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#x deaf!reader
lazydoodlesandfanfic · 8 months
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Keeping Quiet (Sherlock & Mycroft X Deaf!Brother!Reader) *PLATONIC
Characters: Sherlock & Mycroft X Deaf!Brother!Reader
Universe: Sherlock
Warnings: Severe bullying, injuries, turf burn, mention of violence
Request: Hi, can I request?, a Holmes brother fic, where reader is their youngest brother who is in high school/university getting bullied bc their disability(mute/deaf) and how their deal with that situation, I kinda want reader to be a ball of sunshine who always smile but are sad inside and although they can see through his smile, they struggle to find a way to help them. 🥺
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Your life from the get go has always been a little harder than other kids your age. For one, you were the youngest Holmes, which wasn’t necessarily a problem, though when you were born your eldest brother had already graduated university, and your other brother was a teenager not far from leaving school. With their own unique personalities, they struggled to connect you immediately, and you didn’t see them much as a young child. However, since starting Secondary school, they had become a bit more involved, especially since you had moved in with your eldest brother so you could attend a good school that was closer to him, however, you were still mostly by yourself, especially since how work driven both your brother’s were. Oh yeah, and the other thing that made your life a little harder- you were deaf. 
A silent world was all you had known since birth, and because of that, you didn’t have to adjust to any change, instead you just learned to do things differently, like when trying to cross a road on a corner, you’d look at those around you to see if they were going to cross, knowing that if the road was clear and they didn’t move, they could hear a car coming. You never had speech therapy growing up, and since when growing up your parents and brothers always communicated with you with sign language, you never used your voice. To you, your hands were your voice, and the thing in your throat that let you make noises was only for dire emergencies to get immediate attention. 
Right now, you were convinced this wasn’t an emergency, but you had the overwhelming urge to just scream as hard as you can. You wanted so badly to be heard, but feared backlash, either from your peers of your issues being perceived as fake or not nowhere near as bad as you felt they were, or backlash from the people who were making you feel like this. 
You’d just gotten home from school, and you entered as quietly as you could, closing the door briskly and looking around, not sure if Mycroft was home, and you didn’t want to see him right now. You closed the front door, looking at the empty coat hook where you’d usually place your coat, except you didn’t have it with you, so instead you just kicked off your shoes and tried to head to your bedroom with your school bag. However, for obvious reasons, you hadn’t heard Mycroft and Sherlock bickering in the other room, or that they had promptly stopped when the front door shut loudly from how quickly you had shut, followed by your footsteps through the house at an accelerated rate to your bedroom, and the noise of your door being shut just as quickly as the front door. The two brothers stood in silence, staring in the direction of the noises before turning to face each other. “Something’s wrong.” Sherlock spoke up. 
“I’m aware of that.” Mycroft scoffed, before they began to walk to go up the stairs. Sherlock stopped at the bottom though, though Mycroft continued up. Sherlock checked the entrance of the house, noticing your lack of coat, either meaning you were still wearing it or didn’t have it, and the droplets of water on the floor, as well as your school shoes being shiny and darker than usual, told him it was the latter. It hadn’t rained in the last hour. He finally followed after Myrcoft, who was already trying your door, though it was locked. He turned to Sherlock, and Sherlock’s eyes followed the wet droplet stains in the carpet to your door. “He’s locked himself inside.” Mycroft pointed out.
“Give me your credit card.” Sherlock demanded. Mycroft went into his back pocket, grabbing his wallet and going through it to hand him a card, before Sherlock shoved him out of the way, sliding the card through the door, pushing the lock out, and when it clicked open, he turned the handle opened the door enough to stick his hand in, reaching for the light switch, flicking the lights on and off in your room to get your attention. He didn’t get a reaction from you. No multiple knocks to signify he could enter, and not a singular knock for him not to come in. He waited another moment, before looking at Mycroft who at this point looked worried, fist pressed to his mouth. Sherlock opened the door further.
They didn’t see you when they first stepped into the room, but Sherlock noticed your school bag- wet through, soaking the carpet, dirty, the zip busted, a strap broken, several school books looking ready to fall out after being crammed in that were soggy and ruined. With that, he knew where you were- the small bathroom attached to your room. He walked to the shut door, trying the door, finding this one unlocked, and he slowly stepped in, looking down and to the side, seeing you sat on the floor, legs pulled to your chest, head resting on your knees. 
“Mycroft, go make tea.” Sherlock said monotone, not taking his eyes away from you. Mcroft, who had noticed your bag and was trying to find anything to salvage, stood up straight, processing the situation, before turning and leaving the room. Sherlock slowly entered the bathroom, kneeling down before sitting on the floor beside you, carefully reaching out, lightly tugging on your soaked and dirty school jumper to get your attention. You peeked up, making eye contact, your eyes red and as wet as your uniform. Sherlock didn’t need to ask what happened, and you didn’t need him going on a revenge campaign in your honour, at least not yet. Instead, he signed ‘I’ll run you a hot bath, and you get undressed. Are you hurt?” You sniffed, signing a yes, before you started to take off your jumper, pulling it over your head, and Sherlock’s eyes immediately took notice of the wet white material that had stains of red on your arms, and as he looked closer, he saw your hands, and presumably your forearms as well were scraped up and red raw. Sherlock took your jumper from you, standing up, before signing to you again. “Drop them just outside the door when you’re done.” He said, turning to the bath, plugging the drain, and turning on the taps, before leaving the room, shutting the door behind him.
Mycroft arrived shortly after with a tray, cup of tea and snacks as well, placing it on your bedside table. “What happened?” Mycroft asked. 
“He’s been bullied. I’m not sure what happened, maybe he tried to bring up what was happening or tried to stand up for himself, but it escalated outside of school- his uniform needs to be cleaned and died- where’s your first aid, he’s scraped up as well.” Sherlock listed. Mycroft’s mouth open and closed repeatedly, before he spoke. 
“I-I didn’t know.” He stuttered. “He never… he never told me he was having issues at school. I had no idea.” He explained, and Sherlock frowned. 
“I didn’t know either.” Sherlock added. It wasn’t a lot to say, but it made Mycroft feel so much better. If Sherlock didn’t notice something was wrong until now, then there was practically no way for Mycroft to see either. You hid it, and you hid it well. You hid it from the best. 
“I’ll call the school administration and organise a meeting with them. I’ll find out who did this.” Mycroft decided, reaching out and taking the jumper from Sherlock. “I’ll also get the first aid” he commented, turning and leaving the room again. Sherlock stood in your room, not moving, and he waited until he heard the bath water turn off, the door open, your clothes hit the floor and the door shut again before he turned and went and grabbed the clothes, taking them to be washed with your jumper. Sherlock heard Mycroft on the other side of the house, yelling on the phone about repercussions, demanding a meeting tomorrow, even if it’s the weekend, before his voice became louder, him walking into the same room with Sherlock, wordlessly giving him the first aid before leaving again to continue his argument, and Sherlock headed back upstairs to your room. 
He peeked into your room, seeing you had gotten out, dried off and dressed into your pyjamas, sitting on the edge of your bed. He flashed the lights again to get your attention before stepping in, coming and sitting down on your bedside, carefully taking your hands, rolling up the sleeves to properly see the scrapes and turf burn, which made him wince, imagining the pain in the bath, even though you didn’t make a peep. You didn’t make sound despite the pain, and that really, really bothered him. He wordlessly cleaned them and bandaged them, before signing to you “Are you hurt anywhere else?” You nodded, crawling deeper into the bed so your legs were rested on it, and Sherlock pulled your pant legs up to your knees, seeing even more turf burns, and he copied what he did with your hands, pulling the legs back down when he was done, before he pushed the medical equipment away from him, and waited in front of you till you looked at him. “Why didn’t you tell us?” He signed to you, speaking the words along with it. All he got was a shrug, which Sherlock was not going to accept. “Did they threaten you?” He added. You looked away, before finally signing. 
“It wasn’t too bad. I could handle it, I didn’t want to worry you. But I think someone else reported what they saw and they thought it was me.” You explained to him. 
“So if it wasn’t reported, you hadn’t planned to tell us?” Sherlock questioned. 
“It wasn’t a big deal.” You signed, clearly frustrated, which was paralleled by Sherlock. 
“Well it is now. We’re your brothers, your family. If something bothers you, you tell us, even if you’re annoyed at the way light reflects through a window, or how they’ve changed the packaging on a product in the shops, you tell us. Even if you think it’s harmless or not a big deal, we’d rather you told us about little things instead of hiding things until they become huge things. This is huge now, and we’re going to deal with it.” His signing firm and almost exaggerated. You’d never seen someone yell via sign language, yet here Sherlock was, somehow finding a way to do it, and it was pretty effective. 
“Okay. I’m sorry.” You quickly apologised to try and calm him down, which seemed to work. 
“How long has this been going on? How many of them are there, and what are their names? Tell me everything.” 
A few minutes later, Mycroft finally got off the phone, pacing for a minute to plan his next actions- deciding if he needed to call someone else, or go and check on you, but then Sherlock came into the room, and handed him a piece of paper, with names, examples of what each person did and their role in the attack, and how long it had been going on with a short timeline of other incidents. “I trust this is enough to start with?” Sherlock asked, watching as Mycroft skimmed over it. 
“This has been going on since he started secondary school?” Mycroft questioned, Sherlock briskly nodded, before tapping the paper to make him focus again. “Yes. This is enough. I’ll locate their parents and addresses, gather more information, I’ll have people look into CCTV to see if we can catch any footage of them following, chasing or… attacking him.” Mycroft explained, folding the paper up, before tucking it into his pocket. “How is he?” 
“He’s going to be sore for a while, keep an eye on his injuries- maybe take him to the doctor just to have it on record. He’s not very talkative at the moment, but we really need to get him to start talking to us more about things happening to him. If he’s ever quiet around you, try and engage him and ask about what he’s thinking about, get him out of the habit of keeping everything locked up. Leave the addresses to me. I’ll personally make sure they get the letters about the police investigation when you have it ready.” Sherlock said, walking to the entrance of the house, Mycroft followed him, watching his younger brother grab his coat, swing it around him and put it on. 
“Sherlock, do not threaten them- it’ll not be good for the investigation.” 
“I have no intention of threatening children, Mycroft. But I will make sure the point is put across that those parents have done an awful job and that they shouldn’t have messed with Y/N.” Sherlock promised, before promptly leaving. Mycroft huffed after the door shut, glancing up the stairs, before deciding to make a fresh hot drink for you to get started with a conversation with you.
Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in!
*Not my gif
TAGS: @holy-tea-cup-blog @sassy-specter@keenmarvellover @multifandomfix @sleutherclaw @otterly-fey @rebellionofthecattle @hello-love-youre-pretty @werosemagic @courtneychicken  @graysonmalfoy @bellero @originalpottervengerlock @supernatural-pan @esoltis280 @lady-of-lies @lenaswritingandstuff @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980 @cdwmtjb8 @caswinchester2000 @determinedpines @huntheimpossible @automaticbakeryfreakshoe
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wrr000 · 4 days
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vanteguccir · 2 months
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Baking blind, deaf and mute | Chris Sturniolo
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Chris Sturniolo x reader
Summary: Where Y/N participates in the Baking Blind, Deaf and Mute video, but things don't go as planned.
Warning: Begin of a panic attack, anxiety.
Requested?: Yes, @ecliphttlunar
Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.
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"Alright guys, it's been almost a year since the last time we filmed one of these, I think..." Nick began, his body appearing in the camera frame, stopping next to Matt.
"Yeah, and today we have a special guest-" Matt was interrupted by Nick, who swallowed all the rest of his energy drink, stumbling back as he shook his head hard, feeling the burn go down his throat.
"Like she doesn't appear in almost every video." Chris ignored Nick's reaction, momentarily pointing to his girlfriend next to him.
A laugh escaped his throat, followed by a dramatic sound of pain as he received a slap from Y/N as a response, who rolled her eyes at him, crossing her arms and looking at the camera.
"They love me more than they love you guys at this point." She murmured, pointing at the camera with her chin, blowing an air kiss towards it.
"Anyways!" Nick shouted, casting a scolding glance from the corner of his eye at Chris and Y/N, focusing his eyes on the lens. "Today we're going to do the baking blind, deaf and mute challenge, and we have a guest with us, Y/N!" He raised his left hand, pointing it towards the girl momentarily, who smiled big and waved.
"Exactly, and since there will be four of us, instead of three, we will repeat one position. Y/N will be blind with Matt, while I will be mute and Nick will be deaf." Chris explained, wrapping his left arm around his girl's shoulder, pulling her close and massaging her biceps slightly, sealing his lips over her head momentarily.
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"Okay, today we're going to cook a carrot cake with chocolate frosting since it's our guest's favorite." Nick spoke, his voice coming out louder than normal since his ears were covered by the headphones where music was coming out at full volume.
Y/N nodded, resting her hands on the table, unable to see exactly where she was, her eyes already covered by Chris's red bandana.
"Y/N doesn't eat ready cake mixture, so we're going to make it from scratch!" Matt added, his back resting on the counter next to the stove.
His arms were crossed, and his head was turned in the direction he thought the camera was.
"Let's begin!"
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"Can someone preheat the oven, please?" Y/N asked, her head turned to the side where she heard footsteps.
A tired sigh escaped her nose when she received no response. The girl moved slowly, using her raised arms for support, feeling wherever she went.
Sudden hands on her waist made her jump in fright, relief coursing through her veins as she quickly recognized Chris's touch. The boy holds her tightly, guiding her slowly through the kitchen, until they reach the stove.
Chris lightly held her wrist, guiding her hand to the button to turn on the oven, waiting for her to do so before letting go of her hand, moving away slightly.
"What is happening? Are you still here?" Matt's voice cut through the air, his figure doing a 360° turn as he tried to understand where the others were.
"In here, Matt." Y/N replied as she walked back to the table, feeling around until she found the ingredients already separated.
The girl reached for the carrots, feeling them to check if they were peeled. They weren't.
"Chris, can you peel it for me, please?" The girl asked loudly, lifting her chin in the air so her voice could echo better.
Footsteps approached, and soon, the carrots were taken from her hands, the sound of a knife hitting the cutting board filling her ears.
The sound of screams filled the kitchen, Nick singing the songs he was listening to as loud as possible, probably dancing around the space, checking every now and then if the others were making the recipe correctly, despite Y/N and Chris knowing it by heart.
"Nick, can you shut up?" Matt asked loudly, turning in the direction where his brother's voice came from.
Nick noticed Matt trying to talk to him, looking back while furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.
"What?" He screamed.
Y/N, who was blindly measuring the correct amount of oil using a measuring cup, jumped in place in fright by the sudden loud sound. Her hand holding the oil shook slightly from the movement, spilling some of the contents onto her other hand and the table.
Her shoulders slumped, but she just kept going, knowing that there was nothing she could do at that moment other than fulfill her task.
After measuring the oil and flour as correctly as possible, the girl felt the table on her right side in search of the cut carrots, no longer feeling Chris' presence there.
Her hands ran across the wooden surface, grabbing the first thing she found in the belief that it was the vegetables, but instead, it was a knife.
A wince escaped her lips, feeling a sharp burning sensation spread from her right index finger to her hand. She had cut herself.
"Can I have a paper towel?" Y/N asked in a low tone, her voice coming out choppy from the pain she felt. "Hey, somebody, a paper towel. Please?"
No one answered her, Matt and Nick's arguing voices only growing louder and louder.
The girl took a deep breath, wiping her finger on her t-shirt, feeling pain and disgust at the same time at the thought of cleaning a wound on a fabric that wasn't as clean as something specific for hygiene.
Her attention returned to the things in front of herself. Y/N replayed her last steps in her mind, making sure she did everything right.
With that, her hand rescued the fuê that she knew was on her left side and began to mix all the ingredients in the ceramic bowl carefully, despite the pain in her hand.
She felt her senses were more heightened than normal, perhaps because her eyes were covered, which made her hear the different steps of each of the triplets, their voices, and in which direction they were going.
But at that moment, her attention was so focused on the mixture that she forgot to pay attention to the three boys.
"Matt, I'm not listening to anything you're saying!" Nick shouted, his tone full of sarcasm.
"I'm just asking you to stop-"
"Don't touch me, Chris!"
"Nick, stop doing that-"
"Stop talking, I can't hear you-"
The impact came suddenly against Y/N's back, causing her to hit her belly on the corner of the table and, consequently, pushing the mixture forward due to the impact. She was certain that everything had been spilled onto the wooden surface when she heard a loud gasp coming from Matt.
Y/N's lips trembled before the tears even came. She felt her eyes burning behind her bandana while her cheeks and chest ached with anguish.
"Y/N?" Chris's voice came out softly, his hands quickly ripping the bandana from his mouth, approaching his girl, ignoring the guilty looks from Nick and Matt as they both removed their respective bandana and headphones.
Y/N didn't respond, resting her hands on the table and lowering her head, feeling the fabric over her eyes getting damp little by little.
"Baby?" Chris whispered, slowly untying the knot on the bandana behind her head, being careful not to pull out any hair. The last thing he wanted was to cause pain on his girlfriend.
He felt his heart sink at the sight of her eyes closed tightly and her eyelashes damp against her pink cheeks. His own eyes quickly caught her chest rising and falling faster than normal in agitation.
Chris moved closer to her, positioning his hands on both of his girl's hips, lightly squeezing the covered skin in an attempt to ground her.
"Hey, hey, pretty girl, it's okay. Deep breaths, hm?" The brunette whispered close to her ear, casting a quick look behind his shoulder at his brothers, silently asking them to move away. "That's right, just like that. You got it, my love."
Y/N sucked in air through her nose, holding it for a few seconds before releasing it through her mouth.
After repeating the process a few times, she could finally feel her heart calm down and the anguish slowly disappear. Y/N opened her eyes slowly, blinking a few times to remove the remnants of tears.
"There's my pretty girl. Are you with me, baby?" Chris smiled kindly, his eyes shining as he looked at Y/N, waiting for her answer.
"Uhum, I am good. Thank you, baby." Her voice came out still a whisper, but in a healthier tone. "Can we continue? I really want to-"
"Wait, is that blood? Baby, are you hurt?" Chris noticed the reddish tone on her right hand, interrupting her sentence and holding her hand delicately with both of his, analyzing the small cut.
"Yeah, with that knife. It was an accident, but it's not hurting anymore." The girl tried to assure him, stroking his hands with her thumb slowly.
"Can we at least clean it? Before we continue." He asked, his tone full of hope while his eyes run through her face, trying to find any trace of pain.
"Okay." Y/N nodded, whispering with a small smile decorating her face.
The boy guided her to the sink, turning on the tap to cold water and slowly bringing her hand closer to the jet, letting the water hit the injured skin slowly, so that it didn't make her feel any more pain.
A wince escaped Y/N's throat when she felt the contact, suppressing the urge to pull her hand back.
"I know, baby. I know, I'm sorry." Chris whispered, his lips pressed against the side of her head. His free hand made small circles on her back, trying to reflect calm to her.
After a few seconds, Chris finally turned off the tap again, drying his own hand before rescuing a few sheets of paper towels. He wiped Y/N's sensitive skin slowly, wrapping her finger around a clean sheet.
"All done, honey."
"Thank you." She smiled, sealing her lips on his jaw slightly. "Can we bake now?" She asked innocently, looking at Matt and Nick, who were still watching them with guilty eyes.
Chris let out a low chuckle at her comment, waving his brothers closer again.
"Are you good, girl?" Nick asked as he approached Y/N, stroking her left shoulder lightly, his eyebrows furrowed.
"I am good, Nick. I promise." She smiled big at her best friend, hugging him sideways and laying her head on his right shoulder for a few seconds before stepping away again.
"Okay then, let's bake a cake!" Matt smiled at the camera, grabbing the nearest roll of paper towels, ready to clean up the mess before they could start baking again.
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Extra - comments:
"omg I would die on Y/N's place, all this was so overwhelming 😭"
"chris is such a good boyfriend and you can see it in here, the way he helps her at the beginning? bf goals 😫😫😫"
"chris and Y/N are so beautiful together 🥺"
"the way chris was super worried about Y/N so he ripped off his bandana too quickly to help her 😔😔😔"
"I want what they have so bad"
"nick and matt feeling guilty and then worrying about her was so cute!!"
"them baking it from the beginning again only because Y/N wanted to eat that cake is so thoughtful 😭"
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My asks are always open. Feel free to send requests or anything at all 🩷💋
And remember to treat people with kindness always!
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~ taglist:
@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @il0vebeingdelulu @sturniolowhore @mimi-luvzyu @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @domizzzsstuff @sturnizd @hearts4chris @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @leah-loves-lilies @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @sturniolho @ksskianshd
(If you want to be added to the taglist, please comment here)
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heartofjasmina · 3 months
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deaf!Bakugou teaching you sign, his rough hands over yours as he shows your fingers what to do, his red eyes intense as he watches you practice, the soft huffs of laughter when you mess up. deaf!Bakugou patting your head as he leaves, the only sign that he's pleased with your progress. you'd never guess his heart was pounding in his chest as he taught you the sign for "together."
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iateyourparents · 4 months
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hello! could you write johnnie guilbert fluff? maybe a scenario where him and fem!reader are spending a day together (filming a video, doing random stuff) just being two people in love and jake and tara tease them and call them a married couple
deaf, mute and blind | j.g.
pairing: johnnie guilbert x fem!reader
summary: you, johnnie and jake are recording a new challenge video.
warnings: use of y/n, bad writing and grammar(i’m sorry but english isn’t my first language)
an: hi, thank you <33 hope you like it!
pictures are from pinterest :)
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“Hi guys, it’s me, Tara, and today I’m here with Jake, y/n and Johnnie.” Tara introduced you and you all waved to the camera.
