scent and his things. You knew that he could always make you feel better, but you pulled the blankets up to your neck. That's where you stayed as you cried yourself to sleep.

You woke to the sound of the door opening and someone gasping. You didn’t care who it was, if they spoke to you, you’d just ask for James. You only wanted your best friend.

You didn’t hear the sounds of anyone approaching, but when you see them crouch down and see James himself in front of you, you whisper, “Jamie, you’re here.”

“Hey love,” he whispers back in response. He waves his wand and a glass of water appears in his hand. He hands it to you, and you drink it, before he waves it away as he looks at you sadly, “What’s wrong?”

“Jamie, I hate myself. I need you. Being around you makes me feel better.”

He smiled at you softly before he asked, “can I climb in with you?”

You hum in response as you open the blankets for him. You let go of them as he takes off his shoes and then climbs in next to you. He wraps the blanket around both of you, before he wraps his arms around you.

“Why do you hate yourself, love?”

“I feel fat. I look ugly. I can’t stand looking in the mirror. I don’t think anyone but you really likes me.”

“I need you to look at me, lovey,” James told you kindly, which made it hard to resist, you looked up at his beautiful and kind blue eyes. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” you didn’t lie about that. He was the only person you knew you could trust to tell you the truth, even on days like today, when you didn’t even trust yourself.

“Then trust me when I say this,” he tells you honestly as you look at different parts of his face; seeing his beauty, since looking in people’s eyes for too long would become uncomfortable. He didn’t mind and you knew that, as long as you listened. “You are the most beautiful person I know; inside and out. You may not believe it, but I’ll prove it and show you everyday, because I wish I could date someone like you.” He paused as you stopped looking at him and cuddled into him. “No, not someone like you. I wish I could have the courage when you’re not having a day like this, but I want to date you.”

“What about Lily?”, you whispered back.

“What about he-,” he cut himself off, before slowly saying, “I haven’t been flirting with her.” He kissed the top of your head. “I was flirting with you, but when they first asked me, I was embarrassed to say I was flirting with you. You were right there. I was worried you’d reject me and we’d go from being best friends to being awkward around each other to being people the other used to know.

“Jamie,” you knew he could hear the catch in your throat and that he’d probably realise you’d been crying, but they were no longer sad tears. “I’ve loved you since second year.”

He paused. “Really?”

You smiled and nodded, “yeah.” You paused cuddling into his warmth and yawned, lifting one of your hands to cover your mouth.

You listened as he told you, “I’ll spend the rest of my life showing and telling you how much I love you.”

You yawned again and he kissed the top of your head again, and rubbed your back as you whispered, “I love you, James.”

As you fell asleep, you could’ve sworn he whispered, “I love you too, angel.”

———————————

LATER THAT DAY

———————————

You woke up later that day still in James’ arms, with him holding you really close to him. One of his arms was rubbing your back gently and the other holding you as he leaned down to kiss the top of your head.

You hummed contentedly and James whispered, “Love, are you awake?”

You hummed again before yawning and then answered, “yeah, Jamie. Just woke up.”

“I have something I want to officially ask you,” he asked as you moved up slightly so the two of you were face to face.

You lifted your hand up to his cheek, he sighed and closed his eyes, “what is it?”

He opened his eyes, kissed your palm before asking, “I love you and from what you said before, you love me.” He paused and you nodded before he finally asked, “will you go out with me?”

Slowly you started smiling as you moved your hand down to his waist, hugging him, before you answered, “yes, I’d love to.”

You moved closer to him and pecked his lips.

“Do you feel any better now, my love?”

You looked at him as he cupped your cheek, closing your eyes and enjoying his touch. “Whenever you're around, I always feel better. I’m not back to 100% but you make me feel safe and you’ve always found a way to silence the voices. However, unlike today, it's usually your antics or the pranks that help to silence them enough that I stop paying attention to them as much.”

He smiled, before he moved closer, kissing you, with so much love and affection that you melted against him, before he pulled back.

“Are you hungry?”

You think for a moment before your stomach rumbles, answering for you.

He smiled before he kissed you. When he pulled back, he looked in your eyes, “I’ll go get us some food, my love. Is there anything specific that you’d like?”

You told him what you felt like eating and he smiled, before he said, “I’ll be back soon. Wait here?”

“Where else would I want to be?”

He gave you a peck on the cheek before he left, which made you blush. When he came back, he sat next to you before calling one of the house elves, who appeared with trays of food which slowly levitated over to the bed.

Both of you thanked the house elf before they disappeared.

He smiled at you before he leaned over to give you a quick kiss. The two of you ate and just spent the rest of the evening together.

Even when the rest of the guys came in, he just held you close as he talked to them. You joined in the conversation at times, and they were just as happy as always to see you.

That was one thing you loved about his friends; even before you became friends with them, they always included you when you were with James. All of them made you feel welcomed. With that thought, you turned and kissed James’ cheek and snuggled more into his side.

#harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #marauders era #marauders era fanfiction #james potter #james potter fanfiction #hurt/comfort #james potter x you #james potter x reader #friends to lovers #insecure reader #autistic reader #autistic author

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

You're Safe Now

Casey Novak x autistic fem!reader Warnings: Hurt/comfort, discussions of past child sexual abuse and child pornography, PTSD, flashbacks, panic attacks, brief and mild self-harm Word Count: 1,799 NOTE: Child sexual abuse/assault is a deeply triggering subject for many people. If you're one of them, please proceed with caution. As a victim myself, I know that, oftentimes, I find great comfort in reading stories that include narratives like mine, especially when they make me feel seen and heard and cared for. At other times, they are terrible for my mental health. Please just be mindful of your mental state as you read, especially if you are a victim. And if you need help, please reach out to the National Sexual Assault Hotline [phone]).

