#deaf!reader

[klemen-tine]

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!!!

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

the lakes - m. murdock

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.

[littledovesnow]

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

[dilemmaontwolegs]

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 ||

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. 

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.”

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.”

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.

[deathbyathousandspiders]

omggggg can i request billingual reader and maybe peter finds it cute that when shes explaining stuff she has a thinking face of what to say next cos she wants to be sure of how to say it in english 🥹 or maybe hearing her speak in her mother tongue/native language does he find it cute or smn :(((((((

as a white english–speaking woman, i only feel comfortable writing for a bilingual reader with a language/culture that i’m relatively familiar with and could properly represent, which isn’t many :,)

so i will write an imagine for a bilingual reader with a language i’m going to school for: ✨sign language✨

i hope that’s okay :)

a/n — i am still a student and i’m constantly learning, so if there’s a detail or some information that i’m incorrect about, please tell me asap !!!

✨masterlist✨.

2.5k.

Sitting alone at cafes was a custom for you. People watching, spectating murmurs and laughter but never quite grasping it. You lacked the understanding of how the sound captured their conversing, but you weren’t missing anything. Your focus was mainly set on finishing your chemistry homework, anyways.

Midway through an equation, the light shifted over your table. You felt the dip in the booth on your left and looked up to see who sat beside you. Your eyes met the deepest brown pair you swore you’d ever seen. It was almost like the rest of the room lit up with color after you first caught a glimpse.

You certainly recognized the boy. He went to school with you, but you’d barely crossed paths other than having a class or two together. And from the way he glanced at your paperwork, you assumed that chemistry was on his schedule too.

His lips moved, and your eyes studied their shapes as best as they could. Perhaps he was nervous, or overly caffeinated, but the movement was too swift to distinguish.

Slowly, you shook your head at him, right index finger pointing to your ear. Apology and disappointment weighted your eyelids. You really did want to see what he wanted to ask you, but your expectation was for him to up and leave.

Instead, sudden understanding washed over him; a look of epiphany. Quickly after, patience overtook the presence beside you. You were shocked. He tried to slow his words of choice down, using his hands to illustrate but not really communicate. You could tell he was trying, so you didn’t want to make fun of his efforts. The smallest fit of laughter threatened to slip from your lips as you gestured at him to stop.

From the table, you grabbed your notebook and flipped to an empty page. Your pencil flew over the page to jot down a question:

‘Do you know any sign?’

You figured that was a start.

Watching the way he smiled, you nearly forgot to hand him your pencil to reply. Your eyes followed his hand as it met the parchment and scribbled so gently, it surprised you to see writing even stuck. He pushed it over to you. ‘Yes, I know one’

Your eyes met, and you studied him patiently. His right hand sat atop of his left elbow, holding a fist that excluded his pinky and index fingers; a rockstar skull. His left hand rested beneath his right elbow, opening and closing a fist with a flicking motion. It was a sign you knew all too well. ‘Bullshit,’ you watched him mouth.

The giggle bubbles through your throat with physical feeling, and your hands gently pressed his arms to make it stop. You shook your head, smiling as you corrected him.

Your dominant hand met your chin with an open hand, lightly touching the tips of your fingers to your face. As you moved your hand to the space in front of you, you closed your hand into a fist.

‘Bullshit,’ you mouthed back at him. The crinkle in the boy’s brow marked his confusion.

Pen met paper again as you wrote out the explanation. ‘Hearing people came up with a fake sign to act like they knew shit.’

He looked up at you with some disgust to his expression, and you simply shrugged at him.

Politely, he held his hand out for the pen, and you gave it to him with the trust that he’d return it soon after.

‘Then maybe you could teach me some instead?’

The grin on your lips was unbreakable, and only seemed to grow the more you kept up the conversation. You nodded your head, writing a simple ‘sure:)’ beside his note. You met his eyes again, pointing to your chest before swiftly fingerspelling your name. The boy marveled at your hand, equally lost and mesmerized.

His pointer finger rapidly twirled the air, circling near his face four or five times; you assumed that meant he wanted you to repeat yourself. So, you agreed.

Slowly, you held out each hand shape of your name a little longer, waiting til the twinkle in his eyes indicated that the letter was registering for him. It was fairly entertaining to watch.

He wrote it on the notebook once he got it just to clarify with you. ‘Y/N?’ He seemed nervous for your reply.

You signed yes, then gestured for him to do the same. You wanted to see what his name was.

Hesitantly, the boy tried his best, bouncing each hand shape to the letters of his name. It made you happy to see his attempt, and you were fond of his efforts.

Pulling the notebook closer, you jot down his name. ‘Peter?’

You’d never forget the way he smiled at you afterwards. ‘Yes:)’ He wrote back. ‘You want help with chemistry?’

And that’s how you met Peter Parker.

You were an unlikely duo at Midtown. It was nice to have somebody in the classroom to have secret conversations with, and to teach sign to. Peter picked most things up pretty quickly, especially because he had an excellent teacher. Plus, little did you know that he watched ASL courses off YouTube in his free time.

That is, his freetime when he wasn’t being Spider–Man.

He never told you that he was Spider–Man. In fact, you didn’t find out he was until a few months into your friendship. After months of study hours and movie nights, you watched Spider–Man signing to a Deaf kid on the news; the web–slinging superhero signed what like salad.

That was a classic Peter Parker mistake.

So, when were you planning to tell me you’re Spider–Man? You asked him, signing nonchalantly. You’d waited all week until you two were alone, studying like you normally did on the weekends. You sat back on his desk chair, raising a brow, calm and collected.

It took everything in him not to forget how to respond. Peter had been practicing sign, but he still wasn’t nearly as versed as you were. What? He started. Poor way to respond on his part. You pointed at his hands, trying to call him out.

That! You were so determined to catch him in his coverup, opening your laptop.

His hands flailed to try and capture your attention. However, your laser focus was something he couldn’t cut.

Having the clip ready, you played it, turning the screen towards him and showing him the fluke in his signs.

Peter facepalmed when he noticed, face red as a tomato but you couldn’t care less. You felt more than accomplished to have deciphered his secret. You owe me!

Signing, Peter got over himself a little, rolling his eyes playfully at you. Whatever, fine!

To help Peter practice his signing, you’d dismissed your in–class interpreters the second the bell rang and had Peter translate your questions to your teachers. Perhaps it was selfish to put him on the spot, but when you’d asked him about it later, he said he was more than happy to help you out.

He enjoyed learning sign, almost as much as he enjoyed his time with you. Peter had never met anyone as amazing as you; nobody that he’d met before watched the world with your eyes, or lit up a room so vibrantly. You always asked the right questions, saw straight through people’s bullshit, and put others’ needs far before your own. Don’t even get him started on the fact that you’d never even heard your own laugh before.

Peter couldn’t wrap his head around all the things he thought you were missing out on. That was how he saw it, at least, til you changed his mind. He was grateful to know how your fit of giggles sang to him, but there was more things to life than that. Sound was only one way to see the world; if you choose to act like it’s a principle more than a privilege, you’ll get nowhere. He knew he’d waste time dwelling on things you weren’t even sad over.

Instead, Peter would marvel at how fluently and beautifully you’d sign when you were passionate about something. The choreographed tangents that you’d go on absolutely mesmerized him, even though he could only pick up one or two things you were saying.

Your hands moved so fast, he second guessed whether you were actually communicating or just painting a masterpiece with the shapes of your hand.

That blissful, ecstatic look in your eyes told Peter everything he needed to know. He was the luckiest boy in the world to know you.

You were the most joyous person he knew.

That joy was a strength that you’d gained overtime, though.

Rushing down the school halls, you had memorized the rhythm underneath your feet as you pattered down the tile. You always pictured the sound like something fragile, or feathered, especially seeing as your shoes had rubber soles. Sometimes, when you walked slow enough, you could feel the rattling steps of other students around you.

Today, specifically, the rumbled pattern beneath you threw you off your rocker.

Especially as the charging steps behind you tread right in your direction.

A hefty pair of hands shoved your shoulder blades, pushing you toppling into the floor beneath you. The sound of chatter couldn’t be heard, but you certainly felt the energy in the hallway shift. Pressing off the floor with your hands, you noticed the eyes now mindful to your presence. You had an audience.

You flipped yourself around to look at the shadow towering over you. Some flimsy–looking, curly haired, short classmate of yours stood above you. His hands perched on his hips as he spewed words at you, mouth moving far too quickly to lip read. You stayed there, staring up at him with a glare, merely making out the words ‘stupid’ and ‘Parker’ from his muted speech.

You were used to bullies, but you couldn’t sit while this dickhead kept Peter Parker’s name disrespectfully in his mouth.

Just as you pressed up to rise to your feet, this bitchass shoved the toe of his shoe right in the center of your chest, pushing you back into the ground and leaving dirt all over your favorite top. You felt the gasp leave your throat, trying to fight against it.

That’s when Peter Parker swooped in and forced the boy away from you. Anger wasn’t an expression you’d seen on Peter’s face, and you couldn’t tell whether it was something to awe at or fear.

Their echoed shouts and feuds and insults bounced from the floor and into your fingertips. You could tell the words they exchanged were ugly, considering that the two were face to face and both had such crease to their eyebrows. Fists clenched, shoulders squared, you could tell they were about to brawl.

Peter threw the first punch, taking you by surprise but still sending a smile to your lips. The two boys had a displeasing fight to the eye, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to look away.

A girl to your left offered a hand to help you off the floor, to which you signed a quick thank you before both of you saw the boys getting caught by a set of teachers. All it took was a second before the two boys froze dead in their stances and peacefully walked with the teachers down the hall to the principal’s office.

In an instant, all eyes found their way to you and your dirt–stained top. Before you let them react to the heat growing on your cheeks, you rushed off, going to the one place you knew you wouldn’t be disturbed in.

Two and a half hours passed before Peter walked through the open door of his bedroom, a small smile on his lips as he greeted you. Are you okay? He signed quickly, soon shutting the door.

Are you okay? You signed right back, swift to press off your spot on his bed and walk over to him. Peter was the one with the blackened eye and busted lip. Clearly he should be the one to worry about. Your hands found his cheeks and gently cupped his face as you looked at his injuries. The sight broke your heart.

Although, you weren’t expecting to see his pale cheeks brighten with red in your grasp. You could feel the second when his breath stopped fanning your face, and that’s when you realized that his breath had been fanning your face; you were inches away from him. The atmosphere of the room changed.

‘What?’ You mouthed, brows creasing together with concern. You weren’t stupid, but you were definitely choosing to ignore the obvious. There was no way that Peter Parker was flustered by you, right? That was preposterous.

His eyes threatened a glance at your lips before you felt his fingers curl around your wrist. Peter moved your left hand to his chest, pressing against his heart. The skin beneath his shirt pulsed against you, and quickened by the second. Things felt very intimate, things felt very thick and hot and heavy. You didn’t notice it til right then that the room was getting hotter.

Your eyes caught a glimpse of his lips and you hadn’t noticed that you were staring at them. Peter’s face moved closer to your’s and that’s when you decided to be bold. You captured his lips with yours, kissing him tenderly, careful. The caress of his hands down your sides and grasp he held around your waist told you that you didn’t have to tread as cautiously.

Peter kissed you and every inch of you felt warm. You swore you’d lifted off the ground when his hands held your back, your hips, your waist. His lips against yours truly felt something like magic and you never wanted to leave this moment. A moment where his hair was silk between your fingers and his body became one with your’s.

Pulling back, Peter kept his arms around you, now taking the time and the close proximity to study you and your injuries; you learned to recognize the protective look in his eyes. His stare stopped and stuck itself to the dirt smudged between your breasts. He moved his right hand from your waist. Your shirt.. Peter couldn’t help but stare at the stain.

You couldn’t care less about it. What? You want it off? You joked, watching the immediate shift in his expression, and feeling the laughter he admitted through the tips of your fingers on his torso. Peter pulled you back into a kiss and you knew right then and there that things would be different.

Never in your life did you think you’d get so lucky as to meet Peter Parker, but now that you had him, you knew you’d never let him go.

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

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. 🥺

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

[love-fictional-ppl]

Sooo... What if you did some fluffy angst with a pro-hero Bakugo (and his hearing problems of course) with a pro-hero reader who has REALLY bad hearing problems but doesn't tell anyone and tries really hard to hide it. Ahhhh. I feel like this is hard to explain but since like, he has hearing problems of whatever he'd pick up on the hints that you're hearing is shit and what not. I hope you get what I'm asking for 😭🙏

Ok so I hope this is what you’re asking for, also I just want to put a disclaimer out there for everybody that I am not somebody who experiences hearing loss so feel free to let me know if anything written is offensive, incorrect, etc.

(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

Birds of a Feather

Summary: look at the request silly’s😋😋

Pairings: hard of hearing!prohero!katsuki bakugou x deaf!gn!reader

Warnings: Angst, language, Bakugou & reader reads lips and knows ASL, Bakugou wears hearing aids, crying, low self esteem lowkey, Obsession on both ends, L word, kinda ooc Bakugou

A/N: I wanted to make this longer but like I kinda got writers block halfway thru😭😭

(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

Being deaf was hard on you, always the target of bullies in school. Pitied by everyone else, talking slow and loud thinking it will help you hear them. Hey dumb fuck, I can’t hear you. You wanted to scream at everybody, then one day through tinder you met Katsuki Bakugou.

Katsuki was the most relatable person you probably ever met. Angry, blunt, hard of hearing, overall an introvert. You swiped left on his profile, you suddenly felt obsessed with him. Quickly you realized he was pro-hero Dynamight.

You and Bakugou talked for what felt like an eternity, an eternity of bliss. Eventually Katsuki asked you out on a date. You met at a cafe, apparently his favorite.

It was pretty easy for you to pass as “normal”, if you focused on his lips and watched their movements you could tell what he was saying. He doesn’t have to know.

What you didn’t know, Katsuki was as obsessed with you as you were him. He felt drawn to you, that how he wound up stalking your social media accounts. Through that stalking, he quickly realized what most dumb men likely wouldn’t, you were deaf. He figured you wanted to tell him on your own, so he pretended he didn’t know better.

Then, you two started dating and suddenly katsuki had to pretend he didn’t know better for months. You slipped up a lot of times and made it obvious but he didn’t care, he loves you.

It started getting hard to pretend he didn’t notice, considering you recently moved in with him. Katsuki concocted a plan in his head to tell you he knew so you could both move forward. You both felt the tension between you.

Sitting down for dinner one day, you and katsuki were both enjoying the meal you had cooked for the two of you. You sat directly across each other at the table. Katsuki made sure to turn his hearing aid on, he had a habit of turning it off.

You went back and forth talking about each other’s days. “-shitty fucking Deku, thinks he’s better than me.” You laughed at your boyfriend’s aggressive behavior.

Bakugou felt relieved at your delight, he took a deep breath and spoke, “look, I wanna talk to you about somethin’ but I don’t want you to get upset.”

You frowned slightly, “hey, it’s ok. Go ahead and say it.”

Katsuki let out a breath, “we’ve been together for months now. I’ve made it clear with you from the beginning about the fact that I need a hearing aid, there ain’t no judgment. That’s why I wanted you to tell me on your own terms, but anyway I know that you’re hard of hearing or deaf or whatever.”