“Hi!” you greeted her viewers.
“Today I’m gonna torture my guests… No, but I wish.” she pouted and you all laughed “Today, my guests will be playing into deaf, mute and blind but…they will have many challenges and quests to do throughout the day. But they main goal is to do shopping and bake me cookies! Any words guys?”
“I hope I get deaf, cause I don’t think I can go much longer with them talking.” you rolled your eyes looking at Jake and your boyfriend.
“Hey!” Johnnie gasped pretending to be offended, placing hand on his chest “That hurt love.”
You only rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the smile that was forcing its way onto your face.
“Alright, so now they will draw sticks and get to know what senses will be taken from them!” Tara showed her viewers three sticks and then she turned to you “Ladies first.”
You took the one in the middle and immediately looked at written words.
“Yeah! I’m deaf today!” You did a little winning dance. Next one choosing stick was Johnnie and he got mute.
“Oh, so I will be blind.” Jake stated “That’s good actually, at least I don’t have to look at your ugly faces.” he smirked and you laughed.
Tara handed you all your things - blindfold for Jake, duck tape for Johnnie and earphones for you.
“Let me also add, that the person who won’t do the most of their mini challenges, has to take a cold shower on the street!” Tara smiled mischievously.
“Is this enough to charge her with domestic abuse?” Jake asked kind of scared.
When everyone was ready Tara started talking to the camera and you could only guess she was explaining to people what you gonna do and not long later Johnnie took your hand to let you know you were going out. You both helped blindfolded Jake to the car and Tara drove you to the nearest store.
She turned on the camera and pointed it at you and Johnnie. You didn’t see anyone talking so you decided to speak “I think Tara already told you guys but we’re making cookies so now we have to find all of the needed ingredients.” you informed and Tara pointed the camera to Johnnie who was gesturing towards some alley. He took your hand and started dragging you there with Tara going behind you but you suddenly stopped, remembering something.
You quickly turned around and jogged to Jake to walk him to Johnnie and Tara. He said something that made Tara laugh and Johnnie’s arms shudder in a silent laugh.
You really started to regret wanting to be deaf one, because not hearing anything yet seeing it, made you frustrated. Also, not hearing Johnnie made you kinda sad. But atleast you listened to your favorite songs.
You all went to grocery alley where Jake gave you his phone so you and Johnnie could find all ingredients for cookies.
Tara was pointing the camera on you all the time and you decided to speak from time to time in case she and Jake weren’t saying anything.
“So we will be doing chocolate chip cookies. Or rather we will be trying to instruct Jake to do it without hurting himself or poisoning us.” you felt a light push on your shoulder and you laughed seeing how Jake was struggling with trying to not miss your form while hitting.
Johnnie swatted Jake’s hand when he tried to hit your shoulder again and side hugged you while looking for flour.
“Johnnie, we need flour for cakes, this one is for bread.” you told him and he gave you a ‘what the hell’ face and you knew that if he could talk and you hear, he would be asking about the difference.
“Alright, I think we got everything.” you stated when you found everything and you all went to cashier’s stands where everyone was looking at you like at idiots, but that wasn’t anything new with Johnnie and Jake.
Tara quickly paid when it was yours turn and you and Johnnie walked Jake to the car.
When you were at home you quickly started to prepare kitchen for your baking.
Suddenly, you felt someone tugging gently at your arm and you saw Johnnie pointing ahead of you. You saw Tara pointing the camera at you all and you took it as a clue to start talking.
“Alright, so now we will be trying to instruct Jake how to make cookie dough, wish us luck!” you smiled sarcastically.
You somehow were cooperating well, Johnnie was showing you the recipe and you were reading it for Jake who then with your and yours boyfriend help were making most of the work.
When cookies were in the oven you didn’t have anything better to do so you sat on the floor in front of the oven and you were just looking at the cookies.
Some time later Johnnie joined you, sitting next to you and placing his head on your shoulder. You hugged him into your side and he gladly snuggled into you, kissing your shoulder.
You sat there for a few minutes, when Tara came to you with a camera and some bowl and told something to Johnnie and then showed you her phone, where she wrote in the notes that now you will be doing random challenges before you could take the cookies out from the oven. It would decide who is the loser of the video.
You all stood in the living room and Tara came to you with the bowl and you took one piece of paper.
“I’ve got ‘activity without your sense’” you read it for them and viewers out loud and then showed the piece of paper to the camera.
Moment later Tara gave you another paper, which turned out to be an instruction what your activity was.
“So I have to call a random contact and try to have normal conversation with that person. That will be hard.” you sighed “Can Johnnie and Jake help me? Like by gesturing?” You looked at Tara and she only nodded.
You looked at the camera and smiled “I’m actually kinda scared that they will gesturing wrong things and I will make a fool of myself.” you laughed and you could see Tara snorting.
Your challenges were done, it wasn’t that bad or at least you were hoping so.
Then you took the cookies out of the oven and tried them when they weren’t hot. They were really good.
“Teamwork makes a dream work, i guess.” you smiled at the camera.
Then you could finally take off the earphones and you were never as grateful for hearing Jake and Johnnie as now.
“God, it’s so good to hear people again. I missed your voice.” you told Johnnie who smiled widely at you and kissed your cheek.
“I’m glad to see again, but I’m scared of how many bruises I’ve got today.” Jake laughed while still trying to get use to the light in the room.
“Alright guys, they made it.” Tara smiled at the camera “I can’t with how cute y/n and Johnnie were today. Literally goals. You were like and old married couple.” she giggled and you smiled.
“So, who’s the loser?” Jake asked after few minutes.
“You Jake.” You laughed “You didn’t do any of your challenges correctly.”
“That’s true.” Tara smirked “You will do your punishment later.”
You stopped recording for some time so Tara could get all of the needed things for Jake’s punishment, so you and Johnnie went to sit on the couch while hugging.
“I really missed your voice today.” you admitted again quietly.
“And I missed talking to you.” he smiled “And kissing you.” he kissed you.
1K notes · View notes
klemen-tine · 4 months
Text
White Whale
Platonic!Yandere Batfam x Male!Deaf Reader
First Batfam post... this obsession for DC and specifically the Batfam has come out of nowhere and has me by the throat.
But here you guys go.
Thoughts
Sign/Morse Code
Speaking
TW: Hints at past attempted rape, disability discrimination
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Things have been quiet, but at the same time hectic, in the Wayne manor as of lately. Almost everyone was there, sharing the same space and eating the same meals. Almost. The third oldest brother, Y/N, was missing. It stung to say, but the truth of the matter was that he had run away. Leaving behind the external processor of his cochlear implants, and only taking a backpack of clothes. He had left behind the credit card Bruce gave to everyone, only taking out a large sum of cash the day before and booking it. 
Only one note, ‘I’ll be fine.’ All the trackers left in a straight line on his bedside table, some still covered in blood from when he must have dug them out of his body. It made some of the family members wonder if Y/N had always been aware or if he had found them by chance. 
It’s been three months, and everyone was about to go crazy. How could they not? Y/N, for how independent he was and capable, was deaf and has only known the Manor. Jason, the closest to Y/N, has been more vicious on the patrols and was constantly pacing back and forth in the library. Reading and rereading all of Y/N’s favorites (even though he hated them), and sometimes even just sitting in Y/N’s room. Taking in what he had left behind, barely taking any clothes, none of his electronics (his phone was still here), and one of his favorite books that he always kept in his room. 
Jason’s going to put a tracker in that book once they get Y/N back. 
Nevertheless, sometimes he just sits there. On Y/N’s bed, and takes in the room, sometimes he’s alone and sometimes he’s with a sibling. Every now and then he’ll see Bruce in here, thumbing through Y/N’s journals. 
When Jason closes his eyes, could feel the ghost of Y/N’s touches, the feeling of Y/N’s smaller and thinner body resting against his as he read. Thin fingers gently pressed against Jason’s throat to feel the vibrations, picking up when Jason spoke in a higher or lower tone, laughing when he made an obnoxious voice for a character he absolutely loathed. Cold hands gently cupping his face under the sweaty red helmet, grounding Jason to the present. 
Dick, as the eldest child, prided himself in being in-tune with his siblings. He would bend and twist himself to keep himself available and aware of his siblings' emotions. He was the guy everyone went to when things were wrong or they needed advice. So, he wonders what he did wrong for Y/N to leave without saying anything. Their third older brother never hinted at anything being wrong, or even any sign of him wanting to leave. There was no change in his moods, no change in interests, no major cash withdrawals besides the night he left. 
His older brother instincts were stressed and have been stressed since his little brother had disappeared. In his hands, he fingered a silver stud that Y/N had left behind. Smart of him, because a small tracker was placed underneath the tourmaline gem. The blue hiding it wonderfully while also looking beautiful on Y/N’s skin. Decorating his ears that he had pierced himself (he can still hear Alfred’s outrage whenever he is reminded of that), and being the only piece of jewelry that they wanted him to wear. 
Still, Dick had wished he had taken them. He wonders if Y/N knew about the trackers in these earrings, or the trackers in the pairs of shoes he left. If he did, the other did a great job in not letting anyone know. However, if he didn’t, then it made this all the more frustrating. How could their deaf, non-combatant, and to be frank average intelligence, brother get out of this heavily monitored manor? Tim had spent years upgrading the systems, making it stronger and stronger each time. 
So, how? More importantly, why?
Dick couldn’t wrap his head around the reason why Y/N would want to leave. He’s fed great food, he has a nice bed, he can read great books, and he’s always surrounded by family. It’s not like they limited his time outside, he can basically come and go when he wants. 
As long as he was back in the manor by nightfall, Y/N could go anywhere. 
What sucked even more was that none of them had the slightest clue where he could be. Y/N could be dead for all they know. 
Dick subdued that thought, having faith that the self-defense they had drilled into Y/N would keep him safe until they found him. However they all intimately know how unfair and unkind the world can be. Y/N, sweet and defenseless Y/N, was all alone somewhere in the world. The worst outcomes kept reappearing in his mind and playing on Y/N’s past traumas. 
Why couldn’t his brother see that he was safest here? Everyone praised the Lord that Y/N expressed no interest in being a vigilante, and that his career of choice was instead choosing to be an editor. He took a gap year this year, which everyone rejoiced over. Y/N was a hard worker, and was someone who fully dived into things without taking a break. Like Tim. 
Still, Dick wished Y/N would see what they saw. Y/N needs them, just like how they need Y/N. Dick flopped into the couch, thumbing through his photos and finding one of him and Y/N. When they do find him, they’re going to have to remind him where he belongs. 
++++
Y/N took in the sun rays with a content smile. His once pale skin now has a slight tint to it, and his hair now lighter due to the sea water and sun. The white beaches reflect the warm rays and the blue waters look like familiar eyes. It took him a while to get used to being on his own, which was proof that he needed to do this. Never in his life has he felt so free. 
The wind tossing his hair and the view of waves crashing on the shore had him smiling. The Moby Dick in his hands as he reread the pages, noting the post-it notes he had in it, jotting down his thoughts and musings. The Dominican Republic beaches were already something to die for, but here on the hidden beaches, where only a handful of people knew of its location, were worth killing for. Y/N looked back at the small bungalow he was renting, paying in cash to keep his name off the lease and only staying until March before he will leave for Europe, and smiled. A cute little thing that looked like it could topple at the slightest storm. The electricity was powered by a generator and there was no hot water. Maybe warm, but never hot. Which Y/N was shockingly fine with. It wasn’t like it was cold here like how it was in Gotham. 
His biggest stressor was cooking. Which furthermore proved how he needed to do this. Out of all his brothers, he is the only one who doesn’t know how to cook. He can make the basics, like mac-n-cheese, ramen, rice, and basic pasta dishes. However, when his landlord had given him a fish to eat, Y/N stared at it with great embarrassment. 
It’s not like he had a phone, or even the internet, to google it. 
He had almost set the kitchen on fire but that’s something he’s not going to tell his landlord about. 
Thankfully, despite how well-hidden this bungalow was, the community around was strong and well-receptive to him. When he first told them that he was deaf, which was completely by accident, he started getting free food and notepads to write on. However, no one treated him differently. He wasn’t coddled, besides once again the free meal every now and then but he’s positive that also has to deal with how frightened he looked when he was asked to help out with cooking one time, nor was he pestered. 
As much as he loves his family, the Wayne family could be… a lot. Always around him, constantly monitoring him, coddling him like he was going to break at the slightest hint of him facing a struggle. Some of them unknowingly, or unintentionally, use his deafness against him as a reason why he couldn’t do certain things. He is grateful to Bruce for giving him his hearing somewhat back, the cochlear implants truly made life easier, but Y/N was curious about the part of him. 
He lost his hearing at the age of 10, a gradual process that started when he was 8. The nerves in his ears deteriorated to the point not even the sound of a building explosion could be heard by him. Being deaf in East Gotham as a 10-year-old was basically a death sentence. It didn’t help that Y/N was naturally curious, meaning there were a lot of things he stuck his nose in that he shouldn’t have. It is only because of Jason that he is alive, which the other will always deny but Y/N stands by. 
Jason and him had met when they were both 6, being neighbors with similar living conditions had made them close. Jason was with him when his hearing started to disappear, and he was with Jason when Catherine had died from an overdose. The two of them took to the streets and set up a small base in an abandoned building. 
He was with him when they decided to steal the Batmobile's wheels, clinging onto Jason’s red hoodie when the local vigilante had lifted him up by the collar of said hoodie. Those eyes that peaked through the mask drifted from defiant blue eyes to terrified E/C eyes. 
They had become twins, brothers with different last names and different birthdays, but twins nevertheless. Inseparable and always joined at the hips, only leaving each other when Jason went on patrol as Robin and Y/N chose to stay behind with Alfred. While Jason learned how to kick someone’s ass, Y/N learned how to treat them when their own asses got kicked. 
He cried when Jason died. Sobbed and deteriorated as he slept in Jason’s room, and sobbed some more when he tried to read some of Jason’s books. He let Dick comfort him, taking him on daily excursions to the beach and riding on the back of his motorcycle. Bruce had read to him, just how Jason used to, and while it wasn’t the same he appreciated the man trying. Alfred continued to be the emotional support they all relied on him to be, and constantly patted his shoulders and baked him his favorite treats. 
Y/N screamed at Bruce when he brought Tim back, stating that he was the new Robin. He made it clear he wasn’t mad at Tim, but Bruce. He gave the man the cold shoulder for weeks while making sure Tim was accommodated for. He cried again when Jason came back, hugging the other and cupping Jason’s older face between his hands. He rested a hand on Bruce’s shoulder when Damian showed up, feeling for him and showing emotions that Bruce could not. 
Y/N loves his family with everything in him, and he knows that he is loved back. However, the love from one person was different from the love of multiple people. Y/N knows, is intimately aware, that their love is the type disguised as golden necklaces and stained glass windows. When in reality, they are chains and the gold bars of a cage. He knows they kept him dependent on them for life necessities, such as food, money, and a place to sleep. 
He was never allowed to get a job. When he tried he was rejected or never called back. He was allowed to cook, but only the basics, as Alfred didn’t want him hurting himself. His curfew was before nightfall, meaning in winter 4:30 was when he had to be back inside the manor. 
They gave him his hearing so the silence would continue to be deafening. It is why he left the external processors. Whether Y/N liked it or not, he was deaf. He is a part of that community, and it is about time he got used to that part of himself. 
The young adult knows his family loves him, and wants to care for him, but as an adult he knows that he needs to learn some things about life on his own. 
Bruce taught them all well. Alfred taught them all well. His older brothers and younger brothers taught him well. Y/N is ready for this. He has been for a while. 
Closing his book, marking the page with the bookmark, he watched a sperm whale breach for only a moment before disappearing under the waves. Unable to hear the sound it made, but the sight of it was enough. He set the book down on the towel and made his way to the waters. 
++++
It was an accident. It truly was. However, it was a happy accident that had everyone packing and getting ready for the trip. 
One of Tim’s classmates had just returned from vacation, and she was showing photos of the sperm whales that gathered. Tim looked because it was shoved in his face, and he nearly snatched her phone out of her hand. In the back, dressed like a local, he was there. His eyes focused on the breach sperm whales, but Tim would recognize him from any angle in any get up. 
He asked what beach she was at, and she said Playa Rincon, Dominican Republic. Y/N was in the Dominican Republic. But for what? Y/N has never shown any interest in the tropics or even the ocean in general. Sure he loves the beach, but that was it. Never has he expressed his desire to go to another country to experience it. 
So, what could have been there that would draw Y/N in? With the amount of money he withdrew, he could have bought a plane ticket anywhere in the world, and he chose the Dominican Republic. Without a doubt using a fake idea, a fake name, and he was probably using a different name to either rent a place or buy a house. 
Sure, they can all just go over, but if they do they would have to tear apart the country to find him. They work fast, but words can travel faster. 
There has to be a reason why Y/N went. Something there that would at least narrow the search. 
Tim looked around Y/N’s room, searching for anything that would give him a hint. Anything. 
He glanced at the bookshelf where the only book missing was the Moby Dick. A book about how a group of whalers get bested by a giant sperm whale that is believed to be a god. It is a book about a Captain that has a self-destructive obsession with the white whale called the Moby Dick. Based on a true story of a crew on a ship called the Essex. 
“I’ve always felt bad for the whale.” Tim raised an eyebrow, staring at his brother who was stroking their youngest brother’s head as Damian slept on. The book In the Heart of the Sea in between his thin fingers as he met Tim’s inquiring gaze. 
“There is no proof as to why the whale rammed into the Essex, but many believe it was due to a mistake. The hammering in the hull of the ship sounded like another whale.” Tim signed, ‘But why do you feel bad?’ Y/N smiled, “Because, not only were they being hunted but now a book written about how this one whale is the reason a reputable Captain goes mad really does paint them in a bad light.” 
‘Whaling has been outlawed.’ 
“Still, I bet this book only increased it for a while.” Tim watched Y/N bookmark his page, closing the book before returning his hands to Damian’s head. 
‘Do you like sperm whales?’ Y/N beamed, “I do. They really are such an amazing animal, I hope I get to see one in person.” 
Tim stood straighter, pulling out his phone and doing a quick Google search. The Dominican Republic is the only place where sperm whales stay all year. 
“There’s no way.” 
“What.” Tim brushed past Damian, rushing down to the Batcave and ignoring the glare the youngest sent him. It didn’t take long to find whale sighting information. It took even less time to find the pattern. Series of reds, blue, yellows, and green decorating the waters around Dominican Republic. The red dots were where the most recent sights were, and he stared at the location his classmate was at when they saw the whale. Where Y/N’s photo was accidentally taken. 
There is only one spot that the red dots haven’t reached yet, and if the pattern stayed true, they had about two to three days. 
Tim fished out his phone, calling Bruce, “I know where Y/N is.” 
+++
Bruce loves his sons. He would risk himself for them and would do everything in his power to ensure they are safe. Yes, they had been Robins, yes Jason had died, yes his and Dick’s relationship was still rocky, but damn did he love them. 
He stared at a photo of when Y/N and Jason were 13, 6 months freshly moved into the manor, and it was him and Dick standing on opposite sides of them. Jason grinning brightly, holding a more timid Y/N’s hand who was holding onto Bruce’s jacket. Dick was crouching next to Jason, laughing at something the other had said before the picture was taken. Y/N, when they first moved in, had been terribly shy. He always hid behind or stayed next to Jason, and watched Bruce and Alfred with hesitant eyes. Jason on the other hand was outspoken with his mistrust, but willing to comply with their rules for some things. 
Bruce remembers when Y/N first helped Alfred dress their bruises and scratches. Alfred taking on a more unruly Jason, while Y/N helped with the minor stuff on Bruce. He had rubbed Y/N’s head with his ungloved hand afterwards, and he watched as those E/Cochromic eyes widened before a large smile took over his young face. Bright and happy with little care in the world. 
He had wanted to keep that on Y/N’s face forever. 
Bruce will be the first to admit that he didn’t do a great job in that. All his failures hung in front of him, and Y/N and Alfred were reminders that those failures didn’t affect just him. Yet, Bruce watched Y/N power on. Continuing to keep his chin up and shoulders back, taking on the new day with more determination. 
Y/N had learned to be strong on his own, and while yes, Bruce is extremely and undeniably proud of him, he is also worried. Terrified. Something he shared with everyone else. The world is unkind to people who are different. It’s unkind to people in general, but to add in something about yourself that you cannot control and that is different from everyone else, it is terrible. Y/N, for how normal he pretends to be, is far from it. 
It stresses Bruce out. He is constantly worried for him, constantly double-checking and ensuring that Y/N is okay. Bruce doesn’t want to admit that he is softer to Y/N because he is deaf, because that is not the complete truth. If anything, Bruce knows he is more controlling of Y/N because of that. Always having to know where he is, who he’s with, what he’s doing and whether it is safe enough for him or not. 
A helicopter parent that the child cannot hear. 
So when Tim had told him of how Y/N had somehow managed to get to the Dominican Republic, and was most likely living there, Bruce wanted to flip a table. All for some whales. He was more stressed than impressed over the fact that his son, who had no experience with Robin or anything illegal, managed to not only get a fake passport, a fake ID, and then live in another country for three months. 
“Oh that kid?” One of the locals recognized who Bruce was asking about, a smile on their face as they recalled what an excellent free diver he was. The man grinned, pulling out a camera that had Bruce raising an eyebrow, “I’m an underwater photographer. That kid is a natural in the ocean.” Bruce stared at the photos, and even he could admire just how in place Y/N looked amongst the coral reefs and deep blue. Long legs looked fluid, and his body lithe like the fish he swam amongst. 
Y/N looked free. 
“Pleasant to talk to as well. It's a shame he’s deaf, he’d be a great teacher for other free-divers.” Bruce wanted to deck this man across the face for stating that Y/N couldn’t do something because of his lack of hearing, but that would be hypocritical. How many times has he used Y/N’s disability against him? 