Casey looked over Stabler's shoulder as he scrolled through grainy photo after photo. Stills from hundreds of pornographic VHS tapes, all of abused children. "Any of them prosecutable?" Stabler shook his head. "Nah, not on abuse charges. These are all 25 years old. The Feds just want us to look and see if we can make any connections."

"All the same ring?" "Yep. A Baptist church, if you can believe it. Somewhere in Tennessee. Apparently the ringleader moved to the city about 10 years ago. They just nailed him last month." Casey looked disgusted. "I absolutely can believe it was a church. They're like breeding grounds for pedophiles. No offense." Stabler gritted his teeth. "Sunday school teachers. What an introduction to God." They watched the nameless faces scroll past in silence. So many kids, so much hurt. A child flashed past the screen–a little girl with glasses–and Casey blinked. "Stop," she said. Stabler stilled his scrolling and glanced back at the ADA, curious. "Go back." He dutifully scrolled back up the page until Casey stopped him again. She stared at the pixelated photo, sick to her stomach. A little white shirt, a Ramona Quimby-style bob, multicolored glasses. And the cutest nose–your nose. It wasn't you. Surely, it couldn't be you. You would have told her. But the child in the picture looked so much like you. And you had grown up in Tennessee. Going to a Baptist church. Casey cleared her throat, trying to disguise the shakiness in her voice. "Can you print that photo for me?" Stabler looked long and hard at Casey. "Yeah, why?" "Just print it. Please." Stabler handed Casey the printed photo, and she snatched it, folding it tightly and placing it in her pocket. "Thanks," she said, walking swiftly away with her fists clenched. Stabler watched her go, concerned. He made a mental note to mention it to Olivia. _____________________________________________________________ When Casey came through the door that night, you were curled up on the couch watching Parks & Recreation. "Bye, Bye, Little Sebastian" played in the background and you sang along absentmindedly, typing on your laptop. "Hey, love," you called. "I didn't feel like cooking. Want to order a pizza?" Casey set down her briefcase and walked slowly to you, heart pounding in her chest. She sat across from you and paused the show. You looked at her and frowned. She looked terrified. You had never seen her look so scared. You threw your laptop aside and took her hand. "Hey, what's wrong?" you asked. "You look like someone died." Your eyes grew wide. "Did someone die?" Casey took a shaky breath. "Sweetheart, I need to ask you something." Now, you were scared, too. What could Casey possibly need to ask you that made her this anxious? "Okay," you replied, your voice quiet. She took one of your hands in hers and traced circles on it. After an excruciating few minutes, she asked, "Did anything happen to you when you were a kid?" Your stomach dropped and you felt ice flood your veins. There was no way she could know. Nobody knew. "W-what do you mean?" "Were you..." Casey started, clearing her throat. "Were you... abused at all?" You felt panic rising in your chest, your throat constricting as it became harder and harder to take a breath. "Why are you asking me that?" you cried, your voice growing frantic. "Casey, why are you asking me that!?"

Tears threatened the corners of your eyes, and your body started rocking back and forth. You felt like you were suffocating. Casey held onto your hand even tighter, her own eyes glistening, as she pulled the folded paper from her pocket and handed it to you. Your hands shook as you opened it, and when you saw yourself on that page, everything inside you shattered all at once. "No, no, no, no, no!" you cried, grabbing your head in your hands and rocking more and more aggressively. All of a sudden you couldn't breathe. Just like you couldn't breathe in that Sunday school room. Just like you couldn't breathe with in front of that camera with the red blinking light. And the hands. So many hands touching you, all over you. You coughed and retched, wrapping your arms around yourself. Your pupils darted back and forth, overtaking the rest of your eyes. And somehow you were back there, back in that room. The black carpet with the rainbow flecks. The smell of stale hymnals and men's sweat. The taste of the wintergreen mints they shoved in your mouth when they sent you back to your unwitting parents, masking the scent of vomit. You clenched your fists over your ears and slammed them into your head, grabbing your hair and pulling so hard a tuft came out.

Casey jumped up and grabbed your hands, trying to keep them away from your head. "Honey, don't do that," she pleaded, her voice breaking. "Please don't do that. I'm right here." She tried to wrap her arms around you, but you shoved her away. "Don't touch me!" You heard yourself screaming, as if from far away, as if you were sitting in the rafters of the Sunday school room, but no one could hear you. "No! Please, it hurts!" Tears streamed down your flaming face as you rocked back and forth, hyperventilating, tucked into the corner of the couch. You were as far away from Casey as you could get. Casey had dealt with a lot of victims. She'd been emotionally invested in a lot of victims. She cared deeply for and fought for so many victims. But you. You were hers. She felt like her heart was being physically ripped apart as she looked at your tiny, terrified form. In that moment, you were a mirror image of the scared little girl in the VHS still. Casey wiped her own tears away, trying to stay strong because you needed someone strong right now. God, she wanted to hold you. She wanted to scoop you up and protect you and tell you that it was okay, that she loved you, that she would never let anyone touch you again. But you wouldn't even let her close. "I'll be right back, sweetheart," Casey said, biting her lip as she looked at you, then jogging to the kitchen. It seemed like you couldn't even hear her. She thought you were having a flashback, but she didn't know how to help you out of it. She dialed Olivia's number and prayed to whatever powers there were in the universe that Olivia would pick up. "Benson."

"Oh, thank god," Casey exhaled.

"Casey? What's going on?"

"Do you know how to get someone out of a flashback?"

Olivia's voice deepened in concern. "Is this about that photo you got from Elliot?"