You were stunned. Your big hunk of a boyfriend, the number two pro-hero was rambling. Even more so, he knew your very well kept secret.

You let out a sigh of relief, “I’m deaf. How did you-“

“You lip read. Also I’ve known since we first met,” Katsuki admitted.

You started sobbing and not because you were sad, but because you were glad to have it out in the opening between you two.

You chuckled and signed, I love you.

Katsuki signed back, I love you too.

“You could have told me, dumb ass.” His words were playful with truth behind them.

“I know it’s just-“ Katsuki must have heard how shaky your voice was.

Once more, he cut you off, “hey, you don’t have to talk about it right now. We’ll talk about it another day.”

You couldn’t help but lunge yourself into your boyfriend’s arms. Katsuki securely wrapped you in his arms.

“You’re the only person who has ever understood me,” you admitted into his chest.

“I’d kill for you,” he wasn’t sure why he said, but you both knew it was true.

You chuckled, “just keep holding me.”

And he did.

(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

Not Proofread!

[yawntutsyip]

₊˚୭ paring: Lo’ak x Deaf!Human!Reader x Ao’nung

₊˚୭ authors note: ‘sign’ is when they are signing but also is thoughts as well, just keep the context in mind <3 sorry it took forever to write this 😭 I was so stuck writing this scene so it’s kinda shitty. Apologizes <3 // some background info about the nickname Lo’ak calls (Y/N): sevin means beautiful, he calls her that and she doesn’t know because he won’t tell her what the word means, he always says it out loud too never in sign. // to make it easier for me ASL and Na’vi sign are the same 💀

masterlist : chapter one

Silence | Chapter Two:

Due to being deaf for a long time, you had to find other ways to help yourself understand those around you, and one of those ways was reading people's expressions and body language fairly well. 

When you had gotten back to the lab from the Sully family’s Marui with your mother you knew something had happened when they told all the kids to get out so the adults could talk. 

Sitting on one of the chairs next to your mother while she continued taking notes on a new plant she was researching, You watched her facial expressions. 

Her eyes weren’t lit up with that light she gets when she is studying a new plant, she didn’t have that bright smile upon her face instead it was replaced with a sadden frown with her eyebrows furrowed not in curiosity but in stress.  

Taping her shoulder to get her attention. ‘Mother, will you tell me what’s wrong?’ You signed with a worried look on your face. Whatever was bugging her was obviously something big because she was always a positive woman, making sure she looked at the bright side of things. 

Your mother pulls away from her notebook and you watch as her eyes close and shoulders raise and lower telling she let out a loud sigh. ‘I have something important that we need to talk about… follow me’ she signed and grabbed ahold of your hand pulling you guys into a more private room. You followed her with slow steps, afraid of what this import talk was gonna be about.

You both sit down on the couch in the room. 

‘You know how I was talking with Neytiri and Jake? Earlier?’ Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion but nodded your head telling her to go on.

‘The family has to leave the clan…’ you quickly put her hands down stopping her from signing anymore and shake your head. ‘Why are they leaving? What do you mean? They can’t leave me! They are my friends!’ 

You fly your hands everywhere as you panic at the thought of your only friends leaving you. The only people, that are your age, on this planet that you could communicate to without having to write on a piece of paper. 

Tears fall out from your eyes but you quickly wiped them away with the back of your hand. Your mother gently lifts your chin up making you look at her, you see the tears in her eyes as well. 

They were also her friends, just as close to the family as you were. ‘That’s not the only thing….you have to go with them, without me’ her hands shook while signing before completely breaking down in front of you. She wasn’t just sad that her friends were leaving, she was also losing her daughter too. Your eyes widen as you take in every word. 

‘What do you mean? Mom? What are you talking about?’ You asked, shaking her shoulders to make her look at you. Finally getting her to look up you see tears streaming down her face falling into her lap ‘They know what you look like (y/n). If they ever come here they will take you away just like spider and to try and get information out of you. It’s not safe here, you need to leave with them. Trust me it was hard to say yes, I don’t want my baby to leave but if it’s the only thing to keep you safe I have to’

‘I can’t leave you! I’m not going with them unless you are, mom you can’t do this please!’

She shook her head wiping the tears that continued to fall down your cheeks. ‘You guys are leaving later today’ whimpers finally erupted from your throat as you bury your face in her shoulder continuing to cry letting your sorrows leave your mouth. Your mother could only cry with you and hold you close for the last time. 

Both families urgently packed their belongings away getting ready to set off on a long journey, finding a new place to call home. 

The Sully family already had said goodbye to their clan and we’re waiting on you and your mother to say your last goodbyes. 

‘I love you (y/n), no matter what I will always love you’ your mother signed to you, tears now streaming down her face that she didn’t bother wiping. 

You cry with her, you hug your mom for the last time and pull away looking into her eyes while holding her hands. 

“I love you too” you said out loud for the first time in years, hoping that it came out somewhat audible. If this was gonna be the last time you’ll get to see your mother you were gonna make sure she heard the three words with her ears and not her eyes.

Your mothers eyes widen hearing your voice for the first time since you were just a little girl. 

The family behind you, eyes widened as well, never hearing your voice before, it was very soft and quiet, a little hoarse. “(Y/N) has such a pretty voice mom!” Tuk chimed with a big smile telling Neytiri who she was sitting with.

A hand lands on your shoulder telling you it’s time to go, you turn your head and crank it up seeing Lo’ak smiling. “Don’t worry Auntie I will make sure to keep (Y/N) safe and sound.” Lo’ak said to your mother giving her a hug goodbye as well.

“I know you will, thank you Lo’ak…I promise I’ll see you guys again one day” She hugged the taller boy back giving a kiss on his forehead.

“Come on Sevin, let’s get going” Lo’ak said grabbing your hand in his and leading you to his ikran. He gets on first making the tsaheylu calming the creature before grabbing you by the waist to put you in front of him.

‘Don’t drop me Lo ’ you signed to him, you feel him laugh behind you before rubbing your arm and reassurance and giving his parents a nod signaling they were all ready to go. 

Quickly you turn your head looking at your mother and hold out your hand with your pointer and pinky up with your thumb out saying I love you. 

The journey was long, you guys had to take breaks to give the Ikran time to rest and fuel up for the next couple hours of straight flying.  

“Mom, when are we gonna be done flying…I’m tired of it” Tuk whined in her mothers arms. You and the family had decided to take one last break before setting off again in the morning. 

You and Neteyam were both passed out sleeping next to each other with Lo’ak was on the other side of you playing with the grass growing from the ground while Kiri was sitting next to Jake. 

Everyone was tired, it had already been two days since leaving everything they’ve known behind, but they were not about to lose hope. “I know Tuk, soon…” Neytiri whispered into her hair as she gave the little girl a kiss on the head. All she wanted was for her family to be safe, she prayed to Eywa that they would find somewhere so they no longer have to run and hide. 

Lo’ak looked over at your face as you slept soundly caged between Neteyam’s protective arms, for once you didn’t have a frown on your face or tear stained cheeks, you looked peaceful. 

Throughout the whole journey you had multiple breakdowns from how overwhelming the journey was for you. 

The family had to calm you down from having panic attacks, it was scary waking up in unknown surroundings, no mother by your side to hug you tightly rubbing your back as a sign of saying ‘it’s okay, your safe now’ 

You missed your mother a lot, but you quickly learned that this was in fact the safest option for everyone and you just had to accept that this is what it’s gonna be from now on, although you loved Neytiri like a mother she could never fill in your real mothers spot. 

After taking one last long flight journey you guys finally spot a village from afar, everyone’s face lights up in excitement as they fly closer and closer. The sound of horns go off announcing to everyone someone has arrived but it goes unknown to you as you were staring in awe at the ilus swimming in the water underneath you. 

Once the family had found a clear and safe place to land the ikrans, they immediately get surrounded by Na’vi people, some with curious eyes never seeing a human before and others with dark glares as they saw you as unwelcomed, a demon.

Seeing all the eyes on you but having no clue what they were shouting at you was the scariest thing, but you had a pretty good idea that they weren’t nice things, the one good thing about being deaf is that all you had to do was close your eyes and it was as if no one was there, so that’s exactly what you did. You closed your eyes and hid your face in the closest person who was near you which was Neteyam and hid your face in his side hoping that all this will be over soon. 

Ao’nung and Rotxo made their way through the crowd of people to see the newcomers that caused such commotion. Once they got close enough both boys stare with wide eyes as their gaze lands on a small human girl who was hiding her face in one of the newcomers' sides. They both look at each other thinking the same thing ‘is that a human?’ Before walking closer to get a better view. 

“She must be their pet! They have a human as their pet haha!” Ao’nung says out loud while pointing in your direction. The sully kids immediately go alert as they hear someone talking about you. “The human is weird but look at those baby tails! How are they supposed to swim! They are so weird!-“ Rotxo’s teasing got cut off by Tsireya who had just arrived, as she swatted his pointing hand. “Do not Rotxo! Knock it off both of you!”

Tsireya scolds the boys before turning her head to the family, her eyes meeting another pair. She smiles as the boy sends a wave in her direction, her eyes continue to trail down and land on you who finally had pulled your face out from Neteyam’s side and made eye contact with her. 

Her eyes widened, never seeing a human before. Yeah she’s heard the terrible stories about how bad humans were and all the destruction they have caused their planet but she didn’t believe all of them were bad. Tsireya sends you a friendly smile followed by a wave and you shyly reciprocate the gesture with your cheeks begging to heat up. 

‘She’s so pretty’ both of you thought. You watch as the girl's head turns with a worried expression, following to where she was looking you see two Na’vi who seemed like the Olo’eyktan and Tsahìk step forward. 

You watch as the Olo’eyktan talks with Jake, he doesn't seem angry at all, he even seems friendly, but just in case, you watch his face for any sign of anger. While watching them conversate you didn’t notice the Tsahìk circling around with a sharp glare, picking and poking at Lo’ak and Kiri until you feel a harsh pull on your hand that causes you to swing your head up to be face to face with the woman. 

You could feel the hair on your neck stand up, blood running cold as you stood there paralyzed with fear not knowing what to do and what was going on. “They even have the audacity to bring a human to our village!” Ronal speaks with venom as she stares you down. If looks could kill you would already be 7 feet under. 

“Leave her alone! She brings no harm!” Neytiri hisses and pulls you away from Ronal, holding you close in her protective embrace ready to strike at anyone else who tried touching you. Jake pulls you and Neytiri behind him. “I apologize for my mate! We’ve had a long trip and she’s very protective. I know seeing a human is intimidating but I promise you (Y/N) means no harm. Right (y/n)?” Jake says to Tonowari and Ronal while signing to you, horribly. You honestly had no clue what he was trying to say to you but nod your head hoping you didn’t agree to something bad. 

Tonowari and Ronal share looks as if they were talking telepathically, after Ronal lets out a frustrated sigh Tonowari turns back to the family. "Toruk Makto and his family will stay with us, Treat them as our brothers and sisters. They do not know the sea so they will be like babies taking their first breath…I’m not sure how your human will do but we will do our best”

A big wave of relief washed over the family. They finally had a place to stay, a place to now call home, meaning no more long and tiring flights. You look to Lo’ak with a hopeful gleam in your eyes, praying that you didn’t read everyone’s happy faces the wrong way and get your hopes up. 

‘We can stay’ he signed to you with the biggest smile on his face. Unknown to you two, the three Metkayina kids stood there in shock as they saw Lo’ak and you signing back and forth. ‘Who were these people? And how did they know sign?’

tags: @gender3nvyy @eywas-heir @kenzi-woycehoski @ilovejakesullysdick @fanboyluvr @definitelynot-here @buckyb4rnes @jakesully-sbabygirl @iikatsukii @totesnothere04 @mashiromochi @dazecrea @grierpilots @sloppierjewel @jellybeanstacey0519 @neteyamforlife @bajadotcom @thecrazyswamp @juicyj28 @minkyungseokie @itswhateversworld @mhaorian @lemonmoonmochi

[tsukimara]

A Silent Voice but it's Deaf![Name] and Scaramouche?

Imagine Scaramouche bullying them and constantly destroying/throwing away their hearing aids until one day it all dawns on him when it was too late. And after a few years they meet again and Scaramouche tries to fix his mistakes.

[qtkarma]

I’m a sucker for this headcannon. gn!reader. takes place during second year.

deaf!bakugou katsuki who begrudgingly accepts your offer of teaching him JSL. “I’m not weak because of this. don’t go taking pity on me.” you beamed, setting a cup of tea infront of him. “exactly. neither of us are weak.” you signed.

deaf!bakugou katsuki who already knows a surprising amount of sign language, just because he wanted to be able to communicate with deaf!reader. he doesn’t admit it though, and claims his father taught him awhile ago.

deaf!bakugou katsuki who begins knocking on the door to your dorm, but not for more lessons. “to teach you how to fight,” he always says, but the two of you never train, rather, you end up on your bed talking about whatever manga you had both just finished.

deaf!bakugou katsuki and deaf!reader who sometimes both turn off their hearing aids and just sit in each others company, ignoring people’s calls for them and the annoying buzz of the dorms air conditioning.

deaf!bakugou katsuki and deaf!reader who will sign to eachother from across the room, far to fast for anyone else to read. No one knows what they talk about in their little conversations ; the occasional giggle from you or eye roll from katsuki.

deaf!bakugou katsuki who will always accompany you to your audiology appointments. “just because,” he says. In turn, you go to his, “just because.”

deaf!bakugou katsuki and deaf!reader who don’t even need sign or words to understand the other. a simple glance of the eyes or a nod of the head is all you need to communicate.

deaf!bakugou katsuki who spent far to long perfecting how to ask deaf!reader out in sign. he wanted it to be perfect, so you wouldn’t have to correct him. ( he never minded it, you taking his hand in your tiny ones and showing him the correct way )

deaf!bakugou katsuki and deaf!reader being a couple doesn’t surprise the class of 2-A ; in all honesty, they assumed the two of you had started dating awhile ago.

deaf!bakugou katsuki who gently takes off deaf!readers hearing aid when you forget to before bed. careful not to wake you up, he brushes away your hair and gently removes it, setting it safely next to his on the nightstand before wrapping you up in his arms again, placing a gentle kiss on your hairline.

deaf!bakugou katsuki who learnt the sign for “I love you” ages ago, and finally gets to use it.

BONUS ;

deaf!bakugou katsuki who has no shame in dirty talking to you in sign in public. absolutely no shame. even in a crowded room, packed with people, he’ll do it.

“bathroom, 10. need you.”

“katsuki, we’re in public! and I’m not having sex in a dirty bathroom.”

“i’ll just hold you, then. won’t have you touching anything but me.”

“how about I just suck you off the car ride back?”

he pauses, that usually stoic face of his cracking for a split second.

“deal.”

He finger-signed touching, you noted. you’ll have to teach him how to hand sign it the car, to.