According to Tim, this area is the next stop for whale sightings, meaning Y/N has to be somewhere around here. The family has split up, asking the locals and looking around the tourist areas. 
“Did he say where he was staying?” The local shook his head, “No, didn’t ask either.” Bruce wants to break the man's fingers just to make sure the other doesn’t know. The local, as if sensing the dangers he was in, gulped, “But if I had to guess, he most likely lives near coral reefs.
“Somewhere he could free dive constantly without having to go out on a boat. Afterall, for how short of a time he’s been doing it, he’s extremely impressive. A lot of this sport takes practice.” 
Bruce nodded in thanks. It is the  Brucie Wayne smile now on his face, “Thanks, and how much for the photo?” 
Y/N stumbled back to his place, his cheeks flushed and a giggle on his lips. In his hands was a bottle of homemade tequila from one of the locals he had just gotten done partying with, and the taste was thick on his tongue but he couldn’t deny that the heat in his belly was addicting. Stumbling into the tiny bungalow, he set the bottle down on the kitchen table and resisted the urge to take another sip. 
Doing a quick stretch, he watched the waves crash against the beach, the full moon illuminating the waters and the white sand. 
Only one more day and the sperm whales should be at this side of the island. Maybe they’ll be here tonight. Scratching the nape of his neck, Y/N released a pleased sound before making his way to his room to grab stuff for the shower. He moved in the dark, knowing where everything was and not needing to add to the electricity bill. 
The room itself was nice, probably the most grand room in the entire space. Above the bed was a large window that allowed for natural light, constantly illuminating the room. In the soft light of the moon, Y/N navigated his room with practiced movements. The fire in his gut making him stumble sometimes, but nothing serious or even alarming. When he lifted his gaze, his eyes landed on the book on his bedside tables and something else. 
Furrowing his brows, Y/N walked to that part of his room, and his eyes turned hazy momentarily as his fingers brushed over the external processor of the cochlear implants, thumbing them and feeling the cool metal under the pad of his thumb. Fond memories of when he first got his hearing back, if only somewhat, and the way the world burst into noise. 
He chuckled when a memory popped up of him and Jason arguing, and Y/N had taken off the processors and closed his eyes so he couldn’t see or hear Jason’s argument. The fight dissolved into laughter, Jason hugging Y/N and the both of them landing on the carpeted floor. 
They were the external processors he left behind when he left the Wayne manor. Decorated in small stickers that Tim and Dick jokingly put on them, and the small scratches from when Damian had accidentally dropped them. 
The processors he left behind to start this new life figuring out how to cope with silence. 
The processors… he left… behind… 
His E/C eyes widened and he made a quick sprint for the door, dropping his clothes on the floor. He has to go outside where there is open space and where he can hopefully be seen by a local. His family of vigilants excelled in close-combat and combat the needed tight spaces. It wasn't like Gotham had a lot of room to begin with. 
He had to get out of here. Y/N has to leave, or at least give himself a chance. 
When he threw open the door, he almost collided into the broad chest of one of his brothers. His eyes glanced up and he met the crazed and desperate eyes of his twin. The red helmet off of his head and exposing the bags under his eyes. Guilt crushed Y/N’s chest, and he wanted to cup Jason’s cheeks within his hands. He wanted to assure others he was safe, that he was fine, and that he was ready to do this. 
But they would never get it. 
He took a step back instead. Jason followed, and Y/N nearly screamed when he felt the floor creak beneath his feet. 4 other pairs of feet moved, making the wood creak and vibrate under his feet and alerting him that they were all in his home. 
‘Ready to come home?’ Jason signed, and Y/N felt the wood creak. Y/N shook his head, never taking his eyes off of the man in front of him. Jason's facial expression changed.
‘Too bad.’ Y/N dodged a pair of hands that were behind him and barely side-stepped another pair. Jason stood in front of the door, ensuring that Y/N could not leave through it. He remembers just how slippery the other could be, and he was not risking it. 
Y/N raced to the kitchen, grabbing the handle of the tequila bottle, and holding it like a bat. In front of him was his family, Damian, Tim, Dick, Jason, and Bruce. None of them were dressed in their vigilante outfits, and that is because Y/N is not a criminal that needs a suit to fear. He is their brother who needs guidance from his family.
“C’mon Y/N, vacation is over.” Dick said, and Y/N had difficulty reading his lips but he understood it. 
“No.” Dick’s jaw clenched and he could see Tim grab something from his pocket. 
“Y/N. If you wanted to see the whales you could have asked.” Y/N scrunched his nose, and tightened his grip on the bottle, “Put that down, and let's go.” Y/N shook his head, “No. I want to stay here.” Dick’s lips pursed and Damian scowled, “Why? You have no hot water, you can’t cook, there is literally nothing here other than those whales.” Y/N’s face must have made a terribly pained expression because Damian looked like he had been the one to be chastised. 
“I want to learn how to do things on my own.”
“That's so stupid Y/N. Come on.” Y/N shook his head, “No! No, I-I want to stay. I am the only one who get tre-treated like glass. Not even Babs gets treated like me!” Jason glared, “That is different Y/N, and you know it.” 
“How?! She is in a wheelchair, and I am deaf. We are both handicapped, but when she wants to do something you have little complaint but when I want to do something you have an entire novel!” It's not fair. Y/N shouldn’t be mad at Barbara, because it is not her fault. But even he couldn’t stop the feeling of resentment building in his chest when he sees how free Barbara is compared to him. 
Y/N doesn’t hate Barbara. He couldn’t hate her, because she’s his sister just like everyone else were his siblings. But he is frustrated. So undeniably frustrated. He spent an ungodly amount of nights laying awake and staring at his ceiling as he thought about it. Trying to find the reason why he is treated like the slightest gust would send him stumbling. He wanted a valid reason. 
“I am deaf. I am not stupid or-or incapable of taking care of myself!” 
“That is not why we are doing this!” There’s no point in yelling because he couldn’t hear it, but Y/N could see the way their throats flexed and mouths opened wider. Y/N shook his head, “I am not glass! I want to learn how to be inde-independent.” He had to slowly say that last word, but he got it.
“I. Am. Staying.” 
This is exactly why Y/N left. This is why he left the way he did. Why he had too. They don’t get it. They’ll never get it. How could they understand? They have always been able to make their own decisions. They have always been able to do things that Y/N only wishes he could do. They had such a stangle-hold on his life that the slightest hint of wiggle-room, they only tightened their hold even more. It was suffocating and painful.
It was even more painful because Y/N still loves them, and he knows they love him. That this was just a version of their love that was unfortunately, or fortunately for everyone else, reserved for only him. A chain and leash meant for only him. A cage for him. With intricate gold bars that looked beautiful, but still kept him trapped.
He missed Bruce’s signal, but he watched how Damian was the first to move. Y/N isn’t too sure how he dodged Damian, the little gremlin he was, but he also knows that they weren’t going hard on him. He knows they are not treating him like a criminal, but as a brother. Which means, Y/N was somewhat at an advantage. Bruce and Jason had made sure Y/N knew the fundamentals to self-defense and how to use his surroundings. 
His biggest downfall however, was him focusing on Dick and Damian, and forgetting that one of them technically could still intervene. Tim, with whatever he was holding didn’t join the fray and Jason was too busy guarding the door as a just in case. Which is why when a large hand gripped the wrist that was holding the still intact tequila bottle, twisting the joint in a way that had Y/N dropping it, had him crying out in shock. His short fingernails digging into the callused skin of his adopted father, Bruce Wayne. 
The man stared at him with a heated glare and Y/N fought off the urge to shrink under the heavy gaze. However, he threw his weight back, trying to dislodge the grip around his wrist. Bruce used his other arm to immobilize Y/N’s upper body, stopping him from throwing an elbow or scratching his hand. Trapping Y/N’s body and making his already racing heart nearly burst in panic. 
“No! Let go!” Y/N wanted to stay. He has to stay. His foot stomped and he released a cry, and when he looked down he wanted to cry. The tequila bottle had shattered, and Y/N was the only one who was barefoot. He could feel the glass cutting into the skin and the sting of alcohol entering the wound. 
‘Shit!’ He grit his teeth, trying to push aside the pain and get Bruce’s grip off of him. Only, someone was touching his feet now and he didn’t mean to panic but he kicked up. Memories from Crime Alley filled his mind as large hands gripped his ankles, and Bruce’s grip changed to better accommodate someone who was no longer standing. 
His throat closed up and he began gasping as he tried desperately to ground himself. His eyes blown wide and tears now streamed down his face as those hands were replaced with others. The darkness of the bungalow now shifted to the darkness of Crime Alley, and the way the counter and island now looked like the buildings of the Alley way had Y/N screeching. Thrown back into the past with painful shove and memories that clouded his vision. 
“Jason! Jason! Help, help they’re touching me.” Another pair of arms replaced the ones around his arms, and the hands around his ankles let go, but it did nothing. Y/N was effectively back to the past where it was only him and Jason. Those strong arms encircled around him, keeping his own arms pinned and secured, and they began to rock. 
Tapping on his skin and Y/N’s mind began translating it. There was no ASL or Morse Code in Crime Alley, but when Jason and him realized he was going deaf they made their own. One that is unique to them. 
One Y/N still remembers, and so does Jason. 
‘It’s okay. It’s okay, no one is doing anything. It’s just me and the family.’ Y/N shook, and he struggled to catch a breath. There is a hand on his chest, trying to ground him, and he wonders if that hand is the one that is gripping his lungs and making it so hard to breathe. 
‘It’s okay, it’s okay. You are here. You are safe. We’re safe, and we’re going home.’ Before Y/N could process that, there was a sharp prick in his neck, and before he could shout once more a hand covered his mouth, and his body tried to escape the grip. His thrashing only got weaker and weaker as whatever drug was given to him. 
His eyes grew blurry and the last thing he saw was Jason’s face. 
++++
Waking up was hard. His head felt heavy and his limbs couldn’t move. Opening his eyelids seemed impossible, but when he did he groaned. The light was too bright and his limbs too heavy to do anything other than to continue groaning. 
A hand rested on his forehead, and Y/N was too exhausted to try and shake it off. He could hear some shuffling and he furrowed his brows. He took off his external processors a few months ago… 
That night returned to his memory full force and Y/N groaned from the headache. The hand on his forehead moving to massage his temples. 
“Shh, I know. You had a crazy time.” It's been a long time since he heard Bruce’s voice, but it was still deep and gravelly just how he remembers. Y/N turned his head with difficulty, and met those blue eyes that have been staring at him intently. 
Y/N opened his mouth, but closed it. The argument he had with everyone was still fresh in his mind, and he couldn’t help but to continue feeling bitter. Bruce, sensing his son’s thoughts sighed exasperatedly, “Y/N, I admire your drive for wanting to be independent, I really do. But pulling a stunt like that is exactly why we worry.” Y/N scrunched his nose, “You don’t trust me.” 
“That’s not-” 
“It is. If you did trust me you would let me stay out later than nightfall and would be okay with me traveling without a babysitter.” Bruce removed his hand, and stared down at Y/N. His expression is painfully neutral, “Y/N.” 
“You, and no one else in this household, trust me. Then you sit here, listing out everything I do that makes you lose your trust in me, but it’s hard to lose what I never had,” He was voicing his opinion, an opinion that he has had for a while but has never said anything about because he didn’t want to interrupt the balance. 
More importantly, he didn’t want to admit it to himself. They always called him trustworthy, but they never did trust him. He trusted them though. He trusted them with his life, with his secrets, and his insecurities. Then they throw all of that back in his face and expect him to continue making the same mistakes. 
Bruce sighed, as if he was talking to a child that has needed to be told multiple times why they can’t put a fork in a toaster. He met Y/N’s E/C eyes, staring into the irises and seeing the truth behind his words. One of his fingers gently touched one of the external processors, “It’s not that I don’t trust you, I don’t trust other people. This world is awful to people who are different.” Y/N scrunched his nose, and Bruce continued, “You still panic when your ankles are touched.” 
“That’s not fair! That was a stressful situation and you all just made it worse and then-” 
“I know. I know. Dick knows and he is sorry about that, but you stepped on glass.” 
“You made me drop the bottle.” 
“You shouldn’t have been dri-” 
“I’m 23. I’m legal to drink in every country.” 
“Y/N-” 
“I was fine.” Y/N wanted to cry. He had a taste of freedom and then it was taken from him. Forcefully so. 
Bruce stood up, almost knocking the chair back as he did so, and Y/N flinched. He was unable to move still, because whatever drug Tim had given me must have been a muscle relaxant as well. He watched as Bruce schooled his emotions, quickly swallowing them down and then sighed. 
The man leaned down and pressed a kiss into Y/N’s H/C locks. His hand now cupping Y/N’s ear and external processor, “You are grounded until I say otherwise, Y/N. You will stay within these Manor walls until I believe you have learned your lesson.” He ignored Y/N’s face of exhaustion and disappointment. Not at himself, but at Bruce. The man made his way to leave, but before he closed the door, he looked back at his son. His son who had turned away from him and was taking note of the bars over the windows. 
Bruce closed his eyes, feeling his disappointment in the situation and shut the door behind him, making sure to lock it.
_________
THIS WAS SO LONG!!!
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deafsignifcantother · 2 months
Text
the v's reaction to someone taking your hearing aid
♥ summary: "what the Vees would do if they noticed their partially deaf s/o being picked on - like the other people would tear out their hearing aid(s) and break them and stuff" @aceduchessdragoness ♥ characters: velvette, vox, valentino ♥ notes: screaming and crying okay so i did val's spanish as spain spanish bc i think spain sign language would be better than narrowing his signs down to a specific latin american country but if the translation is cringe then tell me bc i'm literally using an lse dictionary
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Vox
♥ word count: 1.9k ♥ notes: i use [Y/N] for the first time in my career ong, she/her pronouns used in third person, reader doesn't speak and only signs, protective but violent vox, vox in a healthy relationship, reader gets harassed in public
It was never a mystery to you how Vox always knew where you were. Even without the watch on your wrist, you felt his eyes on you, the looming knowledge of persistent monitoring.
Not that it bothered you, of course. If anything, you were worried that he wanted to spend his time watching you instead of running his business. But whatever, it was flattering.
Whenever you went on your routine errands, you would smile at every television or security camera you encountered. On the big screens in Vox's room, he feels like the common softening of his heart. Your smile always seems so genuine. How can somebody like you adore him so much?
.
Blue light illuminates your living room. From the kitchen, you groan as you make your way to the television. Can he stop bothering you at this hour? All you wanted to do was get some damn water, but of course, as always, he's monitoring you.
Words pop up on the screen as you approach it. You rub your eyes, the brightness overwhelming. You reach for your coffee table.
GO TO SLEEP
With the sudden click of the remote, you smile as the screen goes black. One, two, three... it lights up again.
DON'T TRY
Again, the screen goes black. One... again, a bright blue illuminates you.
[Y/N]. The television shakes.
You snicker at him, finally sitting on the floor and putting the remove down. On the other side of that screen, Vox sits on his swivel chair, gazing up at you, your frame taking up multiple monitors. Your eyes look below where his point of view is.
"It's late," you sign, and the light makes your hands shine in the darkness. "Dim it a little."
He listens; his small act of consideration makes you melt. Your eyes soften immensely. Internally, he begs you to stop looking at him like that; it's embarrassing how good it makes him feel.
The television is still a blinding blue as you go from the living room to the bedroom; he follows you per any screen by your side. Worst of all, a flat-screen faces your bed, which was mandatory.
"Goodnight, Vox." You sign while putting your face up to the screen.
You turn this TV off, and to your delight, it stays off.
.
With a yawn, you stretch your morning aches away and lean your head against the table of your vanity. You get a few seconds of shut-eye before popping back up. Vox is watching; if he notices you're tired, he will try to be domestic and nap with you regardless of how much work you must do today. So you rub away your sleepy eyes and massage the tension in your jaw. Putting on your hearing aid is first on your daily to-do list; you'd like to hear if he pops up on your television and decides to update you on his morning. Sometimes, he gets so impatient. Next, while picking up your moisturizer, you try not to shiver at the coldness once it touches your fingers.
You wish yourself a good morning before rubbing it in.
At the same time of day, Vox was already up and doing his rounds, making sure his employees were getting work done. He gets antsy between when you wake up, and you get to the tower. Every morning once he sees you entering the elevator, he'll wait on the other side to welcome you in with a kiss to the forehead.
Vox checks his watch. It shows his favorite things: your vitals, location, and pretty little face whenever you dial him.
You've finally left your place, thank goodness. Pacing aimlessly has never looked good on him.
.
He stands by his window, looking down at the streets below, watching you approach. You're wearing your usual uniform, one that he picked out just for you; it consists of the same red and blue stripes he has on his everyday suit. It makes you an eyesore in the everyday crowd.
If you didn't know any better, you'd lift your head to see if you could spot him among the many stories. The building is beautiful, overpowering. The V tower's magnificent brightness outshines the rest of the V district. The constant noise of people always has you walking with your hearing aid turned as low as it can go without turning off.
With the pink light reflecting off your face, you look both ways before crossing the street, a bright smile on your face, stepping onto the asphalt before a hand grabs your wrist.
Vox furrows his brow at the sight.
You turn your head and see a friendly reporter and a cameraman, the camera not yet rolling. Your pupils flicker between them.
"Hello!" She smiles, removing her hand. With caution, you fully face her, stepping back onto the sidewalk. The 'professional' persona you've been forced to practice is finally coming to fruition.
"Hello! I'm Deaf; I don't think I'd be able to do an interview."
She flicks her hand and rolls her eyes in the most friendly way possible. "Not a problem," she signs, moving the microphone vibrantly, "I can work this out, no problem!"
You widen your eyes in a wowwwww, oh my god, that's perfect... "Oh, what a kind woman you are!"
Vox? You beg internally. Baby? Save me.
Up high, he doesn't remove his eyes from you. With the use of sign language, he can't listen in, and he can't tell whether he needs to intervene or not. There's nothing wrong with going to check, right? Or will he seem possessive, or scared? He doesn't want people to think he doesn't want you to talk to anyone. It's good that you get to sign to someone other than him and Velvette, right?
The camera starts rolling, and you square your shoulders, adjusting your sleeves for more mobility. The news reporter throws the microphone at the cameraman, who does not catch it but ignores it as she shows off her brightest smile.
"Hello, ladies and gentlemen, I have the sweetest person in hell with me, [y/n]! Tell me, how long have you two been together?"
Of course, the news has been recognizing you recently. You've been seen countless times adjusting Vox's tie (he purposely fucks it up so that you'll step close to him) as well as wrapping your arm around his and pinching the corner of his screen endearingly before you give him a babying compliment. Many people have taken pictures and edited hearts around you two. People are obsessed with how "heavenly" your relationship is.
"Oh, many months now!" You nod to yourself, trying to stop your eyes from shining with admiration. You always get so soft when you think about him; it's one of the things people notice. She looks at him as if he's her entire world.
"Beautiful!" The reporter puffs out her bottom lip innocently. "I'm sure you make that man very happy."
What do you even say to that? I hope so.
"The happiest."
"Now," she doesn't hesitate to change the topic. "Are there any challenges you two face about your... differences?"
Your eyebrows raise before furrowing in confusion. Differences? At first, you think she means his television head, but when she notices you pause, she rudely clarifies. "I mean, with your lack of hearing, you know? Don't you find it a little embarrassing?"
You lean your body away from her. "What are you saying?"
The shock of the tonal shift has you freezing in place. The reporter looks at the camera, her eyes squinting with sadistic amusement. Her fingers twitch as she lifts her arm, not even looking at you before plucking the hearing aid from your ears. She crushes it in her hand.
At first, you grab your ear, pressing your hand to it in disbelief. Your face contorts, your shoulders dropping as you try to step away. Why couldn't you see this coming? And on television—is that where this is airing? The air around you goes quiet, the sensation of spatial awareness fading a bit as you stumble back, your hand still grasping your ear. The watch on your wrist hits your cheek, and without a second thought, you tap on the screen repeatedly. The next thing that popped into your head: her bravery is the most surprising.
With a brief fall of light, Vox stands where the lady once was. You eye him with uncertainty, a look you have never given him. He faces the cameraman, not looking your way. Your eyes go up and down his body; his stance is tense, his arms are folded behind his back, and his fingers sparking with small glimmers of electricity.
You see that lying behind him is the woman, body entirely limp, smoke coming from her mouth, and her eyes looking stuck open.
He speaks to the camera, pointing his finger at it, staring intensely into the shaking, blinking red light. Your hands link around his bicep. Composure, you remind yourself. You turn to the camera with a weary smile and lean your head against him.
.
"That'll never happen again." He stares at himself in the mirror. His dressers and tables are filled with claw marks from his previous meltdowns.
You just sit on his bed, crossing your legs uncomfortably, watching him as he goes back and forth between signing to you and mumbling to himself. You haven't said a word. You just keep your eyes on him.
He protected you in the way he knew best. He wanted nothing more than to put his hands on the sides of her head and crush her skull. It would stain his suit, awful. Even worse, your suit would have been ruined, too.
Should he force you to move into the tower? He's always wanted to. The commute would be no more, and you'd be safe from the outside.
Should he prevent you from leaving at all without him? No, that might be too much, but his entire body craves to keep you secure and protected.
He won't ask you what you want. He knows there's a chance you would just coddle him and tell him it's okay. There's no reality where he will do nothing; he must devise his own plan. But first (actually, secondly, after getting his anger out on his furniture), he wants to make sure his sweetheart is okay.