Casey paced back and forth, rubbing her forehead. "Yes. I don't have time to talk about it now. Do you know how to help with a flashback? Please."

"Uh..." Olivia started, clearly trying to provide information and make sure that Casey was okay. "Usually they need to be reminded of what's real and what's not."

"How?" Casey asked, trying to hide the desperation in her voice.

"Try engaging their senses. Something to shock them out of it. Ice, maybe. Or something with a strong smell."

"Okay, I got it," Casey said, sprinting to the bathroom.

"Casey, are you sure you're okay?"

"I'll talk to you about it later, Olivia," Casey barked, more terse than she meant to be. "Gotta go."

Casey rummaged in the vanity, looking for a specific bottle of perfume. She gripped it tightly in her hand and ran back to the kitchen, grabbing a bag of frozen green beans out of the freezer.

Casey took a deep breath before returning to your corner of the couch, where you sat curled and shaking and sobbing. She reached out to hold your hand, then stopped herself, instead grabbing the bottle of perfume and spraying it around you.

"Hey," she said, tentatively. "Honey, I don't know if you can hear me, but I'm here."

Your body shook uncontrollably, your eyes clamped shut.

"I'm gonna put this ice on you," Casey said. She wasn't sure you could hear her, but she wanted even your subconscious to know that she was there and doing everything she could to help you. She dropped the bag of green beans in your lap and you gasped, your head shooting up. You looked around frantically, and Casey grabbed at the chance to pull you out of the flashback. "Hey," she called. "Y/N, can you hear me?" You seemed to look both at her and past her at the same time. "Do you feel the cold? Honey, that's real. Can you smell my perfume? It's the one you like so much, the one that smells like pine trees. It's real."

You were confused, disoriented, but your frantic breathing was slowing down, and Casey took that as a sign it was working. "I'm right here, sweetheart, okay?" Her voice broke. She was dying to hold you, but she still wasn't sure you'd let her, and she didn't want to make it worse. "I'm right here with you. I love you, and I'm real. We're in our apartment, and that's real. Those men who hurt you, they're not real anymore." You kneaded the bag of green beans in your hands, still rocking, but less aggressively. Your vision was coming back into focus, the overlap of past and present becoming less confusing and overwhelming. You were finally able to look at Casey and see her. You looked into her eyes and a rush of shame poured over you. She looked terrified. Her face was streaked with tears. You didn't know if she was scared of you or scared for you, but either way you felt sick to have scared her.

Your face screwed up in tears and you looked away, burying your head in your hands. "I'm sorry, Casey," you cried. "I'm so sorry."

She surged toward you, her hands stopping inches short of your skin. "It's okay, Y/N, it's okay. I'm right here. Can I touch you?"

You nodded, but you still couldn't bring yourself to look at her.

Casey scooped you into her lap like a child, wrapping her arms protectively around you and cradling your head next to hers.

"I'm sorry, Casey," you said again and again, anxiety and panic and exhaustion giving way to pure shame as you grasped her shirt and wept. "I'm sorry."

Casey had tried. She had tried to hold it together for you, but seeing you so broken, hearing you apologize to her for this horrific thing that had happened to you–it broke her, too. Her tears came all at once. "You don't need to be sorry, honey," she told you, pressing her forehead to yours, your tears mingling. "You didn't do anything wrong. I'm sorry. I'm sorry it happened. I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you."

You let out a shaky laugh, wiping snot from your nose. "You're like three years older than me."

She kissed the side of your head over and over, smoothing your wrecked hair and holding you as tight as she could. "You're safe now, Y/N," she said, for both of you, like a mantra. "I will always keep you safe. I won't let anyone hurt you ever again."

You buried your head under Casey's, making yourself small.

She rubbed your back, breathing slowly and rhythmically. You didn't notice, but yours followed.

Neither of you knew how long you sat like that, but after a while Casey asked, "Am I holding you too tight?"

You shook your head, snaking your arms around her waist. "No. Please don't let go."

"Never," she whispered, her breath hot on your cheek.

#casey novak #casey novak x autistic reader #casey novak one shot #casey novak drabble #hurt/comfort #law and order svu #svu #autistic #neurodivergent #casey novak fanfic #x autistic reader

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

it's okay, you're okay

A/N: this is a really old fic, literally the very first thing I ever wrote, so don't judge it. it was originally posted back on the 21 of February 2022. at first, I didn't really want to repost it since it was very clearly the first thing I ever wrote, but since it had become a lot of people's comfort fic, I decided to re-edit it and post it again.

Warnings: Spencer Reid x reader, hurt/comfort, meltdown, crying, going nonverbal, sign language

Word count: 1217

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

You just needed to get home. That’s all you needed to focus on. One thing at a time. One step at a time. Just keep moving, don’t want to have your body freeze up in the middle of the city, that would be extremely impractical.

Focusing your vision on the ground, soon you were there at the door to your and Spencer’s place. One step at a time, slowly but surely, up the familiar stairs you trekked. The noise from the streets below had now been muffled and almost completely silenced, making your heartbeat that much more deafening in your ears. You were so close, almost home, at your safe place, and that finally made your body start to understand and let go. 

It took some time to unlock the dark wooden door because of just how badly your hands were shaking at this point. And as soon as it creaked open and you stumbled over the threshold, it took but a second before you’d leaned all your weight against the door, closing your eyes and focusing on your breath.

In, out, in, out, in-

“Hey Y/n, I didn’t hear you come home.”

Cracking your eyes open just a peep, you spotted your boyfriend walking into the living room. His warm smile quickly melted away and morphed into a worried frown as he saw the state you were in.

And with that, you let go of the last ounce of control and burst into tears.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, you’re okay.”

Rushing towards you, he reached out but didn’t quit touching you.