[klemen-tine]

White Whale Part 2

Platonic! Yandere Batfam x Deaf!Male Reader

A continuation of this one.

https://www.tumblr.com/klemen-tine/736839222321922048/white-whale

Thoughts

Sign/Morse Code

Speaking

Trigger Warnings: Disability Discrimination and a mention of suicidal thoughts. Its like on sentence.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Y/N sat near the window, his processors off and a book on his lap. His attention was drawn to the snow falling outside and covering the ground in white, watching Damian walk Titus around the yard to experience the frozen water. Not like the giant dog hasn’t walked in snow before. 

He pressed his forehead against the glass, feeling the freezing melted sand press against his skin and without a doubt making it red. His tan was slowly fading, which made him all the more depressed whenever he looked in the mirror, now resulting in him wearing long sleeves in the hopes that he wouldn’t have to see it fade faster. His finger running down the spine of his book over and over again, tracing over the embroidered words and his short fingernail picked at the strings. 

Y/N pulled away from the window, before Damian could see him, and he set To Kill a Mockingbird down on the lamp table beside the small nook near the window. It was his secret little stowaway, one Y/N knows that if they wanted to, his family could find it easily. There is nowhere in this manor that is unable to be discovered by them. He thinks Alfred is helping in keeping this spot a secret. Assuring the bat family that Y/N is safe and there is no need to tear apart the library to look for him. 

All the windows in the library are sealed besides three, and those have sensors on them. Even if they didn’t, Y/N wasn’t stupid. He knows that those trackers he had dug out from his body are back in him. There is one in his inner thigh, deep enough that if he were to take the same scalpel he used the first time, the chance of nicking his artery was a higher possibility than he felt was worth risking. 

Sometimes, when he presses down on the soft skin, he could feel the cold metal sear his muscles and capillaries, reminding him of his captivity without the chains. 

Y/N connected his external processors, and winced when the world began to make noise. There was the buzz of some lightbulbs the hummed in the air and the heater was making a thrumming noise. Before his ‘trip’ to the Dominican Republic, Y/N would have thought that this was quiet. He would have believed that this was almost silent and there was little chance of it becoming any more quiet. 

Now it was just loud. Obnoxiously so. 

Looking out the window once more, Y/N couldn’t help the turn of his eyebrows and the downturn in his lips. Even his safe place felt like a cage. 

Walking out of the room, he zigzagged through the bookshelves and into the main room, where the large couches, the fireplace, and coffee table are. The fire was crackling and popping, the bright oranges, reds, and yellows casting a warm glow on the sofas. 

“I was wondering when you’d come out.” Y/N didn’t even look at Tim, his gaze still on the flames and the burning embers of the fire. It matched  the heat that was beginning to burn in his chest whenever he was around any of them. It’s embarrassing, but it took Y/N a few days to realize what exactly it was he was feeling towards them. 

Anger. Y/N was so, undeniably, pissed at all of them. It got to the point that he wouldn’t even eat with them. Alfred, the kind man he is, would bring his meals to his room and Y/N would eat there. Dick once tried to drag Y/N out of his room, but he got a solid kick to his leg and Y/N’s enraged voice screeching at him to get the hell out of his room. 

Even Jason was receiving the cold shoulder. When he tried to read to Y/N, taking their usual spot and position, Y/N just scrunched his nose and moved. Ignoring his twin’s call and slamming his door hard and  loud enough that it made his processors ring. 

Tim sighed, watching his brother stew and brew like a shaken pepsi bottle, ready to erupt with words that will stick to the skin. Y/N didn’t acknowledge him, his jaw clenching and nose scrunching, before he turned away and left the library. Tim stood up and followed him, jamming his foot in between the door and the door frame to stop Y/N from shutting him out. 

“Go. Away.” Tim pushed into the door, and even though he and Y/N are about the same size, Tim is Red Robin. A vigilante used to put down villains twice his size and three times his weight. Y/N is just… Y/N. He muscled through, inviting himself within Y/N’s room which he took a scan of. 

The window was closed, the bed was made, the desk clean, and the laptop locked. When he had gotten back, his laptop had been installed with monitoring software, allowing everyone access from the Batcomputer to see what Y/N was doing. His phone had been given the same thing, only the child settings were enabled. His bags, duffle, suitcases, backpacks, all of them had been taken and if he ever needed them then he would need to go to Bruce. 

If Y/N had anything to say, he didn’t share it. When it was all explained to Y/N, he wasn’t even looking at them, or Bruce, and instead was staring out the window. Damian believed that the other didn't even listen to them, but the lack of questions proved he had heard them. 

“We really need to talk, Y/N.” 

“No, go away. I don’t want you in my room.” Tim sighed, watching Y/N seethe in front of him. He held firm, “I will leave, once we talk.” Y/N rolled his eyes, “About what? There is nothing to talk about.” Those raging E/C eyes followed Tim’s every move in his space, and if it were any other time, Tim would have been thrilled to have Y/N’s attention on him. Those eyes focused only on him. 

Tim sat on the chair in front of Y/N’s desk, ignoring Y/N’s scandalized expression and instead taking in the desk. All of Y/N’s writing tools, journals, pens, and markers have been confiscated. Instead, he only had the iPad to write down his thoughts and notes for when school starts. An iPad that is monitored. 

Y/N seemed to accept that Tim would not be leaving, but that didn’t mean he was happy about it. Scrunching his nose, he disconnected the processors, pulled them off of his head, and debated about chucking them at his brother. He tossed them on his bed. He saw Tim deflate from the corner of his vision, and when those E/C eyes filled with irritation and smugness met Tim’s blue eyes, Y/N couldn’t help the vindictive smirk that formed on his face. 

‘Bruce wants you to keep those on.’

“What do you want, Tim? If you have nothing good to say then get out, I want to nap.” Tim nodded, adjusting himself so he had space to sign. 

‘How long are you going to keep pouting?’ Y/N’s face scrunched and he stared at Tim in disbelief. Not in disbelief that he said that, but disbelief in that that was what he wanted to say at this point in time. He could feel a headache forming and the rage building in his chest to the back of his throat. The words scorching the sensitive skin and making him feel as if he was about to catch fire. 

“I tell you to have something ‘good’ to say, and that’s what comes out of your mouth? Get out, Tim.” His brother stayed in the chair, and Y/N marched over and grabbed the collar of Tim’s shirt. Which, if he had a clearer mind, Y/N would have not done that. It only allowed for Tim to grab his wrist and maneuver them so that it was Y/N who was pinned. 

Icy blue eyes stared into boiling E/C eyes. Tim sighed, releasing Y/N so he can sign, ‘It is getting out of control, Y/N. I can understand a month, but you are pushing three.’ 

“You can’t tell me how to feel or how long I can feel it.” Tim looked ready to throttle him, and Y/N hoped that Tim rolled his eyes enough that they got stuck like that. 

‘Y/N, just what was so important about that shack that is keeping you acting like this?’ Y/N pushed Tim, startling his younger brother and if he was calmer, Y/N would also be startled. He’s never been a violent person, choosing to look away when things got bloody in a movie or show. However, the spike of rage and aggravation he felt towards Tim and the situation had made his body move before he could really process it.  

He glared at Tim with a new rage, and now he had wished he had thrown those external processors as the so-called genius. He balled his fist, “It wasn’t the shack! It wasn’t the ocean, it wasn’t the country, for fucks sake Tim, it wasn’t even then whales!” Y/N reached across his desk and threw a copy of Alice in Wonderland at the other. 

He ignored the annoyance when Tim caught it. 

“It wasn’t any of that! It was what you all took away! It wasn’t the sun, it wasn’t the outside, it was the ability to make my own decisions!” Tears burned Y/N’s eyes and he wondered just how many nights he spent crying and wishing for a chance to escape. 

“Why… why am I the only one who doesn’t have any say in how I want to live me life?” Tim set the book down on Y/N’s bed, and walked closer. Y/N stepped away, “Why am I the one who is held here like some kind of… prisoner when everyone else can go and–and do what they want?” 

Tim’s heart broke, ‘No, no Y/N. You’re not a prisoner, we just want you safe and the safest place is here.’ Y/N gave him a look of exhaustion and disappointment, “What else is this then? Where else are people monitored to this extent?” Prison. Hell, Arkham doesn’t even have this level of monitoring and Gotham’ worst and craziest people were there. 

Y/N knows that all of this is done out of some sick and twisted form of love, but if this was love then Y/N wanted no part of it. 

“Y/N,” Tim winced. He didn’t feel bad about what they have done for Y/N, but he did feel bad that it was somewhat affecting Y/N like this. It wasn’t their intention for Y/N to feel trapped, but Y/N just doesn’t get it. The world is mean, cruel, and horrible to those who don’t fit in. Tim, Jason, Dick, Damian, Bruce, the entire Bat clan knows this because they are the ones out there and witnessing this. 

They all know just how awful this world can be, so why would they not want to protect Y/N from it? 

“Dinner is ready.” Tim’s attention snapped to the door, where Damian stood. Y/N’s attention also turned to Damian, and the boy softened under Y/N’s hurt gaze. 

‘Alfred made your favorite.’ Y/N wanted to bury his head in his hands. He didn’t want to read this conversation anymore. Pursing his lips, Y/N plopped down on the edge of his bed and looked out the barred window. 

“You say I am not a prisoner… then am I a pet?” He mumbled, his voice barely above a murmur. Damian moved further in the room, so Y/N can see his hands at least. 

‘Of course not. You are our most prized person.’ Damian didn’t see Y/N as a person. It is cruel to admit and he had almost been choked-out by Jason when he said it out loud. Y/N, in Damian’ eyes, was the Wayne’s family most prized possession. Next to the Batcave, the library, the Barmobile, and even Wayne Enterprises, Y/N stood next to and in front of it all. They could not function without him. 

Like every prized possession, like diamonds, sapphires, and jades, they wanted to protect him. They gave him the best care they could and the best security. The difference was that jewels don’t have opinions or a desire to roam the earth. Something Y/N did have, and Damian blames the books for that wanderlust. Specifically that Moby Dick book. 

When Jason took it from Y/N, Damian had to stop himself from throwing it in the fire. It was a first edition, the cover and binding still the same from when the book was first published, and if he looked closely he could see the faint line where Y/N has traced the spine of the book numerous times. Damian knows there is only one person in this world Y/N hates, which is the Joker, and Damian does not want to be added to the list should anything happen to that book. 

Still, it was tempting. 

Damian has read the book, and the lesson was as obvious as an East Gothamite amidst the upper echelon of Gotham. Damian knows what Y/N’s ‘white whale’ is, and he can’t help but to wonder why Y/N can’t draw the same conclusions like everyone else did. 

Just like the story, Y/N will drive himself crazy trying to obtain something that they will never allow. Diamonds, sapphires, and jades are always protected by glass cases and security systems. That is how Y/N should see this. 

‘Your safety is the most important thing.’ 

“More than my happiness?” Damian and Tim stared at Y/N with the answer clear in their eyes, but Y/N wanted to see them say it. He wanted to see them admit that they did not care for his happiness as long as he was trapped within these thick walls and gilded windows. 

‘You were happy before.’ Y/N sighed, “That is because it was an illusion.” E/C eyes, dull and lacking emotion, “Tell me Dami, how can I go back to that illusion when in the morning it is the sun’s reflections off the bars on the windows that wake me up? Or the feeling of those trackers in my body replacing the collar you all want to put around my neck?” 

++++

Bruce stared at the photo, taking in the smiles and the way those eyes used to shine. Y/N always had a great smile, full of his emotions and rarely ever fake. His eyes always the most expressive, and it is why Bruce found it easy to see when he was lying. 

Granted, in Y/N’s defense, he’s never had a real reason to lie before. He was open with everyone about his thoughts, opinions, and desires. Bruce made it that way. Bruce swaddled him in the comfort that only he and the family could provide in order to make it so Y/N would always rely on them for that. He made it so Y/N would never have to lie, or feel the need too. 

Then Y/N just had to get curious. Bruce doesn’t know who is to blame for this sudden defiance in Y/N, but he does put a lot of blame on those ocean documentaries. Even when he was young, Y/N always had a fascination for them. Watching them over and over again, reading the subtitles, memorizing them, so now he can just watch the documentaries while already knowing what is going on. 

His attention turned to the photo he had bought from that photographer in the Dominican Republic. Y/N was freediving and looking like he was in his element. 

Bruce didn’t feel bad for taking Y/N back, but he did feel bad about cutting a hobby short. There was denying that Y/N was a natural at this sport, and Bruce had always wanted to encourage each of his kids’ interest. 

But not this one. Not one that meant Y/N had to live far from them and was dangerous. At least with vigilantism, Batman was there in case anything turned south. There was no one in the water for Y/N in case something happened. Free diving is dangerous, and the ocean is unpredictable. Bruce can’t help Y/N if he goes free diving, especially if he goes alone. 

Sighing, Bruce rubbed his forehead and checked the surveillance cameras one more time. Y/N and Dick were in one of the study rooms. From what it looks like, Dick is trying to talk to Y/N who was standing next to the windows, looking away from the other. 

Perhaps, it’s about time Bruce steps in. Y/N hasn’t talked to him since the day Bruce grounded him, about two months ago and the other has done a great job in staying out of Bruce’s radar. The only time Bruce has seen Y/N in person is when he goes into Y/N's room at night after patrol to make sure that he is still there. A new fear unlocked that one night, when everyone is out and Alfred is asleep, Y/N will disappear once more. 

No one knows how Y/N got out that one night, and no matter how many questions were asked, Y/N never said anything. Damian had tried bargaining with him, telling him that if Y/N told them how he got out then some days of his grounding would be taken off. Y/N huffed, a bitter smile taking over his face. 

Bruce rose from his desk, shutting down his computer and leaving his own study. It is about time he and his son have a conversation. One sided or not. 

He walked over to the study room that Dick and Y/N were in. Halting before the door and listening to the voices coming from inside. 

“Y/N, I am telling you that no one is going to believe you after the stunt you pulled.” 

“But you will be with me. Dick, I just want to go to the beach. We did it all the time.”  

“Mmm, and look how that ended up.” 

“Me being happy for a few months.” 

“You’re still on that, Y/N?” Bruce opened the heavy doors, silencing the conversation and causing two sets of eyes to land on him. Dick was leaning against the desk, and Y/N had his back to the window. Both of their faces showed their surprise and confusion, until E/C eyes flickered to the ceiling and the corners of the room where he saw the cameras. Confusion became annoyance, rolling his eyes and turning back towards the window. 

Dick and Bruce made eye contact, and when Bruce nodded his head towards the door Dick didn’t fight it. He took the hint and walked out, sparing Y/N and Bruce one last look before shutting the large oak doors. 

Y/N refused to look at him. Bruce walked closer, behind the desk and next to Y/N, standing next to the window. 

“Y/N.” His son moved to pull out his external processors, but Bruce grabbed his wrists within his large hands, effectively stopping his son. Bruce set his jaw, “None of that, we need to talk.” 

“I don’t want to talk to you.” 

“Then listen.” Y/N scrunched his nose and furrowed his brows, glaring at Bruce. The older man sighed, but held his grip on those thin wrists, noting that Y/N had stopped tugging his arms and was in fact waiting for Bruce to start talking, “I understand that you are upset, and that you are upset at us for meddling.” Y/N raised an eyebrow, his face slowly smoothening out and his lips no longer in a pout. 