Once he calmed down and sat next to you, rubbing your thigh, he watched as you scrolled through social media, looking at the hundreds of people laughing and reposting the event. He shuts off your phone, grabs it, and tosses it across the room. You roll your eyes helplessly before he lifts his hands and signs to you.
"I will track everyone down and punish them severely, baby. No one will ever touch you again, or else they will the next flashing headline."
"I know, baby," you wrap your arms around his chest and lean into him, rubbing your cheek against the smoothness of his overcoat.
You hum against him, finding it in yourself to smile softly. Protector, protector, protector. You run those words through your head; they're comforting to their own extent. Suppose he ends up locking you inside the tower. In that case, it's better than him leaving you entirely over this (which, obviously, he'd never actually do). Spending every morning and night with him wouldn't be wrong. Everything happens for a reason.
He leans back onto the bed, his feet dangling off as you curl into his side.
Before resting completely, you use a hand to sign into his chest. "Everything will be fine."
Your coddling, though annoying, provides the most relaxing warmth to his body. He groans, wrapping an arm lazily around you, feeling the usual butterflies in his stomach as you press a small kiss to his collarbone.
.
.
.
Velvette
♥ word count: 1.6k ♥ warnings: reader speaks, part scene, getting harassed by a man, vox is in this too ♥ a/n: i completely headcanon that velvette took an asl class in highschool when she was alive, i have no idea how velvette usually acts in fanfiction so this is MY velvette now
Velvette found you, such a pretty thing, in your little corner of the internet, making content for your little community. That little corner of yours is where you told the news and interpreted a lot of banter from the overlords. Your channel was the perfect mix of education and drama, all for the Deaf community in Hell.
You were, as Velvette described, a tea channel.
She invited you to the V tower to show you around. The three V's introduced themselves to you in their own way, offering you a job. The bossman, ever so gentlemanly and charming, didn't let Valentino try and make sex motions to you for longer than necessary. And before Velvette forced Vox to scurry off, she forced him to snap a few pics of you posing with her as a faux collab.
You weren't stupid. You knew Velvette only wanted your attention to spread whatever brand she endeavored to popularize. But this might be a golden opportunity. You'd learn the behind-the-scenes from three different overlords, and the content you can produce will gather insane traction.
.
Velvette is just so sweet; the way she showed her care for you was just through gift-giving.
She loved putting together gift boxes for you, similar to the sorority kind. The boxes went from cute little baskets to a cardboard box resembling a PR send. These would always be set on your desk with a bit of note from her, each time she'd signed off her name with a heart.
Jackets, shoes, candies, jewelry, pens, everything. The gifts are versatile with familiar themes of hearts. Every day was like Valentine's Day when she was 'courting' you (did she even realize she was?).
She made you bags: totes, crossbody bags, clutches, phone pouches, coin purses, anything she thought you would need with an array of colors to match any outfit. She put in hair clips and pocket mirrors, cozy slippers and fancy journals.
She even got you two matching bracelets.
You love the smirk she wears whenever she notices you adorning anything she's given to you. Damn right, she thinks, I knew it would look good.
The most enormous box she'd ever given you was the day before one of her fashion shows. Inside were glorious clothes from her collection, all for you to pick out and wear. She really loved her stripes.
You put your hearing aid on, smiling at yourself in the mirror as you watch the charm she made you glisten in the light. With your bracelet ornamenting your wrist, you pat down your stripped outfit before taking a deep breath.
.
Your entrance reeks of reluctance. The temptation to retreat back to your room is unbearable. Seeing Velvette will definitely lift your mood; where is she? Surely, she'd be the highlight of the room, but amongst all the women with their eccentric colors and clothing shapes, you can't find your eye drawing to her anywhere.
The sounds of the party blend together in a nasty concoction; you can't help but turn your hearing aids off. The sound is similar to what it's like being outside in a heavy storm; the wind, the pouring rain, the blur and whine of the hearing aids. And instead of lingering by the double doors, you push into the crowd. You're the least recognizable in the crowd of celebrities, but it doesn't stop people from moving out of the way when you try to wiggle through. You're wearing stripes, her stripes. You're either bold or very special to her; they don't want to intervene.
But your stripes also get some people to stare at you longer than they would have otherwise. Across the room, in front of you, you notice a tall, almost shirtless model coming your way, directly staring at you. You break the quick eye contact before squeezing through a cluster of girls taking selfies. They won't let you through, grimacing but not laying any hands on you. When you turn to go the other way, the man is behind you, holding out his hand, waiting for you to put your hand in his.
You click on your hearing aid and scroll up. "What did you say?" You ask verbally, clearing your throat a bit.
His eyes bounce from yours to your hand, looking at what you're touching. His head tilts in interest. You don't like the sight of his smile.
"Oh wow." He says.
Immediately, "Yeah, no," Velvette puts her hands on your shoulders and tries to push you away. "I swear, don't even look at him, he's fucking insane."
He speaks over her, but you can't process his words over how close Velvette's lips are to your ear. Her warm breath sends goosebumps down your arms, and your spine straightens. This only makes her hum in amusement.
After turning and growling at him, she effortlessly maneuvers you away. Eyes watch you even closer now as she touches you. You let her guide you throughout the room with not a clue as to where she's leading you, if anywhere. But eventually, you two end up in front of a mirror the size of a wall.
She stares at you through the mirror. "Look at you," she signs, "extravagant as ever, darling."
"Thanks to you."
"Obviously." And she bumps her hip into yours. You laugh, mimicking the motion back.
You had ditched your initial motive of getting close to the V's to gain more information about them. They were fine people to hang out with, making you laugh and feel involved. Velvette gave you special attention that nobody in your afterlife has ever given. Her lipstick left stains on your cheek whenever she kissed you, and she made an 'appointment' in her schedule once a week to paint your nails the same black color as hers.
The afternoon went by quickly; you spent time clapping and watching models show off their garb. Velvette is a true talent.
But something ruined your evening. The air hummed with laughter and the rhythmic beat of music. Velvette had been whisked away by the other V's to overlook the crowd and count the people who had attended. Among the colorful crowd stood a familiar figure whose eyes sparkled with mischief. Different from last time, you don't notice when he starts to approach again.
"You," he coos, placing his hand under your chin. You must stare at his lips to comprehend his words over the music, an awful innuendo you wish you could have avoided. He leaned in closer to you, and in return, you leaned back. Valentino had told you a bunch of times to not worry if someone puts their hands on you, that it's a typical formality in Hell. You would always roll your eyes at him, never expecting a stranger to grab you like this.
You were mentally preparing yourself to dodge a kiss. But then, daringly, he leaned in and gently plucked the hearing aid from behind your ear, holding it aloft like a trophy. Fear flickered across your face, your hand instinctively reaching for it, but he pulled it away. The charm Velvette gave you dangles like a jewel.
"Don't," you say with desperation. He puts a finger in front of your face and waves it back and forth. He coos, using that hand to grab your face as if you were the most adorable thing he's ever seen.
Your eyes are locked on the charm, and it's brash jolts. You almost beg for him to just give you the charm back.
In the middle of a conversation with Vox, Velvette raises an eyebrow; shocked and pissed, she glared at whoever had torn off your hearing aid. She mumbles, "I'd tear their hearing aid off and break it."
Before she can move closer to you, Vox puts his hand in front of her while watching the interaction. "Think before acting, Velvette."
Her frustration turns into anger as she pushes his hand away. He lets her run off; he holds a hard stare as her pink hair bobs through the crowd.
Your eyes are stuck wide with shock, and a million things run through your head, all relating to the appropriate situational response.
True to your casual self, you were having a hard time not just jamming your hand in his eyes and kicking his shins. Would you make Velvette mad? Vox?--Would that result in you being removed from the V Tower? It's all so complicated. Though you were panicking over a 'quick' decision, you and the man stayed in that position for a few seconds. He stayed laughing, dropping the hearing aid and stomping on it.
At almost the same time, Velvette threw a glass from someone's hand at the man, perfectly aimed, hitting him in the face. She lets out a small "nice!" before rushing to you.
Her hand runs down your face, and she holds you tenderly, not turning to face Vox as he puts himself between her and the man. Your eyes bounce around the entire room. Will you ever get a break from being at the center of attention?
"We're leaving. Now." she signs in a single motion so quick that it makes you smile, relieving some of the stress that's been making your head pound. She's able to sign so naturally now.
The crowd splits into two.
Behind the both of you, Vox is declaring an end to the event, apologizing to the people for the inconvenience. Velvette keeps muttering about him under her breath; you can see her lips moving and her face grimacing.
.
She has beads in front of her, a bunch of small charms with string. She signs, looking up at you. "I should have killed him."
You just watch her craft another charm, laying on her bed and kicking your feet. "That would have been funny."
She scoffs and smiles, her painted lips turning upwards. Her fingers trace over the beads, deciding which one to pick up. She wants to make it different than the last one, but what should it look like? She picks up a pink heart with a slight hum before sliding it down onto the string. She whispers to herself, perfect.
.
.
.
Valentino
♥ word count: 1.7k ♥ note: reader is a vodka drinker, i'm obsessed with writing a loving valentino, reader doesn't talk very much and prefers sign, sexually suggestive things happening but it's not nsfw, kinda written like ass, drugs mentioned but no named just symptoms, takes place on porn set, valentino kills someone, blood description
Every time you step into the studio, you're hit by the smell of sex, mostly the sweetened stench of that strawberry lube he loves so much. Visiting his work is not usually something you do often, but he's seem to be so busy lately that you can't help but bring him a drink, the most beautiful drink in hell: vanilla vodka. You can already see him licking him lips.
Strawberry lube, so prominent in your nose.
His legs are crossed and he stares at the scene in front of him, his sunglasses hiding whatever his emotions are, but his lips are still in a prominent scowl.
Though, when he sees you, his expression changes drastically. He stands with so much excitement that the actors stop to see what he's reacting to. All eyes are on you, you shy away from the attention a bit but Val doesn't seem to notice, else care.
"Amor mío!" One of his hands signs, running down his cheek while his bottom two motions for a hug.
Before you can initiate a hug, he wraps his arms around you and brings you into his chest, trapping your arms in. He's warm, vibrantly so, it's hard not to melt against him. You couldn't be surprised if you let out a small moan at the contact. Oh, how I've missed you so much.
He pulls away quicker than you'd like and takes the bottle from your hand, holding it up close to his face so he can examine it. "Burnett's, oh you shouldn't have!"
He hesitates, torn between his responsibilities and the irresistible allure of having a drink with the person he was enamored with. He's not so easy to whisk away from work, therefore (of course), you seem to be the only person who he is at every beck and call.
You smile softly, "I knew you'd like it."
With a laugh, he takes your hand and spins you, his free hands popping open the bottle, ready to embark on whatever journey you had in store.
He turns and addresses his employees, granting them a small break before turning to you with his sharp smile.
And together, you slip away from the set, leaving behind the hustle and bustle of the studio for a simple moment of peace and luxury. Walls blazed with hues of pink and blue, you both find yourselves nestled on the fluffy couch in a lounge, a wineglass in your hand while he chugs from the bottle.
"You've been so busy." You sign. You switch the wineglass into your non dominant hand to avoid spilling any of the contents. Val holds the bottle with his bottom set of hands while signing with his top ones (he was originally going to do it the other way around).
“I know, princesa,” one of his hands comes up and squeezes your cheek. “Business calls, I cannot help myself.”
“Which is why I came to visit.” 
The two of you clink glass upon glass before taking a drink. He’s trying not to finish the drink before you, he’s making sure to take his time. He doesn’t want you to leave as much as he doesn’t want to rush the break. His eyes go over your entire form and take you in, there feels like an eternity since he saw you last. Why do you have so much patience for someone like him? It’s astonishing. Surely someone as beautiful as you could find someone sweeter than her. But he’s grateful to have you, he’s mildly addicted to that internal battle of whether he wants to cherish you or own you (perhaps he can do both? Something he’s never done before). 
“What?” You ask.
“Hm?” His fingers pinch together in the casual way of signing.
“You’re staring at me.”
“I can’t resist.”
“What were you thinking about?” You sign and lean forward, giving him bright eyes. Your gaze swallows him, moth to a flame. 
He matches your body language, “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, amor mío.”
When he tries to grab your hand, you pull away. “You're acting as if you're wine drunk.” You sign. You have a sappy smile as you put your glass to your lips. 
“Never,” he wiggles his fingers as he signs. You eye him carefully, debating asking if he's kept his favorite gun on him. There's nothing worse than a drunk Valentino.
After the wine break, he has to go back to work. He feels himself getting irritated as he walks back, why can't he just continue spending the day with you? Is it worth sending everybody home? No, he has a job to do, and he needs to complete it before relaxation. But maybe he'll consider taking breaks (his least favorite word) to spend time with you.
You follow, both of your hands holding his, clinging onto him like a child.
Everybody was still in the studio, waiting for his return, not daring to leave in fear of him coming back. Actors were talking to each other casually, away from the camera, it built a strange sense of community for you. They're so nice to each other off-camera.
He drags you to his chair still holding your hand as he sits in it.
Drinking with you had been a much-needed respite from these people. He made a mental note to gift you more wine.
You remove your hands from his and smile. “Get back to work, baby.” 
Pearly white, sharp teeth show through his large smile. He presses his lips against each of your knuckles while his eyes skin over all of his actors, counting them. He makes eye contact with one particular one, a woman. They stare at each other for more than a second. She's scowling at him and he squints his eyes at her. The fuck is your problem?
She usually looks at him with sultry looks, but now there's a sharpness to them.
But his eyes peel away from her and go back to you, he leans forward and presses a slow kiss to your forehead. He signs low, almost as if he's whispering a secret. "I'll come see you after."
You smile and start turning away. "Good."
Upon noticing your departure, the actors and crew start returning to their places, keeping an eye on Valentino and any commands he might make. Their eyes are always on him, worried to test his anger. But not all the actors were worried about testing his anger.
"Hey," an actress grabs your hand before you could reach the door and you turn to her. She talks, her voice making your hearing aids buzz, "Are you guys like, dating? Are you dating the Valentino? Like, literally one of the V's."
Her words all bunch into one. You blink, taking time to think about both what she could be asking and the connotation behind it. "Yes?" It sounds more like a question than an answer. Is that the correct response?
She hums and nods, her eyes wide in amazement. Her pupils are large. Her cheeks are hollow and she has strong eyebags. With a distant sound from Val, him talking to the crew, she looks back at him before turning to you. "I mean like, why? Why would he want you?"
Oh no. You try to move away but she just follows you, stepping in front of you closer. It's like being cornered, being trapped in an almost unavoidable situation.
"Why wouldn't he?" You test with a squint of your eyes.
She just smiles at you. "Uhm," and her arm reaches over, grabbing the hearing aid from your ear, pinching it between her claws, "Obviously this."
You reach for it but she pulls it away from you, trying not to laugh.
So you do what you know is the best solution, you call his name, practically screaming it. "Val!"
At the sound of you using your voice he whips his head around. The air goes still, you can tell from the way she pauses. Her pause is only for a second, she reeks of hesitance and sudden worry. She looks at the hearing aid in her hand as if she's finally realizing what she had done and what was about to happen.
Before she can say another word, her entire body stiffs, her eyes widen before her pupils roll back. And then she's on the floor, almost falling onto you.
You wipe blood from your cheek and groan.
Val stares at you, his expression unreadable. In his hand is his jeweled gun. He pauses for a moment to take a long drag of his cigarette, letting out a cloud of red smoke before he looks at his gun with a toothy smile until he tucks it back into his belt.
He starts to approach you and for a second you're scared, it was a primal feeling. He walked like a king.
All you can do is watch him, frozen in place.
The first thing he does when he reaches you is bend in front of her body, plucking the hearing aid from her hand. It's bloody, the liquid drips from it as he lifts it up. He wipes some of it off on his shirt before handing it to you. He drops it into your open hands.
He speaks, knowing you'd have a hard time understanding. "Laying her slutty hands on my angel..."
You lean into his touch when he caresses your face. His eyes gaze at you, softening, his smile widening at how soft your eyes look. You're his greatest treasure. He gets off immensely from protecting you, he would ravish you to death in this moment if he could. Valentinos eyes drift down at the body and his pupils narrows as he glares at the dead woman. He's going to have to clean this up. Her blood is getting every where.
One of his thumbs rub against your cheek, touching the bloody smear. It stains your skin in a delectable way. So perfect.
He melts when he sees your soft eyes slowly start to match the mischievous smile growing on your face. He protected you and he was open about being dithered over her behavior, he didn't laugh at it or tease you about it. You don't doubt for an instant that he's the man of your dreams. He killed someone for you in an instant.
When you take his thumb into your mouth, sucking the blood, his spine straightens. He pulls away immediately and turns around, yelling at the his workers that filming will be cut short today.
He just can't wait any longer to spend some lovely time with you.
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ohdeersthings · 1 year
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Ao'nung x F!Deaf!Metkayina!Reader
Summary: Ao'nung has loved you since childhood.
Warning: Fluff, Ao'nung is a jerk to everyone but reader, some angst (I love emotional revelation of feelings), characters are aged up 18+ but no warnings here! Ronal ships reader and Ao'nung,
Note: was a request from @keyratch hope you enjoy it!
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~.~
Growing up, you always knew you were different. You couldn't hear the ocean waves, couldn't listen to the music of your clan for celebrations. You couldn't even harmonize with your mother as she sings to lull you to sleep.
Being born deaf, your parents tried so hard to pray to Eywa for a sign. The Tsahìk, Ronal, tried every herb and technique she knew, but nothing could change who you were.
What Eywa had decided for you to be.
You never blamed Eywa though, for the Great Mother had blessed you to feel a connection to her. You could feel her in the sand; the warmth of the sun that she blessed you with, the coolness of the ocean as you swam to admire the creatures she's created.
Even as a small child you had been drawn to the beauty of the Pandora.
The smallest sea shells you would collect and braid into your hair, stringing some together to make a necklace, bracelet, or head peice. The brightest floral you would gather to present to friends and family, just because the beauty of them made you think of others.
Ao'nung had only been eight when he met you for the first time. While training with his father on spear throwing he had caught sight of you collecting sea shells.
He was so distracted by you, he grabbed the spear wrong and cut his finger. Letting out a small hiss of pain, he instantly sucked on it, causing his father to gaze at him and then at you. Tonowari couldn't help but chuckle, "I see the silent beauty has caught your eye," Ao'nung was confused by his father's words, but quickly denied having even spotted you.
"Well that's too bad, because here she comes right now," sure enough you had seen the leader with his son, Ao'nung and had started over in their direction when you saw the big was hurt.
Ao'nung could only feel himself freeze as you closed the distance fast, suddenly reaching out to grab his hand as he tried to back away,
"H-hey! What are you doing?!" Ao'nung flinched as you pressed on his finger, the one he'd cut being too caught up looking at you. You never said anything, just brought out a healing leaf from your hip pouch and wrapped his finger quickly and efficiently.
"Thank you," he mumbled, you smiled and let go of his hand, signing to him, 'Would you like to play after training?' It had puzzled him why you didn't just ask out loud, but after looking to his father for assurance, he nodded to you causing you to smile and nod, turning back the way you'd come and headed away.
"Father, why didn't she just ask me?" Ao'nung questioned, looking up at Tomowari who smiled sadly at him, "she is deaf my son, she cannot speak for she never learned how, she cannot hear you," Ao'nung didn't feel any different towards you, maybe more curious, but he never felt like you were weird.
~.~
After that day many years ago, Ao'nung had grown, and so did his love for you. What started out as amazement and adoration as children, had since grown into feeling as if you were the only one for him.
The way you helped his sister with day to day chores, such grace and beauty weaving baskets and collecting herbs for his mother. The complete definition of selfless as you taught the children of the clan their sign, who else but you with your patience and grace.
The tingles you left on his body when you would tap his hand, shoulder, arm, anything to get his attention. You left him yearning for your attention day and night. Left him in agonizing pain at the thought of having you with him under the stars but couldn't.
Yourself however, would be a prize to any fine young Na'vi, but to your own self image you were at the bottom of the food chain. Your biggest insecurity being your deafness. You would never hear your mates words of love and comfort, would never hear the giggles of your own future children should Great Mother bless you with any.
You never had anyone express interest in you, although Ao'nung made sure of that, not that you knew. He always glared, growled or warned any man who looked in your direction. He made sure to linger a hand on your waist while talking, a smug look over his shoulder at the hunters who had tried to talk to you, a smirk at the Ilu keepers who tried to get to close.
When the Sullys had arrived, you had been busy helping Ronal with her duties as she was trusting you to take over while she got ready to give birth.
You didn't get to see Tsireya and Ao'nung as often as they were busy with teaching the new comers the traditions and expectations of the clan.
'(Y/N) go fetch Ao'nung, he should be down on the beach,' Ronal requested, you nodded, standing from your sitting position and heading out of the Marui, starting your trek to the beach.
You had found a few flowers on your way, taking a moment to pluck them from the ground and arranged them nicely. Maybe Ao'nung would like something to help brighten his mood.
Stopping once you reached the beach, you felt your eyes widen in disbelief as Ao'nung and his friends were surrounding Kiri, pointing at her and laughing. Kiri was clearly uncomfortable and trying to walk away, luckily Lo'ak came and started to intercept the boys, only they turned their hateful ways onto him.
You felt your fists clench up, nervously twisting the flowers. You started walking in that direction, Neteyam showing up as well from beside you, making yourself known too.
Ao'nungs ears pressed back, his body feeling hot with embarrassment that you'd caught him being rude to someone.
"Oh look, big brother to the rescue-" Ao'nung reached his hand out, silencing his friend who bowed his head obediently. "I need you to respect my sister from now on," Neteyam threatened, his eyes glaring into Ao'nung who nodded, trying to ease the anxiety in his chest as you approached too.