“What happened?” 

Your eyes were unfocused and darting around the room. You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out, not even a squeak. Flexing both hands a moment, testing that that ability hadn’t slipped out of your fingers yet, you lifted your hands and started to sign ‘speaking’ and ‘hard’ to the alarmed man in front of you.

“Okay, that’s okay, baby. I’m right here,” he comforted, lowering his head slightly to be at your level, “how about we get your coat off and then go sit on the couch?”

Nodding, but not moving to remove your outerwear, Spencer slowly reached out and pealed it off for you, then kneeled down to give you a hand with your boots. Reaching out, settling yourself on his shoulder, he looked up at you and your eyes took in every part of his face. Every little twitch of an eyebrow or the worry lines that just didn’t wanna disappear. 

As he rose up again, you were still holding on to his body for support. “Y/n, can I touch you?” he asked, hands out ready, “I know that’s not always what you want when this happens, but can I?”

Sniffling, you nodded, and he wrapped his long arms around you, aiding you towards the brown leather couch in the middle of the room.

Sitting down, still clutching onto Spencer’s shirt like a kitten, he asked, “are your hands cold too?” and shakily you reached one out for him to inspect. With a sharp intake of air, he said, “oof, wow. If you wanted blue nails so bad you could have just told me, I’d have helped you paint them,” he tried to joke, “do you want me to go get some gloves? Try and keep them warm?”

Not wanting him to leave, you shook your head.

Feeling him suddenly move a bit under you only caused you to clutch on even tighter. “I’m not going anywhere, don’t worry, just grabbing a blanket,” he said as you felt the aforementioned woollen blanket wrap around your shoulders.

Looking deeply into your eyes, he tried, “is there anything I can do? Anything you need? Anything that could help you right now?”

As per usual in a situation such as this, your mind had gone blank, not knowing what the answer could be. Taking a moment, trying, and failing to come up with the answer, you ended up simply shaking your head and shrugging your blanket-covered shoulders. 

“Do you want to talk about what happened? Maybe write it down?” 

To that, you definitely knew the answer and quickly shook your head. Your breathing, which has at this point become a little more under control, started to pick up again. 

“That’s okay, we don’t have to talk about it right now.”

Curling up and settling back against his chest, you unconsciously tried to copy his breathing, just concentrating on the rising of his lungs and the soothing circles his hand was making on your back. 

You knew that even though this was not something he experienced on a pretty regular basis, he still knew exactly what it was like. He had told you about some of the few times he had experienced it. Like when he went to see his father for the first time in his adult life.

After a while, when the struggle to breathe started to fade, your eyes began to wander around the room, eventually settling on the deck of cards on the table. “Oh, yeah,” his eyes followed yours, “I was fiddling with a new magic trick this morning.” 

That comment caused a smile to creep up on your lips. Glancing up at him, he asked, “do you want me to show you one?” and you nodded gently, “I don’t know if that one is ready for an audience yet, but I think I have a few other ones up my sleeve,” he smiled, reaching over to pick up the deck. 

“Okay,” he quickly shuffled the cards, then spread them out for you to pick one. After doing so, you then put it back into the pile so he could shuffle it again. After making the last shuffle a little extra extravagant, he raised the deck up to your face, “I need you to blow on this card, please,” and you did so with a light giggle. 

“And this is your card,” he announced with a big flourish presenting to you the 2 of spades. Shaking your head, his smile fell and he asked completely seriously, “that’s not your card?” 

“Wait, hold on, okay,” he ran his thumb over the corner of the cards one more time, then proceeded to tap them twice and ended with a big magical gesture with his fingers, “this is your card,” with more confidence, he showed you the 7 of diamonds. Again, you shook your head, smile only growing with each second.

“You serious? That’s not your card?” he pouted dramatically, inspecting the cards a bit in faked annoyance, “hold on… Oh,” he then glanced up at your face, no, he was staring at your ear. Reaching up behind it, he asked, “that your card?” 

You heard a whooshing sound and turned to look as in his hand, still right by your face, and there it was. The queen of hearts. 

Giggling, you nodded hard. Even though he had let you in on the secrets of some of his sleight-of-hand skills, it still never failed to impress you.

‘I love you,’ you signed.

“I love you too, so, so much,” he leaned forward and placed his forehead against yours. “Hey, how about I go make some hot chocolate and then read a bit to you? It can be anything you like.”

© 2022 thyme-in-a-bubble 

#lea’s writing #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fic #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid hurt/comfort #autistic!reader

[doctorsiren]

I wrote a one shot based on this comic I had drawn a while back. Haven’t written fic stuff in a while, so I’m a bit rusty. Hope you enjoy :3

#doctorsiren #ace attorney #phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #narumitsu #wrightworth #ace attorney fanfiction #hurt/comfort #autistic miles edgeworth #read the ao3 tags for more info #fanfiction #one shot #just a thing i did tonight to get emotions out

[suspiciouslackofclowns]

It’s hard to be strong, sometimes.

“Nothing’s gonna fix me.”

Billy can do the heavy lifting. Can pull the freight with nothing but the sweat on his back to show for it.

“I’m jus’ gonna hurt forever.”

But this?

He isn’t strong enough for this.

“You aren’t,” he coos. “I won’t let you.”

A strained little sob hiccups out of Steve, and he simply shakes his head. The veins running up the length of his neck thump fast with his pulse, rising to the surface of his flushed skin. Tense and angry, like his eyebrows, pinched together harshly no matter how much Billy shushes and croons at him.

He’s got Steve’s face buried in his chest, shirt completely damp around the collar, and Steve’s fists tangles weakly at the sides.

Right now is probably the calmest he’s been all afternoon since this started.