Bruce sighed, releasing one of Y/N’s wrists to push aside his bangs. Gently brushing his son’s forehead and pushing the rest of the strand behind his ear, minding the processing unit resting behind Y/N’s ear. 

“And I know you’re aware that if you had asked, we would have said no.” Y/N’s lips pouted once more and his eyes became a little downcast. Sadness blanketing over him and Bruce felt a bit bad for revealing that, but Y/N knows it already. 

“Y/N, why are you insistent on wanting to be independent? There are millions of people in this world who still wish for their parent’s support, and thousands of people who would give up everything to have a life and opportunities that you have.” Y/N scrunched his nose, feeling guilt curl in his chest. 

He knows that he is lucky. Y/N is aware of how fortunate he is to have all that he has and then some. He knows that there are people in this world who would kill to have what he has. 

Yet, just like there are millions of people who want what he has, there are also millions of people who strive for their independence against their family. Millions of people who take pleasure in making choices that affect only them. Millions of people who don’t let their disabilities define their life, and learn to accept and live with them. 

“I am aware that I am fortunate, that my deafness has only been a part of my life instead of completely defining it,” Y/N acknowledged, turning his attention back to outside where it was beginning to snow. He ignored his reflection, not wanting to look at the weak person in front of him. 

“I am grateful for all you have done, along with Alfred and everyone else. No amount of ‘thank you’s’ will ever be enough. But Bruce–” Y/N turned his eyes once more to Bruce, E/C eyes meeting ocean blue, “– No amount of money or gadgets is going to deny the fact that I am deaf. 

“I am reliant on you all for a lot of things, and you raised me that way so that I can forever depend on you. Which… I know it wouldn't bother some people but it bothers me.” Y/N’s eyes shined with unshed tears, as if the very thought of having to rely on them was shameful. 

“I am not fragile, nor am I glass. I am from East Gotham, just like Jason.” Bruce is aware of that. Like every East Gothamite, the both of them had the stubbornness that made Bruce question if he had a lineage that tied him back to that part of town. Y/N is strong in his own ways, and stubborn in others. Bruce will agree on that. He will agree that Jason and Y/N are more like brothers than those Bruce has seen when blood related. 

However, Jason and Y/N are not the same. They were different pieces cut from the same cloth. Jason was shaped and molded to withstand the toughest and dangerous situations, to be durable and take a beating. 

Y/N was not molded like that. Y/N was refined and polished to be treated gently and kindly, to only know the kindest hands and gentlest of uses. 

“And I know that compared to the rest of you, I am weaker. I… I am not strong like you or Jason, I am not fast like Damian, nor am I as smart as Tim, or charismatic like Dick.” Bruce’s grip tightened on the one wrist he was still holding, wanting to deny everything Y/N had said because he hated hearing Y/N self-deprecating himself like that. Y/N is kinder than any of them, easier to talk to, and has almost the same amount of medical knowledge that Alfred has. 

Y/N is the normalcy they all crave for when they come back from a patrol or mission. He reminds them in the gentlest ways that they are human. They are not just vigilantes, not another person hiding behind a cowl, a cape, or a domino mask. He reminds them that they are brothers, friends, allies, a father (in Bruce’s case). 

“But just because of that, do you really have to control every part of my life? I wish you had more faith in me to let me go and learn to be strong on my own, just like you do with everyone else.” Y/N stared up at Bruce with a hurt expression, E/C eyes staring into Bruce’s blue eyes through those lashes that normally would be able to grant Y/N anything he wished. A simple bat of those lashes and eyes would have everyone running around trying to do as he wished. 

“Y/N–” 

“If you can’t trust me, at least trust yourself that you taught me well enough to be by myself.” But the thing is, is that Bruce doesn’t trust himself. He’s failed so many times and he fears that this one failure will be the one that breaks him. It’ll break the boys, the girls, Alfred, him. It’ll break everyone. 

Y/N doesn’t realize it, and Bruce wonders if it is because he doesn’t want to get it or he just doesn’t. He wonders if Y/N chooses not to see his importance in this family so the burden doesn’t feel as heavy. If anything should happen to Y/N, Bruce can’t guarantee the safety of Gotham anymore. He couldn’t guarantee the safety of his Robins, past and current. If Bruce couldn’t protect literally the easiest person to protect, then who was he to try and protect a city? 

Y/N, sensing Bruce’s hesitation and unease, tried to withdraw his hand from Bruce’s grip and shrug off the hand that was resting on his cheek. His hopes and wants crashing onto the carpeted floor, replacing his chest with anger and disappointment. He's been feeling those two emotions a lot lately. They are carving its way in his chest like it is their new home, and he wonders if it will be. Will he hold onto these feelings for the rest of his life as he stares out these large windows and reminisces what the sun felt like on his skin and the breeze through his hair. Does the biting cold still turn his nose and cheeks red, and does the heat and humid summers still make his freckles pop and skin gleam?

“...Forget it. I… it was stupid to ask that of you.” The raging inferno of anger died, filling his chest with the smoke of its fury and his stomach warm with the dying embers. A new emotion, one he is intimately familiar with, filled him instead. It is one he knows like the back of his hand, an emotion that is more of his identity than his deafness. 

Sadness. 

It is like a steady stream, filling the smoking cavity in his chest with cold water, putting out the embers and making that smoke turn to steam. Burning his muscles and organs with a painful sting, and filling his person with ice cold water instead of the burning fire. Y/N knows sadness. He knows the emotion well and sometimes it reminds him of a scar. Never truly gone, just sometimes forgotten. It sits at the back of the mind, hiding behind the good times, the happy emotions, until it is accidentally hit and it draws your attention. From there, it is no longer at the back of your mind, but all you can think about. 

Sadness, to Y/N, is like a scar that has marred its way across his face. Never forgotten and for the whole world to see, unless makeup and a smile is put on it. 

Y/N, in the basicness of emotions, is sad. He is hurt, upset, exhausted, and sad. 

“Leave me alone, Bruce.” Bruce’s grip tightened once more, and his jaw clenched. He’s finally got Y/N within his vicinity to talk, like hell he’s letting go. Y/N narrowed his eyes and pulled his arm, “Let go, Bruce.” 

He pulled again, “Bruce.” The man’s iron grip never waivered, and Y/N felt the air in his lungs begin to escape quicker than it could fill the organs. He brought his other hand up to try and peel those thick fingers off his wrist, but Bruce grabbed his other hand. 

“I still don’t understand why you would want to leave.” Y/N scrunched his nose, “If you can’t understand, even after I spelled it out for you, then maybe you should stop being a detective.” Bruce didn’t feel insulted or slighted at Y/N’s words, chalking it up to Y/N being upset still. 

“How can I make you want to stay here?” Y/N sighed, and Bruce could feel that fight leaving his son’s body. The tension in his arms disappeared. 

“How can I know that it is here that I am meant to be, when I haven’t been anywhere else?” Bruce opened his mouth, to which Y/N effectively cut him off, “East Gotham doesn’t count, and the Dominican Republic would have counted if you all hadn’t kidnapped me.” 

“We didn’t kidnap you.” Y/N gawked at him, and the fight returned, “You did kidnap me! Do you need a dictionary definition of what kidnapping is?! It is the unlawful abduction, aspiration and confinement of a person against their will!” 

“You. Live. Here.” Bruce gritted out and Y/N’s jaw clenched, “Well I don’t WANT to be here!” He snarled and tried once more to loosen Bruce’s grip on his wrists. 

“What is it with all of you NOT comprehending that?! No matter how you look at it, no matter what angle you try to take this from, Bruce. I am a prisoner within this manor!” Y/N glared at Bruce, “Just what did I do that warranted the surveilance, the trackers, the stupid god for fucking sake imaginary collar you all want me to have on?!” 

Bruce growled out, “You left when you are only meant to stay here. It is the consequences of your actions.” 

“I am not your property!” Y/N snarled, “ Nor am I a pet that you can keep chained and trapped in the house!” Bruce felt something snap within him and he released Y/N’s wrist and watched the other stumble from the sudden loss of support. 

Y/N righted himself, still glaring at the man. Bruce took a deep breath, “Fine.” 

“Huh?” 

“You want to try your luck out there, then go. I will give you an hour's head start.” Y/N stared at Bruce in suspicion, “What are you getting at?” Bruce made a show of adjusting his watch, “I will give you an hour, only one. If you can outrun us, out maneuver us, or outsmart us until sunrise, you can choose how your future plays out.” 

“‘Us?’” Bruce smiled, “All of us.” Y/N wanted to bite out a ‘not fair’ comment, but found a more pressing matter, “What about the trackers?” Bruce fished out his phone, and made a dramatic show of pressing some buttons, he then showed Y/N what appeared to be a small map, like a GPS, on his phone. 

“Turned off.” Y/N ignored the feeling of disgust seeing that his location was literally on their phones. 

“Start running Y/N, your hour has already started.” Y/N bolted out the study room, not looking back. 

Bruce stayed in the room, looking out the window as the sun began to set and the snow turned dark. Light footsteps entered the room, and Bruce could basically hear the eyebrow raise, “Not now Alfred, save it for when Y/N comes back.” 

The old butler humphed, “He’s always gotten sick when playing in the snow.” Bruce hummed, “Then I guess we better make this quick.” 

“Are you sure an hour was a good idea? He did sneak out of the manor before.” Ocean blue eyes filled with mirth, and he tapped his ears, “If Y/N wants to know what it’s like to be deaf, then he’ll play this game deaf. It’ll teach him how lucky he is to have his hearing.” Alfred’s eyes widened, “They turn off without his knowledge.” 

“Once he reaches a certain distance, they do, and he can’t turn them back on. Only I have the power to do that.” 

In the hall, suited up and waiting in the shadows, were the rest of this crooked family. Waiting for his orders, “Give him an hour, then find him.”

++++

Y/N knows this is a losing game. He knows that this game is set for his failure, and he knows that once this game is over, he will most likely never be able to set foot outside again. Not without a babysitter. 

When he external processors cut out, he knows what angle Bruce is playing out and he knows that his chances of making it to sunrise have become nearly 0%. He may not be as smart as Tim or anyone else in his family, but if you live with geniuses you learn how to read between the lines. 

He somehow managed to flag down a taxi before telling them where to go. Not missing the slight judgment cross their face and Y/N wonders if they know he cannot hear them. Y/N wonders if they know he is being chased and he essentially is just digging a bigger and deeper hole for himself. The bars will get thicker and the chain will be heavier, but if that is the outcome of this, then Y/N believes that this will be worth it. 

He clutched the bag closer. 

When he arrives at the station, he knows his hour is up and he knows that Barbara is watching him through the cameras. She is watching him buy his ticket, and is retelling everything to his siblings. He knows this because in front of him is Nightwing, drawing a crowd and making everyone look around for the villain. 

‘Going somewhere?’ 

‘Only temporarily.’ 

‘Temporarily is too long Y/N, let's go back home. Alfred has a peach cobbler ready.’ Nightwing held his hand out as if Y/N would actually take it. Which is fine, because Y/N knows through the giant circular mirror hanging from the ceiling, that Spoiler and Red Robin are behind him. 

Y/N stared at the hand once more, and he wondered if this is what it feels like to know the path you should take and still choose the other one. Taking a deep breath, Y/N said the one word that would get everyone running. It would have people scrambling and trying to seek cover and get out of a place that made everyone have a close vicinity to each other. 

“Joker!” Like someone shouting fire, the world was set into motion and Y/N watched as his view got obstructed by the rush of people. He disappeared within the crowds, dodging idle hands and ducking into the crowd. He may not be able to hear, but he can feel the panic that everyone else was feeling. Y/N saw parents pick their kids up, lovers grabbing each other’s hands, and strangers pushing and shoving other strangers. 

He rushed down the escalator, towards the Amtrak that had his destination written all over it. Y/N didn’t have to turn around to know that it was Nightwing right behind him. He can feel the heavy and frantic gaze and if he could hear, without a doubt his name would be filling the air. 

His heart picked up at the sight of the doors closing, and through some luck, he squeezed in at the last minute. The metal shutting behind him, and large latex covered hands slammed into the glass. Dick’s frantic face stared at him, and Y/N couldn’t stop the smile from creeping on his face. 

How it must feel for the rabbit to slip through the Hunter’s fingers. 

When the train began moving, Y/N wiggled his fingers in a mockery of a goodbye. He now sees why Jason loves teasing Dick. Dick’s angry expression really does tickle a sore spot in Y/N. Choosing a spot near the windows, Y/N prepared himself for the 10 hours train ride. The sun will not be rising when he gets there, but he never expected to make it to sunrise. Peering into the duffle bag next to him, Y/N gave a bitter smile and turned his attention back to the passing sight of Gotham city. 

In the Batcave, everyone was pacing and figuring out the best way to do this. 

“Are you sure that is where he is going?” 

“For the last time, I saw his ticket, yes. He is going there!” Jason winced at Barbara’s raised voice and he grit his teeth in irritation. He massaged his temples, “Why North Carolina? What is even there?” 

“The beaches.” 

“No shit you little spawn, but which one.” Nightwing didn’t bother reproaching his brother, and instead tightened his fist. He was so close to grabbing his brother. So close. 

The very knowledge that his little brother had barely escaped him stoked two different emotions in him. Pride in knowing that his brother was fast, fast enough to get away from him, and irritation because he did slip through Nightwing’s fingers. Batman didn’t seem bothered. 

In fact he looked awfully relaxed for someone whose son had just hopped on a train to North Carolina. Nightwing glared at him, “You know where he’s going.” Batman shrugged, “An idea.” 

“Where?” 

“Y/N took his freediving gear, and there’s only one beach in North Carolina that is worth freediving.” 

++++

Y/N felt the water encompass him, hugging his limbs and freeing him of gravity. The light attached to his forehead illuminates the sea and sees marine life at night. The train ride had been long and restless, but he did manage to at least sleep for 4 hours, before his nerves woke him up once more. 

It was still dark, but at 4 am in the morning, it would be stupid to assume there would be any light. Navigating to the pier at Wrightsville Beach had been difficult, constantly looking over his shoulders to make sure he wasn’t being followed. Then there was the actual jumping off of the pier that if anyone saw would have the cops racing over. 

Finally though, he was here. Swimming in the water and just letting himself be. It was a poor replication of freedom, but if this will be all he is allowed he’ll take it. Who knows how long it'll be before he could do something like this. Y/N isn’t stupid. He knows that Bruce knows where he is at. 

He knows his siblings are on their way over. Probably letting him get off the Amtrak first before jumping in the Batplane, or maybe even the Batboat. Y/N surfaced, and took a deep breath before diving below the surface once more. 

God, this was all a terrible joke but here it was happening. Y/N could have never imagined his family doing this. When he was younger, he chalked up Bruce’s need to constantly check on him as anxiety because it was the first time the man had a completely normal person in the house. Jason had always been touchy, and then Dick came along who would ruffle their hair. Tim would hold his forearm and Damian would follow him where he went. 