You tapped Kiris hand, the girl turning to you as you looked her over, as she tried to calm you down, 'I'm fine, no harm done,' she assured, you face turning into one of doubt but giving up in the end.
The three siblings went to walk away, but Lo'ak suddenly turned around and went back to Ao'nung, his smirk and quirked eyebrow making you upset a little. Why was he acting this way? Was he really this mean to them?
Ao'nung didn't know what had happened when Lo'ak punched him, one second he was standing and the next on the floor with his friends helping him up. They all jumped Lo'ak who held his ground to the best of his abilities, but soon found his brother Neteyam jumping in to help him.
You gasped, hands covering your mouth in disbelief, the flowers falling into the sand forgotten. Why were they doing this? 'Kiri, we need to stop them' you told her, but even she could only look on in a mix of horror and laughter.
Deciding that enough was enough, you inserted yourself into the fight, Ao'nungs friends quickly backing away as you pulled them off.
Neteyam hadn't seen you enter the fight, when he felt his shoulder get touched he quickly turned and went to punch the person, barely being able to stop himself before he hit you.
You had flinched inward, arms raised quickly to protect yourself, eyes shut incase of pain. "(Y/N)!" Ao'nung threw himself to you, shoving Neteyam out of the way, his hands gently grabbing yours to bring them down.
You squeaked, the cutest sound Ao'nung had ever heard, and opened your eyes to see Ao'nung checking you for injuries despite his cheek being bruised and lip busted. His eyes held fear and worry, hands moving from your arms to gently hold your face.
An adult nearby had brought his father and Toruk Makto, but he didn't care for the shouts that were happening, he could only focus on you. He brought his hands into view, 'You okay?' Ao'nung questioned, though your face contorted into worry as you held his face, feeling bad when he flinched from your thumb brushing his cheek.
He grabbed your hand and held it at his side as he turned to Neteyam, "Don't you ever touch her again!" If it hadn't been for his father pulling him away with you in tow, he would've attacked the oldest sibling.
"Maybe don't start things your girlfriend tries to finish!" Lo'ak yelled back, getting dragged away by his own father.
Upon entering the Marui, his mother hit him upside the head, "skxqwng! You brought (Y/n) into this?! I pray for the resilience to not break your bones!" Ao'nung averted his mother and fathers gaze, his head down as he couldn't even look to you either. Ashamed you had caught him at his worst moment.
"I leave (Y/n) to take care of your wounds, Great Mother help you find some sense!" Ronal hissed, Tonowari leading her out of the Marui to give you two some privacy.
You slowly walked over, placing a hand on his arm, Ao'nung letting you lead him to the mat and both of you sitting down facing eachother.
'What were you thinking?' You inquired, waiting for his reply as you began to mix a paste together. 'I wasn't thinking, but they deserved it, freaks all of them' he huffed, sucking it back in when you roughly applied the paste to his cheek.
His eyes found yours as you stared at him with hurt, 'What does that make me then? I cannot hear, I cannot speak well, they can communicate freely, I have to look for eyes and attention,'
Ao'nung felt his throat constrict, his hands clamy. You were so beautiful in his eyes, but the way he treated them made you think ill of yourself and that's not want he wanted.
You looked down, eyes glossy from unshed tears. His hand on your chin made you look at him, your lip trembling as your ears pressed back.
Ao'nung let go and signed only one word, but it made your body erupt in flames.
'Beautiful'
~.~
Since the incident with the boys on the beach, Ao'nung tried to be kind in your presence when the sullys were around but when the opportunity to trick Lo'ak revealed itself, he couldn't help it.
When he returned though and found you looking at him with those eyes again. Eyes filled with pain and now disappointment, he knew had to do the right thing.
'I'm sorry,' he apologized, finding you alone by the beach later that night. You turned from him, arms crossed. You weren't going to look at him or reply.
He fell to his knees in front of you, grasping at your hands desperately. You huffed, eyes glaring into him. Ao'nung used to pray he would never see that day you gave him that look, but after what he'd done to Lo'ak he could say he deserved it.
Hands trailing from your hands down to your elbows, he slowly let go and began to speak, "I'm sorry, I know I've been stupid and they don't deserve that, I'm not sure what I was thinking," Ao'nung kept his eyes trained on yours, watching you look exhausted.
"Why risk the danger? What if he'd gotten hurt? Or worse, you," you felt your lips pull back in a snarl, though he could only find pleasure in the fierceness of your face. His heart beat fast knowing you cared about him.
"I wish you would think with this," you placed your hand on his chest, feeling his erratic heartbeat, "not with this," you playfully pushed his forehead, a smile appearing on your lips. You couldn't stay mad at him, not when he smiled at you as softly as he did now.
He grasped your hand, bringing it back to his chest. You felt your own speed up to match his, both of you filled with deep affection for one another, not that the other knew.
You both stared at eachother for what felt like hours, yet only a few minutes had passed, just enjoying eachothers company.
When you had broken out of your daydream however, you quickly pulled your hand away and stood up, eyes darting everywhere but him as you shakily signed, "we shouldn't be doing this, I have to go,"
Ao'nung couldn't stand fast enough when you pulled away, tripping over the sand as you ran. Everything had just been perfect, what had happened?
~.~
You helped Ronal to sit, her stomach slowly getting bigger as the days went on. "Baby is good?" You wondered, a grin on your face of excitement as she nodded, her own smile gracing her features.
'Baby is strong, maybe a boy like Ao'nung,' she replied, you nodding in agreement, 'Ao'nung differently is strong,'
'Yes, he will be a great Olo'eyktan, if only he hurry and choose his Tsahìk,' she let her eyes slip to your figure out of the corner of her sight, seeing you quickly look down and away. Not out of embarrassment it seemed, but out of disappointment.
Ronal frowned, she did not like seeing you so hurt, especially by her own child, lest he be stupid enough to do it.
Ronal placed her hand on your cheek, bringing your face back up to make eye contact with her, 'why do you look so sad? What has happened?'
You tried to brush her off, 'it's nothing, I'm sure whoever he chooses will make a lovely Tsahìk,' you began to ramble, hands moving quickly, 'Ney`ite is the best diver, Alyara is known to sing beautifully, from what I've seen and been told,'
'He deserves someone who can help him feel better on rough days, someone who can actually listen and help with his problems, who loves and cherishes him as he is,'
Ronal tapped your hand, causing you to heat up in realization, you'd been rambling for too long. 'Someone, like you?' She quirked her brow, a knowing smirk on her face.
You shook your head, eyes feeling glossy with tears, 'what do I have to offer him?' You felt a hiccup erupt in your throat from trying to hold in your sobs, 'I cannot listen to his problems, I cannot comfort our children with words when crying, no one would look to me, Eywa may love me as she created me, but surely Ao'nung loves another,'
Ronal felt her eyes catch the sight of a figure standing behind you. Ao'nung could only stand frozen as he saw what you thought of yourself. He's never loved anyone like he loves you, and it's his fault for making you think otherwise.
Ronal grasped your hands firmly, shaking her head at you. Ronal reached a hand for Ao'nung who walked over, his shadow startling you as you looked upwards, his face looking hurt by your own tears.
Ronal placed your hand in his, his fingers gripping your own softly but firm, like a silent promise to never let go.
The Tsahìk bowed in exiting the Marui, leaving both of you alone.
Ao'nung knelt to face you, your cheeks hot with humiliation that he had to see you like this. You tried to look elsewhere but he placed his hand on your cheek, turning your face towards him.
He let go, feeling a moment of Deja Vu as he thought back to two nights ago by the water. When you both had been just as close in the sand.
"You are not less than anyone here," he signed, feeling his heart excelerate with emotion.
'(Y/n), I don't need to hear your voice to know your words are strong and kind, I don't need your words of comfort when your touches are enough,' he placed your hand on his chest, just as he did those nights ago. He hoped you would feel his heart that's beating full of love for you.
You could only feel a bizarre rush of emotions, anger at yourself for letting Ao'nung find out this way, fear in what is to come, yet, love from knowing he felt the same as you did.
'I'm sorry you did not see yourself as adequate when you are more than I could ever dream, the love you hold for our clan speaks words where your lips may fail,'
You felt your lips quiver, tears falling down your face as you tried to hold yourself together.
'I see you, (Y/n), and I would love for you to become my Tsahìk, my mate,'
You laughed, 'I would love to spend my life with you, I see you, Ao'nung,' you pressed your forehead to his, his own tear or two slipping from his eye as you both enjoyed this moment of peace together.
He raised both hands to your face, cupping your head as he brought your lips to his, the soft, plush feeling of your lips nearly driving him mad with desire. Your own hand finding home on his chest and shoulder as you felt weak from lack of air.
Pulling away, you made him stand up with you, his eyes showing curiosity. You smirked at him, 'Wanna go somewhere more private?' Ao'nungs silence spoke for itself as he dragged you out of the Marui, right past his parents who had a sudden look of realization.
"Oh Great Mother," Ronal sighed exasperated, "Looks like our youngest will be close in age to our grandchild," Tonowari mumbled, flinching from Ronal who began to hit him from saying such words, "skxqwng!"
~.~
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doumadono · 2 months
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Hi, sweets 🍭 I'd like to request deaf Bakugo headcanons - just him interacting with his little girl that demands his attention as she wants him to play with her (she is aware dad is a little off because he can't hear)
MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST
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As Bakugo's hearing begins to fade periodically with time, his little girl starts noticing the subtle changes.
The little girl, at the age of 5, struggles to understand why her dad doesn't always respond the way others do. When you, her mom, gently explains Bakugo's hearing challenges, the girl takes it all in, absorbing the information.
To bridge the gap, the little girl asks you to teach her some basic signs. With wide-eyed enthusiasm, she practices and learns the signs, eager to communicate better with her dad.
She comes up with creative ways to catch Bakugo's attention - a gentle tap on his lap, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze, or sometimes just grabbing one of the merchandise plushies you collect at home and presenting it to him.
deaf!Bakugo, in turn, has developed a keen sense of visual awareness to understand all of his little girl's signals.
Despite being aware that her dad is a bit different, she continues to demand his attention for playtime! deaf!Bakugo, unaware that his daughter is learning sign language, is pleasantly surprised one day when she excitedly signs to him, asking him to play with her. His heart brims with love and pride, witnessing the earnest effort she's making to connect with him, and he finds it challenging to hold back tears in the middle of the living room.
deaf!Bakugo often engages in games that don't rely heavily on sound but thrive on shared moments. Building intricate block towers, drawing colorful masterpieces, and playing with dolls become their cherished activities!
When it's playtime, Bakugo's face lights up with a soft smile as he watches his daughter's enthusiasm. He might not hear her words and laughter, but he feels the warmth of her joy radiating through the room.
deaf!Bakugo has developed a set of creative signals and cues to respond to his daughter's requests. Whether it's a gentle tap on the shoulder or a specific hand gesture, they have established their own silent language.
As deaf!Bakugo gradually loses his hearing completely, his daughter's ability to communicate with him through signs becomes an invaluable bridge that allows them to share laughter, love, and a world of understanding.
Despite being a hero and handling the challenges of his job, there are moments when deaf!Bakugo, alone in his office while working from home, breaks down. The silence around him reminds him of the laughter of his beloved little girl he can't hear anymore, and it hits him emotionally.
The very first time they finish playing with his daughter's dolls and plushies, Bakugo's heart melts and he can't hold back tears as his little girl approaches him, using sign language to say, "Thank you for playing with me. I love you, Daddy."
The girl is a little scared seeing her dad crying as it is an extremely rare sight. So, she climbs onto his lap, strokes his rough cheeks marked by many scars from the battles he fought, and signs at him, "Daddy, don't cry, I love you. I'll hug you, and it will be okay."
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aitchhdee · 9 months
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Bakugou, who is deaf on one side of his ear always sleeps on that side, so his good ear is facing upwards so he can hear and be alarmed if something is up. He either sleeps on his back or on the side where he can't hear with his good ear free. The only times he sleeps with his deaf ear facing up is with the people he trusts and feels safe. That shows his vulnerable side.
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goldenlikedayl1ght · 6 months
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the lakes - m. murdock
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a/n: hey guys so i've been struggling a lot with the fact that i might have hearing loss (i'm going to the doctor next week) and as always i am projecting, but i am not 100% sure everything in this fic is accurate and for that i apologize. but it's my little passion project and i hope you enjoy <3 as always, comments and reblogs are always loved and appreciated! warnings: hearing loss, hearing aids, tinnitus, reader struggling with being disabled, some parts are more vulnurable and don't have the reader being like overly confident in their disability, matt being soft, some suggestive behavior at the end, kissing, nicknames, pretty pg-13 honestly word count: 3.0k summary: your hearing aids run out of battery, and you're forced to struggle through a day of ringing ears and being deaf. matt helps, as he always does. pairing: matt murdock x hard of hearing!reader now playing: the lakes - taylor swift "take me to the lakes/where all the poets went to die/i don't belong/but my beloved, neither do you."
“Are you deaf?”
“What?”
You’re eighteen, home from college for the first time since fall break. Your family sits around for Thanksgiving, and there are so many people talking. There’s about thirteen people at this long dining room table, and they are all talking at once. You’re sitting next to your sister, but you can’t hear her well.
You know she’s speaking, and you’re sure you’re yelling, but you’re frustrated.
“I said, are you deaf? I repeated myself like, four times!”
You feel your face flush.
“Sorry, I didn’t hear you. You’re mumbling, and it’s loud in here.”
Your sister looks at you like you’re crazy.
“I’m right next to you, and I’m not mumbling. In fact, no one is yelling, either.”
You poke your fork at your sweet potatoes and feel hot, angry tears in your eyes as you avoid everyone’s gaze.
Your mom sits across from you, and frowns, planning to tell you to make an appointment at the student health center when you get back to campus.
She doesn’t even have to. You’ve booked one by the time she says it to you.
At the student health center, they administer a hearing test, and then refer you to a specialist for further testing. You call your mom, crying and she gently comforts you, before driving to the nearest bookstore and picking up a book on hearing impairments and a copy of ASL for Dummies.
At the specialist, they do another round of tests. Your doctor tells you that you do in fact have hearing issues and that you should come back in a year for more testing, to see if your hearing gets worse. For now, you get a doctor’s note that requires all your professors to take your hearing impairment into consideration. The process for getting that applied at your university is painful, and only gets worse through your years there.
Before you get to law school, your doctor tests you again, and tells you how your hearing has been decreasing in quality in the past few years. He says that you’ll need hearing aids to regulate it. You cry because you cannot afford that.
You get captioning accommodations throughout law school, as well as a note taker for certain classes that are entirely lecture based. You still try to take your own notes, but it frustrates you that suddenly you need all this help. Your own notes are incomprehensible and often miss key parts of the lecture as you sit for a few minutes trying to decipher what your professor had said a few minutes prior.
You go into corporate law after law school, choosing to stay out of court initially because you find yourself frustrated that you wouldn’t be able to process all of what’s going on due to the many voices.
You stay at this company long enough to get your hearing aids, long enough to pay your loans, and long enough to save up a good fund for your hearing aid needs.
You quit your job and get hired at Nelson, Murdock & Page as an interim while you decide what you want to do.
With your hearing aids, life isn’t so frustrating anymore. You find yourself enjoying casual chatter and not worrying about processing what your friends are saying. At family dinners, you take your hearing aids out when you’re mad at your family, to which your stepdad, another hearing aid user, always laughs.
And, despite the pay not being stellar at your job, you love it. You love working with people who need help, love fighting injustice, and you love your coworkers.
...
If only Matt Murdock would reciprocate your feelings towards him.
You’ve been dancing this dance for months. You come into work with coffee and stutter when you get to his doorway.
You wonder if he’ll ever know how desperately you want him.
You go about your days quietly, going to the bar with them at the end of a long week. You love your friends and find yourself hoping they know how much you love them.
Karen and Foggy, as well as Foggy’s fiancé, know about your hearing aids since they sit sort of clunkily on your ears.
You don’t tell Matt, though, not at first.
You know how bad it is, to not even tell your blind crush that you have hearing aids. But you’re embarrassed. It makes you sound like an old person even though you’re in your twenties.
But when Matt crawls into your window late at night, bleeding, you don’t even flinch as he crashes onto your floor behind you. You’re reading, your hearing aids out, and he’s unsure why you can’t hear him. Your heartbeat had no reaction, it’s like you don’t even realize he’s there.
He taps you on your shoulder and you turn quickly, and gasp, before starting to sign at him. Even in his disoriented state, he knows you’re doing something with your hands and moving your mouth. At first, he thinks that he might have stuff clogging his ears, but then he realizes you’re signing, probably because you think Daredevil isn’t blind.
He takes off his helmet.
“Matt?” You say, and it comes out a little louder than it should, because you can’t hear yourself to gage how loud you’re being.
He says something, and your gaze focuses on his mouth, where you can barely make out what he’s saying.
“I can’t hear you.” You say, softer now. You reach over to your bedside table and put your hearing aids on. By the time you look back, Matt has passed out on the ground. Oh fuck.
You get your first aid kit and begin to work on his wounds. When you’re done, you pull him onto your couch, now stained with his blood, and watch as he sleeps. Blood covers your hands, and you listen to him breathing.
When he wakes up that morning, you’re asleep on the couch, and when you feel him start to stir. You grab your hearing aids, and turn them on, before watching him wake.
He says your name softly, and you take his hand in yours.
“Hey.. You.. You’re Daredevil...”
“You’re deaf.”
“Hard of hearing. Not fully deaf, just… My right ear is a lot better than my left, but without my hearing aids I’m close to deaf, yeah…”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were Daredevil?”
“I was scared. Scared that… That you would view me differently, scared that you wouldn’t like me as much.”
“I was scared too..”
“When did you start losing your hearing?”
“In college. I realized it when I went home for Thanksgiving, and then it got worse from there..” You tell him. A hand reaches out to your face, and you lean into it, letting your cheek rest in his palm. His fingers trail up towards your ear and gently run his fingers over your hearing aid.
“Thanks for stitching me up.” He says softly.
“No problem.”
“The hearing aid does explain the buzzing I always hear when you’re around.”
“You can hear my hearing aids?”
“Apparently. I can hear a lot of things. I have heightened senses. You use pomegranate shampoo and had red velvet cake for dessert tonight. Your heart is racing.”
Your face flushes.
“I can turn them off if it’s bothering you.”
“How would you hear me, then?” He has a point.
“I just don’t want them to bother you.”
“Don’t offer to hide your disability just to make other people more comfortable.”
You kiss him when he says this, in a careful way. You’re gentle, making sure not to hurt him as you do. He lays there and lets you kiss him, his hands on your face. You realize you had no reason to be scared that Matt might reject you for your disability, because he is the only person in your everyday life who really gets how it is to have a disability that affects all aspects of your life.
You trace the healed scars on his skin as you kiss him gently, careful not to hurt him. You promise that you’ll kiss him more passionately when he isn’t freshly stitched up.
• • •
A few weeks passed after that night. You and Matt start seeing each other more and more as you fall deeper in love. You find it silly that you wasted so many days, afraid of talking to each other and maybe disappointing each other over the fact that you both lack a vital sense.
But Matt never views it that way. You wear hearing aids and it’s perfectly fine because most of the time, you aren’t struggling to hear him and cannot communicate with him, and he can’t see when you can’t hear him.
Instead, Matt loves that he can hear your hearing aids buzzing softly because it always alerts him that you’re there. He can hear your heartbeat and smell you, too, but it’s not quite the same as this soft little buzzing that reminds him often of a bee.
Except for this one day.
You slept over at Matt’s on a Thursday and really, you should have known better. You knew your hearing aids were going to need a battery change soon, but you’ve been so busy with work and with Matt, and worrying about him at night, that you’re tired. So tired that you forget to pick up batteries before your hearing aids die.
You sneak out of Matt’s apartment early, sending him a text that you needed to go get changed before work. Really, you want to avoid the fact that you wouldn’t be able to hear him. But he didn’t respond to your message. You decide that you don’t care at this moment and head out to work, debating the right way to tell your coworkers about your predicament.
When you get to work, Foggy is immediately talking to you, and you are tense.
“Foggy—” He’s not stopping. It sounds like he’s mumbling, and there’s this ringing in your ears. “Foggy, I can’t hear you.” He finally looks to you, and says something, you make it out to be a phrase of confusion. “My hearing aids died.” You tell him. You’re frustrated, and Matt isn’t in the office yet.
You deem this as a blessing and a curse. Foggy goes to tell Karen what’s going on and as you’re settling down for the day, you get a text. You hope it’s from Matt, but when you see Karen’s name, you falter slightly.
‘Hey! Foggy told me what was going on. We’ll have your calls redirected to one of us and you can spend the day doing housekeeping and paperwork.’
‘Thanks’, You respond, “Sorry about all this. I’m usually on top of my battery life.”
“Don’t worry about it. These things happen.”
“Still, thanks. Did you hear from Matt at all?”
“No, he probably just slept in late. He should be in soon.”
You try to ignore your anxieties over his absence even though you know that when he does come into the office, you’ll have to struggle to communicate with him all day.
So, for the first hour or so of your day, you try to get some work done but there’s a light ringing in your ears that’s getting worse and worse as you attempt to try and focus on other things. Everything sounds so muffled. You’re so focused that your teeth grind against each other, your muscles tense, as you attempt to try and block out the ringing in your ears.
You have a feeling that by the time you leave today, those hot frustrated tears will be threatening to pour once more.
You don’t hear Matt as he steps into your office and stands by your left side, where you’re almost completely deaf. He stands there for about ten minutes, trying to get your attention before he realizes the light buzzing of your hearing aids are not there.
You must not have them in.
So his hands find your shoulders gently, and instead of tensing, you actually relax under his touch, because you realize that it has to be Matt. A slight turning of your head confirms it and you lean into his touch.