Billy buries his nose in Steve’s hair and closes his eyes, arms wrapped softly around him. Grounding him in place. Smoothing carefully over his back, wary of pressing lest he cause another river of tears.

“Why does something that’s supposed to help hurt so bad?” Steve whines.

As much as Billy wants to squeeze him as tight as he can, he doesn’t. Instead settles one of his hands against Steve’s head, holding his cheek to his chest and gently stroking his fingers through his hair.

“I don’t know,” Billy admits. “Sometimes stuff doesn’t work, and you find out the shitty way.”

Steve huffs and makes a frustrated, pained sound into Billy’s shirt that’s followed by a warm wetness soaking into the fabric. Billy shushes into his hair again.

He wishes he could take the ache away. Wishes he could, even for just a moment, see what it feels like.

What could hurt so fucking bad that it has Steve crumbling into a mess of throaty sobs? Steve, who has been knocked around like a ragdoll and simply dusted himself off after?

“‘M gonna hurt forever,” he whines again.

Digs his forehead into Billy’s chest, shifting and rocking himself softly on top of him like he’s trying to physically shake the pain off, and Billy urges him to lie still with a gentle hand on his back.

“You won’t, it’ll pass.”

He tries to say it with certainty, but there’s a slight rasp in his voice to match the mist gathering in his eyes. Even when he gets Steve to fall still again.

“It hurts.”

“What hurts?”

A shaky sob leaves Steve’s lips as he curls his fingers tighter in Billy’s shirt at his sides.

“Everything,” he urges.

Presses himself down hard, muscles tense, like he’s trying to smother himself. Billy keeps his hand smoothing delicately up and down his back.

“I know, baby. Just breathe, okay? Can you do that for me?”

Steve’s muscles shake from the effort, but he eventually listens. Inhales a shallow breath and sighs it out, drawing another one in as slow as he can manage with his elevated heart rate.

It takes a few moments, but his grip eventually eases again. He sniffles and nudges his face against Billy’s ruined shirt, huffing softly.

“It hurts,” he rasps, voice just above a whisper.

“I know, Stevie.” Billy noses a kiss into the brunet’s hair. “I know.”

They lay there like that for a while. Steve eventually tires himself out, nodding off on top of Billy even though he’s still crying. Too emotionally and physically exhausted to stay awake through the pain.

Billy just holds him. Lays his head back on the pillow once Steve’s breathing finally evens out and exhales a long sigh.

He might not be strong enough to fix Steve, because most medications aren’t even strong enough for that.

He supposes that being strong enough to love Steve will suffice, though.

Then at least he doesn’t have to suffer it alone.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #disabled steve harrington #autistic steve harrington #chronic pain #meltdown #hurt/comfort #anyways always read the side effects on your meds guys #who knew pain killers could *cause* pain? I sure didn’t #vent fic #ficlet #unedited #my writing

[manlicker69]

i’m trying to find time to write, this’ll be out whenever i can use that time!!! :3

#gay love #mlm nsft #autistic nsft #comfort #x male reader #x reader #male reader #sub male reader #fluff #angst #hurt comfort #bg3 astarion #bg3 #astarion #gay astarion #manlicker69

[brianwashere]

hiii <3 i love ur work and was wondering if you could do matt murdock x overstimulated autistic partner comfort fic? :] have a nice day

Omg ofc I can! I love writing situations that are more uncommon to find in fanfics!

**I do not own any characters or part of the franchise from Daredevil or Marvel**

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Autistic!Male!Reader

Genre: hurt/comfort

Summary: look at req

Tw: overstimulation, very descriptive negative sensations (I hate every negative sensation I wrote about), slightly suggestive comments but it’s all a joke made to cheer you up

A Kind Hand

You liked Matt for many reasons. His kind heart. His willingness to put himself aside to help others. His looks, too.

But you really liked that he never judged you for having autism and that he could tell when you got overstimulated without you having to tell him.

The two of you were at some outdoor festival and there were so many people. So. Many. People. All the little sounds they made, every bird chirp, all the colors and smells of hundreds of people mixing into one giant cesspool of information that needed to be filtered. That was too much to be filtered.

Matt could already tell that you were freaking out a bit. Your heart rate was increasing quickly and he could smell the sweat on your palms.

“Hey, are you ok, darling?” He whispered quietly to you.

You shook your head no, despite him not being able to see it.

“Overstimulated…” You mumbled, bringing your fingers to your ears.

He nodded.

“Do you wanna go home?” He whispered again.

You swallowed and nodded, but cringing slightly, remembering he couldn’t see you nod.

“Mhmm…” You hummed, hoping he would take it as a yes.

“Do you wanna hold my hand?” Your lover held out his hand, offering it to you.

You gently took it and intertwined your fingers with his, trying to focus only on him and not what was happening around you.

Matt kept you close to him as he parted the sea of people with his walking stick. Most people moved far away from him when they realized he was blind, pretty nice in this situation.

Your gripped onto his arm and huddled as close to him as you could to avoid touching any unwanted textures, or people in general. Just thinking of touching anything other than Matt made your skin crawl.

The two of you had finally made it out of the large crowd and got further away from all the loud unpredictable noises. It was already helping but you really wanted to just go home, put on your noise canceling headphones and lay in your boyfriend’s silk sheets.

Just as you were thinking about how nice it’ll be at home a car on the street next to you let out a sudden loud honk, and caused you to jump, wrapping your arms around Matt. Without saying a word he wrapped his arm around you and gently kissed your head.

The sudden noise of the car horn seemed to jolt you back to oversensitivity and you felt every fiber of your shirt and the awful feeling of the jeans you were wearing in humid weather. It made you want to gag.