It wasn’t weird at all. That was Y/N’s normal, until he went to college and started making friends. Friends who were mature enough to see past his lack of hearing and shared their own sibling experiences. 

Experiences that didn’t match Y/N’s. 

His little trip outside the country only proved it, and Y/N wondered if it was a bad thing he decided to do in person classes instead of online. If he did online, he would live in the fantasy that his family was normal and they loved him as a person. No red flags would be waving because Y/N wouldn’t even know they are flags. 

He felt the water around him begin to vibrate and from the way the fish started spazzing out, Y/N knew his time was limited. How funny it would be if he never rose to the surface again. 

Sinking a bit further, he looked towards the surface and watched as the water distorted and ripples began to form, each one acting as a timer. Closing his eyes, he held his breath as long as he could, until his lungs began to ache. Lightheadedness caused him to almost inhale water.  

Rising to the surface, he could see the ominous black shape and the people looking over the edge. Here he was swimming back to his captors’ arms. Like a mouse headed for the trap. A fish into a net. 

Y/N has never hated himself more then when he took that breath of air and met the sight of cowled Batman, and masked Robin and former Robins. 

‘Ready?’ 

“Even if I wasn’t you’d still take me.” 

‘You lost Y/N, get out of the water.’ He accepted the ladder thrown down to him, and as soon as he was within arm distance, Red Hood and Red Robin hoisted him over the edge of the boat and it was Robin handing him a towel. Taking off his snorkel and flippers, Y/N let himself be guided to the inside, where an unmasked Dick sat at one of the tables with two cups of coffee. Red Hood pushed Y/N into the seat, squishing his body against the window as he laid his giant self on him. Sighing in relief and going limp. 

Y/N didn’t mind. From his seat, he watched the sunrays begin to slowly peak over the horizon. The warm glow gently illuminating the darkness, the sun not in sight yet but it’s very beginnings making itself known. Y/N wonders if one day, he can fall into the illusion of once more having a choice in his decisions. That there will be multiple paths in front of him instead of just one. 

A large hand patted his head, and Y/N felt disgusted that he welcomed it. Back to normalcy. He has to go back to normalcy. If he didn’t, Y/N really does believe he will go crazy. His fate has been chosen from the start, and he knows that there is little chance of changing it. He knows that all of this comes from a sick and twisted form of love, and Y/N wonders if this is the type of love he has always been destined for. 

The worst part is if given the choice to start over, Y/N wouldn’t stop himself from meeting Jason. He wouldn’t stop Jason from stealing the Batmobile tires, and he wouldn’t stop Jason from being Robin. He would try and stop Jason from dying, but he wouldn’t stop Tim from being Robin, or anything really. Y/N loves Jason, he loves his family, he loves their flaws and vices, even if it means letting go of somethings. His desire to be on his own was temporary anyways, only a few years and he would come back. 

It was never good to have a ‘white whale.’ That is what Moby Dick taught everyone who read it. 

If freedom was his white whale, then his family are the whalers. Killing it and completely destroying anything that made him want to chase it. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Honestly.... I'm not to sure about the ending.

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

peace - m. murdock

a/n: hi guys! missed you. desperately wanted to write more hoh!reader, so i did it. this can be read on it's own, OR it can be read as a part two to my fic, 'the lakes', which you can read here! feedback always appreciated! <3 warnings: so much damn fluff, suggestive behaviors, like literally tooth rotting fluff! mentions of some abelism but nothing actually happens it's just sort of mentioned. matt hates buffalo chicken pizza, the cold hurts readers ears, also a lot of kissin' and tinnitus because of course there is. word count: 3.0k summary: tinnitus, buffalo chicken pizza, and objections. what more can you ask for from matt murdock? paring: matt murdock x hoh!reader now playing: peace - taylor swift "the devils in the details/but you got a friend in me/would be enough if i could never give you peace?"

There are things that no one teaches you about dating.  

There are things that no one teaches you about dating Matt Murdock, a blind man.

There are things that no one teaches you about dating Matt Murdock, a blind man, who has super senses and is also a vigilante.

There are things that no one teaches you about dating Matt Murdock, a blind man, who has super senses and is also a vigilante… while also being deaf.

As you lost your hearing, you knew dating would be difficult. That was never a secret. Your first girlfriend after you started wearing hearing aids once hid them from you as a punishment after an argument. Safe to say that relationship didn’t last long.

One time, you went on a date with a guy who asked in the middle of your dinner, ‘Could you please take off your headphones? It’s cool that they’re Bluetooth but it’s really rude.’ You did not make it to dessert.

Then there was the time that your ex-boyfriend thought you were talking about him in ASL to your mom in front of him. You broke up with him soon after.

And Matt has experienced his fair share of ableism in dating too—Women who thought they could get away with stealing from him because he was blind, or that thought that he just had to have a service dog, and he’d be so cute with one.

So, when you started dating each other, things were obviously different. You weren’t sure how, but the idea of dating another person with a disability never occurred to you. Maybe it was because of how often you found people playing oppression Olympics, a classic game of ‘who has it worse?’ a game you had no interest in playing.

And the struggles you and Matt have in your relationship are never ones represented in rom-coms or in romantic novels. Dating any blind man would have been hardly represented but Matt, with his charm and heightened senses, was completely uncharted waters. And yet, you dive in headfirst.

One of the most romantic things Matt does for you within the first six months of your relationship happens on a cold February day. Winter in New York isn’t over until at least March, so you walk home from work, arm in arm. You decide to stop in for Thai food but decide to stand outside in favor of in the crowded restaurant where Matt would be hearing too many things and you wouldn’t be hearing nearly enough.

But he notices, as he often does, how you squirm in discomfort, waiting for time to pass. Though you do not show it in your face, he hears it in the way you breath deeply to try and relax through whatever it is that’s bothering you. He notices the grip on his arm tightening, even just a bit.

“What’s wrong, bee?” You’re never getting over your fondness for the nickname. But you stay quiet for a second, because you know he can tell if you’re lying.

“My ears hurt.” You hate saying it, because you feel like it’s all you do—yap about your ears and how much they hurt. They hurt from talking on the phone and holding it up to your ear for so long. They hurt from being in loud environments like parties and bars. But dear god, do they hurt right now. And you know exactly why.

“Oh, is it too loud? We could move to a different spot,” he says softly but you shake your head.

“Uh.. No. It’s cold. The cold is bothering my ears.” You explain, and he just nods. But before he can respond, you continue, “They’re in pain when it’s cold and earmuffs don’t do anything except block out sound and I can’t hear anyways, negating the point of my hearing aids.” You’ve tried earmuffs time and time again. And usually, you’d just wear a beanie or something, but you forgot yours.

So, Matt thinks for a moment, before tucking his cane under his arm, before lifting his hands to come up to your face. The heel of his hand comes up to rest against your cheeks while the length of his fingers gently cup around your ears. He’s not pressing down, making it harder to hear, but your ears are immediately warmer. Matt’s hands—and well, everything, are naturally very warm and the leather gloves he has on makes it even more so.

Your face flushes, as you lean into his touch. What a man you have found yourself. You stay like this for a little while, until your food is ready. Your face turns and you plant a gentle kiss to the palm of his hand.

As you leave the restaurant after grabbing your food, you want to say one more thing. Just quickly.

“Thanks for helping, by the way.. I’m sorry I constantly complain about my ears.” You tell him, and he just gets this goofy grin on his face.

“At least you’re not blind. That would suck.” He links his arm with yours. You just laugh, leaning against him.

“Shut up,” and at this request, he scoffs.

“You love listening to me talk, it’s one of your favorite things ever!” he defends.

You just grin because your boyfriend can tell when you’re lying. And you know anything other than telling him that what he said was true would be the biggest lie you ever told.

...

It’s not all sunshine and rainbows with Matt, though.

Okay, maybe that’s sort of dramatic. Neither of you are particularly violent nor angry, but one time you get really heated.

Your time working with Nelson, Murdock & Page is wonderful, and because it’s just the four of you, often, you wind up getting lunch together. Someone runs out, grabs food, and you all sit in the conference room, talk and eat.

But today, you barely made it to lunch.

“Where do you guys wanna eat today?” Foggy asks, leaning against your doorway. He knows Matt can hear him from wherever, but you need him to be in the room to be able to decode what he’s saying. Karen leans against the desk in the main part of the office.

“Pizza?” You shrug, and Matt calls from his office,

“Sounds good!”

“Great. What do you guys want?” He asks.

“I’m really in the mood for buffalo chicken pizza, I dunno why.” You shrug. Matt’s footsteps echo through the office, before he’s in your doorway as well.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

You gaze at him, perplexed.

“Uh… I want buffalo chicken pizza?”

“Honey, You cannot be serious.”

“What is your problem, Matthew?” You laugh, but he looks disgusted.

“You are a New York native! How can you enjoy something as blasphemous as wanting buffalo chicken pizza?” He asks, and Foggy just laughs.

“Dude, no way. You can’t be discriminatory towards pizza.” Then, Karen speaks up.

“No, you can’t. Not technically. But I most definitely am. Buffalo chicken pizza ruins the point of pizza!”

Then, you go to defend yourself.

“The point of Pizza is to enjoy it! And I enjoy buffalo chicken pizza!”

“Well, you’re enjoying pizza wrong!”

“You can’t enjoy pizza incorrectly!”

At this point, Foggy is just giggling, “I can’t breathe,” He wheezes.

Now, you stand and leave your desk, going into the main part of the office.

“Where are you going?” Matt asks.

“I don’t need to be berated about my pizza preferences in my own office by my own boyfriend!”

“I have a valid excuse; I can taste all the ingredients of buffalo chicken pizza and it’s disgusting!”

“It’s not my fault you’re a freak with crazy senses!”

Matt gasps, “Bee, you wound me!”

“Do not use that nickname with me, Matthew!” You tell him, “That’s a low blow!”

“Why, just because I think your pizza choices are awful doesn’t mean I don’t still love you, Sweetheart! Your pizza preference is just inexcusable, and I think you need to accept that—”

“You know what?”

“What?”

Your hands come up to your ears, quickly turning your hearing aids off and taking them off, putting it on a nearby desk.

Though you cannot hear, Foggy and Karen’s face tells you that they are dying of laughter, and Matt has this offended look on his face when he realizes he no longer hears the familiar buzzing of your hearing aids.

This is how you spend your day. You sit at your desk, hungry, as your boyfriend yaps by your doorway. You know he’s asking you to put your hearing aids in or telling you that your pizza request is dumb, you can just sort of make out what he’s saying by the movement of his lips.

But you do not budge, and by the time it’s time to go back to his apartment, you simply slip on your coat and wait for him to meet you by the door. He has given up trying to talk to you, for the most part. But the silent treatment is killing him. Even when you get to his apartment, he’s left speechless as you silently retreat into his bedroom, stealing some clothes and going to lay down.

Honestly, though? The worst part isn’t the silent treatment or ignoring him, but it’s the fact that he knows your ears ring even worse when you walk through the city without your hearing aids on. He knows you’re in pain. It’s killing him because you’re trying not to show it, but he can tell you’re clenching your jaw and burying your head beneath his pillow. You’re trying to rely on the softness of his sheets and the faint smell of him lingering between the sheets.

So, he devises a plan. And every minute he waits for the plan to be carried out is torture because he knows you’re too stubborn to forfeit your opinion on buffalo chicken pizza. When he is finally able to give you an apology you truly deserve, he grabs your hearing aids off the coffee table and crawls into bed behind you. You feel the bed dip but don’t say anything.

He plants a soft kiss to your hand, beginning to trail kisses up your arm and shoulder. He kisses your neck, and then jaw. You glance back over to him, seeing the hearing aids in his hand. You take them from him and put them on, before turning them on. He grins at the familiar humming they create at a frequency that will not bother you.

“Still mad at me, bee?” He asks, kissing your shoulder again. You shrug.

“Mad is a strong word, but yes.”

“Let me make it up to you?”

“Fine, but only because you’re cute.” He likes this answer. He takes your hand and pulls you off the bed, taking you to the kitchen. And you smell.. Pizza. There’s a box from your favorite place, and you step away from him to open the box. It’s a half plain pie and a half buffalo chicken pie. Because no matter how much he disagrees with you, he just wants you to talk to him and not be in so much pain for the sake of winning an argument.

You turn your head and place a soft kiss to his cheek. He tilts his head and places a soft kiss to your lips.

“Am I forgiven, bee?”

“I think so, Matty.” You hum.

He grins and kisses you again, thrilled to sense your more relaxed posture now.

...

Another challenge of your relationship comes from being lawyers. Mostly since you’re both ridiculously stubborn. You have a fun game you like to play out of it, though.

This one time you play, you’re laying with him on his couch, listening to music when you start yapping.

“I think I might style my hair a different way,” you tell him, but he just shrugs and plays with your hair.

“I think you look gorgeous either way.”

You furrow your brows for a second, and his face splits into a grin since he knows what’s coming.

“Objection,” you start, “You’re blind, you have no actual way of telling if I’m conventionally attractive.”

He considers this for a second.

“Overruled,” He determines, “Beauty is subjective, and in my opinion, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever known.” Your face flushes.

“Objection,” You start again, and he groans, knowing you won’t let it go, “You don’t need to flirt with me, I already want you.”

“Overruled,” He counters again, quicker this time, “I like flirting with you, and it keeps the spark alive. Plus, I like making you blush.”

You raise an eyebrow, and he knows what’s coming next.

“Objection,” You hum, “How could you possibly know I’m blushing?”

He simply moves his hands from your hair and rests them against your cheeks, before deciding.

“Overruled.”

There’s another time that you’re at Josie’s, and you want to talk to Karen about a surprise you’re planning for his birthday, but he’s sitting right there, so you start signing. And he knows you’re signing by the way your hands smack, and the air moves through your fingers.

“Objection,” He groans, “I can’t understand what you’re talking about!”

“Mm, Overruled,” You determine, “There are some things I’m allowed to keep from you, but you have super senses and can tell when I’m lying and can hear me from a long distance away. Signing is the only way to have things be confidential.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, objection—You aren’t supposed to keep secrets from your partner.”

“Overruled.” You tell him. “One, that’s something people say about wedded spouses, ask me to marry you, get a marriage certificate and show me a nice ring then we’ll talk,” He blushes at that, “Two, you have an unhealthy idea of relationships from past relationships. You’re in therapy for a reason.”

Matt nods.

“Okay, okay.” He sighs, “That’s fair.” You grin at this.

“See? Was it so hard to let me win, Counselor?”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Yes, it was, Counselor.” He tells you, but you just giggle, because you love being a lawyer and you love your boyfriend.

But this last time is your favorite.

You spent the night drinking at Marci and Foggy’s, but there was this tension between you and Matt, and you can hardly wait to get home. So at some point, you make a half assed excuse, mumbling something about how your hearing aid batteries are low, but whatever it was that you told them as an excuse, you don’t really care.

Because now you’re on your bed, Matt pressed against you as he kisses down your neck. His teeth graze against your skin, and you gasp when he bites down, leaving a large mark on your neck.

Then, Matt, horny and a little tipsy, goes,

“Objection, I thought I told you to be quiet.” He continues to kiss your neck, jumping from side to side, leaving marks here and there.