Neither of you say much for a while, deciding to let your frustration slowly dissipate as you lean into his warm hands. They stay on your shoulders and upper arms, rubbing gentle patterns into your skin.
After a good ten minutes of this, his body shifts to your right side and he leans down, before speaking at full volume, maybe even a little louder, just to make sure you can hear him. It still sounds like he’s mumbling, but you can hear him.
“Forgot your hearing aids?”
“Batteries died.” You tell him. “You never answered me.”
“My phone died. I forgot my charger, too.. Are you gonna be okay to work all day?”
“Mhm..” You smile softly, “You’re gonna have to help answer calls, though.”
He kisses your cheek, and you lean into the warmth.
“Anything for you, sweetheart.” He says, a soft smile on his face.
The day goes by pretty much as you expect it. You spend it doing paperwork and dodging phone calls, your tinnitus gets worse as the day goes on. By the time the day is finally winding down, Karen sends you one final text.
“Matt’s staying a little late to catch up on some work. Want me to walk you home?”
“No, I’ll be fine. Thank you.”
You realize that because she and Foggy are heading home, you’ll be able to sit with Matt, maybe get a little bit of peace. You’re thankful, too, because you’re about to lose your mind over all of this. The ringing is just getting to be too much.
You wait a few minutes after Foggy and Karen head home before you go into Matt’s office. He smiles at you and gestures for you to come in, and you do. You lean against his desk, as he speaks loud enough now that you can hear him.
“I’ll just be a few more minutes, Bee.” Even the soft-spoken nickname doesn't get you out of your funk, too busy wanting to get on your hands and knees and beg God for your hearing back.
That doesn’t usually happen, but every once in a while you ask him for a normal life.
God sends you a blind man as your soulmate, because he must think that the whole thing is quite funny.
“Okay…”
You feel hot tears pooling in your eyes as you bite your tongue and dig your fingernails into your skin. You almost draw blood.
“What’s wrong?” He can tell that something is wrong. He can always tell, and you’re foolish to think anything less of him, and even more foolish to forget his super senses. A part of you bites back a bitter feeling, since you wish you could’ve had super smell, super sight, super taste, anything in exchange for your hearing. You were not given an exchange, only forced to give, with nothing in there for you.
You forget that your boyfriend has super senses and can taste and smell your salty tears and blood in the air. Damn him.
“Loud… Ringing in my ears, my tinnitus is always really bad when I don’t use my hearing aids for a while..” You say softly. “It’s just.. it really hurts...” You confess, tears slipping down your face.
“Sweetheart..” He takes off his glasses and rests them on the desk in front of him. “C’mere..” You can’t hear that last part, but the way he opens his arms gives you the hint.
You sit on his lap, burying your face in the crook of his neck with a shaky sigh. You feel the thumps of his heartbeat and hold onto it, the ringing in your ears slightly muffled by his skin. It doesn’t fix the problem, but it helps.
His hands linger on your body, gentle caresses of your knee or thigh happening here and there. He just wants you to know he’s there, in the same way he desires when everything becomes too much for him.
“”m sorry..” you say gently, and he just hushes you softly, kissing your head. He traces patterns into your skin. He traces words into it as well.
L-O-V-E.
S-W-E-E-T-H-E-A-R-T
He traces your name, his, and your last names.
You kiss him softly, realizing that you might never be 100% okay with your hearing, but Matt will help. He’ll understand. He loves you, and it’s enough to be confident in your future again.
You spend only a few minutes more in the office before you decide to head home, his hand never leaving yours.
You make it back to his apartment and Matt plugs his phone in in case you need to text him and get his attention. You wind up stealing a pair of sweatpants, a tee shirt, and a pair of fuzzy socks. The two of you wind up tangled together on his couch.
Your ear is pressed against his chest as he gently caresses your skin, occasionally moving your hair from your face. He mumbles sweet nothings, and while you can’t hear them, you feel the rumbling vibrations in his chest, and you relish in them. You bathe in the feeling of his heartbeat thumping against his skin.
You fall asleep like this, with Matt touching you and talking in this low tone to make sure you can feel the vibrations of his voice in his chest and in his throat. It’s enough just knowing he’s there. That this thing you thought would deem you unlovable is no match for Matt Murdock, who on your wedding day will throw up the sign for ‘I love you’ in ASL.
For Matt Murdock, who, when you’re taken for loving the devil, will find you and take you into his arms and kiss you so that you know he’s real.
For Matt Murdock, who touches you in all the right ways so you can hear the sounds of your own pleasure.
For Matt Murdock, who will gently trace patterns into your skin when you need to be grounded. For Matt Murdock, who feels himself slipping further and further in love with you and finds himself searching for the soft buzz of your hearing aids when you walk into the room.
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littledovesnow · 4 months
Text
the sound of snow
request: coriolanus with a girlfriend (wife in this case) who has hearing damange from the war
word count: 2.2k
content warnings: coriolanus being kinda awful in his speech but it's canon sooo, lucky flickerman trying to make a joke (spoiler: it doesn't land well), i think that's it?
a/n: ok i am not d/Deaf/HoH but i do have friends and former classmates who are, and i've done research before writing this. please correct me if i am wrong about anything. i left some things vague (such as hearing loss level), but overall i think it's decent?
also italics are when there's sign language being used :)
also also i had like three title ideas for this but i feel like they're all so bad but i liked this one the best
-----
Coriolanus had first met you back when you were both still wet behind the ears, unsure of how to navigate life after the Dark Days. His family had taken a direct hit when District 13 was no longer, his family’s fortune plundering into the depth unknown. Your family, however, had to face a different setback: a few rather close bomb blasts had stolen a majority of your hearing.
Coming from an affluent family, you were able to afford a private tutor growing up, teaching you and your family sign language, though as you grew old enough you were fit for a hearing aid in the left ear—the only one with enough hearing left to make it worthwhile.
All the while, you and Coriolanus never turned your backs on each other, choosing to let each other in on your trials and tribulations, knowing secrets were safe between the two of you. He had thus learned sign language from being in your home so often, Tigris and the Grandma’am having picked up on some of the more common phrases.
When you were both of age to begin at the Academy, your father fought tooth and nail with the Dean to ensure you were well-equipped with an interpreter when necessary, though you often went without one as you grew tiresome of the stares from your classmates.
During the 10th Annual Hunger Games, you say alongside Coriolanus as you two watched the tributes battle for victory, both celebrating when Lucy Gray was crowned the victor, both unaware of what fate waited your boyfriend the following day.
His stint in District 12 was something you two rarely spoke on, choosing to forget those few disastrous months while you were separated, you back in the Capitol studying at University while Coriolanus learned the hard way what it meant to be a Peacekeeper, to learn what it feels like to betray a friend, to learn what true power felt like.
Dr. Gaul had spoken to you prior to calling Coriolanus back to the Capitol, wanting your input if he would be a considerable candidate for her Gamemaker Apprenticeship, to which you informed her it was one of the biggest honors he would have wished for. Thus, Coriolanus was recalled back to the Capitol, back to you, where he stood alongside Dr. Gaul to prepare for years of Hunger Games, eventually landing as a true Gamemaker as Dr. Gaul began to take steps back in preparation for her retirement.
One day, however, Coriolanus had told her he was interested in becoming Panem’s next president, with Felix Ravinstill gone and no other heirs of the title, an election would take place. It was no surprise to the Head Gamemaker when the blonde brought the idea up, having seen him yearn and hunger for the coveted presidential position since he was fresh out of the Academy.
It came as no shock when he was announced at the Panem’s next president, you alongside of him as the First Lady. The country never knew what would become of the young couple, stars and revenge in their eyes.
-----
Coriolanus knew where he could find you once he returned from the Citadel, having met with Dr. Gaul for the upcoming 25th Hunger Games. He wanted them to be more of a spectacle than usual, to commemorate the quarter century since the end of the war.
He ignored the Avox who had opened the door to the private wing of the mansion, ignored the Avox who had his usual glass of whiskey waiting on a silver platter.
Opening the door to the greenhouse, Coriolanus’ eyes lit up as he saw you carefully pruning the rose bush planted in memorial of the Grandma’am. “Love?”
You looked up, and Coriolanus smiled when he realized your hearing aid was still in. You usually chose not to wear it while at home, preferring the comfortable silence from time to time.
“How was your day?” He asked, helping you untie the gardening smock you wore to protect the clothing underneath.
“It was fine, uneventful.” You replied, looking at the garden around the two of you. “How was Volumnia?”
Coriolanus was still gobsmacked that Dr. Gaul allowed his wife to call her by her first name, only a select few Capitol citizens were granted that honor, though he was one of them.
“She misses you, asked that you stop by sometime for lunch.” Coriolanus mused, plucking a rose out of the bunch in the vase. “Maybe you can help her come up with some new strategies for The Games, she loved your idea of stocking some food in the middle.”
You felt your cheeks heat up, not expecting the silly idea of arming the tributes with food to be such a hit in the Captiol. Betting had been at an all-time high for the tributes who had been able to get their hands on the stale, tasteless protein bars.
“I’ll see if she’s available on Thursday.” You knew the mad scientist would make room any day to meet with you. She had a soft spot for you, no one was quite sure why.
“You can ask her this evening, since we have that awful gala to start preparing for The Games.”
You looked at your husband, clearly forgetting about the gala. “I forgot that was tonight. I wouldn’t have pruned the roses if I had known.”
Coriolanus, who was cold-hearted and strict in public, simply waved off the nonissue. “You wore gloves, a smock, you look as beautiful as ever.”
You pressed your lips to his, disappearing to the bathroom for a shower prior to getting ready.
-----
 Attending Capitol galas and evening events as First Lady of Panem was something you weren’t sure you would ever get used to. Cameras flashing, various news outlets trying to get a snippet of you and Coriolanus talking, microphones in your faces.
Not that they would get anything, as Coriolanus was only going to give hints at his next political plans, life events, anything really, to Lucky Flickerman, who he had become rather close with following his mentorship in the Academy.
“D’you want anything to drink?” Coriolanus asked, lips brushing on the shell of your left ear.
Nodding, you two moved over to the bar for a couple glasses of posca before starting the endless circle of meeting politicians, thanking Capitol elites for their support, and the nagging question of when you two would start a family.
You had eventually been able to break free from the conversation you and Coriolanus were stuck in when Lucky Flickerman himself took the spot in behind the podium, preparing to start the night’s speeches.
Taking your seats, you felt Coriolanus place his arm on the back of your chair, hand brushing up and down the back your right bicep, goosebumps breaking out in the area.
As Lucky began his speech, you moved closer to your husband, whispering in his ear, “I can’t understand what he’s saying.”
Coriolanus looked back at you, noticing the missing hearing aid, eyebrow raised.
“I forgot to put it back in after my shower.”
Without missing a beat, Coriolanus shifted in his seat and began to interpret the speeches for you, ignoring the not-so-subtle looks you two were getting, mainly from newer guests who weren’t used to seeing the president use sign language.
At the conclusion of Lucky’s speech, a Capitol employee scuttled over to the First Couple.
“President Snow, we can have an Avox translate if you’d like.”
Frowning, Coriolanus shook his head. “That’s alright, I can interpret for my wife.”
The employee didn’t seem to expect that response, simply blinking at the couple.
“Is that a problem?” Coriolanus asked, ignoring your hand on his knee.
“N-no, not at all. I just- you’re expected to make a speech tonight, too.” The employee tried to backpedal, not wanting to ruin his career tonight.
You chose this moment to speak up, not wanting Coriolanus to overreact. “It’s fine, Coryo’s quite apt at making sure I know what’s going on. Why don’t you be a dear and get me a glass of wine?”
The employee was quick to leave the conversation, and Coriolanus looked at you. “You’re too kind to them.”
Shrugging, you took the full glass without so much as a glance in the employee’s direction. “Someone has to be.”
Coriolanus let out an airy laugh as he stood up, dusting off some nonexistent crumbs from his burgundy suit. He squeezed your arm before departing from your side, taking his place where Lucky Flickerman had left open, the weatherman-turned-host made sure to give his hand a shake as they exchanged pleasantries.
 Giving everyone a moment to settle down, Coriolanus cleared his throat before beginning, shocking nearly everyone in the room as he used both his voice and hands to conduct the speech.
“The Twenty-Fifth Hunger Games are right around the corner, so I thought I would give you all a twist I’m putting into the Reaping ceremony this year, and potentially the following Reapings. Dr. Gaul and I have had numerous discussions about how tributes are elected, and from prior games being rigged, we have initiated a couple updates to the ceremony and process.”
You were curious of the updates Coriolanus was talking about, unaware he was still dipping his toes into Gamemaking.
“Rather than each District’s mayor or elected spokesperson calling the names, we will have someone from the Capitol pull names. It will eliminate the possibility for rigging the tributes. In addition, who really wants to watch groups of children kill each other? With Reaping eligibility starting at age twelve, the Gamemakers and I have decided to increase the number of entries one gets as they age. When they reach the age of eighteen, each possible tribute will be entered into the Reaping six times.”
You weren’t able to hear everyone’s whispers, but you could see them looking at each other, taking in the news.
Coriolanus concluded his speech by introducing Dr. Gaul’s assistant, as the Head Gamemaker had something come up rendering her unable to attend the gala.
When he returned to your side, you looked him up and down. “Some updates, huh? Whose idea were they?”
Coriolanus had a smirk on his face, simply bringing his glass of posca to his lips.
-----
After all of the speeches were finished, some music began to play, letting the now tipsy and drunk Capitol elite take the dancefloor with eager steps.
Lucky Flickerman meandered over to where you and Coriolanus were still seated, discussing what Tigris deserved for her upcoming birthday.
“Not going to share a dance tonight?” He asked, looking between the two of you.
“Oh, Lucky, you should now, we don’t really dance. Only for the most special of occasions.” Coriolanus smiled, twisting the wedding band around his finger.
You wore a matching smile, though your reply wasn’t quite what Lucky expected. “And besides, Lucky, I’m not the best dancer if I can’t hear the music. You should have seen the first time we tried to dance together in the Academy.”  
The mustached man opened his mouth like he was going to reply, but nothing came out except for a chuckle.
Coriolanus hid his smile behind the glass of water he had switched to, not able to tolerate the posca and wine like he had before.
It was one of his favorite moments after you two had officially started dating. The Academy had their annual prom, though it tended to be more of a fashion show than dance, as many students arrived in extravagant outfits that were ill-suited for dancing.
You had been in a sparking silver dress, heels a gift from your mother, red-tinted lips dropping when Coriolanus asked you to dance with him.
It had been enough missteps to last a lifetime, but the two of you took it in stride, promising each other to get a proper dance instructor before your first dance at the wedding years later.
“I do hate to break up the fond memory, honey, but we should be heading out.”
Coriolanus downed the rest of his water before standing, lending you his arm as you two bid goodnight to your friends and Coriolanus’ closest colleagues, before disappearing from the gala.
-----
You walked out of the bathroom from taking your makeup off to see Coriolanus sitting on the bed, sheets pulled back for your arrival.
“Who are you thinking will be the Capitol’s representative for the Reaping?” You asked, mind still going back to the Reaping updates.
Coriolanus closed the book he was reading, eyes looking you up and down as you climbed into the bed. “I don’t know yet. Why, do you have anyone in mind?”
You shrugged, pulling the sheets up to your chest, yawn escaping your lips. “No one in particular, but I’m sure I could come up with some names.”
Coriolanus laughed, setting his book on the nightstand next to him. “We can talk about it when you’re not going to fall asleep in mere minutes. Goodnight, love.”
“Mm, ‘night, Coryo.” You whispered, letting Coriolanus’ soft breathing and the distant sounds of sirens lull you to sleep.
-----
a/n: hey was this good should i do more in this universe let me know
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dilemmaontwolegs · 1 year
Text
See No Evil, Hear No Evil {1}
Aemond One-Eye x deaf!fem!reader Summary: Love blossoms when you get to know the sweet man and not the cocky Prince. Warnings: fluff, Aegon being a predator, more fluff. I know lip reading is not easy or infallible but for this the reader is able to read lips almost perfectly. WC: 4.9k
Part One || Part Two || Part Three ||
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Couples were dancing around the space that had earlier been occupied by long tables for the feast, their joyous smiles twisting your gut with jealousy. No one would ask you to join them, not when you could not hear the very music that set the pace.
Returning your attention to the table that you were seated at, you watched the men and women intently. Some glared at you when they caught your eyes on them, waving their hand as if it could blow you out of sight and out of mind. Moving on to the next, you found a single blue eye staring back. 
Prince Aemond. He was another social outcast, though his personality was as much to blame as the jagged scar that ran through his left eye. There was always a taunting smirk on his lips and a cold gleam in his eye, it sent the courtiers vying for the hand of anyone but him. Not even the power hungry, attention seekers dared to subject themselves to his viperous nature. 
His brother captured his attention and whatever spell had kept you enthralled with his stare broke. The two Targaryen princes leaned together and Aemond’s lips pursed as Aegon spoke with nervous mannerisms that warned you they would have been whispering, but you could read his lips. 
“There is something desirable about a silent woman,” Aegon said as his eyes flickered your way. “But I would do anything to make her scream.”
Aemond’s lips pulled back with a sneer before he answered, “I can only imagine the depravities that fill your mind.”
“I do not think you have the creativity needed to imagine them, little brother.”
“Thank the gods for that blessing,” Aemond said as he leant back. “She is too intelligent for you anyhow.”
“Intelligent?” Aegon rocked back with a laugh that drew the others’ attention to him. “She cannot hear and does not speak.”
Aemond turned his eye back to you. “Then she must see a great deal, for there is definitely intelligence behind those eyes.”
“Then I would face her down when I bed her.”
You looked away and wrapped your fingers around the silver goblet so they were occupied and the trembling was hopefully unnoticeable. You had expected no better of the eldest son of the King, he was known to stick his fingers in many pies - though sometimes he didn’t stop at his fingers. 
You might have been deaf to the tales the maids spoke of as they prepared you but you saw everything from the tears in their eyes to the bruises barely hidden by their uniforms. Just the thought of Aegon even noticing you had a knot twisting in your stomach.
Pushing the velvet-lined chair back, you rose from the table and nodded silently to the sickly Viserys. He gave a weak dismal wave of his hand that rested on the arm of his chair and you pressed your fingertips to your chin in return, thanking him for permitting your leave. After flattening the layers of skirts that had creased beneath the table, you laced your fingers together and ignored the two stares that watched your retreat from the dining room. 
The feeling of spiders dancing down your spine didn’t ease, even after you had snaked your way through Red Keep to the atheneum. There would normally be a maester wandering the quiet halls full of books, organising the rows into alphabetical fashion and finding requested pieces for others, but with the late hour it was empty. 
The scent of dust and beeswax greeted you as you closed the door behind you. Someone had been waxing a leather bound book cover and the yellow bar had been left beside a half shiny cover as if they might return at any moment. Walking over to the small table, you opened the cover to see what the book was and found it to be a personal journal of Aegon the Conqueror. 
Warmth touched your nape and your lips parted with a sharp intake of breath as you spun around, your legs tangling in the skirts and your hip hitting the table with a sharp jolt of pain. Aemond stepped back with a smirk, his hands raised in innocence that was betrayed by the amusement in his eye.
“Apologies,” he said. “I did not mean to startle you.”
You rubbed your palm over the bruise that would no doubt be forming and narrowed your eyes at the blatant lie. “I shall rephrase, I did not mean for you to get hurt.” Aemond’s smirk grew until his lips parted and his shoulders bounced with a laugh. “I know you can understand me.”
He reached for you and you froze at the closeness, and his scent that washed over you as his hair nearly brushed your cheek. He smelt of the woods you had run through as a child, pine and earth, fresh and rich. Then there was the fruity yet tarty hint of wine that followed as he exhaled slowly, as if he had taken an equally long inhale of the floral perfume you wore.
As quick as he had come for you, he was gone, Aegon’s journal with him and you let out a shuddering breath as you realised you were not the object he had been reaching for. He seemed to take pleasure in the confusion on your face as he smirked once again and tucked the novel under his arm with a mocking bow. 
His eye lingered on your hip as he straightened. “Take care, milady.”
You could not breathe again until the door sealed shut but you no longer felt the calm that you usually found in the athenium, the books no longer welcoming as the tall shelves towered above you with their dark shadows. Angered by the effect Aemond had in your place of sanctuary, you swiped a book from the closest shelf and made for your chambers and the thick lock bolt that you could hide behind. 
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The courtyard was busier than usual as you took a seat on a stool against the Keep walls. The airy space had become a favourite place to sit since you were not allowed to leave the high red brick walls without an escort. Since this was not your House territory you had to rely upon King Viserys’ white cloaked guards but you did not wish to make a fuss so you had not utilised the soldiers. 
The sky was blue and the clouds that had blanketed the city at dawn were quickly evaporated by the heat and it enticed many others to step into the sunshine. Pulling your small bound notebook from the pocket in your skirt, you unwrapped a stick of coal and looked around for something to catch your eyes. The twin guards, Arryk and Erryk, were huddled close as they entered through the gates and your hand moved across the page.
E: She paid another maid to leave last night in the cover of darkness. That is the fourth this month. A: What did you expect? Bastards don’t belong in the Keep. E: Someone needs to stop him. A: Careful, brother, what you speak could be considered treason.
They disappeared deeper into the Keep and you read over the dialogue trying to understand what they had been talking of when a shadow passed over the page. You slammed the book closed and looked up, momentarily blinded by the bright sun reflecting off the head of long silvery white hair. 
The stick of coal had fallen to the dirt in your rush to hide the page and Aemond crouched before you to gather it, holding it out in his palm. Your eyes lingered on the calluses from hours of training and the thin scars that littered the skin that peeked out from under his tunic. 