You took a shaky breath and pulled away from Matt, needing less pressure on your uncomfortable clothes.

“You alright?” He checked.

You suddenly felt like crying with frustration at the idea of needing to use words but swallowed down your discomfort.

“Can’t—handle…touch.” You managed to string together.

He nodded and kept walking, listening for your footsteps.

When you two finally reached the apartment it felt like you were two seconds away from exploding. Matt hurried the both of you in and just entering your shared apartment made it better. The same smell you were used to, the quieter environment.

You still needed to get out of your clothes tho and Matt seemed to realize it too. He headed to the bedroom to rummage around and find a soft shirt for you.

You didn’t even wait to get to the bedroom to strip your jeans off. The clinging feeling of damp denim finally leaving. Left only in your boxers, you sighed with relief and walked to Matt.

“Stripping already? I haven’t even bought you a drink yet, pretty boy.” Your boyfriend teased, trying to lighten the mood.

You huff out a laugh and give him a tired smile, despite him not being able to see it. He always manages to make you smile.

He hands you the significantly softer shirt and you waste no time in changing.

God, that festival and the overstimulation really zapped your energy, you realized, rubbing your face.

“Probably gunna nap…” You mumbled.

Matt hummed in acknowledgment.

“Can I kiss you before you take a nap?” He asks, very politely for someone who’s slept in the same bed as you every night for over a year.

You smile at his courtesy.

“Forehead.” You say as you guide his hands to your face so he knows where your forehead is.

He gently presses his lips to your forehead.

“Have a good nap, love. I’ll probably be reading a book.” Matt says offhandedly as he leaves the room.

Only as you’re settling under the silk covers do you realize Matt can’t read books.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x male reader #matt murdock fluff #hurt/comfort #marvel x male reader #marvel x reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil x male reader #daredevil fluff #Matt murdock x autistic reader #marvel x autistic reader #autistic reader #male autistic reader #daredevil x autistic reader #fanfic #fanfic writing #marvel #matt murdock #daredevil #male reader

[lightning-system]

Culture

“Hey Riz, what do you want to do with Dad today?” His mom asks, and Riz turns to his dad.

“Dad,” he presses.

“Yup,” his dad agrees, “rare day off for me, just you and I hanging out today kiddo.”

“Dad me,” Riz presses. He smiles at the words next to each other and shakes his hands wildly, fingers flying as they dance in the air. He shrieks his joy and his dad covers his ears but chuckles. His mom smiles from her own spot at the counter.

-

Or: Riz and his dad spare a rare day together.

#dimension 20 #d20 #dimension twenty #d20 fantasy high #d20 fhjy #disabled #disability #the bad kids #ao3feed #autistic riz gukgak #riz gukgak #autistic pok gukgak #pok gukgak #good parent sklonda gukgak #sklonda gukgak #good parent pok gukgak #aac #fluff #hurt/comfort #ao3 link #ao3 writer #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic

[autisticlancemcclain]

From the goddamn moment he was born, Lance did not know peace.

Okay, yes, he’s being a little dramatic. But in his defense, he really hasn’t ever known peace — you try living with nine older sisters on a farm. That shit is hard. Lance didn’t experience silence until he was four years old, only a delicate child, and at the time it frightened him. He’s been surrounded by noise and chaos (and more noise, somehow) since his inception, basically.

So you can understand why the castle is kind of a nightmare for him.

Growing up, whenever he was annoyed by his family (which was frequently), he would stomp off the the barn and yell about how when he was grown, he was going to move out to a private beach house and never hear another soul again. He’d bitch and moan to the cattle about how he couldn’t wait to grow up and finally sleep in a room all his own, with no annoying sisters or nosy roommates or anything, really. He’d mutter about it every time Hunk read his journal, fume about it every time his sisters banged on the bathroom door and yelled at him to hurry up. He swore up and down to everyone that would listen that when he finally found peace there would not be a goddamn thing in the world and beyond that would stop him from protecting it.

Well, then he got his peace, in the form of a castle that doubled as a graveyard. His own room, for once in his life, and not a single person to bother him unless it was life threatening, basically.

And oh, how Lance hated it.

He tossed and turned like no one’s business on the first days, but brushed it off as getting used to a new space. And as he kept tossing and turning, night after night, getting maybe three hours of scattered sleep of he was lucky, he continued to blame it on a myriad of things: fear of a freaky haunted castle, weirdly stiff Altean beds, freezing cold castle temperatures, nightmares. All true things, of course, but eventually Lance had to concede — the castle was too goddamn quiet.

Tough pill to swallow, that one.

He’d tried to handle it himself. Stole Pidge’s headphones, hummed out loud to himself; hell, he even left the bathroom sink running for some white noise. None of it worked. None of it was the same as the constant sound of someone breathing right next to you, the grumbles of their snores and strange mutterings of their sleep-talk. The very thing Lance hated with a passion turned out to be the one thing that actually helped his insomniac ass actually sleep. Mother nature, you trick-ass bitch. You have a personal problem.

Now, of course there was an easy solution to this. He shared the castle with six other people — one of them his Garrison roommate! Surely, he could bunk with someone else.

But… no one else seemed to have trouble sleeping. At least, not for the same reason as Lance. And as much as Lance liked to play the obnoxious role, as much as nothing was funnier than pushing just the right buttons to make someone else explode… he couldn’t be that much of a nuisance. It was too much.

So Lance got real used to being sleep deprived.

Of course, he wasn’t stupid about it. He never went more than three days without sleep. On particularly rough nights, he’d crash Hunk or Pidge’s rooms raving about a sleepover, or convince the rest of the team that they should have a movie night, and then just happen to fall asleep right there on the couch. By circumstance, he and Shiro ended up helping each other out pretty often, too — the black paladin was kept up by nightmares about as often as Lance was by plain old insomnia. The man was usually too proud to accept Lance’s help, but every once in a while he allowed it, and they both slept soundly, for once.