“Overruled, I’m deaf, I can’t tell how loud I’m being,” You hum, your fingers lacing into his hair. He hums and kisses your collarbone before he speaks again.

“Objection,”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Matt—”

He shushes you softly before kissing you.

“Ssh… It’s listening time, sweetheart,” Okay, that was hot, “Objection,” He starts again, “You can be quiet for me, I know you can. I know you can follow orders, baby.” He then kisses your neck again.

“Overruled,” You start, tugging on his hair a bit. “You decided to play our game while knowing I’m at your mercy. It’s an abuse of power.”

“An abuse of—” he half scoffs, half chuckles. “You know what, Sweetheart?”

“What, Matty?”

“Objection. Be quiet or I’ll stop.”

Damn. An ultimatum. You knew that in situations like these, Matt’s willpower is stronger than yours.

“Sustained.”

“There we go, bee, was that so hard?”

...

The real best part of dating Matt Murdock, a blind lawyer with super senses while being deaf?

Well..

It starts on a warm sunny Sunday morning. You’re laying in bed, the sun peeking through its curtains. You’re laying on your stomach, face smooshed against pillows as he stretches out beside you. In another life, your dear boyfriend was a cat.

You don’t have your hearing aids in yet. It’s too early. Plus, you’re just enjoying the look of Matt basking in the warmth of the light. He’s gorgeous, your boy.

You lean forward and gently kiss the corner of his eyes, squeezed shut as he stretches. He stops when he feels your lips against his skin, smiling softly. He says good morning, but you can’t really hear him, so you just take his hand and press a kiss to his skin there too.

He returns the favor later, as you’re pouring your coffee. He presses a soft kiss to your ear, and you grin, resting your body against his He presses another kiss to your other ear. It’s something small, but it thrills you.

Matt is gentle with you in a way that you’re not used to. It’s not the sort of gentleness that comes with most people, where they’re afraid of breaking you because of your being deaf, but it’s a gentleness that comes despite it.

You enjoy bathing in his affection, especially because he is just so willing to give it to you and while it should be something you’re used to, you’re not. But you’re getting there. Matt makes sure of it.

The pair of you just seem to find the darkest cracks and crevices of the other, and you love those parts dearly.

You begin to kiss the corner of his eyes more often, and it quickly replaces his jaw as your favorite place to kiss. And your ears, despite how much pain and suffering they provide to you, Matt is a big fan of just kissing them.

So, when he leans forward and kisses your ears, you lean over to him and kiss the corners of his eyes. The way he squeezes his eyes shut at the affection is pretty adorable. It’s always awful when he must slip on those red glasses that hide those pretty eyes.

“Objection,” you groan.

He places a soft kiss to the top of your ear.

“Overruled.”

[ur-fav-inactive-writer]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐚 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐳'𝐬 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐟 𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞...

Rosa Diaz x Twin!Deaf!Reader | Request by @smoiesaustine

WC: 362

Being Rosa's twin was one of the best things to happen to you. You always felt safe and supported by your sisters side. The two of you were best friends since birth.

When you got to around six, you found out you were going deaf. You were devastated by the news, afraid it'd ruin your bond with your sister. She supported you all the way through though.

When the hearing loss grew, you had to learn sign language. Being young, it was going to be rather tough to learn it all. Your parents didn't bother learning very much of it, leaving you feeling unsupported. However, Rosa decided to learn it as well. She'd practise with you every day, for as long as you liked.

As we know, Rosa is incredibly smart, meaning that she wouldn't have much difficulty learning and understanding sign.

As you two grew up, she helped people communicate with you so you could feel more included. For those of your friends who didn't understand sign language, Rosa would translate for them.

When you got older and had the decision to get hearing aids or continue without them, Rosa helped you decide what you wanted to do.

Because of how close you were, you both pursued the same careers. You both went to multiple different schools before deciding on the police academy together.

At the police academy is where you both met Jacob Peralta. You both quickly became close friends, but Rosa often had to help him communicate with you. After meeting you, he decided to begin learning sign too.

You both graduated from the police academy, and after a while, you both transferred to the ninenty-ninth precinct together.

Everyone began trying to learn sign language together as soon as they made friends with you.

If you chose to have hearing aids, Amy would always keep spare batteries for them in her pockets and desk in case you ran out of them.

Rosa also kept them with her just in case too, she also kept a pocket-sized book that taught sign language with her in case someone needed to use it or her mind blanked, and she needed a reminder.

Overall, she was just always at your side, no matter what.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

See No Evil, Hear No Evil {4}

Aemond Targaryen x deaf!fem!reader Summary: After the birth of your son there has not been any intimacy with Aemond, but that is about to change. Plus, Aemond being just a perfect husband and father. Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, breastfeeding, smut, emotional instability from hormones etc WC: 3.4k

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four

Gaelyn fussed at your hip, his chubby cheeks rosy from the fresh tears that he had spilled before the handmaids brought him to your tent. Your baby's cries had called to Aemond and shortly after Gaelyn was comforted in your arms your husband had arrived. 

Aemond was filthy. Mud smeared up his riding leathers like he had been wading in the muck and dried blood was splattered across his tunic. 

“Is he well?” Aemond asked as he stopped short of the clean rug that covered the forest floor where the camp had been set for Maelor’s name day celebration hunt. 

You nodded with a smile as you settled onto the chaise and began unlacing the front of your dress with one hand. Aemond made to step forward and help but you cocked an eyebrow as his dirty boots and he froze as you spoke, “Wash.”

He grinned hearing your voice, savouring every time you chose to vocalise your thoughts and you were certain you could insult him and he would still be happy. He sauntered into the adjacent tent where a bath full of cold water waited and you followed his steps to see his clothing disappear piece by piece. 

Gaelyn wriggled in your arms and you tore your eyes away from your husband to bare your breast. Your son wasted no time as he sought his nourishment and latched on with an ease that had not come naturally after his birth. 

There had been many long nights spent with the maesters trying to get him to feed without it bringing you to your knees with the pain that erupted each time he latched. You had felt like you were failing Gaelyn, and Aemond too, when the situation turned dire and he started to lose the precious weight he needed to survive. The maesters had talked about your body as if you weren’t there reading their lips. 

You shivered at the memory before the feeling of your milk dropping brought you back to the present and you watched Gaelyn’s mouth working to swallow the tide that flowed. The pain you had endured was worth it when you looked at your son who held the perfect balance of Aemond and you in his features. You would go through it all again in an instant.

A shadow pulled you away from Gaelyn’s violet eyes that were fluttering shut as he filled his little tummy to the brim and you found Aemond watching from the doorway with a towel slung low across his hips. “Don’t look at me that way, my love.”

It was hard not to when the drops of water running down the planes of his chest caught the light of the candles and reflected dozens of tiny flames, he looked like a god of fire. Longing grew in you with each passing second and you could not tear your eyes away from him. It had been months since you were intimate together but the trauma of Gaelyn’s birth and the tearing had left you fearful of trying to initiate sex. 

Aemond, being a sweet supportive husband, waited patiently. He would not pressure you but you could see an equal longing in his eyes and beneath the towel.

He made to step forward and you held your hand up. He froze and a look of dejection crossed his face that sent a pang of hurt in your chest. 

“Korolyn,” you called and the handmaid stepped into the tent with a curtsy. You held the sleeping Gaelyn out to her and she crossed the room to take your precious son for his nap only to stop as Aemond said something to her. You watched him follow so that he could press a gentle kiss to the tufts of white hair that peeked out of his bonnet before sending the maid on her way.

“I shall let you have your rest,” Aemond said as he tracked your steps over to the pallet bed that was hardly comfortable to sleep on in the wilderness. 

You shook your head and patted the empty space beside you before continuing to unlace the bodice of your dress. Aemond’s throat bounced with the thick swallow he took and his chest rose with a deep breath. “Are you sure?”

Your hands shook with your response. I want to try.

Aemond’s eye darkened as the pupil erased the pale blue of his iris and the towel was discarded with his long strides he took to erase the distance between you. Your chest swelled with the deep breath you took at the sight of his naked body in all its glory, especially the size of cock as it swelled even larger with the invitation. 

A slight tremor shivered through you and not all of it was in anticipation. Aemond was huge, and the grand maester had repaired the tears in your skin with stitches that had been pulled tight. 

“I will be gentle, my love,” Aemond said he saw both the apprehension and the bravery in your eyes. “We can stop at any point, just tap my shoulder.”

You relaxed back into the bedding as his large hands began to massage their way up your legs. The tension in your body was evaporating with each press of his thumb along your muscles and soon you were exhaling deeply with contentment. 

Aemond’s eye darted up to you when he reached your thighs and your sharp intake brought a smile of pride to his face before lowering himself onto his stomach so he could trail his hands with soft kisses. You could feel his lips moving against your skin but they were hidden between your legs and you were left to daydream of what he could say. 

Your husband shifted closer and you felt his breath on the sensitive skin where you needed him most before it was his tongue. The wicked kiss sent fire streaking across your skin and your back arched off the bed as his tongue lashed through your folds and over your clit. The pleasure mounted when he eased one finger in, gently preparing you for a second, before curling them over the spot that had you seeing stars.

“Aemond,” you called, a plea for more. But your voice had the opposite effect and he broke away to look up in wonder. Your throat rumbled at the loss of his touch and your fingers laced into the damp strands of his hair to guide him back where he was. “Please.”

His eye narrowed with determination and he buried himself back between your legs to ravish you like a starving man. Perhaps he had been starved of your touch while your body recovered. On the heels of that thought came with a touch of guilt that ebbed away the pleasure that had been building. 

A wave of frustration built where the climax had been and with each passing moment the bliss grew further from reach. 

Aemond’s ministrations slowed as he felt the tension in your body once again and his eyebrows drew together in confusion as tears welled in your eyes. “Did I hurt you?” You shook your head but it dislodged the tears and he sat up to gather your shaking form in his arms. 

I don’t know what is wrong with me. You weren’t sure he would be able to understand the signs with how badly your hands were shaking.

“There is nothing wrong with you,” Aemond assured you as he tipped your chin back to talk to you. 

“I want you,” you said aloud. You have waited so long.

“I waited my whole life for you, Y/N. I can wait until you are ready, no matter how long.” 

I am ready, in here, you pointed to your heart before your shoulders slumped. But I can’t stop, you tapped your temple as you realised you hadn’t made a sign for it yet. 

“Thinking?” Aemond offered at the perplexion on your face and you nodded. “What are you thinking about?”

You swept your hands in front of you, opening them palm up. Everything.

You looked at the carved horse on the floor, a present Aemond had bought for Gaelyn. I fear I am a bad mother, and a terrible wife who cannot perform her duty to her husband. 

“You are neither of those things,” he disputed and he laid you back on the bed and hovered over your body. “The only duty we have is to uphold the sacred vows we promised. To love and cherish each other, even when our souls are no longer earthly bound.”

Your mood was a pendulum swinging wildly as your confession and his sweet words eased the lingering guilt and instead sent desire flooding through you. 

You followed your instinct and shifted in his embrace to straddle him, lacing your fingers in his hair so you could pull him closer and show him how much his words affected you with a searing kiss. Slowly, your hips began to rock against him, rolling the head of cock through your folds, testing your body with each stroke that dipped deeper within you. 

Aemond’s head fell back, lips parted and eye fluttering shut as you lowered yourself down his length and stilled as you adjusted to his size like it was the first time laying with him all over again. 

His lips moved as his hands landed on your hips and his fingers dug in but the only word you caught was, ‘tight’.

Your confidence grew when his hands roamed your changed body, his palms cupping your breasts that had swelled with milk before dancing preciously over the stretch marks he had kissed as they appeared during those last months of pregnancy. 

The fear and guilt seemed silly in hindsight. This was Aemond, your devoted husband. His love was neither finite nor conditional. 

“I love you,” you said as an apology, as an oath and as a reminder before giving you both the pleasure that was long overdue.

You pushed Aemond onto his back and planted your hands on his chest as you rode him until your heart tried to escape your chest and your legs quaked around his hips. Stars danced in your vision before you were caged in strong arms and Aemond rolled with you in his embrace. 

The air rushed from your lungs at the change in position and you felt him reach a new depth with each thrust. Your nails raked his back as you gripped him tightly and rocked wantonly against him, meeting each of his thrusts with your own in desperate need of more.

Aemond’s smirk grew as he licked his thumb with a long lash of his wet tongue before reaching between your bodies and pressing the pad to your clit. Darkness overcame you when you clenched your eyes shut and erupted at the circles he danced around the bundle of nerves. 

You forced your eyes to open when you felt Aemond’s rhythm falter and his lips pressed in a tight line as he lost himself to the nirvana he found with your release. 

The reassuring weight of his spent body draped over yours had been sorely missed and you enclosed him in your arms to bask in the moment while it lasted. All too soon he rolled off to he curl up behind you, his muscles more relaxed than you had seen them in months. He released more than just his seed when he came but the stresses you hadn’t known he was grappling with too. 

Maelor’s celebration was in full swing as the rest of the hunting party returned and the camp took a lively turn. Musicians played flutes and lyres in the corner of the royal tent and you smiled as your niece and nephews danced together in the centre of the room. 

Your smile only brightened as you spotted Gaelyn in Alicent’s arms, gently swaying him with the same timed movements of the other dancers. 

“He woke not long ago,” Alicent said when you reached her. Her eyes followed the curve of Aemond’s arm around your waist and smiled to herself. “I thought you would appreciate the alone time.”

“Thank you,” you said as you dipped your head, unable to face your mother-in-law and the knowing look in her eyes.

Aemond had no qualms about it as he kissed her cheek and said his own thank you before taking Gaelyn into his own arms. 

A few of the lords snickered and stared as Aemond spoke to Gaelyn while gently rocking him but your husband ignored them all, too caught up in the story of his hunt to care what others thought. Aemond had continually surprised you with how involved he had been with Gaelyn’s care, waking up in the night to comfort him and changing his messy diapers. From what the married maids had said, fathers tended to avoid their children until they could engage in conversation or ale. 

Warm fingers delicately tapped your shoulder, stealing your attention away from the boys, and you were already smiling as you turned to greet your sister-in-law. 

Helaena grew more beautiful with each passing season and the golden threaded dress she wore matched the strands of gold woven into the braids in her hair. “Dance with me, sister,” she said as she took your hands and began to drag you towards her children. Your feet refused to move as your arms moved away from you but with a strong tug that surprised you, you stumbled forward. 

If it were anyone other than the Queen, the dance would have been deemed inappropriate as she placed a hand on your waist and tapped to the tempo for you to follow. You took some tentative steps, that you had seen done at countless feasts, before daring to look up and over Helaena’s shoulder to see the pride radiating from your husband. 

“My turn, dear sister,” Aemond interrupted, taking her hand off your waist to replace it with his own. “I assume she has been giving you lessons once more?”

It was difficult to concentrate as his hand tapped the beat while it slowly slipped down to your waist to your hip and you stumbled losing count of your steps. He offered an apologetic smile as he lifted his hand back up but the darker look in his eye told you he knew exactly the effect he had on you. 