You had not seen him since the incident in the atheneum and you had forgotten the connection that had seemed palpable in the days gone by but now you were once again caught by his eye. You had failed to notice the flecks of violet in the pale blue iris when you last saw them but that was in a dimly lit room, in the sun they were almost iridescent.
It wasn’t until he took your hand and unfurled your fingers that you realised how long you had stared, breaking away with embarrassment as he placed the coal into your palm. The hairs on your nape rose under the intensity of the moment and you curled your fingers around the coal gently so as not to crush your writing tool. You slipped the coal back into your pocket and pressed your fingers to your chin.
“You’re welcome,” he replied with a small smile. He reached for your face and your breath froze in your lungs as he ran his thumb softly across jaw. “Can’t have a smudge of coal hiding your beauty.”
You were certain you read his lips wrong but the flutter in your chest betrayed your common sense and a smile tugged at your lips. His eye followed the curve of your smile and he had to shake his head to clear his thoughts before rising to his feet. 
“Care to walk with me, milady?”
You could feel eyes on you as the crowd snooped to see why the One Eyed Prince would be talking to you. You had long ago learned to ignore the stares but for some reason that seemed a harder task today. Tucking your notebook away, you accepted his offer with a nod and let him lead the way to the Royal gardens that were usually off limits.
“I must admit, you intrigue me,” Aemond said after stopping beneath the weirwood tree and facing you. “You and your notebook that you carry everywhere.”
You automatically pressed your hand to the reassuring weight and frowned, wondering where this was leading to.
“May I see it?”
Your fingers tightened around it and you shook your head adamantly. A heat flared across your skin at the thought of him reading your notes and looking at the drawings that you attempted. He appeared within the pages far too often for your own liking. 
“As prince, I could demand it of you,” he said as he stepped closer. The wind changed and caught his hair, flicking wayward strands over his shoulder and the scent of lemon verbena shampoo drifted your way along with the purely masculine musk of sweat from training. 
You walked away, needing to clear your senses that he overpowered much like his very presence in the garden. The notebook suddenly seemed like an anchor and each step was heavy as you took a seat on the edge of a long bench in the shade. From the corner of your vision you saw Aemond sit at the other end, the entire length separating him from you. 
Tap, tap, tap. 
Your fingers tingled with the vibrations as they rested atop the bench beside your legs. 
Tap, tap, tap.
You turned to face Aemond and found his smirk growing as he used his fingernail to tap and scratch the wood. 
“You can feel that, can’t you?”
You nodded your head and his smile grew, transforming his face and erasing the harsh lines that were usually shaped with a scowl. You startled with the realisation that you found him handsome and your palms grew warm as you wiped them on your dress that was suddenly too heavy for the spring weather.
Tap, tap, tap.
You were pulled from your thoughts and looked back at the prince, hoping he could not see the effect he had on you but the intensity to his stare made you feel naked, as if every thought you ever had was laid bare for him to read. 
His lips parted with a sharp intake and he leant closer, though he was still far from reach as he mouthed the word, “Beautiful.”
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There was something therapeutic in being around the horses and you often found yourself wandering into the stables. The servants and stableboys no longer sent you odd looks as they grew used to your presence most days and you were grateful to be left in solitude as you combed the black and grey haired stallion that had caught your eye. 
You had just placed the comb back on the hook that hung beside the gate when you felt vibrations in the wood beneath your hand. 
Tap, tap, tap.
Stunned, you turned to find Aemond resting against the gate with a lazy smile on his face.
“I hope you aren’t planning on stealing my horse, gorgeous.” 
You rolled your eyes and didn't dignify him with an answer as you reached into your skirt pockets and found the carrot you had stolen from dinner the night before. Aemond’s shadow followed you as he opened the gate and stepped inside the stall, his hand landing gently on your shoulder so you were aware of where he was, as if you hadn’t been keeping track.
“No wonder Storm was slow to gallop,” Aemond said as he faced you from the other side of his horse, his hand petting down the long mane. “You have been spoiling him.”
You kept your palm flat as you Storm’s lips pulled back and he greedily took the carrot. The name suited the horse with his colourings of the turbulent stormy skies and you scratched his ear while he finished his snack. 
“As much as I enjoy hearing my own voice, there must be another way for us to communicate.” Aemond stepped around the front of Storm and you frowned as you no longer felt the urge to back away from him as you had in the past. “Teach me the signs I have seen you do.”
You were shocked by his request even though you knew him to be an intellect and a scholar, the fact that he spent so many mornings training to be a warrior seemed to fill you with the idea that he was more brute than student. Your nursemaid had been the one to help you create the secret language but it had never really expanded past what a child might need to convey. You had relied upon written communication but that was only useful with the highborns who were educated, unfortunately most of the servants were illiterate. 
Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out the notebook you were never without and tore out a blank page before he could see what secrets the book held. He watched as your handwriting sprawled across the page and you could see his chest bouncing with a laugh before he took it from you.
He slipped the note into the folds of his cloak with an amused smile, not at all offended by the message you had given him. You smell. Bathe first, then I will teach you.
“I shall meet you in the library, milady, after bathing of course.” He bowed at the waist though his eye never left you and you didn’t see the mocking smile he had given you the last time he had made the gesture. The pale blue orb seemed to zero in on the pulse at your neck, as if he could see how rapidly it raced in his intense presence. “I shall see you soon.”
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Three Months Later
You had seen neither hide nor hair of Aemond as you strolled the halls of the Keep, the tourney for his brother’s name day was about to begin and you did not wish to enter the highborn box alone. Giving up hope on finding him, you followed the few other ladies who were late and slipped into the back row in the hopes your presence would go unnoticed.
The bench seat kept shifting as ladies rose with their garlands, tossing the favours to the lords who asked in hopes they might win their challenge with the luck. Each time they moved you cursed inwardly and settled your heart that pounded erratically, wishing the entire event be over with. 
You were tracing the embroidered floral design on your skirts when a hand waved in front of your face and you nearly fell back in fright. The only person you knew it wasn’t was Aemond, he knew to touch your shoulder to get your attention so as not to give you a heart attack. Peering up as you clutched your chest, you found Lady Reyne looking apologetic as she pointed to the front where the jousting course was set. 
Aemond sat atop his horse, patiently waiting with a smile as he caught your eyes. A thousand questions ran through your head as you rose from the bench and clutched the favour of woven asters and budding chrysanthemums to your breast. You could feel the eyes of the entire crowd following your steps down to the front of the highborn box and past King Viserys, but there was only one that held you captive. 
“May I ask for your favour, milady?”
You nodded with a smile, grateful that you had taken his advice to make the flower crown. When he said that someone may ask one of you, your head had fallen back with a silent laugh before you shook your head, but he had insisted and you could not deny him. 
Casting the favour out, it twirled down the length of his jousting pole until it reached his hand. His smile was brighter than the sun as he pulled at the reins of his stallion and made his way to the lists. His mother caught your hand with a gentle smile as you passed by and she patted the space beside her in invitation. 
You ringed your fingers nervously as you watched Aemond’s armour shimmer in the sunlight while his horse paced, awaiting the drop of the flag to begin the match. Alicent placed her hand over yours, unclenching them and lacing them with hers as she fretted over her son. You could tell she liked the idea of seeing her son facing a jousting opponent as much as you did. You had seen the heinous injuries one could get in the sport. 
Alicent patted your hand and you tore your eyes away from Aemond to look at her as she said, “He will be fine, dear. Aemond is one of the best.”
You nodded and hoped it looked reassuring before you noticed the flag drop. Aemond kicked his boots in the stirrups and his horse took off, kicking a spray of sand up behind him. You barely breathed as he raced along the fence and levelled out his pole, his opponent doing the same. Time seemed to slow as the poles crossed each other and crashed wood against armour, shattering into splinters. 
The air in your lungs exploded from you as you jumped to your feet and rushed to the rail to see Aemond still atop his horse. His opponent was sprawled across the sand but Aemond paid him no mind as he circled back to the rail where you waited and pulled his helmet from his head before shaking out his long hair that was mussed up. 
“Is your heart still in your chest?” Aemond asked as he looked up at you, amusement teasing a smirk on his lips.
You pointed to yourself and curled your fingers over your face before pointing to him, his lips parting with a laugh that shook his shoulders. 
“Why are you mad at me? I won.”
Waving him off, you noticed the next opponents were arriving to request their favours and he shot them a dirty look as they interrupted you. 
“Meet me in the library.”
You nodded and moved away as two ladies reached the railing, missing the smile Alicent had after watching the interaction. 
The tourney would continue all day so it was no surprise to find the athenium empty when you arrived and took a seat on the plush settee. The stained glass windows cast a colourful shadow across the stone floor and you reached into your pocket for your notebook and coal to capture the image. 
You were just finishing with the shading and smudging the shadows onto the parchment with your fingertip when you felt the air shift around your face. A smile was already pulling on your lips when you looked up to find Aemond dressed once more in his finery and his hair still damp from bathing. The citrus tart of his soap teased your nose and you reached for him as you closed your book. 
He let you pull him onto the cushioned seat beside you and chuckled to himself as you ran your hands over his fitted shirt before he caught your hands. “I am unharmed.”
You narrowed your eyes at him until he released your hands to continue to make their own assessment. When you were satisfied that he was not just trying to placate you, you shuffled closer and slipped under his arm that he opened for you in invitation. 
While waiting for his arrival you had been wondering how you could return the gesture he had made for you in front of the entire city and he could sense your unrest as you shifted in your seat. Unable to look him in the eye, you grabbed your notebook and placed it on his lap.
His fingers traced your jaw and turned you to face him so you could see what he had to say. “Are you sure?”
You nodded before you lost your courage and he carefully opened the bound covering as if it were an invaluable, fragile piece of history. He treated it knowing how you cherished it. 
You did not look to see what pages he perused, some drawings and some snippets of passing conversations, but instead watched his reactions. With each turn of the page you knew what he would find and your nervousness grew. The drawings of Red Keep and the Royal Gardens would soon change and he would see himself through your eyes. 
It had not taken long for him to become your muse, in fact in the last few months it had become an addiction. There was not a day that passed where you didn’t want to capture his likeness, sometimes it was when the sunlight caught his hair or the smile that he reserved just for you. 
His lips parted with surprise and you knew he had reached the moment you had first given in to your desire and drawn him content in the gardens. Your palms turned clammy and your heart threatened to beat right out of your chest as he turned each page until he reached the last and closed it.
You swallowed the lump in your throat as he turned to you and you saw his eye shimmering with unshed tears. Of all the reactions, that was not one that you could have expected. Aemond was always so collected and cool until you had peeled back the layers of his self-protection but this was the last mask to fall away. 
You reached for his cheek, cupping the warm skin as you wiped away the single tear that escaped before he closed his eye and leaned into the touch. 
“Thank you,” he said as he opened his eye again, blinking away the rest of the tears before they could fall. “No one draws my eyes.”
You frowned at the statement and he sighed from the heavy breath of air that brushed over your skin. “The artists who take our portraits do so from my right, this,” he tapped his leather eye patch, “makes them uncomfortable.”
Tears welled in your own eyes as you saw the pain he still felt though the wound had long healed. Though it was compromising, you rose to your knees and straddled his legs, shock flitting across his face before fear seeped in as you reached for the leather patch. 
“It is not pretty, milady.”
You circled your palm over your chest and you thought he would deny your plea for permission as he pursed his lips but then he bowed his head with a nod. 
His eye stared intently at you as you traced your finger over the leather that had been warmed by his body heat. The smooth material was softer than you thought it would be as you eased it from his head and bared his scar for the first time. Your breath rushed through your parted lips as you saw the crude line that had carved through his eyebrow, down his eye and across his cheek. 
He turned away and your heart clenched as he hid himself from you but he had to know, it wasn’t the scar that caused your reaction, you were horrified at how he had been hurt so badly. Cradling his cheeks in your hands, you gently guided him back to you but still he refused eye contact.
There was only one way you could show him how you felt and your stomach fluttered at the thought as you pulled him closer and pressed your lips to his cheek, just below the scar. His breath warmed your shoulder as he shuddered beneath your touch and you kissed him a little higher, grazing the skin that changed from smooth to raised. The tension in his shoulders relaxed with each soft kiss and when you pulled back you were able to admire the sapphire that replaced his missing eye without him turning away.
“Are you not repulsed?”
Your brows knitted together in confusion as you shook your head and stood up, instantly missing the warmth of his hands where they had rested on your hips. He watched curiously as you grabbed your notebook from where he had placed it and fished your pockets for the coal. Though you wanted to sit close to him it was not the right place for what you wanted to do and so you took a seat on the settee opposite.
Not liking how far you were away either, he tried to stand and join you but the stern finger you pointed at him had him sinking back into the cushions while you found a blank page. He remained still as you captured his likeness on the page and the colourful shadows of the stained glass window reached his hair. 
You knew of merchants that could recreate colours with ochre and malachite collected from Essos but even with your family’s wealth the rare minerals remained out of reach. You were left with the common sticks of coal and on your name day you often received the finer illustrator of graphite. 
Satisfied by the portrayal, from the long strands of hair that were now dry to the strong jawline that had felt better than imagined in your hands, you rose from the chair. Aemond welcomed you back into his arms and eagerly looked at the page that was still open. His throat bounced with the swallow he took and you chewed on your bottom lip as you waited with bated breath.
He turned slowly so you could see his lips before he spoke, “This is how you see me?” 
You looked at the picture and smiled at the face of a confident, handsome young man as he faced the world without having to hide. Looking back at Aemond, you placed your hand over his heart and nodded. 
His arms pulled you closer as he dipped his head and your body trembled in anticipation. Every nerve ending flared to life when his lips caressed yours ever so softly and your hands tangled in his hair as you returned the kiss with more force. You could feel his smile against you before he gave you what you needed and deepened the kiss, stealing your breath until you broke away feeling lightheaded. 
His thumb traced your tingling lips as you slipped back into the seat, tucked under his arm, and you saw his kiss-swollen lips. You imagined yours looked the same and heat flooded you with the thought of being caught in the compromising state. A sliver of panic grew in your chest, if rumours spread then you would be shamed from your family so you scampered from the chair and brushed your hands over your skirts.
Alarm erupted from Aemond at the sudden change and he watched you right yourself, hurt haunting his blue eye before he too rose. “Please do not regret what we shared.”
You froze, your jaw dropping at what he had mistaken your fear as and against your better judgement, you launched yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his narrow waist as you shook your head. He curled himself around you until you felt entirely enveloped by his arms and his scent as he buried his face in your neck.
Pulling away reluctantly, he took your hand and placed it on his chest so you could feel the thunderous beat of his heart as it raced. “This belongs to you and I am yours if you will have me.”
His face blurred as tears welled in your eyes, the fierce nod of your head sending them cascading down your cheeks until he wiped them away with a proud smile. 
“I thought of another sign,” he said as he lifted his right hand up so his palm faced you before tucking his middle and ring finger back down. “When you see this, know that I love you.”
You raised your own hand and watched his tremble as you admitted what had been growing with each passing day since that first walk in the gardens. I love you.
Click here for part two.
4K notes · View notes
olsenmyolsen · 6 months
Text
Bullseye
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master list
dark master list
Post Hawkeye (Deaf Female Reader X Kate Bishop)
Summary: Your cute new friend Kate learns ASL for you.
Word Count: 4.4K
Content None I think... just cuteness.
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Two weeks ago, Kate Bishop saw you across the library.
She had just finished classes and was rushing to pick up a book she needed for an essay she HAD NOT started when she saw you.
She hadn't seen you around before, and Kate was instantly mesmerized by how your cute face scrunched as you kept your head low to read. Kate couldn't take her eyes away, and she got to see your smile when you enjoyed a particular moment of your book.
Kate loved seeing your smile and how your eyes lit up.
Kate looked at her phone and truly needed to find the book and leave now or never. But on that day, Kate Bishop was feeling bold. Blame on the need for a certain thrill since Clint took her off Hawkeye duties to focus on school, but Kate started walking towards you.
You, however, never saw or heard her coming. Not when she tripped over her own feet. And not even when she stumbled sitting down next to you.
You had no idea Kate Bishop existed.
Maybe you would have if you had your aids in, but they made you feel embarrassed and inadequate, something you've struggled with for years. Something a certain someone would help you with in time. But, for now, you choose to go without them 99% of the time.
So when Kate started with a simple greeting, that turned into an overcomplicated rambling where she gave you numerous unwanted compliments.
You didn't hear it.
In fact, you didn't even look over to the now slummed-over pretty girl with the blue-grey eyes until she slammed her head on the table in defeat.
The vibrations of the repeated knock of the head against wood alerting you.
You put a bookmark in your book before closing it to look around, hoping maybe someone lost their friend because you had no idea why she was sitting at your table.
But at last, no one had lost the captain of the archery team. So you waited for her to look up, hoping to get an answer, and when she did, you're lucky your mouth didn't drop open.
She was gorgeous. Stunning actually. You had no idea why she was sitting here, but now you didn't want her to leave. You were about to lift your hand when you saw her eyes open in shock before her pink lips started speaking a hundred miles per minute.
Too fast for you to keep up.
You tried to get her to stop, but before you knew it, the last thing you saw was her black ponytail bouncing away.
You didn't know what to make of the last two minutes, but there wasn't much you could do. So, with a frown and shrug of the shoulder, you returned to your book. Wishing you got a chance to say anything.
Exiting the library, Kate Bishop was red in the face. You had just sat there ignoring her as she tripped over all of her words and called you beautiful and babe within two sentences. She didn't know what was wrong with her. She wanted to stab herself with an arrow. Badly!
Kate shook her head because that wasn't even the worst part.
The worst part was when you finally looked at her. You acknowledged her. Kate was already embarrassed enough. So she apologized and claimed that she would never bother you again.
But yet here she was two weeks later. Spotting you from across the library just like before.
"Go!" Kate felt a nudge on her arm from her friend Laura Kinney—a fast friend of Kate after transferring from Canada a year prior.
Kate looked back at her friend. "Stop that! I'm not going." Laura rolled eyes. "You talked about this one chick not stop-"
"No! I talked about how I embarrassed myself once! You're the one who keeps bringing it up!"
Laura shook her head and nudged her friend again. "Go! She's cute, and if you don't go, I will." Kate turned her head to her friend, surprised, but saw that maybe her friend wasn't kidding. "Ugh." Kate turned back to look at you. "Fine! Okay! I'll try again!"
"Good luck!" Laura called out, knowing Kate would need it. Kate sent a thumbs up and did her best to calm her nerves. "Just apologize and don't ramble," Kate whispered to herself as she reached your table.
However, before Kate could do anything, you closed your book and turned away from Kate to put it in your bag—the action meant nothing to you. But to Kate, it would appear you didn't want anything to do with her.
That thought was further cemented when you got up without looking at her and started walking away.
Without realizing it, Kate began to walk after you.
Her walk turned into a quick jog when her brain finally caught up to what was happening. She was right behind you when she said: "Excuse me! Hi!"
Yet you kept walking.
Okay, the library is busy, and maybe Kate could've spoken up a bit louder, so she tried again, HOPING that you weren't actively trying to get away from her.
"Hi! Sorry to bother you, but I..." She trailed off when you kept moving forward, keeping your head staring straight ahead at the library's exit doors. Kate was growing embarrassed and did the one thing she could think of.
She ran ahead and turned around, stopping you in your tracks.
"Hi!" Kate breathed out with a wave, coming face to face with you for the first time. You looked up from her lips, surprised at who was standing in front of you.
It was her!
Hi. You waved back with a questioning look to Kate's beautiful eyes before looking down to her lips—something Kate noticed.
"Sorry to bother you, but I don't know if you remember me but..." That was all you caught reading her lips before Kate started speaking quicker and quicker than you could process.
In your defense, even Clint Barton, an Avenger, said Kate had more speed talking than Captain America did running.
You held your hand up, shutting Kate up. She looked at you with curious eyes and waited to hear your voice, but instead, you started signing.
I do remember you.
Kate immediately felt embarrassed. She knew very little to almost nothing of what you were saying.
She promised Clint she would start learning when he began teaching, but for someone who helped save the world, he could still be stubborn. But now The Archer regretted not learning ASL.
Kate awkwardly smiled, making you smile back, in turn, causing Kate's face to flush red. You caught it. While looking at one another, you both thought the other person was beyond cute.
"I'm sorry," Kate spoke slower than she usually would. You tilted your head as she continued. "I don't know ASL."
You made a flat smile and nodded. Most people didn't. So it wasn't surprising that the first new cute girl to talk to you in some time didn't know it either. It just meant it would be harder to forget her when she inevitably didn't want to make the effort.
But you had never met Kate Bishop till before this moment. You didn't know that she was just as stubborn as her mentor but a thousand times more annoying when she needed to be. She wasn't going to give up.
She was going to learn for you.
She was going to speak to you.
Kate watched you nod and go to walk away, but she stepped in front of you again. "Wait!" She held her hands up and quickly pulled out her phone, handing it to you. You took it as it sat on the New Contact screen and looked up with furrowed brows. "Please?" Kate asked, making you nod and blush.
Kate watched your fingers fly over the keyboard before you handed it back. You watched Kate smile and try not to laugh at your contact name: Y/N 👂❌
You bite back your own laughter. Having been used to not everyone being comfortable with something you lost at a young age.
Kate looked up to see your smile and finally broke laughing. Her pearly whites were on display until she closed her mouth and started typing in her phone.
A few seconds later, yours buzzed in your pocket. Pulling it out, you looked up and smiled. The text read: "Hi Y/N. I'm Kate Bishop 🏹!" You nodded and made that her contact name.
"So Kate Bishop... what can I do you for?"
You typed and immediately regretted sending because you sounded like someone who was a boring attorney. But Kate found it kind of charming.