Keith, though?

His help was a surprise.

Keith, as it turns out, has as much pent-up energy as the goddamn Energizer Bunny on steroids. On days they don’t have missions that will pump them full of so much adrenaline their hearts are at risk, he trains himself to exhaustion, else he’ll be up all night.

Training with him doesn’t do anything for Lance’s insomnia. It does, however, do wonders for their relationship.

Without Lance’s permission, angry, after-hour fights evolve into playfully competitive spars. Those spars evolve into genuine lessons, both of them teaching each other things neither ever considered learning before. (Turns out Lance’s flexibility comes in handy in swordfights, and Keith’s reflexes lead to excellent pistol work. Who knew?) And then, week by week, month by month, those late nights turn into a tension so thick that neither of them can bear it.

It may have been Keith to make the first move, but Lance thinks he deserves some credit. They wouldn’t be here without his complete inability to sleep like a normal person, after all.

The great thing about dating someone, though, is that eventually, bed-sharing comes into the mix. Eventually both parties start looking for excuses to stay in each other’s space just a little bit longer.

Lord above, is it ever a relief.

No longer does Lance need to desperately look for an excuse after seventy-two straight hours of prying his eyes open. Now he justs follows Keith to his room when the night cycle starts, wrapping around him like an octopus and stealing his warmth like a leech. Keith is the worst, most annoying sleeper in the world — he snores, he tosses and turns, and regularly talks and even yells in his sleep — and Lance fucking relishes it. It is a relief of biblical proportions to finally be able to have a good night’s rest, on a regular fucking basis.

It does, though, make nights when he has to sleep in his own room that much worse.

He doesn’t even have to, technically. Like, there’s no indication that Keith ever wants him to go back. In fact, the man always pouts when Lance stops at his own door, muttering petulantly to himself as he presses a kiss to Lance’s forehead and makes his way to his own room. Honestly, Keith would probably like it if Lance moved into his room, for good.

Lance bites his lip, considering.

Still. He doesn’t want to be annoying.

But there’s no way to know unless he goes for it, right?

“Hey, babe,” Lance tries, testing the waters. They’re both in the bathroom, getting ready for bed; Keith braiding his hair as Lance applies a myriad of skin products to his face. “Do you think you could make some room in your dresser for my socks? And, like, other clothes?”

Is it a coward’s way to voice what he’s really asking? Yeah. But Lance is nervous, okay? Cut him some slack. If this backfires then he’s back to sleeping twice a fuckin’ week.

Keith stills. He abandons his hair, turning slowly to face Lance. Lance looks away, fiddling with the hem of his pajama shirt.

“Lance,” Keith says, placing both hands on his shoulders. He’s quiet until Lance finally looks up at him.

“Yeah?”

Keith’s face is mission-level serious; eyebrows drawn together over dark indigo eyes, mouth set in a firm line.

“I would reach my hands into a live fire and swallow hot coals for you if you asked me to. Do you understand that?”

There’s a beat of silence. Keith’s expression remains unmoving, dead-serious, entirely unfazed by what he just said.

Lance bursts out laughing, shoulders shaking under Keith’s heavy hands, leaning forward to rest his forehead on Keith’s collarbones.

God. This is Keith. Why was he nervous, again?

“I just need a couple drawers, doofus. No need for theatrics.”

Keith presses a kiss to his hair. “Just want to make sure we’re on the same page. Yes, by the way. I cleared out half my shit weeks ago. I’ve been waiting for you to finally move all the way in.”

Lance smiles, hidden against Keith’s shirt.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

He never has to worry about sleep again.

———

based off this video

#i saw the video and was immediately like yeah that’s keith #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #keith #keith kogane #klance #insomniac lance #autistic lance #adhd keith #supportive keith #devoted keith #keith as a person is just a really devoted guy. to his husband to his fam to his friends to the cause etc #fluff #hurt/comfort #langst #insecure lance #my writing #fic fragment #fic #longpost #tall keith #drama queen lance

[smoft-demons]

Tsundere nonsense

(This takes place between getting Beel’s pact and leaving for the retreat)

Mild angst, hurt/comfort, fluff. The human is very sensitive and cannot tell when Mammon’s spouting bullshit.

_______

Auva sits on the couch in the living room next to Beel. There’s a show playing on the TV. Beel is snacking as they watch it idly. Levi sits in a corner playing a game on a handheld console, hunched over and grumbling about being out of his room. Asmo sits on the floor, painting Satan’s nails. Everything is peaceful.

Mammon walks in, and Auva perks up, hands grabbing at the air in his direction. Beckoning him to sit at her other side.

Mammon acquiesces with an unsubtly fond eyeroll. Smiling openly.

Asmo snickers at him

“Honestly, Mammon, you still can’t admit that you’re wrapped around that human’s little finger? You’ve all but adopted her at this point! Can’t you say how much you love her?” Asmo teases.

Mammon sputters, hands flapping frantically as his face burns bright red. “Wh—! I—! NO! I don’t love the human, I didn’t even want the human, I don’t care about the stupid thing, what the fuck are ya talkin’ about Asmo—Shut the fuck up before I make you—!” Mammon deflects desperately, defending himself as Asmo cackles.

Under the sound of Mammon’s shouting, there’s a muffled little sound. A quick, squeaky puff of air, as if from being punched in the gut... Auva.

She inhales slowly, blinking hard. Trying not to cry. Trying not to draw attention.

It’s not working. She turns to bury her face in Beel’s shirt.