Aemond’s fingers came to rest as the dance came to an end and he raised your hand to his lips to kiss the ring that rested on your finger, a small dragon engraved on the ridge of the band.

“You never cease to amaze me, my love.” Aemond laced his fingers with yours and led the way back to his mother who was cradling Gaelyn once again. You could see he was speaking to her but from his side it was hard to make out what they were discussing, but she nodded with whatever it was he asked. 

“Let’s go,” he said as he made for the tent flaps.

“Where?” Aemond pulled you out into the open air where night had set in and the stars illuminated the sky with their shimmering winks. Walking backwards, he graced you with a smile that flipped your stomach. “For a ride.”

Aemond loved gliding on Vhagar’s back, he said he enjoyed the silence of the skies. The very thing that you had too much of was what he craved. The irony was not lost on you.

It had been many months since you had flown with Aemond. No matter how he tried to assure you it was safe to fly while pregnant you could not bring yourself to make the long climb up Vhagar’s netting to the saddle. But you had missed it. 

There was something very intimate about sitting in the saddle with Aemond pressed to your back as he held the reins around your waist. Reading lips was difficult without twisting around so you just trusted that Aemond would keep you safe without having to communicate. It was an experience you could never share with anyone else, or ever want to.

Vhagar flew above the tree tops, climbing higher and higher into the night until you felt like you could reach out and touch the stars around you. It was peaceful despite the frigid air that invaded the layers of your dress and the cloak Aemond had draped over your shoulders before commanding his dragon to the skies.

It was almost like the wind blew away all the intrusive thoughts that had settled like cobwebs in your head.

Leaning back, you cosied into Aemond’s arms and rested your head on his shoulder while you admired his profile. His eye reflected the stars when he looked down at you and the length of his jawline softened when his lips curled up into a carefree smile that warmed your insides. 

If only the moon were full, then you would have been able to find an empty page in your book and draw the milky light as it hit Aemond. Unfortunately you just had to rely on the memory of the picturesque sight and recall it again when you had candlelight. 

All too soon Aemond pulled at the reins and Vhagar began to bank into a turn, setting her course for the campfires in the distance and the other dragons in the rolling fields. The fresh air had been as healing as the physical reunion with Aemond and you knew that going back to the Red Keep in the morning would be with a new sense of self, one that felt lighter and freer that the one that had left.

“Thank you,” you said after your shoes touched soil and Aemond released the grip on your waist from helping you off the last step in the netting. “I needed that.”

“You never have to thank me,” he reminded you for the umpteenth time before offering his elbow for the short walk back to camp. “Shall we?”

You winced as you remembered that it had been early evening when Gaelyn’s last fed and the thought left your breasts aching with their fullness. Slipping an arm through the crook of his, you nodded and used your free hand to massage the hard lumps through the bodice of the dress. 

Aemond didn’t have to say one word but you saw the thought cross his mind and wagged a finger at him. “Not yours.”

A playful pout curved his lips down before he placed his palm over his chest arguing the fact they belonged to him. The argument continued all the way to the royal tent where Gaelyn awaited. 

As if scenting his nourishment was arriving, your son began to fuss from across the room and his tiny fingers began to grab anything he could. Alicent’s lips parted with surprise or pain when Gaelyn found her long dark tresses and tangled his hand in them with a tug.

Aemond helped to untangle the mess as he apologised to his mother who waved it off with a reminder that her firstborn had been much the same - followed by a pointed look in King Aegon’s direction.

“Goodnight, my darling,” Alicent said before kissing your cheek. “It is delightful to see you looking refreshed.” She noticed your smile fade and placed a hand on your shoulder. “Being a mother is the hardest job there is, but you are doing wonderfully, my dear.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and threw your arms around the woman who had become more of a mother to you than your birth one was. Alicent returned the embrace just as strongly before pulling away and nodding in Aemond’s direction where he grappled to hold his son who wriggled more than an eel to reach for you. 

“I don’t speak babe but I think he wants his supper,” Aemond said with a wry smile before his eye patch was stolen and tossed away. “That was uncalled for, my sweet boy.”

You picked up the patch and shoved it into your pocket before taking Gaelyn from Aemond, smirking as he instantly settled in your arms for the quick journey to your private tent. Your babe could hardly wait for you to bare your breast for him and an overeager latch caught your skin with a flash of pain before you could get him onto the nipple. 

The relief of the weight in your breasts lessening was heaven and you knew you made a sound of satisfaction when Aemond’s head darted your way from where he turned down the bed. Needing to remind you, he pointed his finger at your breasts before placing his palm on his chest, reigniting his argument. Those are mine.

Taglist: @arcielee , @sheetalkalkhandey , @hydrationqueensworld , @matt-murdick , @avis15 , @caught-in-the-afterglow

[sabo-has-my-heart]

The Correct Signs

"Ace's clumsy first time relationship with a deaf reader. Both Ace and reader are university students of the same school. Ace notices reader as a cute girl on the first day in class, then found out she is deaf later on that day. He notices all of her little actions and hobbies. Like how nice her hand writing is when she communicates with others, or how her eyes sparkle when she can use sign language with someone, or how she keep all of the notes her friends gave her in a small notebook. He also subconciously help her whenever he can. Like clearing some awkward moments or notice her of sounds she couldn't hear. Then, one day, he gave her a small note with his confession and she said yes. They became a couple. Ace started to notice more of her habits. She doesn't like it when someone sneak on her, so whenever he is near her, he tries to let her know of his presence as soon as possible. She still tries to have normal conversations and greetings, like a welcome back, or a good morning. She teaches him sign language, and she tells him that it's the warmest thing ever to know that he wants to learn it for her. Just fluffh stuff ig"

Part 2 to Can You Hear Me?

Part 1

Warnings: Deaf!Reader, disabilities, love confessions, sign language

Word Count: 1380

So I put their sign language in italics. I did this because they are still talking, but it's all in sign language and I wanted to make it clear that they're signing.

     Treating you like normal wasn’t as easy as Ace had thought it would be. Part of him still wanted to treat you like you were, well, like you were disabled. He still wanted to help you carry things, still wanted to be sensitive about you being able to hear or make sure you got proper notes. That didn’t mean he didn’t try, just that he’d catch himself doing something you’d asked him not to only to suddenly stop himself and suddenly feel guilty that he was treating you differently again. Still, you were patient with him, giving him time to adjust to treating you like normal again. You were used to people treating you differently after learning that you were deaf, used to them having to adjust and then readjust. The point was that he was trying. 

     Ace was also trying to learn sign language as quickly as possible, often making you smile and shake your head when he’d sign something, get frustrated at how slowly he was moving and pout, or when he’d attempt to sign something quickly, only to come up with gibberish that had you wanting to burst out laughing. He was dedicated though and it was amusing when he messed up, so you really didn’t mind.

     All the time spent together also meant that the two of you got to know each other better. You’d been friends before he’d learned you were deaf, before you’d started teaching him sign language, but now you were spending even more time together as he attempted to learn an entirely new language. Hobbies that you had that you hadn’t told him about because you hadn’t written it down, TV shows you enjoyed, books you liked. Little things that he’d never thought to ask you before. You’d already known quite a bit about him, the boy talking quite a lot when the two of you hung out, but it felt different now, closer. It wasn’t just you learning about his motorcycle and his favorite sports, it wasn’t him figuring out your favorite professors as you joked about them in class or what kind of foods you liked. It was more… real. With each new thing he learned about you, he couldn’t help but feel himself falling deeper and deeper for you, staring at you in adoration and wonder whenever you weren’t looking, wishing he could tell you how beautiful you were to your face instead of behind your back… glaring at his brother jealously when your eyes lit up because Sabo already knew sign language. That bright sparkle of excitement when Ace introduced you, telling his brother you were deaf, only for him to immediately start a conversation with you and laughing at things that Ace didn’t understand because the two of you were moving too quickly. 

     Pacing back and forth, Ace practiced his sign language, occasionally shaking his hands as he tried to shake his nerves off. Was he getting the movements right? Was he shaking too much? Maybe the position of his fingers were wrong! Sabo had laughed like a demented hyena when he’d walked in on Ace practicing, only making the young man more nervous before getting into a fight with the blond. After kicking the shit out of each other, Sabo had actually started helping Ace memorize the signs that Ace would need, making sure that Ace had it down before leaving him to practice. He wasn’t meeting up with you until 3, so he still had time to practice a few more times, carefully going over the movements again as he stared at himself in the mirror. The two of you were meeting at the library to help him go over his most recent sign language lessons as well as get some studying in because Ace had spent so much time working with you that his grades were suffering.

     Sitting at the table, you smiled as you watched him carefully sign whatever was written on the notecard you showed him. His movements were still a little slow, and he seemed to be shaking, but you couldn’t help but smile as he successfully signed each answer. Finally putting down the last notecard, you gave him a light, quiet clap, proud that he’d managed to get them all correct. Before you could fully turn away from him, he was gently taking your wrist, turning you back towards him.

     “What is it, Ace?” you looked at the man, watching the gears turn in his head as he processed your movements.

     “I have something to tell you.” his hands were shaking even more now as he carefully signed the words. Cocking your head to the side in confusion, you nodded, gesturing for him to continue, “We’ve been spending a lot of time together and we’ve…” Ace’s movements stopped as he tried to remember the rest of the movements before frustratedly dropping his hands, “I just… I wanted to tell you that, well, you mean a lot to me. You’ve put up with me being an idiot, you’re patient with me, you care and I just wanted to say…” Ace took a deep breath, raising his hands again, “I… I love you, will you go out with me? Will you be my girlfriend?” you stared at him in shock. After a moment you glanced down at his hands, then back up at him, then back down at his hands again. You hadn’t taught him most of those yet, meaning not only had he just confessed to you, but he’d specifically gone out of his way to learn the correct signs to tell you. After a moment, you felt a nervous tap on your shoulder, bringing you out of your swirling thoughts as you looked at him.

     “Well?” his hands shook as he moved his arms, clearly nervous about your reaction. Smiling you scooted closer, leaning forward as you kissed him on the cheek. The young man looked at you, stunned, as you nodded your head, grabbing your favorite pen and the paper next to you. 

     “Yes, I’d love to go on a date with you. I’d love to be your girlfriend.” You watched as an impossibly large smile spread across Ace’s face, the young man shouting a ‘yes’ at the top of his lungs before picking you up and spinning you around, drawing every eye in the library. You stared at the librarian as she walked up to you, glaring at the boy before starting to scold him, making you shake your head. Tapping the librarian on the shoulder, you drew her attention to you. The woman looked over to you, as you held up your hands again. You and the woman were familiar with each other, being one of the few people on campus who also knew sign language.

     “My apologies, Ada, this is my fault. I was teaching him how to sign and I told him he did perfectly. He was very excited.” you lied, making the woman sigh and nod. She wouldn’t deny his success if he’d done well, looking at the boy expectantly, clearly looking to see what had him so excited. Grabbing your pen, you wrote that she wanted him to show her what sign language he’d learned, the boy’s eyes widening in worry but nodding all the same. Watching his hands shake, you smiled as he managed to slowly sign a few short sentences that you’d taught him, watching as the librarian nodded approvingly.

     “Very well, just be more careful next time you give him good news. This is still a library after all.” With that, the woman walked away, leaving you to write down everything that had been said, making the boy laugh quietly.

     “So uh, why don’t we take care of that studying, then watch a movie at my place? I heard the new Barbie movie has a sign language option on Netflix.” Ace offered, making you smile. Sighing, you nodded in agreement, finding it cute how excited he was about everything. Giving him another kiss on the cheek, you pulled out your books and set them on the table, though you honestly doubted you’d get much studying done. At least, not any studying that wasn’t teaching him more sign language as he eagerly attempted to learn more about how to communicate with his new girlfriend.

[ghoul-bonez]

~Your Voice is Important~

(Tsireya x Fem! Deaf! Metkayina! Reader)

Summary: Ever since you were young you had been different, which made you a target for many, but your differences didn’t drive Tsireya off like it did most people, nor did it make her like you any less.

Word count: 4.1k

Author’s note: First fic back from vacation yayyy!!! I’m ngl I’m very nervous to post this for some reason? Someone I’m very close with is deaf and I got the idea for this fic from her :)… I feel like every Deaf! Reader fic has (Y/n) as completely deaf, but in reality many deaf or HOH people can hear to some amount, but not enough to understand people. Sign language is “bold and italics” and talking is just normal text.

~Masterlist~

Your Voice is Important

You loved talking, always had, and you were loud. When you were born you came into the world wailing, louder than anyone had ever heard before, then when you were old enough your parents recall you babbling all the time. You were never quiet, and never would be if you could control it.

You loved talking about anything and everything, from how your day had been, to what your favorite animal was, it was an ilu in case anyone was wondering. You loved when your friends and family would include you, or try to include you, in conversations.

The problem was nobody outside of your circle of friends and family wanted to talk with you, or more so they didn’t want to listen to you. You knew you sounded weird to others, but you sounded normal to yourself. You didn’t know any other way, having always been like this. So you stayed quiet, not talking, and instead listening, or listening as well as you could.

Even with your constant talking and sound making your parents had a gut feeling something was wrong, and it was. They thought it was odd that their soothing words and gentle songs wouldn’t lull you to sleep, but they attributed it to you being a rough child, always crying and throwing fits when you didn’t get what you wanted. However, that quickly changed as you wouldn’t respond when they called you.

When they determined something was wrong, very wrong, they took you to Ronal, the Tsahík, to make sure you were okay, and not on death’s door. Over the course of the next few weeks she kept you under her care to try different remedies to see what would help, but in the end nothing did, and she declared you deaf.

You weren’t completely deaf, but you couldn’t hear very well, or much at all. You had been able to hear more as a child, but still not enough for your parents to call you and you respond. They would have to yell at you, and make sure they had your attention before speaking. Unfortunately there was nothing you could do to stop your hearing from getting worse as you got older.

Although your hearing was nearly gone now, you could remember what it was like to talk, and although you couldn’t hear anything very well anymore, including yourself as you talked, you still held onto your voice. You would always hold onto your voice.

Even without being able to understand people you could still hear the background noise of daily life. You could hear the waves crash against the shore, and the sea birds when they called loud enough, but it was very quiet, muffled. You could hear yourself enough to talk, but because of your hearing it came out loud, but slurred, slow, and unsure.

You could even hear the sounds of people talking, but it was so quiet and muffled that you couldn’t understand them. You had gotten good at lip reading, and could fluently understand and speak sign language, as most of the Metkayina people could, so instead of speaking with your voice, you usually just used sign whenever you communicated with others, not wanting to scare them away.

You had a couple favorite sounds, an ilu’s clicks as you held it close enough to hear. They knew to be extra loud with you too, understanding your needs. You loved the patter of rain on your marui’s roof when a storm was raging outside, you couldn’t hear each individual drop, but it was a comforting background buzz. Your favorite sound, however, was your best friend’s voice.

Tsireya’s voice.

Even though you couldn’t understand what she was saying, you loved everything about it. You didn’t need to know what she was saying to hear that her voice was smooth, and calming, her tone soft and caring. It was so special.

She was so special.