You looked down from her as the three dots popped up and down, but nothing happened. You looked back up at Kate, who was nervously biting her lip.
"You ok?" You typed to Kate, who stopped biting her lip, avoided your eye contact, and replied: "Yes. Sorry!" But Kate wanted to say more. She wanted to say: "I was going to ask for your number earlier, but we kinda blew through that quicker than I imagined. So now I don't know what to do?! Do I ask you out now? Is that allowed? Would you say yes?! You don't even know me!?"
But Kate didn't say that. Instead, she wrote: "I tried talking to you a couple of weeks ago because you seemed like a really cool person. Which you are! Ugh sorry. This is so embarrassing as I type this, but I wanted to know if you wanted to be friends? 😅"
Kate added the emoji, hoping to relieve any awkwardness. And it did. But Kate asking you to be friends wasn't where you thought this was going.
Truth be told, it wasn't.
But Katherine Elizabeth "Kate" Bishop wasn't going to ask you out over text. She was going to ask you face-to-face, and she didn't want you to read her lips to make it happen.
Yet you didn't know that. All you knew was that a cute, friendly girl was choosing to seek you out and wanted to get to know you. So you smiled and nodded to Kate, whose eyes lit up. "Great!" She audibly yelled, earning a fury of looks from people around.
But a smile from you.
"Sorry." You read Kates lips as she looked around at people shaking their heads and looking away.
Kate looked down at her buzzing phone to see a message from you. "Maybe we should leave the library. Are you busy rn?" Kate froze as she looked at the words on her screen. She was supposed to be courting you. Asking you out in time. Were you flirting? No. This is just what friends do. Hang out! The two of you were now friends! Right?
Kate's turmoil-struck brain could only process so much so fast before she decided to actually look at the time and realize, yes, she was supposed to be somewhere right now. Kate sent you a frown. "I actually should be on my way to archery practice."
That made a lightbulb go off above you. That's why she wanted her name like that in your phone. You thought Kate was being cute and was saying she was Cupid or was sent by Cupid or something. However, her being on the archery team made a lot more sense. You felt silly for thinking it was the former. But you pressed on.
"I have a free period right now. Can I come?"
Kate looked up from her phone and nodded with glee. "I'd love that!" Kate yelled once again, earning glares from everyone else in the room, but the two of you paid them no mind as Kate started leading the way.
On the walk, Kate and you enjoyed one another's company while also learning about the other one. It was new and slightly awkward but adorable to any outsider looking in. Like when you asked Kate if she took up archery because of the Hunger Games, she laughed and said no. She did it because she was saved by Hawkeye during the Battle of New York.
The very same battle you lost your hearing.
But Kate didn't know. She would in time.
Not right now.
The conversation about Hawkeye led to the two of you talking about your favorite Avengers. Kate's being obvious, and yours surprising her.
You said Natasha Romanoff—the Black Widow.
When asked why, you just sadly shrugged before replying through text: "The Avengers were all great. Most of them were role models. But none of them looked as good as she did in her uniform." You laughed to hide the tears in your eyes.
But Kate saw, leading you to type: "Plus, I bet she gave the best hugs." Kate smiled at that and could agree. Her and Wanda Maximoff probably gave the best hugs.
Where was Wanda, by the way??
Kate's phone buzzed, bringing her back. "Sorry... I could give actual reasons, but I don't want to cry right now." You smiled and swallowed the lump in your throat when Kate looked over at you.
Because Kate could relate, she had only gotten to hear Clint share less than a handful of stories about The Black Widow, and each time, they ended with the man in tears.
"I have a friend who's the same. It's okay." Kate sent back to you, making you feel better before you asked her if she had read Scott Lang's book, to which she said not yet.
Meanwhile, it was in your backpack.
Three weeks from now, she would borrow it and read the chapter dedicated to Natasha and cry.
As you and Kate walked up to the field holding practice, you had Kate lead you to a spot where you could safely watch from. Unbeknownst to you, the other girls around you were friends or girlfriends of the ladies on the team. So when people saw you walk up with THE Katherine Bishop, everyone started talking in hushed whispers.
But not that you knew.
However, you couldn't lie. Watching Kate's arms and fingers hold and mess around with something that's basically string and wood never looked so hot. On top of that, the shy, awkward, almost annoyingly cute girl you had become quick friends with didn't exist anymore. When the arrow flew from her fingers, she was confident, cocky, and dominant.
Also, she was easily the best of the team. Hot.
The warmth rising in you hit a tipping point when she pointed at you and then to the bullseye on the target before mouthing, "watch this." You expected Kate to turn and look to where she was shooting, but she didn't. She looked straight at you and let the arrow go. Your eyes went from Kate to the target.
Bullseye.
The girls around you erupted into a mixture of cheers, shock, and jealousy. They all turned to you, confusing you before you saw a couple of them smile and point back to Kate as if they were praising the two of you.
You're fairly certain you saw the word "girlfriend" being thrown around, but you just shook your head and waited for Kate to come to your rescue.
_
Over the next couple of months, as the season of spring was winding down to make way for the heat of summer, you and Kate had only grown closer. Your friendship had turned the two of you into being the best of friends.
Often being mistaken for girlfriends.
A mistake that always left you and Kate blushing but never saying how awful it would be if that was the case.
It was like there was a silent understanding. Kate knew what she was waiting for, and you were too nice and kind to even think about jeopardizing what you two had.
It was expected that if one of you was around, the other one had to be within ten feet. And this was true—most times. But there had been times in the past where if you woke up in the middle of the night after passing out while reading, you'd discover Kate gone. Her bag and clothes would still be there, but she was just gone. Well, herself and... her archery equipment.
That part confused you.
You wanted to bring it up to her. Because for one reason, whatever she was doing was making her exhausted. You could see it on her face better than anyone. She was tired mentally and physically. You didn't like seeing her like that.
The other reason is that it hurt you to see someone you cared about lying to you. You hated it and didn't want to hate the girl who started holding your hand on your walks across campus. The one who never missed a bullseye for you. The same girl who decided to read The Hunger Games instead of just watching the movies for you.
So when you couldn't bear yourself to bring it up to her, you decided to wait up and catch her.
Kate had no idea you had started to catch onto her. But it's not like Kate enjoyed sneaking around. Well, she did, but that was when she was chasing bad guys and doing some recon. But she hated it when it came to you. Sneaking around behind your back felt wrong, no matter the cause.
So, as Kate quietly picked up her bow and quiver, she looked over at your sleeping form and made a motion with her hands.
You didn't see it as you faked sleeping. But if you did, you would've understood why Kate was being sneaky.
Kate turned away from you and took a few steps towards her window. Kate opened it and reached back behind her when suddenly you flicked on the light in the bedroom of her dorm as she looked ready to jump out of her window. A labeled arrow prepared to fire.
Kate slowly lowered the bow and turned her head to you. You stood wearing her high school archery t-shirt and a pair of black shorts.
Kate couldn't help but smile. She loved seeing you in her clothes.
And you loved seeing her in yours, but right now, that was the last thing on your mind as Kate sheepishly said: "It's not what it looks like."
You threw your arms up at that and ran up to her, smacking your head as if to say, "what the hell are you doing?"
Kate sighed and knew that now was the time to say one thing or the other. Or maybe both?? Kate weighed her options before gently placing her bow on the bed you two had come to share. As friends of course.
You watched Kate let go of the bow before her hands found their way to yours. Taking them from your hips.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner." She started as you watched her pink lips speak. Tilting your head at the words she spilled before she softly let go of your hands to unzip her purple hoodie.
You gasped and covered your mouth when you saw what she was hiding. You looked from her guilty eyes back to her purple suit. Kate watched you step forward and raise a hand to her hip. The touch making her stomach flip while two of your fingers danced along the edge before gliding up the lining of the suit before they floated away.
Kate missing your contact already.
You couldn't believe what you were seeing. But yet, it made sense.
You'd been to enough practices to know the only match for Kate with a bow and arrow would be an Avenger. You looked to Kate's downward face and put your finger on the underside of her chin. Lifting it up. Her eyes meeting yours. You weren't mad. Well, you were, but if anything, now you were just shocked.
Are you Hawkeye? You signed without realizing it.
Yes. Kate signed ba— KATE SIGNED!
You took a step back in awe. Did that happen? You swallowed and stared at the girl, holding back a smile dressed in a purple superhero suit. Slowly, you raised your hands and, with a deep breath, signed: You can understand me?
Yes.Kate signed the exact same way as before, surprising you once again.
She was communicating with you in ASL. Your best friend- someone you cared for- No someone who you loved was signing!
Tears were threatening to spill as you ran into Kate and wrapped your arms around her. Your head burying its way into her neck. Kate wrapping her arms around you, holding you tight.
As Kate held you, she heard your sniffles and felt a few tears spill from your eyes. Kate bit her lip to keep her eyes from spilling.
It was then she decided she would keep the night of surprises going. So, after some time, she patted her hand against your back and removed her hold from you as you moved back to look at her. Your eyes were a little red, but Kate could see what was holding in them.
Kate smiled and started moving her hands. Since I met you, I've been learning ASL.
Your mouth dropped. With who? You could've asked me!?
You would've loved to teach Kate. But it had to be done this way.
Kate didn't answer you. Instead, she pulled out her phone and went to a secret photo album you had never seen before. Inside were pictures of her with Lucky, a family, some friends, and lastly... Clint Barton.
You looked up from the phone to Kate and back to the phone—Full-on, yanking it from her hands. You zoomed in on his face and then Kates before sliding through other pictures of the two of them together. A lot of them were unflattering pics of the grown man while Kate smiled brightly. But then there were some where Clint smiled and posed ridiculously for his mentee. You laughed and smiled at each one, including the ones of his family surrounding Kate.
You swiped once more, and a video automatically started to play. You felt the vibrations in your hand but couldn't make anything out. However, Kate knew exactly what was happening in the video.
It was Kate's first ASL lesson months prior. But that didn't start till ten minutes in. Instead, what was playing right now to the room was Kate in the video going on and on about this new friend of hers named Y/N. Kate mentions that you are the reason that she wants to learn sign language.
Slightly and purposely offending Clint.
"Okay, so let's say I manage to teach you, and you manage to learn, then what?"
Clint asks in the video.
"Then I ask her out."
Kate replies.
You looked up from the video to Kate. Asking why she is blushing, Kate takes a step closer to you and asks for her cell phone back. You place it in her hand. She hits the button on the side before putting it in her pocket.
I learned for you.
You watch Kate sign and mouth simultaneously, the feeling of wanting to cry from pure happiness returning. Why? You asked Kate as you smiled.
Kate lifts her hands and stops. She starts to sign but stops again.
The Archer breathes in and out.
Because ever since I met you, I've wanted to do one thing. Kate waits for you to nod back to her. I- Y/N... Y/N, do you want to go out?
She signs with a nervous smile.
Together? Sometime, like on a date. A real date! One where we dress up and go out on the town, not just eat junk in my-
You surprised Kate by jumping into her arms. Cutting off her ramblings in ASL. Kate barely had time to register to catch you before she felt just how soft your lips were.
Kate closed her eyes and melted into you. She marveled at the feeling of your smile as the kiss deepened. You pushed further into her and felt butterflies flutter inside of you at what you've wanted for so long.
Kate felt the same and would vow to always hold you closer than anyone ever could as she pulled you into her. Taking you all in.
Eventually, air had to return into your lungs.
You blushed harder when you and Kate separated. The heavy breathing between the two of you being the only noise in the room.
Yes, you signed when Kate placed you onto your feet. "You want to go out? With me?" Kate said, knowing you were watching her lips. But maybe she was wrong when she saw you shake your head no.
You moved back a bit as Kate kept her arms around your body.
I want to be your girlfriend. 
Kate looked at you, making sure she saw that right. "Girlfriend?!" She asked with a glint of hope. You smiled and brought your lips to hers as you nodded before moving your hands down to hers. Taking them off your body and placing them in yours as you moved them.
You kissed Kate again as she traced her fingers over your left hand, discovering the pinky and index finger were raised. She moved from your index finger down to your extended thumb.
She pulled back and looked at your hand watching it move towards her.
Kate brought her hands up to your face and quickly kissed your lips before she moved onto your cheeks and nose, forcing a giggle out of you.
When she let go of your head, she looked into your eyes and said with an unmistakable smile: "I love you too. I love you so much!"
Kate wrapped you into her arms and held you close before she could feel you patting her back.
When she let go, you smiled and asked: So girlfriends?
Kate nodded.Girlfriends.
A million more questions ran through you as you stood in Kate's arms. But before you could stop yourself, you started with: Oh, and Kate... You laughed and signed to her before continuing. Since I'm dating Hawkeye, do I get a cool name?
Kate laughed back and raised an eyebrow. "Sure! What would you want to be called?"
You tucked your bottom lip into your mouth as you thought. An action making Kate pull your lip out of your mouth with her thumb before bringing it to her lips, almost frying your brain to the point that you nearly didn't say your answer. Bullseye.
"Why is that?"
You shrugged but hid behind an innocent smile. Your eyes briefly darting to Kate's closet before looking back to Kate.
Because I want to be the only thing you can stick your arrow in.
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dividers by @/benkeibear
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informalcrybaby · 7 months
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Travis Kelce x Reader (Always You)
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You had known Travis Kelce your entire life. You grew up in the same neighborhood, with only two houses between you. If you were to close your eyes, it would be easy to relive years of school, football games, dances, and long nights of getting into trouble with friends. You always knew that you were attracted to him but wouldn’t ever risk losing the bond you shared by telling him your closest-kept secret. So, you watched him date the prettiest girls and listened to your friend's fantasies about him at sleepovers. All, while dying just a little bit more inside.
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            You watched from the Kelce box, high above the crowds of screaming fans in the stands, as your best friend achieved what he had been working for his entire life. Tears that you didn’t even know had started falling down your cheeks, falling to soak the neckline of the Chief’s jersey bearing his name. His mother was silent beside you, beaming with pride but holding her excitement back for Jason’s sake. Silently, she reached for your hand and squeezed. You squeezed back in acknowledgment.
            A security guard entered the room, alerting the players’ families that it was time to go down to the field to celebrate with their boys. You followed the throng of excited people downstairs and through the tunnels, absorbing the energy they were radiating. Absentmindedly, you placed your hand against the front of your jeans pocket, ensuring your hearing aids were still safely inside. You had taken them off when the timer hit zero and the cheering in the room became too loud for you to bear.
“You ok honey?” Mr. Kelce signed to you clumsily and her heart swelled. The Kelce family had all learned basic signs over the years, but Travis was the only one she would consider fluent.
“I’m just so happy for him,” You wiped your tears and signed back slowly, “He really did it.”
            Fresh tears began to fall as the crowd pushed forward and you couldn’t help the ache that overtook your heart. You remembered all the times you spent talking about your dreams and the phone calls shared from faraway points in the country when you both got older, and your lives weren’t linear. He was always there for you, through everything and you loved him deeply for it in secret still.
            Suddenly, the crowd parted, and warm light hit your face. Confetti fell around the arena, blanketing the players and their families. She watched as wives threw themselves into their tired arms, parents wept for their son's success and children ran around enjoying the atmosphere. You spotted Travis and Jason on the 40-yard line, heads bent together. You could see Jason’s lips moving but couldn’t read them from your current position. When Travis beamed as his mother approached, you assumed Jason had told him to enjoy his victory. His smile had always been the most beautiful you had ever seen but, in this moment, it was the sun.
            You hung back and watched as the Kelce family simultaneously celebrated and comforted each other. When Jason’s wife and children surrounded him, Travis’s eyes began to search the crowd and fell on you. He smiled brightly and you couldn’t help but smile back.
“What are you doing all the way over there?” He signed quickly, the smile never leaving his handsome face.
“Letting you enjoy your family,” You signed back, flashing him a smile of your own, before adding “I’m so fucking proud of you Travie.”
            The use of his childhood nickname made his chest vibrate with laughter and he began walking towards you. Your heart threatened to stop beating in those few moments before he reached you and when he finally did, you could have sworn that you were living a dream you had had for years. Without hesitation, his still-gloved hand reached into your pocket and extracted your hearing aids.
“I want you to hear me when I say this.” He signed before handing your devices to you.
            With shaking hands, you managed to secure them around your ears and noise flooded your quiet world. The atmosphere around you was electric but the only sound that you were concerned with was the voice of the man before you.
“It’s always been you y/n.” He said firmly before putting an arm around your waist, drawing you close to his body. You gasped, placing one shaking hand over his chest pads. His familiar scent clouded all your senses.
“Travis, I don’t understand.” You stammered in response as his hand squeezed your hip.
“I knew I loved you my whole life,” He breathed, his face inching closer to yours until your lips were inches apart, “But I’ve been too stupid to do anything about it until now.”
            His lips met yours softly at first but quickly became demanding. You met his advance hungrily, gripping the back of his shaven head and pulling his body closer to yours. You had only ever imagined what this moment would feel like before and now that it was happening, you’d be damned if you didn’t put your years of longing into this one kiss.
“I love you.” He whispered softly, the hand on your cheek holding firm.
“It was always you too, Travis,” You smiled while wiping a piece of stray victory confetti from his stubbled cheek, “Always.”
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lunarmoves · 11 months
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moon was being more irate than usual.
well... 'irate' wasn't exactly the right word. he was just... quieter and tended to grumble more to himself when he thought you weren't listening or around. at first you figured he was just going through one of those phases of his where he preferred to observe the things around him for extended periods of time. or maybe he was thinking back to his time at the plex, the memories tinged at the edges by the fire that had consumed it whole. either way, you didn't press him and decided to just... leave him be.
you thought giving him some space would help him and eventually let him snap out of whatever funk he was in. but it only seemed to make him worse, and you had no idea why.
you didn't want to invade into his space and demand him to let you know what was wrong. it would only drive him further away, and you were all too familiar with how easy it was for him to avoid you in your own home. you didn't want to ask sun what was wrong either, as moon would definitely immediately know of your prying and would probably get upset.
so you just... continued on as normal. after all, chores needed to be done and bills needed to be paid.
and maybe that was the wrong thing to do. maybe it just made things build up and up and up until moon was overflowing in whatever had plagued him all this time.
you were woken up, one night, by a bright red light that shined directly onto your face.
you squinted up, blinking slowly as the light coalesced into two eyes with white pupils that stared down at you from above. moon's face was directly over yours, hovering not too close, but not too far either. you lifted a hand to rub at your right eye, mind sluggishly trying to catch up with what had just occurred.
"moon," you sleepily mumbled, still trying to adjust to the light, "wuzz wrong? why'd you wake me up?"
he didn't say anything, just continued to stand crouched over your figure laying in bed. you could barely make out his figure, with how dark it was. his nightcap dangled from the side of his faceplate, the bell at the end brushing lightly against your cheek. you waited a few seconds, then pulled up your blanket further to bury yourself into it. "moon, c'mon, you know i have work in th'mornin'."
you had full intentions to go back to sleep, but he didn't let you get comfortable. as soon as you'd closed back your eyes, he reached out a hand and gently shook your shoulder. you jerked back awake and gave him a look that you're not sure translated well through your sleepiness. it got him to finally speak, though.
"wake up," he whispered, giving your shoulder another small shake. you groggily blinked at him, confused. "...spend time with me."
"wuh?" you eloquently asked, then slowly blinked yourself awake once you realized how unhappy he looked. you slowly sat up. he leaned away to give you some space and you turned your body so you could face him better as he crouched down by the side of your bed. "what's wrong?" you asked again softly, as though any louder might scare him away or cause him to lock up.
he didn't answer, just reached out a metallic hand so he could hold onto your much warmer one in a tight grip. you gently used your other hand to touch the edge of his faceplate, tilting it up so he could meet your gaze.
"hey," you said gently, "tell me what's wrong. i can't help you if you don't say anything."
moon watched you for a moment, then directed his gaze back to your hand and let his thumb swipe across your skin. you let your hand fall from his face to rest in your lap. you waited, and your patience was eventually rewarded.
"you go to work," he started in a low voice tinged with static from his voice box. "you come back. you hang out with sun for hours. you get ready for bed." you tilted your head as he spoke, wondering where he was going with this. he paused for a second, as though collecting his thoughts, then continued. "you take off the lights. you go to sleep after an hour. and i am alone."
you considered his words, then his expression as he focused on avoiding your gaze. the corners of your lips downturned as it slowly clicked together in your mind what he was implying.
"oh," you breathed and moved your free hand so that it rested on top of his. you clutched at it. "i haven't been spending much time with you, huh?"
he grumbled a little and closed his eyes. "sun gets all the awake time with you." his words were no louder than a whisper—an admission he'd been ruminating on for weeks.
"i'm sorry," you said, the realization making something melancholy line your voice. with you being active for most of the day and sleeping for practically all of the night, it never really occurred to you that there would be an imbalance with sun and moon's time spent with you in their individual forms. "i didn't realize... i..." you frowned, then tugged at his wrist. "come here."
you scooted over in bed and lifted up the blanket—an open invitation. he stared at you for a moment, the light of his eyes swathing your bed sheets in shades of ruby. then carefully, so very carefully, he slipped in beside you and lay there stiffly as you covered the both of you with the blanket and cozied up closer to him.
you rested your head on his metal shoulder. it was hard, but it didn't bother you for now. you let out a deep breath and wrapped one of your arms across his chest. "i promise i'll spend more time with you, okay?" you told him quietly, eyes already closed as you readied yourself to sleep again. you were tired, and there wasn't anything you could do at the moment other than reassure him. "we'll turn the lights off early and close the curtains. how's that sound?"
moon hummed and seemed to accept his fate for the night as he used one of his arms to pull you closer. "okay..." he'd been sated, it seemed, and he finally relaxed into the softness of your mattress. something cold pressed to the top of your head. "...good night, love."
you smiled. "good night, moon."
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