Because… Auva knew Mammon didn’t like her at first, he had said as much all the time! But… but she really thought he had changed his mind by now! He hadn’t said anything like that in weeks!

All the time he spent in her room, all the hangouts and talks and whispering stupid comments to each other in class, all the silly memes they’d sent to each other, his ever present charger and toothbrush and random items left in her room because he’s always in there with her… how is that not friendship? How can he still not care about her after all that? How could he not want her? Why…

“…why would he say that?” Auva asks Beel, her voice cracking with barely suppressed tears.

Beel places an arm around her shoulders. “He doesn’t mean it.” He assures her.

She sniffles quietly.

“—the worst, Asmo, see if I don’t sell YOU next, you piece of—oh, human…” Mammon finally notices his human, curled up in a little shivering ball of heartbreak. Hiding under Beel’s arm. Tucked away from him.

“Wha—no, no, hey… ya know I never mean any of that… right? Human..? Auva…” Mammon’s voice is suddenly softer. Soothing, like he’s trying to coax a scared animal out of hiding.

Silence.

(In the background, Levi glares at Asmo. He throws a nearby cushion at him.)

“I didn’t mean it, Auva, I promise..! C’mon… look at me?” Mammon frantically says.

Auva sniffles again. “Y-you said… you don’t care about me. Stupid thing, you said… you said—”

“No, no, human… I’m sorry. I didn’t… you’re not a stupid thing. I promise ya, I didn’t mean it! I was just…” he sighs heavily, as he mentally kicks his own ass.

“I—look. I get defensive, I’m… how’d you put it? I’m real fuckin bad at feelings, okay? I just—I get called out, then I get defensive, an’ I just yell lies to get everyone to lay off, an’—aww, baby, no don’t cry, don’t… fuck, I’m a jackass… c’mere, c’mere…”

Beel glares at Mammon as he pulls Auva out of her hiding spot, so he can hug her.

Auva thinks what he just said demonstrates some rather impressive emotional intelligence and self-awareness, especially for someone who just claimed to be bad at feelings. This… is encouraging, she thinks. Maybe, maybe it really will be okay..? Maybe he really does love her?

Hesitantly, desperately, Auva hugs back. Tangling her fingers into his shirt, hands bunched up in the loose fabric at his sides. Clinging, but not daring to actually hold him. Not yet.

“I’ll work on it, I promise. I’ll do better. I promise, I promise, human… I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean a word of it, I’ve never meant any of that, please tell me ya knew that…” Mammon pleads as he squeezes his human tightly. Secure, safe… how he knows by now she responds best to.

“You said… you said you don’t want me..?” Auva sobs.

“I do, baby, I do. You’re MY human. ‘Course I want ya! I’m never gonna get rid of ya… shhh, shhshshh… I’m here, baby. I gotcha. I’m not lettin’ go. Promise.”

Mammon has dropped his tsundere nonsense entirely. It falls away to reveal the soft, gentle, protector that Mammon is when no one else is there to witness it.

“…Auva?” Mammon murmurs in the long, quiet moment after she’s calmed down. “You did know that I never meant any of that crap I say when I get like that… right?”

Auva shakes her head slightly. “How would I know?? I can’t do subtext, Mam. Unless it’s in fiction, I guess. I never pick up on any of that in real life. I just… I trust you, so I believe you. S-so… if you say that you don’t care about me… how would I know that’s not what you meant?”

“…oh. Well… fuck. I… y’know what? I need you to know I’m tellin’ ya the truth now. I want you to use the pact. Command me to tell you the truth. Lemme tell you what I really meant.”

Auva’s taken aback. That’s a big gesture! “Um—are you sure?”

He looks away, red-faced and clenching his jaw as he nods. He gestures at her to hurry it up, get it over with.

“Okay… Mammon, tell me the truth. What do you really think of me?”

“Auva… you’re MY human. My precious lil buddy. You’re my lil gremlin human. There’s really not much I wouldn’t do for you. I love you, I’d NEVER get rid of you! I can’t imagine ever not wanting you here with me. You’re not some… stupid annoying obligation. Not at all. I can’t believe you really didn’t realize how much I cared about you, even from the very first few days of knowin’ you! Auva, I’m supposed to protect you, and I WANT to! You’re my baby, Auva. My lil baby. I love you, and I’m staying with you. As long as possible. ‘Kay?”

Auva stares wide eyed at Mammon. That’s… wow. Some shit she’s sure he’d NEVER say if it weren’t forced out of him. Safe to say she knows what to believe now.

She lifts the command.

“…wow. Okay. Yeah. Thank you…”

Overwhelmed, Auva buries herself in Mammon’s arms again. That was… a lot.

“Don’t let go?” She requests softly. Mammon squeezes her reassuringly in answer.

It’s peaceful again for a moment.

“Mammon.” Beel rumbles threateningly. “If you make the baby cry again I will throw you through another wall.”

Auva makes an embarrassed sound, curling into Mammon to hide again.

Mammon laughs. “Yeah, yeah. I won’t. I got the baby. She’s fiiine.”

Auva squeaks, overwhelmed and unsure how she’s supposed to react. She decides on clinging to Mammon and ignoring everything else. Her usual strat. It’s normally effective enough.

#adhara’s mc #auva #obey me #obey me mammon #mammon fluff #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me mc #obey me fic #mammon #mammon obey me #obey me! shall we date? #my writing #original character #found family #hurt/comfort #obey me fluff #self insert #mammon loves his human #the human is blatantly autistic #oneshot #writing warmup #dialogue practice #platonic obey me #platonic relationships #don’t love this one tbh #it’s prob gonna get re-written #Auva & Mammon #Auva & Beel