You had known her since you were very young, meeting while her mother held you hostage to test you and try to cure your ailment. She had been there to help the entire way, mostly to comfort you, and it was nice to have someone your age to play with.

You conversed as well as possible, and she was always patient with you, and didn’t mind your loud outbursts. She actually quite enjoyed your company when many kids your age did not because of your tendency to not listen, although it wasn’t on purpose.

You knew as much as you thought Tsireya was special that she thought you were as well. She thought you were so special, and unique, in so many ways. She loved your voice. To some it was frustrating, not completely sure what you were saying, but she had been around you so much, listened to you so much, that she could understand you, like only a few could do.

One day as you had been sitting on the beach alone, sulking, Tsireya had approached you. She was upset that you were upset, so she took it upon herself to cheer you up. She snuck up on you and tackled you to the ground with a huff, laughing like an excited child as you struggled against her, pushing her off of you and turning to her with an angry blush on your cheeks.

You knew who it was immediately, not even having to see her to know who it was, this tackle was friendly, not meant to cause harm like others had done to you before, “Tsireya!” You shrieked, offended, mouth open and eyes wide.

“(Y/n)!” She shouted back, loud enough for you to hear, before devolving into a pile of giggles. You couldn’t hear them as well now as in the past, but the sound you remembered played through your head on loop as a wide smile was etched onto her face.

You scoffed, “What was that?” You pretended like her smile and visible joy wasn’t melting you from the inside out, like you were being held over a fire, or one had been set in your heart.

She turned serious now, “You were upset. I wanted to help you.” She frowned, you hated it, and wanted it off her face as soon as possible, but before you could say anything she asked, “Why were you upset?”

You turned away from her, you didn’t want her to see your frown, didn’t want to make her more upset, “I do not want to talk about it.”

You couldn’t look away from her for long, turning back to her and watching her sign, “You are signing, not talking. Is it about your voice?”

You sighed deeply, she knew how to read you, she could see into you, see how you were feeling at all times,“You always seem to know what’s wrong.”

She smiled, small and sad, “I know how you work.” She admitted.

You couldn’t help but to agree, “I know.” You paused for a second, taking a deep breath, “Trust me I know.”

She grabbed your hands, squeezing them tightly to reassure you, before signing again, “So tell me, what is wrong?”

You looked away again, eyes drifting to someone and her awful friends a ways away, “It is nothing, just Epxtä being a jerk.”

When you turned back to her you could see Tsireya hum, although you couldn’t hear it. She seemed to think for a second before responding, “I know how she can be. What did she say?”

Your frown deepened, thinking about what she had told you, how she had insulted you, “She told me I should just keep quiet. That nobody wants to hear my horrible voice.”

Tsireya’s frown turned into a sad smile, but was quickly overtaken by a happier one, “Well, I love your voice. I love the way you speak.”

You rolled your eyes, starting to get annoyed, you valued Tsireya’s opinion, but just one amongst the sea of many wasn’t enough, “Well I do not.”

She held your face in her hands gently, only letting go to sign, before placing them back where they were before, “Why not?”

“Nobody else likes it, why should I?” You used your voice this time, trying to prove your point by speaking.

“Oh, so I am nobody now?” She smirked, she knew she would get her point across soon enough with this argument.

You hummed, “No. Definitely not.”

She then sighed, smiling, “(Y/n), you are so special. Eywa has big plans for you. I can tell.”

You would consider Tsireya your best friend, but at the same time she was so much more. She had always meant too much to you. From the moment you had met her you had attached yourself to her, and she had clung onto you just the same.

She was your translator at times, helping you communicate smoother and more efficiently. Some of the children of the clan would come to you for sign language lessons, but because they weren't fluent without your sense of hearing you struggled to understand what they were trying to tell you, but Tsireya was always there to help.

She was your biggest supporter, cheering you on from the sidelines, even when you both knew you would fail. Even when you did fail she would always hype you up, congratulating you for even trying in the first place. She would shower you in affection whether you succeeded or not. She was proud of you whether you succeeded or not.

She was your rock, always telling you that you will get through whatever tough times you’re going through. When other kids would bully you she would stand up for you, even using her mother being the Tsahík as a threat to get the bullies to stay away from you.

She was your girlfriend, your future mate when you both passed your rites. Right now you were courting, giving small gifts, and showing affection as you pleased, but someday you will be more. Someday you will get to feel the bond between mates, to truly see into each other, to feel each other, and to be one.

She was your everything.

Tsireya wasn’t just a good girlfriend. She wouldn’t settle for good, she had to be great, and so she did her best to do so. She always made sure you had what you wanted, made sure you weren’t bothered by others, made sure you were happy. You were always happy with her.

You weren’t sure about being with her at first. You were scared that if you admitted your feelings she would hate you. Scared that she would leave you, but the opposite happened when you broke one night.

You had been sitting with Tsireya, you silently weaving and Tsireya quietly singing to create background noise for you as she weaved, and as your hands moved on their own, used to the motions of weaving, your brain was working at a million miles an hour.

Finally you spoke, quiet, almost unable to hear yourself, “I do not know what to do.”

Tsireya stopped singing, taking in what you had said, dropping the net she had been working on repairing, she moved her hands gracefully, “About?”

You sighed, choosing your words carefully as you put them together in your head before speaking them into the world, “I have these feelings that I am not sure what to do with. I like feeling them, but also they scare me.”

You saw Tsireya gasp, “You are in love, aren’t you!?” Her stomach dropped. What if it wasn't her, but she kept the mood up, smiling the whole time. Even if it wasn’t her she would be happy for you. She would make herself be happy for you.

Shock covered your face, how had she cracked your carefully coded words so easily, but you knew she always knew how you were feeling, “No! It is not that.” You tried to deny her.

“It totally is!” Tsireya’s face was still blessed with a smile before something overcame her and she paused, a frown and dramatic groan exiting her mouth, “I am going to owe Ao’nung chores now.”

You gasped playfully, “What? You betted on me?” You knew how competitive Ao’nung could be sometimes, and Tsireya was usually persuaded into joining his stupid little bets.

She groaned again, rolling her eyes, “Yeah, and he was right…” She paused again, “but you have to tell me who it is!”

You frowned, shaking your head in defiance, “No way.”

She smirked, “You have to!” She knew you couldn’t deny her, but you would do your best, just this once, to tell her no.

“I literally do not.” you rebutted, shoving at her arm as she inched closer to you.

Then she had an idea, “I will tell you my crush if you tell me yours.”

You just rolled your eyes, “Tsireya, I know you do not have a crush on anyone. You are just trying to bribe me.” What you didn’t know was that she really did, and it was imperative for you to know.

She looked away, thinking, and you could see the frustration on her face as she tried to think of something, anything, but in the end she just asked, “Well tell me anyway?”

“I…” You sighed deeply, at a loss of words, “I can not.”

“Well I will tell you mine first then.” She took a deep breath, a calming breath, “(Y/n). It is you, it has always been you. I love you. I see you. I am not sure who’s name you are about to say, but I hope it is mine. I do not know what I will do if it is not mine.”

You were taken aback completely. You had truly believed she didn’t have a crush, and never in a million years would you be able to guess that you were her crush, being convinced your crush was strictly one way. You were convinced you were doomed to live out the rest of your life watching Tsireya settle down with anyone other than you, but maybe that wasn’t the case.

You gasped and barreled into her, arms wrapping around her and holding her tightly. You spoke quietly next to her ear, trying your best to control your volume, “Tsireya, I see you. How could I not? You do not need to worry about who’s name I will say because it is yours. It will always be yours.”

She squeezed you back, nuzzling her face against yours before pulling away to sign, “(Y/n), will you be mine?”

You smiled wider than ever before, it reached your eyes as they held love and adoration for her, “Forever and always, I will be yours.”

As you thought about her you couldn’t help but smile, feeling a sense of happiness coat your soul, but soon you were back to feeling down, feeling that way all day after one of the girls your age, Epxtä, had told you to shut up because as she had said, “You sound like a freak.”

You hadn’t even been talking to her, instead trying to converse with Ao’nung who was just as patient with you as Tsireya was, understanding her love for you after many late night talks about her feelings shared between the brother sister duo.

You had stopped him in his tracks, waving at him, and beckoning him over. Once he was close enough you asked, “I need to find Tsireya, do you know where she is?”

He thought for a second, his face scrunched up in concentration, but he came up with nothing, signing, “I do not. Try our marui, or the Tsahík tent.” He had signed back.

You smiled at him, appreciating his help, “Okay. Thank-”

Before you could finish your sentence Epxtä got up from her group of friends sitting nearby, stalking over to you and signing right in front of your face, “Oh my Eywa, will you shut up. You sound like a freak. I don’t understand how anyone could stand to listen to you.”

You felt your heart speed up, feeling an embarrassed blush cover your face. You just signed, “Sorry.” before backing off.

You saw Ao’nung’s jaw dropped, fury on his face as he said something back to the girl that you couldn’t understand. You knew he would defend you, because Tsireya would, and you were grateful his negative energy was focused on other people, and not you. He was a nasty person to most, to people he didn’t understand, or people he decided he didn’t like. Thankfully he liked you, but you still didn’t want to be there any more.

You picked a direction and sped off, trying to get as far away from the fight you knew was about to ensue as possible. You weren’t paying attention to where you were going, but it ended up with you in a cove on the far end of the beach. You sat down, frustration and sadness flowing through you, and you couldn’t help it as tears leaked from your eyes, falling down your cheeks.

As you sat there, sniffling you held your eyes closed tight, focusing on the sounds of the waves crashing instead of the storm of feelings swirling inside. Anger and sadness crawled throughout your insides, squeezing your heart and clawing at your stomach.

Once you felt yourself calm a little a new noise rang out throughout the space, loud enough for you to hear what it was, but not understand it. It was a person, a voice, most likely calling for you, but you didn’t give them any of your attention, afraid it was Epxtä. Instead of responding you kept your head low, ears pinned back, as tears threatened to fall again.

You heard the voice again, this time much closer, and you feared for what was to come, but instead of what you imagined Epxtä’s insults would sound like and how her hits would feel when she landed them, you felt a hand reach out to your shoulder. Gently the person’s thumb rubbed circled on your shoulder, calming you.

You felt the sand under you shift as the person sat next to you, and when their head hit your shoulder you knew it could only be one person.

Tsireya.

It was always Tsireya.

Your eyes cracked open and the tears that had gathered on your lashes fell down your face, you couldn’t help yourself as you reached towards your face to wipe them away, but her hands beat you to it. She gently held your face, caressing your cheeks with her thumbs as she wiped away your tears. She looked concerned, but that was understandable with the way she found you.

You sniffled again, but a small smile cracked on your face, “Hello.” You greeted as quietly as possible.

She still looked concerned, but smiled back, her hands retracting from your face, signing, “Hello, beautiful.”

You just sighed, learning closer towards her and rubbing your cheeks together. You closed your eyes focusing on the feeling of your skin on hers. You didn’t want to focus on anything else, including your still broken feelings.

Tsireya didn’t allow you the peace of not focusing on that, instead pulling away and signing again, “What is wrong?” She asked.

Of course she wanted to talk about it, and you knew that even though you didn’t want to talk about it she would make you. She knew you always came out feeling better after discussing what was wrong, but it still didn’t make you want to talk about it.

“It is nothing.” You lied, or tried to, putting on a false smile. It wasn’t very convincing to Tsireya, or yourself, but you hoped it would hold off the conversation for a little longer.

She could see through your front, she always could, and she frowned before retorting, “I can tell it is not nothing. If you do not tell me what is wrong I can not help.”

Your fake smile fell, and you rolled your eyes, “I am telling you, it is nothing.”

“Okay…” She seemed to drop it, instead of addressing it again she said, “Well how was your day?”

“It was okay.” You only half lied, because it had been okay up until Epxtä had butted in on you and Ao’nung’s conversation.

Tsireya nodded as you could see her hum, lips pressed together, “Well, mine was not. I had a horrible day.”

You were surprised, “Oh.” You were so lost in your own thoughts that you hadn’t taken into account how she might be feeling right now.

“Ao’nung kept stealing my breakfast this morning, so I barely had anything to eat. Then my mom would not let me slip away for even a second, making me constantly attend to the fishers who had gotten scraped up on a hunt earlier this morning. I have not had a break.” She ranted on and on.

You felt bad, feeling the need to apologize for something you had no part in, “I’m sorry…”

She nodded at you simply before continuing, “I am telling you this because I want to show you that you can be open with me. You can tell me what is wrong, and I can help you.”

You sighed, you weren’t going to get out of this one, so you admitted, “It was Epxtä.”

Tsireya rolled her eyes, exasperated, “Oh my Eywa, it is always her.”

You giggled Tsireya’s sass, thinking about it Epxtä was the main pain in your ass, “That is true.”

Suddenly she got more serious, a small frown on her face as she asked, “Well, what happened?”

You rolled your eyes this time, frustration visible on your face and voice, “Just the usual. Nobody wants to hear me, I should just shut up.”

She scoffed, “You really need to stop listening to her, she is so stupid. Next time she says something mean get me and I will fix it.” She winked at you, a not so innocent smile on her face. You knew it would be less her fixing it, and more Ao’nung fixing it.

“I know you would, but sometimes I can not help but listen to her. If she feels this way clearly other people must too.” You started tearing up again, thoughts spinning in your head as you tried to voice what you were feeling, “I do not understand why I have to be this way. They say Eywa does not make mistakes, but I can not help but feel I should not be this way.”

She sighed, a gentle smile on her face, “My love, Eywa has made you this way for a reason. She has a plan for everyone. Someday you will understand that, truly, and when you are at peace with that, I will be too.”

You frowned, admitting, “I want to be at peace.”

“You want to be at peace for me,” She corrected you quickly, “not for you.”

You released a particularly harsh breath, frustrated, “That is true.”

Tsireya took a deep breath, sadness written on her face as her hands shook through what she was saying, “(Y/n), your voice is important. You may not like how you sound, and others may judge you because of it too, but your voice is important. You should use it more often…”

“I will do my best.” You promised, and you meant it. You couldn’t promise you would be able to speak up for yourself, you couldn’t promise you would always be able to use your voice, you couldn’t promise you would be able to love your voice, but you would try your best to. Not just for Tsireya, but for yourself as well.

She sighed, possibly content with your promise to try your best, possibly frustrated by your word choice, “I love you, and you will love yourself eventually, I promise.” She promised this time.

You held her face carefully in your hands, gently like if you held on too tight she would break, or you would break. The atmosphere was delicate, but so full of love, “I love you too. More than anything.”

You meant what you said, you loved her more than anything, or anyone else, and you were so grateful to have her in your life. You were grateful she chose you over anyone else.

She chose the one that can’t talk right, the one who doesn’t pay attention, the one who nobody else wanted, she chose the one who was so different from anyone else. She chose the deaf one. She chose the deaf one that nobody else wanted.

She chose you.

She chose you, and because of that you figured you should love your voice because if someone so perfect could love you maybe you could love yourself.

Word Bank:

Ilu (Metkayina animal transportation)

Tsahík (Spiritual leader)

Metkayina (Ocean Na’vi)

Marui (Metkayina homes)

Eywa (Na’vi goddess)